Two days after the Golden-Cloaked Wolf incident, Jainal left the monastery earlier than usual.
The child had begun to speak more with the other children—and for the first time, smiled.
Even if faintly, it was a smile worth protecting.
That was why Jainal walked faster today.
To keep that smile alive, the world needed to be cleansed of its hidden darkness.
He made his way to the old archive building on Thural's eastern edge—half-collapsed, yet still guarded by two civil officers in loose-fitting uniforms.
They eyed him suspiciously, but Jainal presented a forged scavenger permit from a previous contact.
> "Just looking for scrap metal to resell," he said flatly.
"Don't take more than an hour," one guard muttered, opening the rusted gate.
---
Inside, Jainal went straight to the basement—where old shipping logs, guild letters, and forgotten sensor reports decayed in dust and rat droppings.
But he wasn't here to simply read.
He was looking for patterns.
And he found them—
in the form of unsigned letters, sealed with unofficial wax, hidden between ordinary logistics reports.
One letter read:
> "Target 'Central Corridor' successfully neutralized. Karsel report matched expectations. Next directive: activate Research Post 03."
Jainal clenched his fist.
That message confirmed it—Karsel's destruction was no random tragedy.
It was part of a coordinated plan.
And there it was: Research Post 03—
a possible hidden magitek facility somewhere in the East.
Other letters listed code names and directives:
L02 – Suppress civilian reaction. Do not release to media.
T07 – Monitor all child recovery. Watch for signs of "magic fracture."
P03 – Observe for potential experimental escapees.
> "Experiments?" Jainal whispered.
"They weren't just destroying villages. They were testing… something."
---
Footsteps above made him tense.
He slipped the letters into a hidden layer inside his cloak and pulled his hood lower.
A worker passed by, hauling a sack of ash meant for incineration.
Jainal let him go.
But before leaving the basement, something caught his eye—
a small wooden box, sealed, with a strange faded inscription:
> K01 – Your Left Hand Has Seen
The words were poetic. Cryptic.
But it felt like a code.
He didn't open the box—but he memorized it.
> "K01… another research post? Or the next target?"
---
After leaving the building, Jainal walked toward an old café where couriers often gathered.
He spotted someone he recognized—Rykel, a former royal courier now working freelance.
> "Ever heard of 'Research Post 03'?"
Rykel raised an eyebrow.
"Old term. There were rumors—some hidden facility in the Eastern Mountains. Supposedly destroyed during the failed rebellion two years ago."
"And if it wasn't?"
"Then… someone's still in there. Practicing magic outside the law."
Rykel refused to speak further.
But before he walked away, he slipped a folded note into Jainal's palm.
> "If you really want answers, look for 'The Scarred Mark' in the Lower Market.
But be careful.
They're not the kind who appreciate visitors."
---
That night, back at the monastery, Jainal stared out the narrow window of his room.
The child lay sleeping, arms wrapped around the wooden bird.
There was no sign that the world was unraveling outside their walls.
But the letters still rested in Jainal's hands.
Proof that this war was more than weapons and magic.
It was a war of experiments, erasure, and mindcontrol.
> "Your left hand has seen…" he whispered.
"They encode orders like poetry. This isn't just strategy… it's a cult."
He closed his journal for the night with one final line:
> "They hide the truth in letters that were never meant to be read."