The tower looked wrong from the outside, but climbing it felt worse. Helletta and Ella followed their escort—two men with Serkull feathers in their hair and needles at their hips—up stairs that spiraled in ways stairs shouldn't. The whole structure seemed cobbled together from pieces of different buildings, yet somehow it worked, rising like a twisted spine into the iron-gray sky.

  Serkulls peered from nests built into impossible angles, their black eyes following every movement. Some were small, barely larger than cats, while others had wingspans wider than a man was tall. Their beaks showed signs of modification—sharper, more hooked, designed for diving attacks.

  "Don't look them in the eyes," Ella murmured, her usual bright smile replaced by careful observation. "They take it as a challenge."

  The first floor they passed seemed ordinary enough: people counting money, sorting goods, the usual business of any criminal operation. But something about their movements was too precise, too coordinated. A woman sat at a large desk covered in ledgers, her hands moving in patterns that made the air shimmer slightly—a dream weaver, using her power to track multiple transactions at once.

  Higher up, the activities grew more specialized. They passed a room where someone was etching symbols into crystals, the air thick with the smell of burning glass. The etching of reflections, Helletta realized. Another floor held what looked like a training area, essence flaring visible in brief, controlled bursts of colorless miasma as gang members sparred.

  "Keep moving," one of their escorts growled when Helletta slowed to watch. His hand rested on his needle, but his eyes kept darting to the higher floors, betraying his own nervousness.

  The stairs kept turning, and with each level, the guards they passed looked more dangerous. These weren't street thugs playing at power—these were trained fighters. Some bore the distinctive dress of hunters, the trophies of their hunt turned into accessories for their clothes or repurposed into weapons. Others moved with the fluid grace of trained fighters.

  A Serkull larger than any they'd seen swooped through an open window, carrying something that dripped red in its claws. The bird landed on a perch near their path, fixing them with eyes that held far too much intelligence. It tilted its head, studying them with unsettling focus.

  "That's the Hunter," their second escort said, his voice hushed with something like pride. "Remarn's first. The one that started it all."

  The massive bird opened its beak, revealing rows of serrated edges that no natural bird should have. The modifications went deep, Helletta realized. Years of selective breeding by underground tamers had turned these creatures into something new. Something deadly.

  They climbed higher. The air grew thinner, or perhaps that was just the pressure of dozens of predatory eyes watching their ascent. More Serkulls gathered at each window they passed, drawn by some unseen signal.

  "He knows we're coming," Ella whispered, her voice barely audible. She'd dropped all pretense of her usual cheer, her eyes tracking each bird's movement. "They're gathering to watch."

  Finally, they reached a door near the top of the tower. The wood was carved with intricate patterns of feathers and beaks, and more Serkulls perched on elaborate roosts built into the walls around it. These birds were different—sleeker, more uniform in size, with matching silver bands around their legs. Remarn's personal flock.

  Their escorts stopped, exchanging a glance that carried volumes of unspoken meaning.

  "Wait here," the first one said. "Someone will collect you when he's ready." He hesitated, then added, "Don't make any sudden moves. The birds... they get excited sometimes."

  The door opened just enough for the men to slip through, leaving Helletta and Ella alone in the corridor. The Serkulls watched them with their too-intelligent eyes, occasionally snapping their razor beaks or shifting their wings in perfect unison.

  "Well," Ella said quietly, her hand tight on her satchel, "I guess now we find out if all those stories about you really impressed him."

  Helletta said nothing. She was too busy watching the birds, the way they moved together like fingers on a single hand. All that power, all that careful breeding and training, how and for what purpose, she wondered.

  But that was a thought for later. Right now, she could feel the weight of organized violence pressing down from above. Whatever waited behind that carved door, she knew it would test them in ways her borrowed needle and half-remembered skills might not be enough to handle.

  The Serkulls shifted again, their wings rustling like dry leaves in a dead wind, while overhead, thunder growled across the iron sky.

  The antechamber felt like a bird's cage built for humans. Windows lined three walls, each filled with perched Serkulls whose eyes never left them. The fourth wall held the ornately carved door they'd entered through, and another, larger door of dark wood that presumably led to Remarn himself.

  Ella paced. Four steps one way, turn, four steps back. Her usual performative energy had been replaced by something more calculated. Each circuit brought her past different windows, different birds, her eyes catching details Helletta might have missed.

  "They're organized by function," she murmured during one pass. "See the ones with the modified talons? Hunters. The smaller ones with the elongated necks? Messengers. And those..." She glanced at a group of particularly large Serkulls. "Those are the killers."

