Sophie vaulted a wall from one private residence into another, sprinting across the grounds. She did this twice more, avoiding public streets and the people on them. Finally, she ducked into a large brick shed full of landscaping supplies.

Jason chased after Sophie, relying not on his eyes but his aura sense. One of the afflictions he marked her with made her aura radiate like a beacon.

[Mark of Sin] (affliction, holy): Prevents aura retraction. Cannot be cleansed while target retains any instances of [Sin] or [Legacy of Sin].

Using weight-reduction to vault walls, he pursued until her aura suddenly vanished. He didn’t have an exact lock on her location, so was forced to start searching around.

“Excuse me!” an affronted voice came in Jason’s direction. He flashed his adventurer badge to the angry resident.

“Adventure Society business, sir.”

“Is this to do with the person who just ran across my lawn?”

“It certainly is,” Jason said. “I don’t suppose you could point out the direction they went?”

“Gladly,” the man said.

“What’s that on your face?” Belinda asked. She had cleared a space on a bench in the shed, now covered in magical tools.

“Not sure,” Sophie said. “Some kind of tracking magic, probably.”

Belinda moved close to examine it. It looked like a word from a symbolic language she didn’t know. She picked up a thin metal rod, waving it in front of Sophie's face.

“Not tracking,” She said, swapping the rod for a small plate made up of crystal fragments She looked at what appeared when she held it in front of Sophie.

“It looks like it forcibly projects your aura,” Belinda said. “Not as bad as a tracker, but I don't have anything here that can deal with it, the way I could with tracking magic. Like this, aura masking won’t work and disguises won’t be much better. You’ll stick out like a turd in a punch bowl to anyone with aura sense.”

“Good thing we’re here on the Island, where all the people with aura senses are."

“The protection I set up in here will hide your aura so long as you’re in this shed, but you can’t stay here. The usual trick of blending into the crowd won’t work with your aura like that.”

“Any good news?” Sophie asked.

“Unlike a tracker, you can only be followed so long as you remain within their aura sense. If you can outrun them and get to our fallback point, we can take our time with whatever that thing is affecting your aura. And no one can run like you.”

Sophie nodded, regret on her face.

“I didn’t get it,” she said. Belinda put a reassuring hand on Sophie’s shoulder.

“One step at a time. We can work on what comes next after we get ourselves out of this mess. Now, you need to go.”

“You need to be careful too,” Sophie said.

"My aura isn't shining like a beacon in the night, remember? You play distraction and I’ll slip away.”

“Bloody hell, she’s fast.”

Jason had sensed it the moment the thief’s aura re-emerged and he immediately gave chase. He caught sight of her sprinting through other people’s properties. They were in the north marina district, which had the Broadstreet Bridge to Old City, marinas on the Island’s eastern shore and was otherwise mostly private residences.

The thief moved incredibly fast on the ground, the walls and hedges barely slowing her down. Her mottled green clothing covered her entirely, with even her head wrapped up like a ninja. If he didn’t have her aura to track, she could probably vanish into one of the gardens she was passing through.

He was unable to match her speed. It the end he resorted to a desperation move. The bright sun cast large shadows from the uniformly big houses. This allowed Jason to shadow jump into the air, three storeys up, next to a wall. Spotting the thief, he teleported to the shadow of the next building, then the next. With the combination of weight reduced-floating and shadow teleporting, he pursued in something of an awkward flight.

The thief was making a beeline for the marina. She crossed the busy esplanade at a sprint, startling passers-by. Jason teleported onto the covered balcony of the yacht club, but it was the last of the easy shadows. He watched the thief pelt down the pier faster than he could match, until she reached the end and vaulted onto the water. She landed on the surface like it was solid ground and kept running.

Jason could likewise walk on water, but by the time he chased her across to Old City, her speed would have left him behind. He ran to the edge of the balcony and looked around for options.

“Well, there’s that,” he told himself.

Using the parkour skills Gary had taught him, he jumped out to grab the edge of the roof and pull himself on top of the building. He was grateful for the ostentatious size of the four-story yacht club, which gave him a high vantage. He glanced down at the figure sprinting across the water, then up at the opposite shore, some two kilometres distant.

When he was still training, he had conducted various long-distance teleporting experiments. The key seemed to be seeing a shadow to teleport to. Teleporting to the shadow of a large, distant object didn't work, as his ability required a more discreet shadow to use as a portal. He tried magnifying items to pick out a distant shadow, but viewing through these magical devices made him unable to form a connection with the distant shadow.

