THE LAST KEEPER

Chapter 315. NO!

Sagiri stared into the darkness for a moment longer before he stood slowly to his feet. He was feeling quite rested to say the list, and his senses were sharp and focused. The darkness was peaceful, and just the sound of steady heartbeats could be heard for miles. The wind that had been blocked by the chimney to allow him to sleep caressed the exposed parts of his face and hands, violently making goosebumps rise on his skin.

He took a step forward on the slightly slanting roof, and his cloak shifted once behind him. He stepped to the edge of the roof, tempting the strong wind to throw him off the roof. After a long, unhurried moment, he jumped slightly and stepped to the edge of the roof.

He rested his weight for a while, his eyes staring into the dimly lit street below, before he crouched low and jumped.

He crossed the first gap easily and landed silently on another rooftop before immediately moving again. Roof after roof passed beneath him. He didn’t run this time. Just moved fluidly from roof to roof. Just enough to follow the direction Zaira kept watching. He moved over hanging lanterns and narrow alleys, over courtyards with extinguished fires.

"Zaira, you better not be plotting my death," Sagiri whispered. The strong wind that was blowing picked up his voice and dispersed it immediately.

Sagiri dropped low at the next street and used stone awnings to push himself upward again. He had a feeling he was almost getting out of one district and entering another. The city beneath him stretched in layers, bridges overhead, connected roofs, open streets glowing amber below. His shadow crossed walls and slipped over carved balconies. A cat darted out of his path and glared at him. Cats are truly just unique creatures.

Wind caught the edge of his cloak as he cleared another gap and landed lightly on a sloped roof. Zaira had changed the position she was looking at again and again, and Sagiri just followed. He went further and further in a direction he did not know. The district slowly changed. The streets became narrower and the lights fewer. This part of Thazir city felt even darker and more abandoned. It seemed like a place that people avoided even during the daytime and completely avoided at night. The sounds disappeared and were still.

Zaira kept looking ahead.

"I am starting to think you are taking me to a place where I will meet my end," Sagiri said, but kept walking deep into the night. He was walking on a long roof now. This one looked old and faded, and he had to be careful not to fall through.

Sagiri crossed another rooftop and slowed as he reached the edge overlooking a narrow street below. Zaira had gone completely still on his wrist, her small head fixed toward a dark alley cutting between the buildings. Sagiri looked down without much thought at first.

He had not been paying attention. He had not spread his senses. He had not expected anything. This was Thazir. The inner districts. Safe. For the first time in a long time, he had allowed himself to stop watching everything and just take a walk in the city. It’s not like even with his senses not pushed out meant he was an easy target. He was a trained warrior under the deadliest man of the north, according to him. Captain Salka. He was no easy target.

Suddenly, however, the smell of blood reached his nose, freezing him in place. Sagiri stopped immediately, turned around swiftly, and inhaled deeply. He pushed out his senses immediately. The place was quiet indeed. The smell, however, could not be ignored.

"Why did you bring me here, Zaira. Do you drink blood or something?" Sagiri asked. He was alarmed, but he was not worried yet. All the people he cared about were back at the Fortress. If someone chose to die here tonight, then it would not be his problem. The smell was fresh enough not to be ignored. It could not have been more than an hour since someone bled.

Where is the body then?

His expression changed. His eyes sharpened, and he let the right eye grow sharper, tearing into every dark nook and cranny. His gaze shifted toward the alley, following Zaira’s gaze. Zaira remained staring. Sagiri looked at her briefly before he stepped off the roof. He dropped silently through the night onto the ground below. His cloak shifted once behind him before he landed directly at the mouth of the street below.

His boots touched stone, and he remained standing. The alley stretched ahead between tall canyon buildings with only a few lanterns reaching inside. The smell was stronger now. Sagiri stood there quietly.

Whoever was bleeding must have been in there, and for some reason, Sagiri could tell Zaira wanted him to follow.

Sagiri remained still for a moment after landing, letting his eyes adjust and his senses settle properly this time. The smell of blood lingered in the air ahead, thin but enough. His posture changed almost immediately. The ease from earlier disappeared, and he grew alert. Someone had disturbed him and Zaira’s rest. Especially his, and he wanted to know who dared do such an atrocious act.

He walked into the alley slowly but stayed close to the walls. It was so dark in the place that he could almost touch the darkness. His cloak stopped moving as much. There was no wind in this place. His footsteps made almost no sound against the stone. When the street widened, he crossed through the shadow instead of the light. This place looked like a dead part of Thazir. This must have been a part of the district where delinquents stayed, doing whatever they did to keep it from the eyes of the city lord and his men.

Sagiri moved silently through the alley until it narrowed and opened into a lower section carved directly into the canyon wall, where homes disappeared inward beneath stone overhangs and connected tunnels. Well, places that looked like they were once homes but were now abandoned. No normal man could allow his wife and kids to live in such a place.

The place felt buried beneath the city. Quieter and Darker. He approached the turn and shifted to step inside when his boot pressed against something small. He stopped instantly. His foot lifted. Sagiri stepped back and crouched without making a sound.

His fingers reached into the shadow and picked up a small metal object. The moment it touched his palm, he froze. One of the tiny crossed blades was tied with dark thread, which was no doubt made to be attached to a garment. His eyes remained on it. His other hand moved automatically beneath his robes and returned holding the trinket Azir had given him earlier that day.

He looked between them. Same shape. Same worn edges. Same thread. One in his hand. One lying here. At the mouth of a place, Azir should have no reason to be. The blood smell suddenly felt stronger. Sagiri slowly raised his eyes toward the dark passage ahead. Zaira remained completely still on his shoulder before she finally closed her eyes and went back to sleep as if her mission was complete. So this was why the beast had woken up. For a moment, nothing moved. Then something cold settled inside his chest.

Azir?

Azir!!

It possibly couldn’t be!

Sagiri’s blood ran cold for some reason.