  A door opened—not the large one, but a smaller one Helletta hadn't noticed before. A woman stepped through, her movements liquid-smooth. She wore the modified remnants of what must have been noble hunting gear, and essence flickered around her like heat waves off hot stone. Her eyes passed over them with predatory assessment before she disappeared through another hidden door.

  "That's three essence users we've seen," Ella whispered. "All combat-trained. And did you notice—"

  The door opened again. This time a young man entered, his hands moving in complex patterns over what looked like a ship's figurehead. The wooden face of the carving seemed to shift slightly, as if caught in a dream. He barely glanced at them, but his presence made the air feel thick, heavy with possibilities that hadn't quite manifested.

  Dream weaver, Helletta realized. Using a fisher's effigy as his medium.

  More came and went. A woman with crystals hanging from her belt, their etchings catching the gray light, in other words a very antique reflector. Two men carrying needles that hummed with stored essence. Each one sized them up as they passed, their gazes lingering particularly on Helletta.

  "They're showing us," Ella said softly. "Showing their strength. Making sure we understand what we're walking into."

  The Serkulls shifted restlessly on their perches, responding to some signal humans couldn't perceive. A particularly large bird landed on a windowsill near Helletta, fixing her with its unnatural gaze. This close, she could see the modifications clearly—the way its beak had been reshaped, its feathers hardened into something like knife edges.

  The bird's head tilted, almost quizzically. For a moment, Helletta felt something brush against her mind—a foreign intelligence, testing, probing. Then it pulled back sharply, as if startled by what it had found.

  The Serkull launched itself back to its perch with unusual haste.

  "What was that about?" Ella asked, but before Helletta could answer, the large door began to open.

  A blast of cold air swept through the chamber. The Serkulls all moved at once, their wings spreading in perfect synchronization. The sound was like a hundred knives being drawn.

  "Remember," Ella whispered, her hand brushing Helletta's arm. "Whatever happens next, however powerful he seems—"

  The door opened fully.

  "—everyone's afraid of something."

  The Serkulls went absolutely still, and in the sudden silence, Helletta could hear heavy footsteps approaching from the darkness beyond.

  Show time.

  He wasn't what anyone would imagine as the master of a hundred killer birds. Remarn walked into the chamber with the casual grace of someone utterly comfortable in their own domain, but there was nothing particularly striking about him. Average height, unremarkable build, clothes that might have belonged to any market worker. Only his eyes stood out—sharp and dark like his birds', missing nothing.

  The Serkulls moved as he entered, not in the chaotic fluttering of normal birds but in perfect, measured motions. Wings spread and folded in sequence, creating a ripple of movement around the chamber that felt more like choreography than nature. Each bird adjusted its position slightly, orienting toward him like needles to a lodestone.

  He didn't look at them directly. Instead, he walked to one of the windows, reaching out to stroke the head of a particularly vicious-looking Serkull. The bird pressed into his touch with something like affection.

  "So," his voice was surprisingly soft, almost gentle. "This is the monster everyone's talking about." Still not looking at them. "The girl who caught a corrupted Servhal. Who fights like a hunter or a soldier." Now he turned, his movement so smooth it seemed almost liquid. "Who wants to join my little family."

  The last word carried weight, meaning. Behind him, the Serkulls shifted again, their movements creating patterns of shadow and light across the chamber floor.

  "Show me," he said simply.

  Before either of them could respond, three birds launched from their perches, diving toward Helletta with deadly precision. Their modified beaks gleamed, razor-sharp edges catching what little light filtered through the windows.

  Helletta's borrowed needle was in her hand before she could think, thread weaving patterns that her body remembered even if her mind didn't. The birds pulled up short, banking away from her defense with unnatural coordination.

  "Interesting," Remarn said, his voice still soft. He made a small gesture with his hand, and the Serkulls returned to their perches. "Very interesting." Now he looked at Ella, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "And you. The clever one who spreads stories like seeds. What do you bring to my family?"

  Ella's usual bright smile was firmly in place, but Helletta noticed how her hand stayed close to her satchel. "Information," she said simply. "Connections. Opportunities."

  "Ah." Remarn's laugh was unexpected—a quiet, almost sad sound. "Another schemer. I have so many of those already." He turned back to the window, reaching out to stroke another bird. "But then again, one can never have too many knives in the dark, can they?"

  The chamber had grown colder, though no wind blew. The Serkulls watched with their modified eyes, their enhanced beaks occasionally snapping at nothing. Waiting.