In the end, since he couldn’t find one to purchase, Jason commissioned a craftsman to make a high-quality, non-magical telescope. The unusual request had taken time, however, and by the time it was completed, Jason was living the busy life of an adventurer. As such, he’d picked up the item and left in his inventory with the ten-foot pole, the rope ladder and his various other pieces of adventuring kit.

"No time like the present," he said, pulling out the telescope. It truly was a fine piece of craftsmanship, but he didn't stop to admire it, putting it directly to his eye. First, he picked out the thief, moving across the water. Once he spied where she was heading, he looked to the far shore, in search of a shadow.

Clive looked around the interior of the brick shed. His ability to see magic let him pick out what were the otherwise invisible magical marks, drawn onto the bricks of the wall to shield it from magical detection. It had taken him time to seek out, using flaring rituals to find the magical dead-spot. If Jason hadn’t told him the right area through his voice communication power, he likely wouldn’t have found it at all.

Examining the work, he saw the principles involved were basic, making of use of fundamental magical theory. The application, however, showed a comprehensive understanding and was highly innovative in execution. If it weren’t for criminal purposes to which it had been put, he would admire it.

“Who am I kidding?” he asked the empty shed. “I do admire it.”

The shed clearly didn’t see a lot of use. Almost everything had a thick layer of dust, except a section of the bench and a pair of stools. Jason and Clive had considered whether or not the thief had one or more accomplices, and it seemed she did.

Whoever this accomplice was, they had taken their tools but didn't have time to clear off their magical workings. Presumably, they were relying on the magic being invisible and the distraction of the fleeing thief. That left Clive with a good chance to extract an aura trace from the magic.

Moving outside, he balanced out the ambient magic with his mana equilibrium racial gift, then took out a book and used his enact ritual essence ability to start placing out a magical circle around the shed. Where his finger pointed, a line of shining gold energy appeared as he drew out a sophisticated circle, referencing the book as he went.

“What are you doing on my lawn!” an affronted voice called out.

“Adventure Society business,” Clive said, not looking away from his work.

“Again? Who do you people think you are?”

“I’m Adjunct Assistant to the Deputy Director of the Magic Society, Greenstone branch,” Clive said.

“Is that something important?” the man asked uncertainly.

“Do you really want to find out?” Clive asked.

The magical circle completed. From inside the shed, the previously invisible magic lit up in blue and red. A vaguely human image appeared, flickering in and out in the middle of Clive's circle. Clive took a tracking stone from his storage space and shoved it into the middle of the image. The image was drawn into the stone, like being sucked into a void. The gold light of Clive’s ritual and the red and blue from the shed then dimmed to nothing. Clive looked at the tracking stone in his hand, which now had an internal light pointing in a very definite direction.

“Got you.”

Sophie’s singular essence ability made her fast, and by spending mana she could run up walls or over water. The breakwaters at each end of the straight between Old City and the Island made the space between calm and easy to run over. Reaching the Old City port, she ran right up the side of the dock and onto dry ground. For a fleeting moment, she thought she was free and clear. Then she saw a shadowy figure standing in her path.

The person was shrouded in what looked like the night sky; not just black but dark and deep, with distant stars twinkling within. Inside the cloak were dark, flowing robes, with a sword on one hip and a dagger on the other. A bandolier with what looked like throwing knives went from left shoulder to right hip.

The port was busy, as always, and the two unusual figures staring each other down caught the attention of the dockworkers. Sophie looked around as people quickly gathered.

“Don’t make me go through you,” she told the dark figure.

“Don’t make me use my abilities,” the figure said. “They’re for killing, not catching.”

It was the same voice as the person who ambushed her when she tried to rob the wagon. The one who fought like her. She launched herself forward, confident that she was better. They clashed, then broke away inconclusively. This repeated a second time and a third. She was landing hits, but nothing conclusive. She absently noted that the dockworkers had started taking bets.

Their fighting styles were the same, but they used them very differently. She was all speed and efficiency, using the versatility of the style to adapt and pressure opponents. He was deceptive and manipulative, seemingly full of openings but more than once she thought she almost had him only to realise it was just the opposite. He also used his cloak to mask his movements, making him hard to read. She had some near misses, but the more she pressured him, the more she figured him out. His methods were dangerous, but he didn’t have a complete handle on them yet. So long as she was cautious and stuck to fundamentals, she knew she could take him down.

So, apparently, did he, taking the dagger from his belt. The bone blade, with its slight curve, made it looked like a fang. She knew it was almost certainly magical. She drew the knife strapped to her thigh, not magical, but well-crafted.

"We can still end this here," he said. He sounded earnest but resigned. She lunged in again.

