The night was unusually quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed down on the chest and made every breath sound too loud. AK sat by the window of his small, dimly lit room, staring out into the pale glow of the moonlight. His dagger lay across his lap, gleaming faintly, as though it too was restless. He had been unable to shake off the feeling ever since they had entered this phase of training — the feeling that unseen eyes were always following.
He rubbed his temple, trying to convince himself it was nothing but paranoia. But then—
A FLICKER
Across the street, in the shadow of a tree, something shifted. A silhouette. A presence.
AK's heartbeat thudded. His instincts screamed. Without wasting a second, he grabbed his dagger, leapt from his chair, and dashed out of the house. His boots barely made a sound as he hit the cobblestones, sprinting straight toward the figure.
"Got you—!" he hissed.