  "You'll have to be tested, of course," Remarn continued, his voice taking on an edge that hadn't been there before. "Properly tested. I can't just let anyone into our family." He turned again, and this time his gentle demeanor had hardened into something else. Something that matched the killer birds surrounding them. "After all, we have standards to maintain. Reputations to uphold."

  The way he said it—like the words carried a weight he hadn't chosen but couldn't put down—was almost lost beneath the sudden menace of his posture, the calculated threat in his smile.

  "But first," he said, making another small gesture that sent his birds shifting in complex patterns, "let's discuss exactly what joining our family would mean." His smile widened, showing teeth. "And what happens to those who disappoint their family."

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  The Serkulls moved again, their synchronized motions casting shadows that seemed to draw the walls closer, making the chamber feel more than ever like a cage. A cage with a very patient predator at its heart.

  Thunder growled outside, closer now, and Helletta couldn't help noticing how even that sound seemed to move through the chamber according to Remarn's will.

  "Tell me," Remarn said, moving to a perch where three identical Serkulls sat in perfect stillness. "Which of these birds is real?"

  The question seemed simple. Too simple. Helletta studied the birds—their size, their coloring, the way they gripped the perch. All three looked exactly alike, down to the silver bands on their legs.

  "A trick," Ella murmured, but Remarn's sharp glance silenced her.

  "The monster answers," he said softly. "The one who sees so clearly."

  Helletta stepped closer, aware of dozens of razor beaks tracking her movement. The three birds watched her with identical dark eyes, their heads tilting at precisely the same angle. Everything about them was the same, which was exactly what felt wrong.

  "None of them," she said finally.

  Remarn's eyebrows rose slightly. "Oh?"

  "Living things... they're never identical. Even twins have differences." She gestured at the birds. "These move too perfectly. Like reflections."

  A smile touched Remarn's lips—not the threatening one from before, but something almost approving. He raised his hand, and all three birds dissolved into mist that quickly dissipated.

  "Very good." He walked to another window where a single Serkull perched. "Now, this one. Tell me what it's thinking."

  Helletta frowned. "I can't—"

  "Can't you?" His voice had gone soft again. "The monster who fights like a noble, who caught a corrupted beast... surely you can do something as simple as this?"

  The Serkull fixed her with its dark eyes. Again, she felt that brush against her mind—that foreign intelligence testing, probing. But this time, instead of pulling back, it pushed harder.

  Images flashed through her mind: diving through storm winds, the thrill of the hunt, the taste of blood. Fragments of a bird's existence, but twisted, enhanced. And beneath it all, a constant awareness of connection—to the flock, to the others, to...

  Helletta gasped, breaking eye contact. "It's... hungry," she managed. "But not for food. For..." She struggled to put the alien sensations into words. "For purpose. For your approval."

  The chamber went absolutely still. Even the constant rustling of feathers ceased. Remarn stared at her, all pretense of casualness gone.

  "Well," he said finally. "That is unexpected." He made a sharp gesture, and the Serkull flew to his shoulder. "Most people can't hear them. Can't feel what they feel." His eyes narrowed. "Who taught you to reach into minds like that?"

  "No one," Helletta said honestly. "I didn't know I could."

  "Hmm." Remarn studied her for a long moment, then turned his attention to Ella. "And you. What do you see when you look at my birds?"

  Ella's smile didn't waver. "A carefully built network. Each bird modified for specific purposes, trained to work together. The product of years of breeding and essence work." She paused. "Expensive work."

  "Ah, yes. Always following the money." Remarn's laugh held no humor. "Very well. One final test." He whistled, a complex series of notes that sent his birds into motion. They flew in intricate patterns, forming shapes in the air before settling into new positions. "Both of you. Working together. Show me something worth my time."

  The Serkulls began to move again, but differently now. They dove and wheeled through the chamber in attack patterns, their enhanced beaks and talons flashing in the gray light. This wasn't a display—it was a threat.

  "After all," Remarn's voice carried over the sound of beating wings, "family must be able to trust each other. Must be able to work together." His smile showed teeth again. "Must be able to survive together."

  They figured out then, that this was what he meant when he said that he wanted to show them how this place worked. Trust built by constant challenge and the near kiss of death. How insufferable, Ella thought.

  The birds attacked as one.

  The first wave came from above—three Serkulls diving in perfect formation, their modified beaks aimed at vulnerable points. Helletta's thread whipped out, creating a defensive pattern that made the birds bank sharply away. But it was just a feint. The real attack came from behind.

  "Down!" Ella's voice cut through the chaos. She'd already dropped and rolled, pulling something from her satchel—a handful of small crystals that caught the light strangely. Helletta dropped just as two more birds swept through where she'd been standing.

