Project Knightfall

The wind rustled the trees, and ash fell like snow.

Cain stood at the edge of a field, watching the girl with the blindfold walk in slow circles. Her dress was white once, maybe, but now it was grey with soot, the hem frayed where it dragged through the dirt. She hummed a quiet tune—familiar, but just out of reach—her fingers curled tight around a long chain.

There was no one on the other end.

“Are you free now?” she asked without turning. “Why are you still dragging it?”

Cain looked down. His hands were empty, but the sound of chains followed every step he took.

He didn’t answer.

A breeze stirred the ashes. Somewhere, in the background, a slow chant began. Low and steady, like monks in a ruined chapel:

“Ashes to ashes, we name the sin.”

The girl stopped and turned to face him. Her eyes were hidden by the blindfold, but Cain could feel the weight of her gaze. She held out the end of the chain to him.

“Do you want to make the same choice again?” she asked.

He stepped forward before he could think better of it.

And just like before, the world caught fire.

Cain jerked upright, heart hammering like it was trying to claw out of his chest. The dim light of late afternoon filtered through the warped shutters of The Broken Horn’s second-floor room, painting dusty lines across the ceiling. For a moment, the sound of chains still rang in his ears.

He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face.

“Another good dream?” Lexi’s voice came from across the room.

Cain glanced over. She sat curled on the edge of a mat, knees drawn up, fingers absently tracing the links of her wrist chains. Her hair was a little less tangled today. Her eyes, a little less scared.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Five stars. Wouldn’t sleep through again.”

Lexi offered a tiny smile. “You were twitching.”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as his feet touched the cold floorboards. “That’s how you know the nightmares are earning their keep.”
She tilted her head, eyes distant. “Then they’re very rich,” she said, absently touching the cuffs at her wrists.

Cain huffed out a breath—something between a chuckle and a sigh.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think they take bribes.”

“…Then why do they keep coming?”

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he reached for the shirt draped over a nearby chair and tugged it on. The fabric was stiff from the cold, and the silence stretched on long enough to feel personal.

Then, lightly, he replied, “Maybe they like the view. Free lodging, nightly performances, curtains drawn just right. Five-star horror.”

Lexi blinked at him, puzzled. “I don’t think that’s how dreams work.”

Cain grinned without warmth. “Sure it is. They show up, kick your ribs in, rearrange the furniture in your head. Then they leave a note that just says, ‘You were always the problem.’” He stood, rolling his shoulders. “Very polite, if you ask me.”

Lexi’s brows pulled together. “You make everything sound like a joke.”

“That’s because if I don’t,” he said, tugging on his coat, “it stops being one.”

She watched him for a moment longer, then lowered her gaze. “Do you ever talk about it? The things you dream?”

Cain froze, just for a moment.

“Nope,” he said finally. “Bad for business.”

She didn’t press.

He ran a hand through his hair, giving it a quick tousle before flashing a grin her way. “Speaking of business, let’s see if our resident fixer is in the mood for trade today.”

“…Are we going to sell something?”

“Sell, trade, bribe, maybe buy something illegal,” he said, stifling a yawn. “Y’know. Business.”

She stood, brushing down the front of the jeans he lent her. “Are you sure that’s smart?”

He gave her a wink. “No. But it’ll be entertaining.”

Together, they stepped into the corridor—his boots clicking on the wooden floor, hers padding softly beside him.

The sun outside had already started to dip. Another day lost, but not yet wasted.

Lila was already waiting when Cain pushed open the crooked back door of The Broken Horn’s cellar. The room was complete with creaky floorboards and too many coats hanging from too few hooks. She sat atop an overturned crate, sipping from a chipped mug and giving off the exact amount of disdain it took to make the air colder.

“Well, well,” she said, not looking up. “The arsonist returns.”

Cain offered a lazy grin. “You heard, huh?”

“Heard?” she repeated dully. “Heard? I smelled it, and so did the whole damn city. Half the Underworld’s talking about it. The other half is cursing your name while they sweep up the ashes.”

He sauntered in, boots scuffed softly against the wood. “In my defense, turning the estate into a bonfire was Plan B. It wasn’t my first intention.”

“You weren’t even caught, Cain. They had no idea you were there.”

“That I know of,” he corrected.

Lila lowered her mug and gave him a sharp look. “You torched the place just in case?”

“Contingency planning,” he said. “Very professional.”

“I’d be prouder if you didn’t light a literal fire under my ass.”

“‘Figurative,’” he corrected. “I doubt you want a literal fire under your ass.”

