Three months.

  That's how long it took to stop being a monster and become something worse.

  We left Valdris the next morning. Too many eyes, too many questions. Corvin gave us a location—a village called Greymarch, two days south. Small enough to disappear in, close enough to watch Valdris from a distance.

  "You'll need time," he'd said. "Time to learn. Time to plan. Time to build the network that'll tear them apart."

  He was right.

  So we went to Greymarch, and I learned.

  Corvin's information was thorough. Obsessively so. He had names, positions, connections—everything. House Silvertin's power came from three pillars: their trade monopoly on northern routes, their military contracts with the crown, and their political alliances with the church and lesser noble houses.

  Break one pillar, and the others would strain. Break all three, and the entire structure would collapse.

  But it had to be done carefully. Methodically. One piece at a time.

  "Your family isn't just rich," Corvin had explained during one of our meetings. "They're entrenched. They've spent generations building relationships, buying loyalty, securing their position. You can't just walk in and tear it down overnight."

  "Then how long?"

  "A year. Maybe two." He'd smiled faintly. "But if you're patient, if you're smart, you won't just destroy them. You'll erase them."

  I spent the first month studying.

  Corvin provided maps, ledgers, correspondence—stolen, bought, or forged, I didn't ask. I learned the names of every merchant my family did business with, every vassal who owed them fealty, every official they'd bribed or blackmailed into compliance.

  I learned their schedules, their habits, their weaknesses.

  And I learned which ones could be turned.

  Kaelith helped more than I expected. She had a mind for details I didn't—patterns in the ledgers, inconsistencies in the correspondence. She'd point things out I'd missed, ask questions I hadn't thought to ask.

  "This merchant," she said one night, tapping a name on one of the documents. "He's been paying House Silvertin protection fees for years, but look at the amounts. They've been increasing. Steadily. Every quarter."

  I didn't like it.

  Didn't like needing her input. Didn't like the way she'd become part of this without me deciding she should be.

  But I couldn't deny she was useful.

  I leaned over her shoulder. "So?"

  "So he's being squeezed. And if he's being squeezed, he's desperate." She looked up at me. "Desperate people make mistakes. Or they make deals."

  I stared at the ledger, my jaw tight.

  She was right. Again.

  damn it.

  We sent word through Corvin's network. A week later, the merchant—a man named Torvald—agreed to meet.

  He was older than I expected, gray-haired and tired-looking. We met in a tavern on the edge of Greymarch, in a corner booth where the shadows were thick and the noise was loud enough to cover our conversation.

  "You're the one Corvin sent?" Torvald asked, eyeing me warily.

  "I am."

  "You're young."

  "And you're paying House Silvertin more than you can afford," I said. "Which one of us has the bigger problem?"

  He flinched. "What do you want?"

  "I want to help you."

  "Help me?" He laughed bitterly. "No one helps anyone for free."

  "You're right. I want something in return." I leaned forward. "House Silvertin charges you protection fees for using their trade routes. Fees that keep going up. What happens if you stop paying?"

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "I lose access to the routes," he said immediately. "My shipments get delayed, harassed, or outright seized by bandits they conveniently ignore. I'm ruined within a month."

  "Exactly. They've got you by the throat." I paused. "But what if you didn't need their routes?"

  His eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about routing your shipments through someone else. A rival merchant house that doesn't answer to House Silvertin."

  "That's insane. Even if I could find someone willing to take me on, my goods would be vulnerable without Silvertin protection. Bandits, rival houses, the crown's tax collectors—they'd tear me apart."

  "Not if your new partner has their own protection," I said. "And not if House Silvertin is too busy dealing with their own shit to come after you."

  He stared at me. "You're serious."

  "Dead serious."

  "And what happens when they send soldiers to my estate? When they make an example of me?"

  I smiled, cold and sharp. "That's when your new partner steps in. And suddenly, House Silvertin isn't just dealing with one defiant merchant. They're dealing with a rival house that's been waiting for an excuse to push back."

  Torvald was quiet for a long moment, his hands trembling slightly on the table.

  "Who's the rival house?"

  "House Draymore."

  His eyes widened. "Draymore hates the Silvertins."

  "Exactly. And they've been looking for a way to weaken them without starting an open war. You're that way."

  It took another hour of convincing, but eventually, Torvald agreed. He'd stop paying House Silvertin's protection fees, reroute his shipments through Draymore's network, and let them handle the fallout when my family came knocking.

