Ronan’s fingers curled around the edge of the vault door, then he took a slow breath, planted his feet, and pulled.

CREAK!

The metal screamed.

The bolts shearing through concrete as the entire door came off in one piece, hinges and all, like a lid pried off a sardine can.

Ronan set it down against the wall as gently as he could manage, which wasn’t gentle at all. The clang echoed through the basement, but Sarael’s shadows were already working, muffling the sound before it could travel up the stairs.

Ronan didn’t even know if shadows were that good at soundproofing.

But at least the guard on the cot didn’t stir. Sarael had wrapped his head in a layer of darkness, not enough to hurt him, just enough to keep him unconscious.

"Good work."

Ronan muttered.

Sarael beamed.

The vault itself was small.

A closet, really, lined with metal shelves and a single rack of weapons against the back wall. Most of it was junk.

But the sword was impossible to miss.

It hung on the center rack, suspended in a glass case that looked significantly more expensive than anything else in the room.

The blade was long and curved, single-edged, with a hilt wrapped in dark leather and a pommel set with a stone that glowed faintly blue even in the dark.

Ronan approached the case and examined the lock. A keyhole and a pressure plate beneath the sword itself.

Lifting the sword without disarming the plate would trigger something. Probably an alarm, maybe worse.

"Sarael, can you hold the pressure plate down while I take the sword?"

Her shadows were already sliding through the gaps in the glass, pooling beneath the sword like liquid darkness. They pressed down on the plate, and Ronan heard a faint click as the mechanism disarmed.

"Got it."

He lifted the glass case carefully, set it aside, and wrapped his fingers around the sword’s hilt. The weapon was lighter than it looked, balanced perfectly, and the blue stone in the pommel pulsed once when his skin made contact.

Enchanted, definitely. He didn’t know what kind of enchantment, and he didn’t care. It wasn’t his sword. It was a paycheck.

"Let’s see..."

Ronan slashed the light bulb, shattering the glow that filled the vault. Darkness rushed back in, and he felt Sarael’s shadows thicken against the floor, surging with renewed strength now that the light wasn’t suppressing them.

"The moment you let go of that pressure plate, get us out of here. Doesn’t have to be far."

"Anywhere, as long as it’s outside?"

"Yeah. I don’t want you burning more energy than you have to."

Sarael nodded, and her shadows coiled tighter around the pressure plate like a spring waiting to release.

And Ronan wrapped the sword in a strip of cloth he pulled from one of the supply crates, tucking it under his arm. No point leaving it bare for anyone to recognize on the street.

"Ready, Sarael?"

"Mhm. On three?"

"No need to count, I’m ready."

Her shadows snapped back from the pressure plate, and the alarm began to shriek just as the darkness swallowed them whole.

They landed in the same alley where they’d started, two blocks from the guild building. The alarm was still faintly audible in the distance, the sound cutting through the quiet.

Ronan didn’t wait to see if anyone was coming. He pulled out his phone and sent a message to the fixer.

GodBound: Job’s done. Where’s the drop?

The reply came within seconds.

16259: Already? That was fast. Drop’s at the old subway station on Marrow and 12th. East entrance. There’s a locker near the ticket booth. Combination’s 7-19-4. Leave the sword inside. Payment will be sent to your account after confirmation.

Ronan then pocketed the phone.

An old subway station. That was good. Abandoned places meant no lights, no cameras, and no witnesses.

"Sarael, you okay?"

She was leaning against the alley wall, her breathing slightly heavier than normal. Not exhausted like before, but definitely winded.

"Two teleports in one night. That’s a lot for me."

"You did great. Rest for a minute."

She shook her head and pushed herself off the wall.

"No, I can keep going. The drop-off first. Then we rest."

Ronan studied her face for a moment. She was genuinely tired. Not drained to the point of collapse like after the furniture-moving, but tired enough that he noticed.

Still, she was right. The sooner they made the drop, the sooner they could go home.

***

The old subway station was exactly as advertised. Marrow and 12th sat in a part of the city that had been abandoned long before Ronan was born, its streets lined with boarded-up storefronts and buildings marked for demolition that never came.

Then they entered through the east entrance, its stairs descending into absolute black.

Ronan pulled out his phone and used the flashlight for exactly long enough to find the ticket booth. The locker was there, old and rusted but still functional.

He spun the combination, opened the door, and placed the wrapped sword inside.

Then he closed the locker, sent a quick confirmation to the fixer, and turned to leave.

"Let’s go home."

"A-Actually, can we stop by somewhere for a bit?"

Ronan turned.

"Stop by somewhere? Did you see something worthwhile?"

"Well..."

She fidgeted with her bangs, her shadows curling nervously around her ankles.

"Not in a very important sense, no. But... actually never mind, I’m just afraid I’m making unnecessary risks for you..."

Ronan sighed. He hadn’t expected her to still carry hesitation, not after everything. So he walked toward her, hands on his hips, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Trying his best to look as approachable and kind as possible.

"Tell me, what does my wife want?"

Sarael’s eyes widened, and a softer smile crept across her face.

"Well... I noticed we passed a convenience store. I wanted to try their food. See how it compares to the rations from your dead companions. If that isn’t too much to ask..."

Ronan raised a brow. She wasn’t wrong; it definitely wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things. But Ronan thought differently. It was important, just in a simpler way.

"Sure, but try making your attire look less magical, okay?"