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The city is miraculously quiet. Fires smoulder here and there, but they are unattended. Either the citizens have grown tired of rioting all hours of the day or they know the assassins have been on the hunt. They seem to have an uncanny knack for discovering the unknown.
I creep through the streets, silent and slow. There is no reason to rush and call attention to myself, not to mention stress my leg any more than I need to. Sephtis said he would wait until midnight and the sun has only just sunk below the horizon. I have plenty of time, but that doesn’t mean I’m not eager to get it over with. The sooner Sephtis is dead, the better. The sooner Sephtis is dead, the sooner I can breathe freely for the first time in thirteen years. The sooner everyone can.
...
It doesn’t take me long to reach the theatre where Sephtis waits. There is no opera, hasn’t been in decades. All that remains is the dilapidated building where a grand opera house once stood. It can barely be called a theatre anymore. The place is abandoned—boarded up windows and a layer of neglect slowly suffocating the remaining life from its walls.
I’m not surprised to find the front door ajar. I’m also not stupid enough to go in that way. I slip around to the back of the building, combing the walls for other entry points. One of the windows on the second story has gaps in its boards. I pull my easy-grip gloves out of my pockets and put them on. It doesn’t take as much time or effort to scale the wall as I expected. Jax was right about my prosthetic at least. It has to be the best grip available.
I pull myself up onto the windowsill and perch precariously on its three-inch width as I pry off a few more boards. They come away with ease, which is lucky. I don’t feel like losing my balance and plummeting to my death today. Only one Aeron will die tonight and it won’t be me. I’ll make sure of that.
I crawl carefully through the hole I made in the window and drop to a crouch. The inside of the theatre is dark and cold, like a tomb. Dead. It has sat empty for too long and now its only company is the dust cloaking everything in a thick layer of decay. I resist the urge to cough as its damp smell reaches my nostrils. I won’t let a little bit of must break my cover.
I stick to the wall as I creep through the yawning halls in search of a staircase. I don’t know why, but something tells me Sephtis will be on the main floor. He likes a show, so what better place to meet than the stage?
I try to ignore the feeling of unease that crawls into me as I near my enemy. What will he attempt this time?
Last time you faced him, I remind myself, you ended up losing your leg and nearly drowning in a glass tank. This time Trey won’t be coming to save you. Sephtis made sure of that.
I won’t need to be saved. I can handle this.
Sure you can, alone and unprepared.
I tell the voice to shut up and grit my teeth against the nagging thoughts that still circulate.
A few moments later, I come across the grand staircase. It beckons me down into the depths, to my possible death.
Shut up.
Sephtis is waiting at the bottom.
I can do this. I must. No one else will.
I take a deep breath and descend towards the beast, towards Sephtis, and a battle that will haunt me until my dying day.