  It was a small move. A single thread pulled from the web.

  But it was enough.

  \-

  Two weeks later, the consequences started.

  Corvin brought the news himself, grinning like a wolf.

  "Your family's pissed," he said, dropping a letter on the table in front of me. "Torvald stopped paying, and now his shipments are running through Draymore's routes instead. Your father's advisors are calling it an insult. A direct challenge."

  I picked up the letter. It was correspondence between my father and one of his advisors, discussing how to 'handle' the situation.

  "They're planning to make an example of him," Corvin continued. "Send soldiers to his estate, seize his assets, maybe rough him up a bit. Standard intimidation tactics."

  "Let them fucking try," I said.

  Corvin's grin widened. "Oh, they will. But here's the fun part. The moment Silvertin soldiers show up at Torvald's door, Draymore steps in to 'protect their business interests.' And suddenly, your family's not just dealing with one defiant merchant. They're dealing with a rival house that's itching for a fight."

  I felt something cold and sharp settle in my chest.

  This was it. The first domino.

  House Silvertin would have to respond. They'd either back down—which would make them look weak—or escalate, which would drain their resources and create more enemies.

  Either way, they'd lose.

  "How long until it plays out?" I asked.

  "A week. Maybe two." Corvin stood. "But this is just the beginning, kid. You've got a long way to go."

  "I know."

  He left, and I sat there in the silence, staring at the letter.

  Kaelith appeared in the doorway a moment later. "You did it."

  My father's handwriting. His arrogance bleeding through every word.

  I wanted to burn it. Wanted to watch the ink blacken and curl, just like I'd watch his entire damn legacy crumble.

  I didn't look up. "I did it."

  "We did it," she corrected softly.

  My jaw clenched. "Don't."

  "Don't what?"

  "Don't make this about 'we.'" I finally looked at her, my voice hard. "This is my revenge. My plan. You helped, fine. But don't act like—"

  "Like what?" she interrupted, stepping closer. "Like I'm part of this? Like I've been working on this with you for three months?"

  "You're here because I bought you," I snapped. "Don't forget that."

  She flinched, but she didn't back down. "And you're lying to yourself if you think that's still all this is."

  I stood, my chair scraping against the floor. "What the hell do you want me to say, Kaelith? That I need you? That I—" I stopped, my fists clenched. "This isn't about us. It's about them. About destroying everything they built."

  "I know that."

  "Then stop trying to make it something else."

  She was quiet for a moment. Then she walked over and sat down across from me, her expression calm but her eyes sharp.

  "I'm not trying to make it something else," she said. "I'm just not pretending it isn't."

  I stared at her, my chest tight, my mind screaming at the way she could see straight through every wall I'd built. The anger twisted in my gut—not at her, but at myself for being so damn transparent.

  "You don't know anything," I said, but the words felt hollow even as they left my mouth.

  "How does it feel?" she asked, nodding toward the letter. "Knowing the first move worked?"

  I looked down at the letter again, at my father's handwriting, at the arrogance bleeding through every word.

  "This is the opening move," I said finally. "Nothing more."

  "What's the second?"

  "Making sure they know they're being hunted," I said. "They just don't know by who. Yet."

  Kaelith nodded slowly. "And after that?"

  "After that?" I smiled, cold and sharp. "After that, I tear down everything they've built. Piece by piece. Until there's nothing left but rubble and regret."

  She didn't say anything. Just looked at me with those steady, unreadable eyes.

  And for a moment, I felt something crack inside me.

  Not breaking. Just... shifting.

  I looked away.

  "Get some rest," I said. "We've got a long way to go."

  She stood and left without another word.

  \-

  That night, I stood outside under the stars, Nightfall resting against my shoulder.

  The hunger was still there. It always would be. But it wasn't driving me anymore.

  I was driving it.

  House Silvertin thought they were untouchable. Thought their wealth and power made them invincible.

  They were wrong.

  And by the time they realized it, it would be too late.

  I closed my eyes and let the darkness settle around me like a cloak.

  The long game had begun.

  But the weight of it—the planning, the waiting, the damn vulnerability of having someone else involved—pressed down on me like a stone.

  I didn't want to need her.

  Didn't want to care what she thought, what she said, whether she stayed or left.

  But I did.

  And that was the worst part.

  Because monsters didn't need anyone.

  And I was supposed to be a monster.

  I opened my eyes and stared at the stars.

  "Fuck," I whispered to the night.

  The darkness didn't answer.