The Shattered Crowns

"You need to be quieter than that, Moon-hunter," Sylvan muttered under his breath.

"Shut it, Dreadnought hunter," Lemi retorted, her tone sharp as a blade.

Sylvan raised an eyebrow. "Really?" The name was ridiculous, and it showed in his expression.

"You were the one that started it," she countered defensively.

He let it drop. There was no time for bickering—not when the orphanage owner was rushing through the storm, her hands tightly interlocked with the much smaller hand of a child. The strange sight held his attention.

"Move," Sylvan said, his gray coat flaring as he surged forward.

The woman had already disappeared down a cellar hatch, ushering the child into the darkness below. Lemi kept pace, her steps matching his stride as they reached the locked cellar door.

"What's happening, Sylvan?" Lemi asked, her voice cutting through the distant roar of the storm.

Sylvan hesitated. There was little time to explain, but she wouldn't let the question go unanswered. He gripped the iron latch and pulled, the door rattling against the lock.

"They're hiding something," he finally said, his voice low and deliberate.

"What are you talking about?" Lemi pressed, the silvery veil draped over her face doing little to mask the scowl forming beneath it.

Sylvan exhaled, weighing his words. "None of the children in the orphanage show signs of Snake's blood. Not one."

Her head tilted in surprise. "None?"

He nodded. That alone should've been impossible in a city as plagued as Franzisch. But before she could probe further, Sylvan yanked at the door again. The lock held firm, iron hinges unmoving against his strength. He gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath.

A gloved hand touched his shoulder. "Sylvan," Lemi said, her voice steady but insistent.

He ignored her. Instead, he reached into his coat and retrieved a small vial of shimmering liquid. With a sharp snap of his fingers, the alchemical substance inside hissed and bubbled. He poured it over the hinges, and the reaction was immediate. Smoke curled from the metal, and the iron sizzled and dissolved, leaving the lock weak and brittle.

"I missed how easy you make breaking and entering look," Lemi quipped, her tone laced with amusement.

Sylvan unsheathed his blade. "I don't miss dodging your arrows."

"I didn't like you much when we started," she replied with a shrug.

"You told me you'd be happy if a Tainted-blood dissected me," Sylvan said flatly.

A smirk tugged at her lips. "You've grown on me. Now, I'd only push you off a building."

Sylvan rolled his eyes. With a sharp kick, the weakened cellar doors splintered and crashed open, the sound reverberating through the empty street. He and Lemi slipped inside.

The cellar was unlike what Sylvan had expected. Instead of the damp, dust-ridden storage space typical of Franzisch, this place was well-maintained. Rows of neatly arranged wine barrels stretched into the shadows, illuminated by flickering torchlight mounted on stone walls.

The hunters advanced cautiously, their boots creaking against the wooden planks beneath their feet. Every sound seemed amplified in the quiet.

"This is..." Lemi began, but Sylvan silenced her with a glance. They continued in silence, each step deliberate.

On the far side of the room, the orphanage owner paced nervously. At the sight of the intruders, she froze.

"What are you doing in my cellar?" she demanded, her voice rising. "I'll summon the guard if you don't leave immediately!"

Lemi stepped forward, offering a disarming smile beneath her veil. "Our apologies, ma'am. We were investigating—"

"You'll find nothing here but wine," the woman snapped, her voice defensive. Her eyes darted to Sylvan, her tone souring further. "That one already tried this once."

"Oh really?" Lemi asked, feigning curiosity as she followed Sylvan's lead, watching the orphanage owner closely.

While Lemi kept the woman occupied, Sylvan began methodically searching the cellar. His eyes scanned for anything out of place, any sign of the child or the Tainted-blood they might be dealing with.

The orphanage owner glared at Sylvan's back. "You won't find anything," she said sharply.

"Strange," Sylvan said without looking at her. "A woman who locks herself in a cellar the moment she enters... It seems like she's hiding something."

