Page 2

Chapter 1

Selestina

I ’m perched on the edge of a crumbling rooftop of an old seamstress shop, blending into the night. The moons are hung high, illuminating the rough cobblestones and the drunken groups spilling out of the tavern.

My mask, a creation of black silk and woven magic, clings to my skin like a second face. It’s not just a mask, it’s my shield, my anonymity stitched into every thread. It’s cool and slightly prickly against my cheeks, a reminder of the witch who crafted it and the precautions she’s drilled into me. Only I can remove it, ensuring that my identity remains a secret, even in death.

From my vantage point, I have the perfect view of the tavern. Its warm light spills through the old wooden door, painting the cobblestones in golds and oranges. The muffled sounds of laughter and shouting echo off the stone walls of the narrow street, mixing with the clink of cups and the occasional crash of breaking glass. My focus, however, is not on the noise but on the man I’m waiting for, a vile excuse for a human who hides behind the name Nico Alvarez .

A piece of shit, to put it lightly.

My fingers brush against the hilt of my dagger, the cool steel a comforting weight strapped snugly against my ribs. One of many daggers attached to me. Nico’s face is burned into my mind. He is the portrait of cruelty: greasy black hair, a perpetual sneer, and a limp that makes him waddle rather than walk. A crimson cloak marks him, making him an easy target to watch. He’s a man who wears his sins proudly, and I’ve been tasked with carving justice into him. I smile to myself at the thought. I am the villain people read about in books. The one that keeps them sleeping with one eye open.

The thought of Nico makes my stomach twist. He’s a man who spends every waking moment in El Cántaro Quebrado, drinking himself into a stupor while his wife and children remain trapped in their home. I’ve seen them through the cracked windows of their house, their faces marked with bruises that tell the story of his violence. I can’t remember when I stopped feeling conflicted about killing men like him. Perhaps it was the day I realized removing their presence was the kindest thing I could do for the world. It’s the innocent people I’ve killed that keep me up at night.

I catch a flash of red out of the corner of my eye, instantly pulling me from my thoughts and making me alert. I tense, ready to spring into action. The man stands and stumbles toward the door. But as he steps into the light, my anticipation falters. He lacks the telltale limp, and his face, though old, isn’t the one etched into my mind.

Damn it. My jaw tightens as I pull back, adjusting my position to stay unseen. Patience is essential in this line of work—a hard-earned virtue I’ve cultivated over countless nights like this one. Still, frustration gnaws at me. My target had walked into the tavern, sat at the same corner table he always did, and downed pint after pint. I’ve spent the last three hours watching that very spot, and now it’s empty.

I’ve been set up.

It’s the only explanation.

My mind races through the implications as I silently retreat from the rooftop, leaping down into the alley below. The air is damp here, carrying the soft smell of ale and wet stone. The alley stretches about seventy-five feet, a narrow passage lined by the tavern’s backside on one side and the seamstress’s shop on the other. Beyond it lies the main street, but I won’t risk that. The alleys will take me safely back to The Midnight Citadel, the hidden sanctuary my kind calls home in this kingdom and every other.

The weight of Alexander’s lessons press in on me as I move. Never let yourself be followed. Never lead someone to the Citadel. His voice echoes in my mind as I slip through the alley quickly.

The sound of footsteps behind me is enough to snap me out of my thoughts. My heart jumps, adrenaline surging as I whirl around, reaching instinctively for my dagger. But I’m too slow. A rope loops around my neck with brutal precision, yanking me backward with a force that sends me stumbling.

The rough fibers bite into my skin, choking off my breath. Panic flares in my chest, as I claw at the rope, my nails scraping uselessly against it. My attacker is strong, their grip relentless, and the world tilts as my vision begins to blur.

The alley spins, darkening at the edges, and I realize I can’t see who’s behind me. What a cruel joke life has thrown my way. I’ve spent my life hiding in shadows, and now I’m being taken by one.

Rage sparks within me, bright and fiery against the encroaching darkness. I won’t go out like this. Summoning the last of my strength, I rasp out a hoarse, defiant whisper, “Fuck. You.” As I do everything in my power to kick him back in the balls. I hear a grunt and realize my boot has hit its mark, but it’s no matter.

My final act of rebellion means nothing, as the world fades entirely. A slow yet loud buzz fills my ears, but I hear the distinct male laugh that follows my words. I can’t believe a man is the one who killed me. My last thought is a bitter curse, aimed squarely at myself for letting my guard down, for being caught so easily. The blackness swallows me whole, and I fall, consumed by the void.

The cold hits me first. It creeps into my skin, a biting chill that carries the sterile sting of antiseptic? Which makes no sense. Everything feels unnatural, too clean, too sharp. I feel my nose scrunch at the onslaught of smells.