  The crystals in Ella's hand began to glow. Simple entanglements, but clearly well-crafted. The air around them shimmered slightly, and the next wave of birds pulled up short, as if hitting an invisible barrier.

  "They're hunting patterns," Ella called out, her voice tight with concentration. "Working in groups of three. Watch the—"

  Another group dove, these birds larger, their wings modified for power rather than speed. Helletta's thread danced through the air, weaving noble's patterns that her body remembered even if her mind didn't. One bird pulled back, but another pushed through, its beak snapping inches from her face.

  Remarn watched it all with those dark, intelligent eyes. His expression gave nothing away, but his birds moved with increasing complexity, testing their defenses from every angle.

  "Interesting choice," he said softly as Ella's crystals flared again. "Atmospheric entanglements. Disrupting their flight paths." A slight smile. "Expensive toys for a simple banker."

  "Good investments pay for themselves," Ella replied, but Helletta caught the strain in her voice. The crystals were draining quickly.

  The attacks came faster now. Each wave of birds moved with different patterns, different strengths. Some were clearly meant for speed, others for power. Some worked in tight formation while others moved independently, all coordinated by Remarn's silent commands.

  Helletta's thread caught one bird's wing, redirecting it into another's path. But for every bird they drove back, two more pressed the attack. They were being tested, yes, but also worn down. Exhausted.

  "You work well together," Remarn observed as another wave of birds pulled back. "But how long can you last? How much do you trust each other?"

  As if on cue, a particularly large Serkull crashed through Ella's weakening barrier. Helletta moved to intercept it, but doing so left her back exposed to another attack. Time seemed to slow as she realized her mistake.

  But Ella was already moving. One of her crystals shattered in her hand, releasing a burst of essence that drove the birds back. The effort left her gasping, her usual smile replaced by gritted teeth.

  "Sacrifice," Remarn said, his voice carrying clearly despite the chaos. "Protecting each other at a cost. Yes, very interesting."

  The attacks suddenly ceased. The Serkulls returned to their perches in perfect synchronization, as if they hadn't just been trying to tear the two girls apart. The only sound was Ella and Helletta's heavy breathing.

  Remarn stepped forward, studying them both with those bird-like eyes. "You passed," he said simply. "Though perhaps not in the way you think." He made a small gesture, and his birds shifted, creating patterns of shadow and light across the chamber floor. "Welcome to the family."

  But something in the way he said it—something in the calculating look he shared with his nearest birds—suggested that passing the test might not be the victory they'd imagined.

  At that moment, it almost seemed like Remarn was doing little to welcome the girls to his gang, his so called tests had become so excessive, they were half convinced that he was trying every trick in his hand to cause them to fail. They won’t know it now, but their instinct was on the mark

  The chamber filled gradually with Remarn's lieutenants, each entrance carefully staged like scenes in a play. First came the woman they'd seen earlier, the essence user in modified noble's gear. She took position by the largest window, her power flickering around her like heat waves. Then the dream weaver with his ship's figurehead, followed by others—each one radiating different kinds of strength, different kinds of threat.

  "My inner circle," Remarn said, though he didn't sound particularly proud of the words. "The ones who helped build all this." He gestured at the tower around them, at the birds that filled every perch and window.

  The essence user—a woman named Serra—spoke first. "Two new recruits?" Her voice carried the refined accent of noble training, though she'd clearly tried to rough it away. "We don't need more strays."

  "Careful, Serra," the dream weaver drawled, his fingers still moving over his figurehead. "You were a stray once too." The wooden face in his hands seemed to smile briefly. "Besides, I hear this one fights like one of yours." He nodded toward Helletta.

  "She's nothing like mine," Serra snapped, essence flaring brighter around her. "Those movements might look noble, but they're... wrong somehow. Watch." She made a sharp gesture, and pure force crackled through the air toward Helletta.

  The attack never landed. Three of Remarn's birds intercepted it, their wings spreading in perfect formation to dissipate the energy. They hadn't moved without command—Helletta hadn't seen Remarn give any signal—but the message was clear.

  "We test recruits, Serra," he said softly. "We don't kill them before they're useful."

  Something passed between them then—a look that carried weight, history. Serra's essence flickered and died, but her eyes remained hard..

  “I know they faced your birds” Serra said, and Ella did not miss the words she used to identify the beasts that Remarn kept around him, she noted the slight disrespect and the lack of care amongst the fellows who were present in the room. “But let’s see how they, no, lets see how she fares against a real hunter, one who can siphon essence no less”.

