The first attacker came through the doorway like an arrow—black-clad, knife-forward, all purpose and no style. He made it exactly three steps before Pyra's open palm sent a concentrated spiral of orange flame twisting around him.

Not a direct hit—more like aerial calligraphy, a loop that singed his sleeve and redirected his momentum straight into the wall. The poor fool hit the stucco with a satisfying thud, leaving a vaguely human-shaped dent as he slid to the floor.

"Missed on purpose!" Pyra announced, sounding genuinely offended that anyone might think otherwise. "See? Restraint! I'm growing as a person."

"They're assassins, Pyra," Ember snapped, flicking her wrist to conjure a fiery spear in her hand. She hurled it at another assailant attempting to sneak around the right flank, skewering him to the far wall. "The objective is to protect Nasir."

"Oh, are we treating this as a legitimate threat?" Pyra's voice had that singsong tone of someone discovering they'd inadvertently locked a hyperactive toddler in a room full of sugar. "Because I can take care of that."

"That's not—"

But Pyra was already on the move, a blur of red hair and orange flame barreling toward the doorway with all the subtlety of a rampaging dragon.

Two more attackers lunged at her, but Pyra dodged their outstretched knives with ease. A quick twist, a flare of orange, and she had disarmed them—literally. Their blades fell to the floor, still clasped in severed hands that sizzled around the edges.

The men screamed.

Pyra ignored them, opting instead to spin on one foot, delivering a scything kick that left a trail of orange fire curving through the air behind it. The arc connected with a third assailant, and suddenly he was airborne, catapulted out the doorway by the sheer force of her heel to the sternum.

Cinder and Kindle exchanged glances.

"We should probably... help," Cinder ventured, her tone implying it was more of a polite suggestion than a pressing necessity.

Kindle shrugged, then grinned as a shadow darted into the room, moving almost too quickly to track. "Oh look, our turn."

The new attacker weaved between Pyra's blazing strikes with astonishing agility, a blur of dark fabric and glinting steel. He seemed to almost teleport from one location to another, his movements abrupt and uncanny.

Kindle mirrored his erratic approach, golden flames spiraling around her like a cyclone as she spun and rolled and flipped and parried, matching him step for step. When his twin daggers sliced the air where her throat had been a moment before, she was already upside-down, driving both heels into his face with a satisfying crack.

Without missing a beat, she rolled to her feet, pirouetted behind him, and planted a burning palm against his back. With a muffled cry, the assassin shot across the room, propelled by her blast. He slammed into a bookcase, which erupted in a burst of splintered wood and fluttering pages.

"Weren't we supposed to keep the property damage to a minimum?" Kindle asked, feigning innocence. "Oops."

"Uh-huh," Cinder said absently, most of her attention on the assassin skittering across the ceiling like some kind of human spider. She waited until he dropped, intending to ambush her from behind, then spun and drove a fist wreathed in crackling amber fire into his stomach.

The impact lifted him off his feet and sent him sailing into the wall so hard, he rebounded off it and landed flat on his back. The wall bowed outward, wood splintering, a human-shaped depression etched into its surface.

The assassin didn't get up.

"No oops for you?" Kindle asked sweetly.

Cinder wiped her hand on her pants, wrinkling her nose at the lingering scent of charred flesh. "Nope. I'm the responsible one."

At the center of the room, Ash had erected a shield of swirling violet and crimson flame, a barrier that crackled and flared with each attack that struck it. Projectiles ricocheted, arrows igniting midair, knives glowing cherry-red and dropping to the floor in molten splashes.

Ember stood beside her, sparks streaming from her fingertips, eyes tracking the rain of attacks. Whenever a projectile breached Ash's fiery barrier, Ember would snap her wrist, flicking out a precise lash of flame to intercept it.

"They're getting more aggressive," Ash observed calmly, her voice nearly drowned out by the roar of her shield. "They must be running out of manpower."

Ember grunted in agreement, then spun and snapped off a volley of blazing arrows from her outstretched fingers, forcing the last remaining attackers to dive for cover. They rolled away, trailing smoke, before disappearing through the open doorway.

"Phew," Pyra huffed, shaking out her hands as the orange flames wreathing them guttered and died. "That was fun! But, you know, also, not very challenging. I feel like we could've done that blindfolded."

Kindle nudged one of the charred corpses with her toe, eliciting a small cloud of ash that made her wrinkle her nose in distaste.

