Vanish

Alain

The gun was useless.

Against other types of Baylan, it'll be an ace. Against Shacklers, it's like dousing fire with oil.

With a flick of a wrist, the Shacklers resealed the hall, trapping the brothers, and making Alain's suicidal effort worthless.

Shurikens bombarded the walls and floors. Sarion and Alain skirted around them, dashing towards the Shacklers, which stood at each other's back on the centre of the room, arms and fingers twirling. But their distance didn't draw any closer as the metal floor would drag them away.

When Sarion thought he'd found a chink in their stance, three bullets firing off his revolver, only to find it rerouting towards them.

Alain remained behind Sarion, the satchels and pouches clattering as he strode. The tome flapped when he had to flee from an idle position trying to weave something that'll aid them.

They revolved around the Shacklers. Their eyes on the winding staircase they guarded; the way into the agimat sanktum, where the Amber Ring probably rests on a velvet cushion. And, a thousand lethal contraptions installed on every tile to decapitate anyone attempting a steal. Not a fact... yet.

What Sarion surmised was true, all the four doors and halls leads to one metal chamber. The heart of the Gilded Palace is a metal cylinder, probably multiple levels connected to that staircase. The freedom, the key to unlock the metal dome, steps away.

Guarded by their Baylan nemesis. Alain dared to contemplate while the metal floor came alive beneath his bare feet: Were Shacklers an attempt at means of regulating us Vanshi? He imagined the Heavens giving life to the Vanshi, and when they started absorbing the capabilities they held, abused them, then came the Shacklers.

"Why did we agree to this?" Sarion blurted, tumbling sideward to avoid another blade. Rolling over his shoulder, the gun in his hand tucked tight in a finger.

You agreed to this, you signed the blood contract. Alain thought.

"Maybe it was an ill-decision after all." Sarion fired another round, instantly ducking as it homed back, and reloaded the cylinder.

Was I thinking too loud?

Alain's confusion got the best of him. Another wave of sharp blades swarmed towards them. Sarion pulled him by the belt, down the floor. The ink-stained tome crashed a feet away from them. Along it were vials of substances probably, which were probably hazards to humans.

He immediately scrambled for it. When he heard the whistling shurikens. He rolled to the side.

Sarion covered for him, firing another round, then tumbled forward as they redirected towards them.

"Make this easy." One of the hoods said in a drawling accent.

"Give up." The other added.

"Maybe if you'd step aside, we'd be on our ways." Sarion retorted.

Alain pressed his back against his brother and opened the Shadow Tome. His hand submerged into a pond of ink.

One of them chuckled, "That is not how works in palace."

"We fail job, no money in our pockets."

A force of wind fell into the room, sending their hoods back.

The younger boy swept up the fringe off his eyes; he couldn't be surprised by what he saw.