A knife fight was a messy business; fast hands, fast blades too quick to intercept. Even against an amateur, accepting a knife fight meant accepting wounds, if only superficial ones. The difference in outcome between Sophie and the shadowy man was a matter of equipment. Her knife slid off his thin-but-strong cloth armour, while his knife cut through her camouflage clothes to leave shallow cuts on her arms as she used them to guard more vital points. Breaking off again, she realised he wasn’t even going for real hits, satisfied to inflict minor injuries. Either his dagger or his abilities most likely inflicted poison.

“Now you see your situation,” the man said, having noticed her realisation as she looked at her wounds. “Your choices now are to come with me, or die.”

Sophie glanced back, considering leaping back off the dock. In her moment of distraction, he made the first move for the first time in their confrontation. She evaded, but his free hand grabbed at her. She slipped away, but his fingers closed on her mask, pulling it free. As her silver hair spilled out, he saw her face. His own was hidden in the hood of the cloak, although she had seen it back at the wagon.

The situation suddenly shifted as a half-dozen people broke through the circle of onlookers. There were dressed all in black, with masks like she had been wearing. The shadowy figure said a word she didn’t recognise and was immediately attacked. She took the opportunity and ran. Even as he fought off these new opponents, she heard him chant an ominous spell behind her.

“Your fate is to suffer.”

Belinda was in line at the Broadstreet Bridge, waiting to hand over her permit before crossing to Old City. In both dress and manner, she was indistinguishable from the many servants likewise heading to Old City on household errands. She noticed a slight commotion in the line, looking back to see a man walking down the line, looking at something in his hand. He was tall and lanky, with the uniform of a Magic Society functionary. The men on the wagon Sophie had attempted to rob had the same uniforms, but this wasn’t one of those men. Unless they changed their faces with magic. Sophie and herself had tried that from time to time, but it was unreliable and prone to wearing off early.

Belinda couldn't run like Sophie and had always relied on secrecy and deception. Even if she could, there wasn’t much place to run. The Duke’s guards manning the crossing booth might be casual to those departing the Island, but that would quickly change if she made a break for it. The best she could do was keep in character and hope that the man was trying to flush people out with security theatre. Her hopes were dashed when the man stopped right in front of her.

Jason was startled to see silver hair spill out, forming a corona around the thief's dark beauty. He froze in that fleeting moment, then recognised her as Jory's celestine friend. She also froze, looking cornered as her eyes darted around. Then out of nowhere, a group of attackers came barrelling at Jason, dressed head-to-toe in black.

“Ninjas?” he said, and they were on him. He evaded, seeing the celestine taking the chance to run. He had to send her where he knew he could find her.

“Your fate is to suffer.”

She would have to run to Jory if she wanted to stay alive but casting the spell cost Jason as he was overrun by attackers. They dropped him to the ground and gathered over him, laying in kicks. Jason evened the odds and then some by sending a geyser of leeches spraying up into them. The attackers reeled, screaming as they pulling off leeches who took gobbets of flesh with them in rings of burrowing teeth. The watching dock workers backed off, but not so much that they couldn’t keep watching.

Jason got to his feet and held a hand out at one of the men yanking leeches off his body.

“Your blood is not yours to keep, but mine on which to feast.”

Jason siphoned-off the man’s life force to heal the beating they had got in. They all had essences, but he could tell from their auras that none had a full set.

“You won’t survive long if you don’t tell me who sent you,” he told them.

“You can kill us,” one of them said, “but the man who sent us will kill our whole families.”

Jason frowned at that.

“Encircle,” he commanded, and the leeches dropped off the men to form a ring around them. They were all bleeding and poisoned, but Jason used his feast of absolution power on each in turn. It replenished his mana and kept them alive, as they would probably survive one bleed affliction. They stood in place, unsure and unsteady. Jason moved forward and ripped the mask off the one who had spoken. Jason didn’t recognise him.

“The person who sent you will kill your family if you talk?”

"That's right," he said, scared but looking back with defiance. "You might as well let us go. We won't talk, even if you kill us.”

“Let you go?” Jason asked. “After you attacked me? If you’re not going to talk, then you’re no use to me alive.”

Jory was seeing out a patient when he heard a crashing sound from the back room and rushed back there. Donal, the priest of the healer, was likewise coming to check the commotion. Together, they found a woman who had apparently staggered in the back and knocked over a rack of alchemy implements as she collapsed. She was now laying amongst shattered glass.

“Silver hair,” Donal said. “A celestine.”

Jory’s troubled expression got worse when they turned her over and it was, as he feared, Sophie Wexler. They picked her up out of the glass and carried her into one of the new treatment rooms laying her out on the examination table. Seeing darkened flesh under the rips in her clothes, Jory cut way her outer garment, revealing a tight sleeveless top and cuts on the arms that weren't from the broken glass. Ominous black veins traced out from each of the wounds, clearly visible through the skin. The wound themselves were already showing signs of necrosis.