"They were better than those bandits," she conceded. "But not by much. Whoever these guys are, I doubt they're used to fighting anything scarier than, well, bandits."

The girls reconvened in the center of the room, looking around at the carnage they'd wrought. Scorch marks marred the walls and floors, and the air hung heavy with the smell of burnt flesh and wood smoke.

Nasir had been tending to the messenger but straightened up at their approach. The messenger was on his feet, albeit a bit shakily. The blood was gone, and a faint silvery sheen danced across the wounded shoulder.

Magic, it seemed, worked fast, even here.

Nasir's eyes swept over the charred bodies and wrecked furniture. "That was... unexpected."

"Sorry about the mess," Ember apologized, waving away the residual smoke that curled around her. "We may have gotten a little carried away."

"Sorry? My dear, if I were concerned about collateral damage, I never would have allied with you in the first place," he said, brushing some ash from his sleeve. "I'd say you acquitted yourselves rather splendidly, given the circumstances."

The messenger gave a stiff, somewhat pained nod of agreement, which earned him an elbow from Nasir.

"Nonetheless," Nasir continued, "to think that you managed to take out that many elite assassins without injury..." His expression tightened. "Either this faction of Silent Hand operatives is nowhere near the standard I'd been led to believe, or you girls are not quite what you seem. I wonder which it is."

"Elite?" Pyra blinked, glancing back at the bodies. "Those guys? Huh. Well, to be fair, we've fought worse. Although, there was this one time in a lab, with the... Well, anyway, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Point is, you're welcome."

Kindle cleared her throat, nudging Pyra in the ribs. "What she means to say is, we're glad no one was seriously hurt. Besides, you know, the bad guys. But that's to be expected when you send assassins to assassinate people."

"Indeed." Nasir gave a thoughtful hum. "And despite the rather... destructive display, I appreciate your discretion. Though I have to wonder..." He eyed Pyra's singed fingertips. "Just how powerful are you all, exactly?"

Pyra shrugged, blowing on her fingers to extinguish the lingering sparks. "Eh, medium? We don't really have a good baseline for these sorts of things."

"Are you sure you're not the Symmetricals?" Nasir asked hopefully. "Because that would explain so much."

"Yep, still certain," Cinder chimed in. "That's not the case."

"I suppose it was too much to hope for," Nasir sighed. "Ah, well. A man can dream."

Ash knelt beside one of the fallen attackers, examining their clothing and gear with a critical eye. "The fabric they wore is interesting," she observed. "Some kind of magically enhanced silk blend. Lightweight, fire-resistant, and I'm guessing provides some degree of physical protection as well."

Kindle nudged a black-clad body with her toe, a thoughtful expression spreading across her face. The corpse was uncomfortably well-done—practically caramelized from Pyra's enthusiastic defense—but the clothes themselves had survived remarkably well, considering their owner's crispy condition.

Then her eyes widened as if a lightbulb flickered to life in her head.

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"Oh! I just had the most brilliant idea. Like, actually brilliant, not Pyra-brilliant."

"Hey!" Pyra protested, then paused. "Actually, that's fair."

Kindle gestured expansively at the charred remains of their attackers. "These guys are Silent Hand operatives, right? And we need to infiltrate a Silent Hand facility? So..." She let the implication hang in the air like a fuse waiting for someone to notice it was lit.

Ember caught on first, her expression shifting from confusion to dawning horror. "No. Absolutely not."

"Yes! Disguises!" Kindle persisted, undeterred. "We just need to, you know..." She made a vague tugging motion with her hands. "Borrow their outfits."

Ember paused, considering. "It's a better plan than trying to break into a flooded, booby-trapped vault," she admitted reluctantly. "And a lot more direct. If we can get inside their base, we can get the research and find out what they know."

Cinder's face wrinkled like she'd just bitten into something that had been left in the sun three days too long. "You want us to strip corpses and wear their clothes? Clothes that are, I feel compelled to point out, currently decorated with their former owners' bodily fluids?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds gross," Kindle admitted. "But think tactically! What better way to sneak into enemy territory than dressed as the enemy?"

Ash tilted her head, considering the proposal. "The concept has historical precedent. Warriors throughout antiquity have donned the garb of fallen foes to infiltrate strongholds." She poked at a blackened sleeve with the toe of her boot. "Though typically with less... carbonization."

"See? Ash gets it!" Kindle beamed.