My mind stirs, fighting the depths of unconsciousness. My eyes snap open, and all I see is gray stone. The ceiling looms above me, its surface uneven in the dim light, reminding me of a cave.

Everything is so disorienting, and I’m struggling to grasp my bearings.

Then it hits me.

I was murdered.

I sit up abruptly; the movement making my head spin. I’m on a hard slab in a dimly lit room, rows of bodies covered with white sheets surrounding me .

A morgue.

What the fuck?

I let out a shaky, uneven breath as I try to grapple with what the fuck just happened. My boots swing down to meet the floor, the soft thud echoing in the still quiet. My mind is taking too long to draw any sort of memory or coherent thought and the rudeness of movement is making my head hurt. My fingers instinctively reach for the mask adhered to my face, tracing its edges, the magic humming beneath my fingertips. It’s still there, cool and familiar, anchoring me. At least my identity is intact.

That’s when I realize—whoever did this to me won’t know they failed. At least I’ve got that advantage.

But how am I alive?

The question claws at my mind, but I push it aside. Later. I’ll deal with it later. Survival comes first.

I glance around the room, taking in every detail, the pale light overhead, the gleaming steel trays, the crackle of candles that are starting to fade. It smells of decaying flesh and feces. It makes me sick to my stomach.

As I take my first excruciating step, I bite back an agonizing groan as every single muscle in my body screams in protest. Every step feels like I am moving through quicksand. Every ache is a clear reminder of how close I came to staying here for good.

My hand brushes the hilt of the dagger strapped to my chest harness, and then the harnesses on my thighs. Good, they’re all still there. I guess I haven’t been dead long, as everything is still on me. At least I’m not completely defenseless.

I pass a mirror near the corner of the room and take in my appearance. It’s as if nothing happened, minus the huge bruise already forming from where the rope was around my neck. I touch it softly, trailing along the line. My thoughts start to wander again but…no. I can’t think about this now. I need to get out before someone sees me.

I walk slowly towards the door. The sound of my boots on the stone floor is far too loud in the suffocating silence. My senses are on edge and every sound sends a jolt of adrenaline through me. I press my ear against the door, listening. Nothing. Not a single sound. The door creaks as I push it open, the sound making my heart race even faster. I slip into the corridor beyonds with the soft hum of candles buzzing overhead.

As I make my way through the various hallways, I can't help but wonder which morgue I’m in. There are four in total in this kingdom. I’ve never been to a morgue before, as Diego is usually the one to check my kills. I look towards the walls to give me a clue as to where I am, but I come up with nothing. I’m still too disoriented to understand anything. My vision swims slightly, but I make out the word “Stairs” and force myself toward it, each step a battle against my screaming muscles. My body feels like it’s barely holding itself together.

The stairwell door creaks as I push it open. My breath catches, and I freeze, waiting for a response, footsteps, voices, anything. But the silence holds.

I take the stairs quickly. My ragged breath still a siren in my head.

When I reach the ground floor, I pause, leaning against the wall for a moment to steady myself. The corridor stretches out before me, more brightly lit than the morgue but just as deserted. The air is colder here, the scent of antiseptic replaced by something more metallic, and sterile. It smells less of death here which settles my stomach, but only slightly. My fingers tighten around the hilt of my dagger, and I press on.

I finally see a door in the distance and relief floods me as I make my way toward it, my steps quickening despite the pain. The door swings open, and I step into the crisp night air. The chill feels like a slap to my exposed skin, but it feels like freedom.

A flurry of questions gnaw at me, as I slip through the darkened streets of Tepetl. Who would dare? Who would be reckless enough, or bold enough, to try to kill me?

Alexander comes to the forefront of my thoughts, his name settling like a thorn in my chest. My mentor, my handler, my captor. He’s ruthless, meticulous, a man who has taught me to carve fear into my enemies with precision, but no, Alexander wouldn’t do this. I am his greatest weapon, his prized creation.

The Shadow Reaper .

Why would he dismantle the very thing he’s spent years building? It doesn’t make sense.

Still, doubt creeps in. He’s always played a long game, always had plans within plans. Could I have become a liability without realizing it? Did I fail him in some way? The thought lingers, until I shove it aside. No, it can’t be him. If Alexander wanted me dead, I wouldn’t have woken up.

My mind twists toward the kings next, the rulers of Tonalli. The faces I’ve seen the few times I have been in close proximity when a hit was made and whose influence I’ve felt with every mission I’ve carried out. Could this be their doing? A reckoning for the lives I’ve taken, for the blood I’ve spilled on their behalf?

My breath catches, and I push the thought away, shaking my head as if I can physically dislodge it. I can’t afford to spiral into paranoia. Not yet.