“Some kind of necrotic poison,” Jory said. Donal was already chanting a spell.

“Make clean that which has been tainted.”

The black veins retreated somewhat, but then visibly started crawling up her arms once again.

“It’s like the poison is replicating itself,” Donal said.

“I’ll work on the poison,” Jory said. “You stop it from killing her. If we can beat it back enough you can try a longer spell.”

Jory started grabbing supplies from cabinets as Donal chanted another spell.

“You’re not going to kill us in front of all these people,” one of Jason’s attackers said.

“Are you kidding?” one of the others asked. “Look at that cloak. He's the cloak guy!”

“What the hell re you talking about?” the first attacker asked.

“The one who killed five adventurers in a shopping arcade in the middle of the day,” the second attacker said. “Not just regular people, but actual adventurers! And you know what they did to him? They promoted him! You think he won’t kill us because some dockworkers saw it?”

Jason, taking in the exchange, turned to the second attacker.

“You seem to know a lot,” Jason said, walking over and pulling off the man's mask.

"You won't tell me who sent you?"

“I can’t.”

"Then tell me why. That's your live-or-die question."

“I don’t know,” the man said, voice almost begging. “I really don’t. We were just meant to slow you down and run, like with the others.”

“Shut up Jacob,” one of the others barked. Jason pointed at the man who spoke.

“Mount,” he ordered, and the leeches crawled up the man’s legs and over his body, but without sinking their teeth into him. Then Jason turned back to Jacob.

“By others, you mean the other adventurers trying to catch the thief?”

The man nodded, and Jason started pacing as his brain ticked over. The now terrified attackers watched, unmoving, as they awaited their fate with bated breath.

“How did you know to intercept me here?”

“Keep your mouth shut, Jacob!”

“Screw you guys! I don’t have a family, and I ain’t getting eaten by leeches. There’s some silver-ranker, tracking the thief. Abilities too high for the thief’s friend to spot.”

That would be the one Jory has a thing for, Jason realised.

“Go on,” Jason said.

“That’s all I know. He tracks the thief, then we get a signal and a location if we have to intervene. I don’t even know why they bother with us if they have someone like that.”

“To keep it low-key,” Jason said absently. “Who do you work for?”

“What I told you already gets me hurt,” Jacob said. “Telling you that gets me killed.”

“I know that guy,” one of the dockworkers called out. Jason turned and flipped him a bronze spirit coin.

“Jack-Jumper Jacob,” the dockworker said. “He’s one of Dorgan’s.”

Jason didn’t know more than the basics about the Big Three. Dorgan was the quiet one, while the ambitious Ventress and the impetuous Silva worked their schemes against one another.

“Things are coming together,” Jason said absently, “but there’s a connection missing.”

“That’s enough, Asano,” a harsh voice said, and a man approached through the crowd of dockworkers. He was human, with well-made, sandy coloured clothes. Jason could sense no aura, but the workers instinctively moved out of his way. Jason was willing to bet the aura he couldn’t sense was silver.

“Your quarry has escaped,” the newcomer said, “and you’ve got all you’re getting out of these men. Time to give up and try another day, Asano.”

Jason tutted.

“She won’t be happy you had to show up in person,” he said and the silver-ranker flinched. Jason chuckled.

“Fair enough,” Jason said. “I have somewhere else to be, anyway.”

Sophie was unconscious but alive, still on the examination table but now with a sheet over her. Jory and Donal were exhausted; Donal was sprawled in the room’s only chair while Jory was on the floor, leaning against the wall. On the floor were dozens of empty vials that Jory had used to treat Sophie, or that Donal had emptied to replenish his mana.

“It was some kind of curse,” Donal said. “Two curses, really. One was making the poison worse, while the other was adding more poison and the first curse. The curse that kept making more of the other two couldn’t be cleansed until the other curse was cleansed, and she had so much of it in her when she arrived.”

“Too bad Jason isn’t here,” Jory said. “He’d have eaten it all like it was nothing.”

“Eaten?”

“He can be a little sinister,” Jory said, “but he’s a good man.”

“I hope you still think so, after today,” Jason said from the doorway.

“Jason!” Jory said. “We could have used you here a while ago. Something happened to my friend a while ago. I don’t know what, but it was bad.”

Jory and Donal pushed themselves to their feet.

“Curses and poison,” Jason said, looking at Sophie.

Jason was decked out in his adventuring gear, spattered with blood.

“Are you chasing what did this to her?” Jory asked.

“I’m chasing her,” Jason said. “I am what did this.”