She rolled her eyes and took another sip, muttering, “Gods help me, you’re lucky you’re useful.”

Cain leaned against the wall, folding his arms. “Speaking of useful. I’ve got something for you.”

“Oh?” Lila arched a brow. “Please don’t say it’s another godsdamned fire.”

He grinned a tapped the side of his coat. “Nope. Reappropriated merchandise.”

That got her attention. She set her mug down slowly. “Go on.”

“I hit a storage room,” he said casually. “Swept it basically clean. Swords, daggers, armor—enough to outfit a small militia. It’s all stashed away. Safe.”

Lila stared at him.

He shrugged. “Wasn’t part of the mission, I know. But the opportunity was just lying there. Felt rude not to take it.”

She blinked, then let out a breath that was halfway between a sigh and a laugh. “You emptied the btanch head’s storage room?”

“Let’s say ‘looted’. It sounds more professional.”

“Cain…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do you have any idea how much heat that’s going to bring down if someone figures out where it went?”

“Relax,” he said. “I haven’t offloaded it yet. Figured I’d come to you first. You know the right fences, I’m sure?”

Lila looked at him for a long moment, calculating. Then she sat back on the crate and gave a resigned nod. “Alright. I might know someone. But I need to feel out the temperature first.”

“Appreciate it.”

“But if you ever go off-script like that again,” she said, pointing a finger at him, “at least warn me before you light the match.”

“No promises,” Cain said. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

***

The front of the shop didn’t look like a black-market fence.

Cain paused outside, letting his eyes trace the painted lettering across the glass: “Cassian’s Curiosities — Rare Finds, Honest Trade.” The lettering was gilded, understated, and elegant. The window displays were immaculate—intricately carved daggers laid out beside velvet-lined jewelry boxes, all lit by tasteful overhead lamps that gave the place a warm, amber glow.

It looked like the kind of place that served tea in crystal cups and made its patrons feel underdressed on purpose.

Cain stepped inside.

The air smelled like cedarwood and old parchment. The polished wood floors were quiet beneath his boots, and a subtle magical shimmer lined the shelves, softly warding against unwanted hands.

He looked strangely at ease. His fingers brushed along a display case like he belonged here–-like someone who knew the price tags even when they weren’t visible.

Lexi, on the other hand, hovered by the door. Her eyes flicked from shelf to shelf, unsure if she was allowed to look too long at anything. The fine cut of the furnishings, the gold inlays on the counter—none of it complemented her. She looked like someone who expected to be asked to leave at any moment.

Lila walked in last, confident but measured, like she’d rehearsed this moment in her head and didn’t like any of the versions that played out. Her gaze swept the room once, then locked onto the man behind the counter.

The proprietor, presumably Cassian, didn’t wear the trappings of a rogue or smuggler. He looked more like a retired noble with a taste for understated danger. Midnight-black shirt, sleeves neatly rolled. Clean-shaven. Relaxed. His smile was soft, not sharp. But his eyes—those told a different story.

He saw Lila and paused, quickly suppressing the hint of surprise that crossed his face.

“Well,” he said smoothly. “I was starting to worry you’d forgotten about me.”

Lila didn’t smile. “I forget a lot of things. Not you.”

Cain raised a brow.

Cassian came around the counter, every movement unhurried. He didn’t look at Cain or Lexi right away. His eyes stayed on Lila. His expression was warm. Guarded, but warm.

“And these?” he asked gently.

Lila nodded toward Cain. “New blood. He’s the one you’ve probably heard about.”

Cassian finally turned, giving Cain a once-over. “You carry yourself like you own the place.”

Cain grinned. “Just borrowing it until someone notices.”

“That’s the trick, isn’t it?” Cassian replied, his gaze a little sharper now. “To act like you never had anything to lose.”

Lila cleared her throat. “We need to move some things. Weapons. High quantity. High quality. Recently liberated.”

Cassian nodded once, the mirth fading from his expression. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s see if we can help each other out.”

Cain casually gestured toward the front of the shop. “I brought a little something for show-and-tell.”

Lila shot him a look. A quiet one, but it said: Don’t mess this up.

He ignored it and reached into his coat, tapping the inner lining. “Wardrobe’s got the goods. I’ll need a private space before I open it—unless you want a large, heavy object tearing your nice carpet.”

Cassian looked between the three of them, then nodded once. “Basement vault. Follow me.”

He turned with a swirl of his longcoat, and they trailed behind him down a short hallway past more displays: an enchanted rapier encased in crystal, a pair of jeweled gauntlets humming faintly with sealed magic, even a taxidermied drake head mounted above an intricately carved liquor cabinet.