The street curves ahead, and a breeze sweeps the street, carrying a scent of wood and papaya.

I pause for a moment as the cold air sends a shiver down my spine, and I let the weight of the night settle over me. Whoever it was, whatever their reasons, they’ve made one thing clear.

I’m not as untouchable as I thought.

And that, more than anything, terrifies me.

Each corner I turn reveals more of Tepetl’s nocturnal life. Drunken patrons stumble out of taverns, their laughter and shouting echoing off the stone walls. I keep to the shadows, and scan for any sign of danger. The smell of roasting meat tangled with the scent of the blacksmiths’ forges creates a pungent mix that makes my stomach feel like it’s about to bring up last night’s dinner.

Failure gnaws at me.

I was supposed to eliminate my target tonight; instead, I was eliminated. The thought of facing Alexander with nothing but excuses makes my stomach tighten with fear. His wrath is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

He has eyes everywhere. I have to go back and face my failure. The one time I tried to escape, he locked me in a box beneath his floor for a week with no food or water. I know better now.

I duck into an alleyway as a patrol of guards walk down the street. Their armor clinks softly in the night, their faces stern and full of hatred for those beneath them. I hold my breath and press myself against the cool, rough wall, and wait for them to pass. The guards of Tepetl are not known for their kindness nor mercy .

As they disappear around a corner, I let out a slow breath and continue on my way. The streets are somewhat quieter now, but that doesn’t mean I’m safe. I pass by a market square, now deserted. Stalls that were alive with activity during the day, now stand empty and covered with tarps. The scent of spices still hangs in the air, a reminder of the chaos that fills this place in the daylight hours.

I take a deep breath and scan every corner for threats. The sound of a dog barking in the distance makes me pause, but it’s too far away for me to worry about.

The buildings grow taller and more imposing as I approach the heart of Tepetl. The noble district looms ahead, its grand mansions and opulent gardens a stark contrast to the gritty streets I’ve been navigating. I stay well clear of this area, knowing that the guards here are even more alert and well-trained.

I slip into another alleyway, and it’s narrower and more cluttered. Crates and barrels are stacked with no order, creating a rugged path that I navigate with ease. Every kingdom is the same in this aspect. As much as I need order, I thrive in chaos.

As I approach The Citadel, my nerves intensify. But there’s no turning back now.

The building looms ahead, nondescript and unassuming to anyone who doesn’t know its true purpose. I take a deep breath and slip inside. The familiar scent of old stone and burning torches welcomes me. The hallways are quiet because most of the other assassins are out on their own missions or resting.

I make my way through the hallways as my mind races with thoughts of how to explain what happened. I should be dead. I felt the life leaving my body. I felt the darkness closing in. And yet here I am, walking through the halls of The Citadel, as if nothing happened.

By the time I reach Alexander’s office, I’ve convinced myself that the coroner is simply an idiot who thought I was dead. There’s no other explanation that makes sense. I’m human. Humans don’t just come back to life.

I knock once, then push the door open. Alexander looks up from his desk. His cold eyes narrow as he sees me.

“Selestina,” he says, his voice a dangerous rumble. “?Explicame, que pasó?”

“I know,” I reply, stepping into the room. “The target wasn’t there. Someone attacked me. I…” I falter, not sure how to explain what happened. It shouldn’t have happened. I’ve never let someone get the drop on me. Not once in the eighteen years I’ve trained here.

Alexander’s expression doesn’t change, but I can see the anger simmering beneath the surface. “And you think that is an excuse?” he roars.

“No,” I say quickly. “I’ll make it right. I just need more time.”

He rises, moving around the desk to stand in front of me. He’s taller than me, his presence imposing. “You will make it right,” he says softly, menace dripping from every word. “And you will pay for your failure. You are a fucking disgrace to me.” He spits at my shoe.

Fucker . But I don’t let my mask slip. I am the obedient assassin. I do as I’m told.

I keep my chin high. I know what’s about to happen. I’ve had it happen so many times there’s no way I could keep count. I don’t make mistakes, usually, but he has always found something to hold over me. To make me plead for forgiveness.

He shoves everything off his desk. His cheeks are instantly red. His breaths are fast and his eyes are crazed. “You are the most notorious assassin in all five kingdoms,” he roars, “and you failed a simple mission? How is that possible, Selestina?!”

Whelp. I fucked up big time.

His chest rises and falls with a brutal force before he abruptly stops and smooths his shirt down.

Immediately, his mask is back on.

He smooths his hair back into place and gives me a blank stare that turns into a wicked smile. I seem to be the only person he ever loses his temper around. I like it better when he yells. Because as soon as he calms, I know I’m about to experience unfathomable pain.

Before I can react, I feel the pain of the fire engulfing me.