The temple kitchen was quiet, but not asleep.
From the hallway came faint laughter—Elijah, Margaret, and Riley, distracted by board games and warm bread, precisely as the acolytes had planned. They were buying time, buying silence because the rest of the temple had gone still with intent.
In the glow of the hearth, six figures gathered around the butcher’s table. The pot on the fire hissed, as if it wanted to speak but knew better. The air smelled of burnt thyme, old copper, and sharpening steel—and above all, ham.
Jack sat with both hands wrapped around a chipped mug. His tea had gone cold.
Alise leaned against the wall beside him, arms crossed, magic twitching faintly with impatience. Dreya crouched atop the flour bins, all knees and elbows and eager violence. Maya stood by the window, sipping wine straight from the bottle. Will straddled a chair backwards, arms folded over the top like a man halfway through a bad idea. Rugr loomed behind them all, unmoving, unreadable.
“It’s not a question of if they come,” Will said. “They will. Thieves. Nobles. Cults. Demon cults dressed as nobles—doesn’t matter. You’re not a rumor anymore, Jack. You’re gravity. Everything rolls toward you now.”
Alise added, “And the longer you pretend you’re just a tavern act with a haunted past, the more they’ll test you. Probe the edges. Look for cracks.”
“I don’t want to be that guy,” Jack said quietly. “The one people whisper about in fear.”
Dreya leaned forward, grinning. “Fear’s what keeps idiots alive—and away.”
“I didn’t come back to Cabal to paint the walls with blood.”
Maya raised her bottle. “We’re not painting. We’re writing a message. Clear. Succinct.”
“No innocents,” Rugr said, finally speaking. “No children. No bystanders. But the rest? Fair game.”
Jack looked at him. “You’re okay with this?”
“I’m okay with protecting what matters,” Rugr replied. “And making sure no one confuses kindness for weakness.”
Dreya slid off the bin, pacing toward him, boots whispering against the flagstones. “They won’t come for you, Jack. Not first. They’ll come for Elijah. Margaret. Riley.”
Jack exhaled hard through his nose. “I’d like to see them try with Riley.”
“I wouldn’t,” Dreya said. “By the time she’s done, half of Cabal’s ash and she’s playing someone’s jawbone like a flute.”
Jack almost smiled. Almost.
“Think about Elijah,” Alise said. “He’s sweet. Earnest. Trusting. Easy target. Same with Margaret. All it takes is one knife in an alley. One poisoned ham.”
“They wouldn’t even have to kill them,” Maya added. “Just hurt them. Kidnap them. Use them to make you crawl.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. He stared into the fire. The pot hissed again, as if in warning.
“I don’t want a war,” he said.
“Then end it before it starts,” Will said. “Hit first. Hit hard. Hit loud. Let them know Cabal’s not safe ground for this kind of game.”
Silence settled over the room. The fire crackled. Somewhere down the hall, Riley’s laugh cut the air like a bell.
Finally, Jack spoke.
“No mercy.”
Rugr nodded once.
“No civilians,” Jack added. “No children. No innocents. But everyone else? I want them to remember.”
Dreya grinned, already moving. “Oh, they will.”
Will stood, rolling his shoulders. “Let’s go ruin someone’s night.”
Alise clapped Jack on the back. “That’s the spirit. Welcome to my world.”
Maya tossed the empty bottle into the hearth. It shattered in a burst of blue flame.
“Praise be to the Arcane Fire.”
And somewhere beyond the laughter and the warm bread, the war drums began to beat.