The night air in the noble quarter hung heavy and cool.
A faint mist clung to the narrow streets, muffling sounds and turning lantern light into hazy golden pools. Eren moved through the darkness with purposeful strides.
His boots made only the softest scrape against the worn cobblestones. His breath came steady and controlled.
He was not running blindly. He was reading the trail.
He had picked up the first traces earlier that evening near the exposed safe house.
Faint wisps of pink mana residue still lingered in the air, invisible to most but unmistakable to someone who had spent years learning exactly what to look for. The color was delicate, almost ethereal, yet it carried a sharp, aggressive undertone.
The same signature he had seen at Xenge's murder scene.
The witch was close. She had passed through here not long ago.
Ahead, she moved well. She slipped through the maze of alleys like someone who knew every shadow.
