You spend the hours before midnight preparing.

The shadow figure’s appearance wasn’t random. It knew where you’d be. It knew when you’d be alone. Whatever—whoever—this is, they’ve been watching you. Learning your patterns.

Time to change the rules.

You gather what you can. A hooded cloak to blend into the night. A small knife from the kitchen—not much of a weapon, but better than nothing. A length of rope, in case you need to climb or bind. The vial of blessed water the Elder gave you after the ceremony. “For protection,” he’d said.

You hope he was right.

The square is public, open. If this is a trap, there are worse places for it. People patrol at night. The gem’s light reaches every corner. You’ll be visible—but so will they.

Unless they can control the shadows themselves.

The memory of that dark figure sends a chill down your spine. The way it moved. The way the darkness seemed to bend around it, shield it. This is no ordinary enemy.

You check the window. The moon is rising. A few hours until midnight.

Neve appears at your door.

“I heard you moving around,” she says. “You’re going, aren’t you? To the square.”

There’s no point lying to her. “Yes.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“Neve—”

“Don’t.” Her jaw sets in that stubborn way you’ve come to recognize. “Either we do this together, or I follow you anyway. Your choice.”