Her hands tightened into fists, but she didn't respond. Sylvan moved silently between the barrels, his gaze narrowing as he searched for clues. But each row revealed nothing—no hidden door, no sign of the child. Frustration mounted as he passed another cluster of barrels.

Finally, he said, "Nothing."

The woman's tense shoulders relaxed slightly, though her gaze lingered on a barrel near the wall.

"Good," she said, her voice saccharine. "Then you can be on your way. I hope you find what you're looking for—elsewhere. And please, leave my orphanage alone."

Sylvan stopped at the edge of the room, his hand brushing against the nearest barrel. He motioned subtly to Lemi, and she caught the signal immediately.

"The wine business must be lucrative," Lemi said casually, starting a new line of conversation to distract the woman.

"I use it to support the children," the orphanage owner said, her tone stiff.

While they talked, Sylvan crouched beside the barrel. Red liquid dripped from its seams, pooling faintly on the ground. He dipped a gloved finger into it, raising it to his nose.

Wine had a smell—bold, fragrant, rich with crushed fruit. This liquid had none of that. Instead, a faint metallic tang invaded his senses. A taste confirmed what he already suspected: this was blood.

Sylvan straightened, his expression hard. "Blood," he said aloud, the word cutting through the room like a blade.

The orphanage owner froze, her face draining of color.

"You've been honest up until now, haven't you?" Lemi said, her voice deceptively light. "It's best not to start lying, especially to him." She gestured to Sylvan, whose unrelenting gaze bore into the woman.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," the orphanage owner stammered, her voice rising in panic.

"You do," Sylvan said coldly, stepping closer. His gray eyes locked onto hers, and she shrank back. "Now, where is the child?"

Her hands trembled. "It—it will kill me!" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"We're silver-blood hunters," Lemi said firmly. "You'll be safe with us."

The woman hesitated, her gaze darting between the two hunters. Finally, she bowed her head and whispered, "Follow me."

The orphanage owner gripped the edge of a wine barrel and pulled. Instead of spilling its contents, the barrel swung open on hidden hinges, revealing a passage that descended into shadowy tunnels.

Lemi placed a hand on the woman's arm. "You've done enough. Go back to the children. We'll handle this."

"I need to see this through," the woman said weakly.

Sylvan shook his head. "If you come, you'll just get in the way. You'll die, and the children will lose their caretaker. Go back."

Her lips trembled, but she stepped aside, allowing the hunters to pass. Sylvan grabbed a torch from the wall and led the way into the dark passage.

"You didn't have to be so harsh," Lemi muttered as they descended.

"She'd be a liability. We don't need one more corpse," Sylvan replied curtly, his grip tightening on his blade.

"You know what's down here, don't you?" Lemi pressed.

Sylvan hesitated. "I have my suspicions," he admitted, his voice tense.

The tunnel walls shifted from stone to dirt, roots from the Dragon's Blood Tree cutting jagged patterns through the earth. The massive tree stretched across all of Franzisch, even reaching into the tunnels beneath its streets.

A faint skittering noise echoed, making Lemi's fingers twitch near her quiver.

"Careful," she warned. "I don't fancy shooting blind in the dark."

Sylvan steadied the torch. "My hand is as steady as it'll ever be."

Their conversation fell silent as they neared the source of the noise. A voice—thin, rasping, and filled with manic energy—echoed through the tunnels.

"Not enough, not enough... Need more. Creatures, all of them creatures! Snake's blood—useless. Brood needs strength. Need subjects. Need more..."

Sylvan crouched low, the light from a distant chamber spilling across the dirt floor. Lemi followed, her movements silent as death.

Inside the chamber, a man-shaped figure moved frantically. Tubes of crimson liquid fed into its face, the pumping blood keeping its mutated body alive. Scalpel-like tools glinted on a bloodstained table as the creature tested syringes filled with unknown substances.

It turned, revealing crimson eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light. Its lips curled into a sneer, jagged teeth glinting as it rasped, "Hunters... not good. Not good at all."

Sylvan's grip on his blade tightened.