The city at night. Fog, cool and thick, shrouded buildings in layers of ghostly white. A hint of a breeze blew lazily, leaving mournful echoes in its wake. The full moon, a bright eye seeing all, cast pale white light on the sleeping town. The muted mutterings of men on patrol and the casual flap of loose windows mingled to create an atmosphere of utter peace. Such was the city at night.

Garrett, as he walked home, witnessed the city in morning. The sun, in precious few minutes, burned away the coolness of the night with the power of its summer rays. The scant breeze, which now would have been welcome, dissipated into nothingness. The air, already stagnant, grew heavier with the smoke of factories. The shadows, so pleasing to the eye, disappeared and revealed once more the filth of the streets. A cacophony of people beginning a new day replaced the soft sounds of the slumbering city. Already, hordes of roaming people and animals packed the streets, scurrying to and fro as they carried out their mundane lives.

Garrett pulled his hood lower over his face. His expression contorted itself into a painful grimace. He wanted to get home. Get off the streets and away from all these…people. The sun pounded down through his hood, soon giving him a throbbing headache. His leather boots strode through back alleys, every step bringing him closer to home. His gloved hands were clenched into tense fists. His eyes, hidden but watchful, darted from side to side, looking for any indication of trouble.

At the same time, his long, easy stride conveyed an intimate knowledge of the streets and discouraged any suspicions. His time among the Keepers had taught him to avoid drawing attention to himself, no matter what he was feeling. As he proceeded on his way, no one gave him a second glance.

Garrett reached his part of town. The streets were not so active, and the sun didn't seem so bright through the layer of smog. Even so, the thief's keen eyes spotted the cloaked figure standing by the door to his apartment building. He stiffened as he realized who it was.

"Garrett."

"Why are you here?"

"Because I see someone who tries to run from life, although he cannot."

"I've had enough of you. Leave me alone."

"We know of your encounter with the sorceress."

"So that's why you came? To tell me that once again the Keepers are looking over my shoulder?"

"I came to tell you that the city is on the verge of chaos."

"That's not my problem."

"You are blind to the forces at work here. I am not the enemy."

"That doesn't make you my friend."

"You have unfinished business in the castle. Garrett, you must go back."

"I don't have to do a damn thing you tell me to, not anymore!"

The Keeper paused. "I see time has not mellowed your temper. Very well, I will not try to change your mind."

And with that, he was gone.

Garrett rubbed his throbbing temples and went inside. He double-locked the door and threw his cloak in a corner. He was tired. He wanted nothing more to do with the late sorceress, or the Keepers, or anything other than sleep. After checking his bed for rats, Garrett, exhausted, fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

* * *

Several days later, Garrett decided to go out. Maybe to the nameless tavern. He wouldn't drink, and he wouldn't socialize. He knew he'd end up sitting alone in a corner with an untouched tankard of ale. He just wanted to get out of his apartment. He'd spent the last few days sitting around and reading some of his books. Not the Keeper ones. He left those alone. He didn't even know why he kept the damn things. Instead, he read some of his dusty histories of the City. It was kind of funny, in a way. When he had still been with the Keepers, he had hated the studying part of his training. But now he found the books almost relaxing. And they certainly helped to pass the time. When he didn't have a job to do, he often found himself sleeping for hours upon hours, or lounging in front of the fireplace in a half-doze. He guessed reading about the ancient origins of the City was better than putting himself into a daily stupor.

Not surprisingly, Garrett found himself at the tavern. He nodded to the bartender and got his ale. All the corner seats were taken, so Garrett stayed at the bar. Two strangers came in and sat near him.

"What'll you have?" the bartender asked in a gruff voice.

One of the newcomers took off his hat. "We're new in town. What's good?"

"Here? Nothing!"

The second stranger laughed. "Sounds good. We'll take two."

Garrett raised his drink and pretended to sip it as he glanced over at them. They were dressed peculiarly and had a bit of an accent. They were probably from over the mountains to the east.

The bartender gave them their drinks. "So, where are you from?"

"Over the eastern mountains. Doubt we'll stay long, though. Seems to be some strange goings on in these parts."

"Oh? Like what?"

The strangers looked at each other. "We passed a Hammerite temple a while outside of the city limits."

"Nothin' strange about that. We got them freaks roamin' all over the City."