"Ash gets lots of things that don't make them good ideas," Cinder muttered.

Nasir, who had been observing this exchange with faint amusement, cleared his throat politely.

"Your companion's suggestion has merit," he offered, carefully stepping over a fallen bookshelf. "If the Silent Hand is indeed investigating the same research you are, they may have already located the missing piece. Acquiring it from their possession would be far simpler than searching for it ourselves, given the current condition of the Drowned Vault."

Cinder chewed on her lower lip for a moment, still obviously skeptical.

"Fine," she finally conceded. "But I'm burning these clothes as soon as we're out. No arguments."

Ember gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I'll help you find some nice new outfits to make up for it." With her hand still on Cinder's shoulder, she turned to Nadir. "Anything else you can tell us about the Silent Hand, Nasir? Numbers, locations, favorite types of cookies?"

"The Silent Hand maintains strict protocols for entering their facilities. Anyone not wearing the appropriate attire would be immediately identified as an intruder."

"And what exactly does the 'appropriate attire' entail?" Ember asked, shooting an I-told-you-so look at Kindle, who quietly mouthed back a triumphant Better than flooded deathtrap! at her.

"The Silent Hand operatives typically wear three layers," Nasir explained, kneeling beside the least damaged body and carefully turning it over. "The outer cloak bears no markings and serves merely as camouflage. Beneath it, the second layer carries encoded insignia indicating rank and division."

He pointed to a series of intricate symbols embroidered in dark thread along the inner lining of the assassin's jacket—barely distinguishable from the fabric itself except for a faint metallic sheen.

"And the third layer?" Ash inquired.

"A ceremonial undertunic," Nasir replied, his tone suggesting this was the most important element. "It contains warding patterns that resonate with the facility's protective enchantments. Without these patterns, the wards would trigger defensive measures—quite lethal ones, I'm afraid."

"So we don't just need the fashion, we need the magic underwear too," Pyra summarized. "Great."

Ember paced a small circle, her boots leaving faint scorch marks on the floor. "Even if we manage the disguises, there's still the issue of five identical women attempting to pass as... whatever these people are. I doubt the Silent Hand recruits quintuplets as a standard practice."

"A valid concern," Nasir acknowledged. "However, the Silent Hand maintains numerous cells that operate independently. These particular operatives belong to what they call the Whisper Division—assassins who rarely interact with other divisions. Their faces are typically concealed, their identities unknown even to their comrades."

"Convenient," Cinder remarked dryly.

"Indeed," Nasir agreed with a slight smile. "The Silent Hand's paranoia works to our advantage in this instance. With proper disguises and the correct mannerisms, you could potentially infiltrate their research facility without arousing immediate suspicion."

"And what exactly are the 'correct mannerisms'?" Kindle asked. "Do we need a secret handshake? Code words? Elaborate ritual dances?"

"Nothing so dramatic," Nasir replied. "Members of the Whisper Division communicate primarily through hand signals—twenty-seven distinct gestures with variations indicating urgency or context. I can teach you the most essential ones before you depart."

"Hand signals," Kindle repeated, wiggling her fingers experimentally. "I can do that. Though possibly with more jazz hands than they're used to."

"The Silent Hand facility operates beneath an abandoned mill in the eastern district," Nasir continued, retrieving a small scroll from a hidden pocket in his sleeve. He unrolled it on the table, revealing an intricate floor plan inked in various colors. "Their primary research chamber is located here, at the lowest level."

The five crowded around the table, studying the diagram with varying degrees of comprehension.

"These markings," Ash observed, pointing to a series of concentric circles, "indicate ward boundaries?"

"Correct," Nasir confirmed. "Three layers of protective enchantments, each requiring specific countermeasures to navigate safely. The outermost layer merely detects unauthorized entry. The middle layer immobilizes intruders. The innermost..." He paused, his expression grave. "The innermost layer is designed to extract information before eliminating the threat."

"Extract how, exactly?" Ember asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

"Painful cerebral extraction," Nasir replied. "Quick, but exceedingly unpleasant."

"So if we mess up, our brains get juiced," Pyra translated. "Standard Tuesday adventure, then."

"Why go through all this trouble?" Cinder asked suddenly, her amber eyes fixed on Nasir with the particular intensity of someone doing rapid calculations and not liking the results. "You're Mercandi. You have resources, agents, contacts. Why risk five strangers on what amounts to a suicide mission?"

