Ivle's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

Ivle pressed his palms against the workbench and stared at the empty space where the vial had sat. Three days. Three days since they'd broken in, and now voices in the market whispered about his work. Someone was asking questions about his workshop. Someone with coin. He pulled his hood low and crossed the square toward the blacksmith shop. The forge roared inside, and smoke poured from the chimney. A man stood near the door, well-dressed, watching the building across the way — Ivle's own workshop with its golden crown symbol. The man's fingers drummed against a metal lockbox tucked under his arm. Pine needles clung to the corners. Ivle's jaw tightened. The thieves had taken more than the vial. They'd catalogued his materials, his processes, everything that made his serum possible. The lockbox held it all, and this buyer was measuring the value of what he'd learn. The man turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Ivle remained in the shadows, watching his workshop door. The vial was still out there, but now his entire life's work was for sale. He would have to move faster. He would have to take risks he'd avoided until now.