"But the temple had been destroyed. Burned to the ground. And I don't know too many people who would take on the Hammerites."

The travelers had the barkeep's attention. "Any idea who did it? If I find 'em, I'll give 'em a drink on the house!"

One of the strangers took a drink, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Don't know. But there was a banner hanging in front of the temple on a pole. Royal blue with some kinda picture stitched on it in gold. Know a lord around here with that banner?"

The barkeep squinted. "Naw, doesn't ring a bell."

Maybe for him it didn't, but for Garrett it certainly did. He had seen enough of those banners in the castle to recognize this one for what it was. But why would one of her banners be in front of a destroyed Hammerite temple? And who had put it there? Not her, of course. She was dead. And it wouldn't make any sense for one of her political enemies to do such a thing. Who would try to frame a dead woman?

One thing was for certain. He wasn't going to get any answers sitting in a bar. He flipped a coin on the counter and left.

* * *

As he left the City, Garrett began to have second thoughts. Why the hell should he care who destroyed the temple? He didn't like Hammerites. If they were all destroyed tomorrow, he could care less. And he'd had more than enough of the sorceress and her deceitful ways. So why was he going? Honestly, he didn't know. His curiosity, perhaps. He was curious about the kid; he was curious about this. Or maybe it was just another way to pass the time.

Did it matter, anyway? He didn't have to explain himself to anyone, not to the Keepers and not to himself. And that was reason enough.

Those guys weren't kidding when they said it was destroyed. Whoever did this went all out.

The stone walls had been turned into rubble scattered across the ground. Several piles of wooden pews burned still. The damage was recent, or the rain that had fallen the night before would have extinguished the flames. Burnt Hammerite corpses were scattered around in disarray, their heavy metal hammers still hot to the touch. Several looters picked their way through the rubble, looking in vain for any valuables that had survived the torching. Garrett pulled his cloak up over his face to shield himself from the hanging smoke that refused to dissipate into an atmosphere already full of pollution.

The banner hung limply from a pole in front of the former temple. On top of the pole, a severed Hammerite head was grotesquely posed. Blood had oozed from the head and stained the banner, but it was still easy to recognize the gold-embroidered symbol of the sorceress.

All of his questions remained unanswered. He still didn't know who had destroyed the temple (although the razed temple bore a strange resemblance to the ruined third floor of the castle) and why they had destroyed it. It would take someone either very courageous or very stupid to challenge the Order of the Hammer.

Garrett went back home. He didn't want to be anywhere near the temple when the Hammerites came to investigate. After flipping through one of his books on the hammer-wielding religious zealots, he went to sleep.

* * *

A few days later, Garrett heard of another destroyed Hammerite temple. He went to visit it. It was much the same as the other one: burning bodies, a royal blue banner, and a Hammerite head on top of a pole. He did find something else, though. One section of stone wall had remained untouched, and someone had fastened a piece of parchment upon it. Garrett took the parchment down and hid it in his cloak. He would examine it in the relative safety of his apartment.

By the light of the fireplace, Garrett tried to read the document. Someone with atrocious handwriting had scrawled words on it in blood. Hammerite blood, no doubt. The thing was harder to read than the cryptic Keeper hieroglyphics. Ah, there was an idea. The Keepers would be able to decipher this thing in no time, with their aptitude for riddles and prophecies. Perhaps he should take it to them. He entertained the idea for a brief moment before dismissing it. He wouldn't ask them for help. In disgust, he tossed the parchment aside. He'd try again tomorrow.

The next day came, and Garrett again attempted to read the smudged and blood-splattered words. He was able to make out something about killing the old ways three times over, the fulfillment of a prophecy of a leader forged in fire, and the blood of an innocent staining the hallowed ground of the enemy. The part about the prophecy seemed to say something about a mirror, walking in shadows, and atoning for the transgressions of the false one.

Garrett had no idea what to make of it. For the second time, he half-wished he had help from his old mentors.

Wait, maybe they already had helped. The Keeper who had visited him had told him that he had unfinished business in the castle. Perhaps he would find the answers he sought there.

Which is how Garrett found himself at the sorceress's castle. Only pieces of columns and remnants of walls remained of the third floor, but the other two were still intact. He entered cautiously, but it was soon evident that his caution was unwarranted. The castle was utterly abandoned.

All right, Keepers, you got your wish. I'm here. Now, what did you want me to find?