Nasir held her gaze, his expression unreadable. "The research the Silent Hand has stolen isn't merely valuable—it's dangerous. It contains theoretical frameworks for consciousness manipulation that, if implemented successfully, could allow them to create stable mental links between individuals. The implications for espionage alone are concerning enough, but their true aim is far more troubling."

"What do they actually want with it?" Ember pressed.

"They believe such research is the first step toward their ultimate goal—breaking down the barriers between dimensions." Nasir's voice dropped lower. "They seek to create permanent portals to other realms, to bring through entities and energies that could devastate our world."

Five identical faces managed to maintain carefully neutral expressions, though a series of meaningful glances flew between them faster than arrows.

"Besides," Nasir added with a slight smile, "after witnessing your abilities against those assassins, I'd say your chances are considerably better than 'suicide mission'."

"Flattery will get you... moderate cooperation," Cinder conceded.

"There's something else you should know," Nasir said, his voice taking on a more serious edge. "The Silent Hand is led by a person known only as the Puppetmaster. Very few have seen this individual, but those who have describe abilities unlike anything in recorded magical practice. The ability to manipulate thoughts, to control physical actions, to extract memories—all without conventional spell-casting."

"Sounds cheerful," Kindle muttered.

"If you encounter anyone wearing a silver mask, retreat immediately. That would be the Puppetmaster, and none of you would be prepared for such a confrontation."

"We've faced some pretty weird stuff," Pyra began, but Ember cut her off with a look.

"Noted," Ember assured him. "Retreat from the silver mask person. Focus on retrieving the research. Avoid brain-juicing."

"A succinct summary," Nasir agreed. "Now, I suggest we gather what we need from our fallen friends and prepare for your infiltration. The longer the research remains in Silent Hand possession, the greater the danger."

"Right, so," Kindle gestured to the bodies, "who's going to, um, undress our new fashion suppliers?"

"I'll leave that delicate task to you," Nasir replied smoothly, already heading toward a side door with the wounded messenger in tow. "I'll gather what intelligence we have on the facility while you... prepare."

As Nasir departed, five flame-haired women turned to survey the charred and broken bodies scattered around the room.

No one moved.

"So," Pyra said finally, "who wants to go first?"

"Not it," Kindle immediately replied, backing away with her hands raised defensively.

"This is your idea," Cinder pointed out, crossing her arms. "Seems only fair you should be the one to implement it."

"I merely suggested the concept," Kindle protested. "I didn't volunteer to be the designated corpse-stripper!"

"Perhaps we could approach this systematically," Ash offered, though she too had made no move toward the nearest body. "Assess which remains are least damaged and distribute the task equitably."

"Or," Ember suggested, "we could all just pick one and get it over with. Like ripping off a bandage."

Five pairs of identical eyes swept over the carnage again. Five identical grimaces followed.

Ember sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Look, we need these disguises. Let's just... be methodical about it."

She approached the least damaged corpse and began carefully removing its outer garments, her face locked in an expression of grim determination that suggested she was mentally filing this under "things we will never speak of again."

Pyra hovered nearby, her usual enthusiasm noticeably dampened. "Um, this doesn't count as looting, right? Because heroes don't loot. They... tactically acquire... resources. From vanquished foes. Who tried to kill them first."

"Welcome to heroism in a fantasy world," Cinder replied dryly. "It's all majestic quests and noble deeds until someone has to put on a dead man's pants."

With varying levels of reluctance, the others got to work, stripping the remaining bodies of their black tunics, intricate silk shirts, and whatever unmentionables happened to be required beneath them.

Kindle, who'd been watching from a safe distance, finally approached one of the less damaged bodies. She pinched a sleeve between thumb and forefinger, lifting it gingerly.

"Ugh," she groaned, her face contorting. "It's still warm."

"Of course it's warm," Cinder snapped, already elbow-deep in her grisly task. "We literally set them on fire less than ten minutes ago."

"Maybe we could wash them first?" Kindle suggested hopefully.

"With what?" Ember demanded. "The secret courtyard laundry facility that Nasir didn't bother to mention?"

Kindle mumbled something indistinct, gingerly holding the shirt at arm's length as she retreated.

"I regret everything," Pyra announced.

"You don't regret my genius idea!" Kindle protested.

"In this moment, I kind of do, yeah," Pyra admitted. "I regret it all the way to my very soul."

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