Lexi hovered close to Cain, eyes wide as saucers. “This place is weird.”

He smirked. “You’ll get used to it.”

Behind them, Lila walked with her arms crossed—guarded, controlled. She hadn’t said a word since they left the front room, but Cain caught the way her eyes lingered on the back of Cassian’s shoulders. Not wary. Not fond, either. More like someone being forced to remember something they wanted to forget.

The basement was more utilitarian: stone walls, a reinforced door with four separate locks, and a broad table flanked by two velvet chairs.

Cassian unlocked the vault door, stepped inside, then gestured. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Cain cracked his knuckles. “Just remember—you asked.”

He summoned his wardrobe with a flourish of his fingers. The armoire appeared with a thud beside the table.

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “Bit dramatic, aren’t you?”

Cain opened the wardrobe.

What spilled out was, in a word, excessive. Daggers, shortswords, light armor, crossbows, throwing knives, half a dozen pouches of enchanted bolts, and even a battered helmet that looked like it had been cursed at least twice.

Cassian let out a slow whistle. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Nope,” he replied, leaning against the wardrobe. “Merc estate’s private stash.”

Lexi stood near the wall, fingers still brushing her chains, eyes fixed on a dagger with a hollow sort of hunger.

The proprietor crouched to inspect a few of the weapons, testing balance and edge with the eye of a practiced dealer. “Some of this is Guild-forged,” he muttered. “And this armor… reinforced plating. Alchemical resin core. That’s not cheap.”

Cain tilted his head. “So?”

“So,” he said, straightening, “I’ll need time. Fencing all of this at once would turn heads.”

“I don’t need it all moved today.”

“Good.” He glanced at Lila, hesitated, then added, “I can offer a lump sum for part of it now. Call it a down payment. The rest will move in stages—quietly.”

Cain nodded. “Sounds fair.”

“I’ll throw in a bonus,” Cassian said, reaching beneath the table. He set a sleek, black case on the surface and opened it to reveal a compact, beautifully crafted firearm. “One of the newer coil-barrel designs. Not common. Not traceable. And it’ll play nicely with that edgelord style you have going on.”

The corner of Cain’s eye twitched. “What’s the catch?”

He smiled. “No catch. Just trust that I don’t like being in debt to people I might end up respecting.”

Cain reached for the case. “So it’s bait then. I’ll take it.”
His fingers paused on the barrel. Though he hadn’t held this particular weapon before, it still felt familiar.

Too familiar.

He ran his fingers down the sleek black barrel once more, then curled them around the grip, lifting it slightly as a test.

The weight in his hand wasn’t quite right, but the memory of it was. Same build. Same balance. The kind of weapon you only hold when you’ve already made peace with pulling the trigger.

He withdrew his hand and snapped the case shut.

“Alright,” he said. “We’ve got a deal.”

Cassian offered a hand. Cain shook it.

“I’ll have someone reach out when the next load’s ready to move,” Cassian said. “And if you ever feel like burning something else down, maybe ask me first. I’ve got a list.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lila hadn’t said a word during the exchange. Now, she turned to Cassian, eyes unreadable. “Thanks for taking the risk.”

“I never do anything I don’t want to,” he said softly, not quite smiling.

They left the vault, Cain leading the way up the stairs with the case tucked neatly under one arm. Lexi followed quietly, occasionally glancing back at the arsenal still strewn across the table. Lila lingered a beat longer at the bottom, saying nothing.

When they stepped back into the front of the shop, the golden lighting felt warmer than before. Cain looked around at the polished glass, the fine edges and rarities, and felt the tug of something he hadn’t had in a while.

Comfort.

But that wasn’t for him.

He pushed open the front door. The street outside was darker now, the day inching toward dusk. The weight of the gun in the case was slight, but his heart didn’t agree.

Lexi moved up beside him. “What now?”

Cain offered her a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now?” We see if Lila’s got more dangerous errands she wants to dress up like favors.”

The shop door clicked softly shut behind them.

Footsteps followed.

Lila stepped up beside them, adjusting her coat with a practiced flick of her wrist. Her eyes scanned the street, calculating exits and the risk of every shadow. 

“I could probably point you in the right direction,” she said.

Cain glanced sideways, the new weapon case still tucked beneath his arm. The streets were cooling fast now, the last edge of sunlight slipping down the stone walls like melted gold. Somewhere in the distance, a bell chimed the turn of the hour.

He sighed. “Alright, let’s talk about what happens next.”