  The slight disrespect that Ella noticed, which she marked as subtle, had lit into a fuse that boiled the tension in the room. She was practically calling Remarn weak.

  In response to her challenge, Remarn’s gaze was cold and unflinching, there was no anger to it. Helletta could feel it. There was no anger there towards this woman. There was nothing, as a matter of fact only a small sigh, very silent and so quick to miss was all that escaped the man.

  He seemed worn. But that expression would leave as soon as it came. He bore a leaders smile now, and said "perhaps our noble-trained friend would like to demonstrate her threadwork for Serra?" His smile showed teeth. "Just to prove there are no hard feelings?"

  The chamber's atmosphere shifted instantly. Serra's essence began to flare again, stronger this time. The other lieutenants moved back slightly, creating space for what was to come. Even the Serkulls seemed to watch more intently.

  "After all," Remarn said, his voice carrying that same forced weight it had before, "family should trust each other. Should understand each other." He looked at Helletta with those dark, bird-like eyes. "Should know exactly what each member is capable of." his eyes hung onto Serra as he spoke.

  The challenge lingered in the air like storm clouds promising violence. But behind it, almost hidden, Helletta caught something else in Remarn's expression—a flicker of what might have been regret.

  Then Serra's essence exploded toward her, and there was no more time for observation.

  The first blast of essence cut through the air where Helletta had been standing, but she was already moving, her borrowed needle weaving patterns that seemed to flow around Serra's attacks. Each burst of power was met with a dance of needle and thread, neither quite connecting.

  "Interesting," Remarn murmured from his perch above. "Such fluid movements, even without essence." His birds shifted restlessly, responding to the energy filling the chamber. "Imagine what a monster she'd be if she learned to flare..."

  Serra's next attack came as threads of pure essence, weaving through the air in patterns that mimicked Helletta's own. But where Helletta's thread was physical, Serra's burned with power that could shred flesh from bone. The noble-trained warrior moved with practiced precision, each step, each gesture part of a larger pattern.

  "Watch the footwork," Ella called out, her voice carefully neutral. "She's setting up a—"

  Serra's essence flared brighter, cutting off Ella's warning. The burning threads began to interconnect, forming a complex web that filled the space around them. Helletta ducked and wove through the pattern, her body remembering ways to move that her mind didn't understand.

  "Those are Blacktower forms," Ella said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. Her usual smile had been replaced by intense focus. "Third ring training, maybe fourth..."

  Serra's laugh was sharp as she pressed her attack, driving Helletta toward the chamber's center. "Very good, little banker. Know your nobles, do you?" More essence poured from her, the threads of power growing denser, more complex. "Then you know what comes next."

  The burning web suddenly contracted, forming a perfect square around Helletta. Each strand hummed with lethal force, the pattern so precise it could only have come from years of training under certain pedigrees. Serra's essence flared one final time as she prepared to complete the binding pattern—a finishing move that would end more than just the fight.

  "Enough."

  Remarn's voice was soft as ever, but it carried absolute authority. The Serkulls moved as one, their wings creating currents that dispersed Serra's essence web like smoke in wind.

  "Play time is over," he said, and something in his tone made even Serra step back, her power fading. "Our new family members have proven themselves... entertaining." That last word carried weight, meaning. "Now it's time for real work."

  Serra's essence died completely, though her eyes still burned with frustrated violence. The other lieutenants stirred, exchanging glances that carried volumes of unspoken meaning. They'd seen this before—this pattern of testing and interruption, of violence allowed but never quite completed.

  "Besides," Remarn continued, one hand absently stroking a Serkull's feathers, "we wouldn't want to damage such interesting potential. Especially one who can hear our birds' thoughts." He looked directly at Helletta. "Such a rare gift, being able to touch minds with beasts. Almost like a tamer's talent."

  Ella's hand tightened on her satchel, but her face betrayed nothing. That particular revelation—Helletta's apparent ability to connect with the Serkulls—was clearly something she'd hoped would go unremarked.

  "Now then," Remarn said, his birds settling into new patterns around the chamber. "Let's have some merriment. An event to celebrate our newest family members." His smile showed teeth again, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Before they begin their tasks in service of our particular…arrangement."

  The word choice was deliberate. Arrangement, not family. For just a moment, the mask of the powerful gang leader slipped, then it was gone, replaced by the calculated menace everyone expected.

  Thunder growled outside, closer than ever, as Remarn walked out of the room, his cloak of raven colored feathers, absorbing the darkness of the evening. Before the door closed behind him, he stared ahead but his Serkhull that was perched on his shoulder was staring back at them, at both of them, and then the door shut.