Shadows of the knight

London's heart beat with its usual rhythm of clamor and chaos, but in the depths of the market district, things were quieter, darker. A warehouse, concealed in shadow and grime, loomed like a sinister monolith among the city's neon haze. It was a place where secrets festered, and tonight, it was about to become a stage for a grim new drama.

Inside, the dim glow of a single flickering bulb revealed the chaos of the warehouse: stacks of forgotten crates, a scatter of broken magical trinkets, and the pungent scent of something more ominous. Arthur Pendragon and Circe Holmes moved with practiced stealth, their presence barely a whisper against the backdrop of neglect.

Arthur, with his sharp eyes and tailored suit, sifted through a pile of dusty ledgers, his brow furrowed in concentration. His movements were deliberate, each gesture revealing his experience in navigating hidden dangers. Circe, her expression a mask of focused skepticism, meticulously combed through a collection of magical artifacts. Her every glance was a study in calculating precision, the kind of careful analysis that only years on the job could bring.

"This place reeks of something beyond just decay," Circe remarked, her voice cutting through the silence with a clipped, no-nonsense tone. She discarded an old parchment, revealing an ancient-looking amulet. "Whatever's going on here, it's not just smuggling."

Arthur grunted in agreement, his eyes still fixed on the ledger. "We need more than these scraps. We need a lead on who's behind this Elysium Essence operation."

As Circe moved further into the warehouse, a strange sensation pricked at her senses. A subtle shift in the air, the faintest hint of something—someone—else in the room with them. Her instincts, honed by years of tracking both mundane and magical threats, immediately went on high alert.

"Arthur," she whispered, her voice laced with urgency, "we're not alone."

Arthur paused, his gaze snapping up from the ledger. He scanned the room, but the shadows revealed nothing. "What do you mean?"

Before Circe could answer, a thin wisp of smoke curled from the darkness, its tendrils weaving through the stale air like serpents. The smoke carried a distinct, ominous energy that sent a chill down her spine.

"Damien?" she breathed, her tone edged with suspicion. "He didn't mention he'd be here."

Arthur's hand instinctively moved towards his weapon, though not in fear. "Probably just checking in on us."

But before either of them could act, the smoke began to coalesce, taking on a shape—a figure emerging from the shadows with a grace and presence that commanded the room. The smoke parted, revealing a young woman, her dark hair cascading around her shoulders like a veil of night. She stepped into the dim light, her red eyes gleaming with a mysterious intensity.

Luna Crossworth stood before them, her posture relaxed but her gaze sharp and probing. She exuded an air of quiet power, as if she was fully aware of the effect her entrance had on them.

"Well, this is interesting," Luna said, her voice smooth and enigmatic. "What business do two detectives have working with Damien Crossworth?"

Arthur and Circe exchanged a glance, their confusion momentarily overriding their instincts. "We're not working with Damien," Arthur replied, his tone steady but cautious. "But we're in close acquaintance. Who the hell are you?"

A faint smile tugged at Luna's lips, but it wasn't one of warmth. "You don't see the resemblance?" she asked, her tone dripping with cryptic amusement.

Circe's skepticism deepened, her voice tinged with suspicion. "You expect us to believe you're just here out of curiosity?"

Luna's eyes flickered with a hint of something unreadable as she regarded Circe. "Curiosity is a powerful motivator," she replied, her words laced with ambiguity. "But no, I'm here because I believe the Crimson Moon Coven is involved in this little operation of yours. And I'm not leaving until I get what I came for."

Arthur, ever the diplomat, took a step forward, his accent refined and measured. "If you're here for the same reason we are, we might as well pool our resources. It's clear we're all after the same thing."

Luna hesitated, her gaze narrowing slightly as if gauging their trustworthiness. "Maybe," she said, her voice soft and cryptic. "But don't expect me to spell everything out for you. Some things… you'll have to figure out on your own."

"Fair enough," Circe replied, her tone matching Luna's. "But if we're going to work together, we need to know we can count on you."

"Trust is a tricky thing," Luna said, her words almost a whisper. "But for now, let's just say… our interests are aligned....for now."

### **Chapter 2: The Alchemist's Ledger**

The warehouse hummed with a low, mechanical drone—the sound of old ventilation systems struggling to keep the air moving. Arthur, Circe, and Luna moved through the labyrinthine space with precision, their footsteps echoing softly against concrete walls. They were focused, each absorbed in their task as they searched for anything that could shed light on the Elysium Essence operation.

Arthur's keen eyes caught sight of an unusual item—a weathered ledger stuffed between stacks of mundane invoices. Its cover was thick and worn, decorated with symbols that seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

"Circe, take a look at this," Arthur said, his curiosity piqued. He handed the ledger to her, noting her immediate change in demeanor.

Circe's fingers delicately turned the pages, her expression shifting from routine examination to intrigue. "This isn't ordinary. There's a pattern here, some sort of code mixed in with the regular entries."

Luna, who had been silently scanning a nearby shelf, turned her attention to the ledger. Her eyes gleamed with interest. "What's it say?" she asked, her tone casual yet intense.

Circe's brow furrowed as she studied the ledger closely. "There's a reference to 'Nox Mortis.' Ever heard of it?"

Luna's eyes narrowed. "Nox Mortis? That's no joke. It's a rare, powerful substance used in dark alchemy. If they're dealing with it, we're looking at something far more dangerous than a simple drug trade."

Arthur's frown deepened. "So, the Elysium Essence isn't just a new drug. They're mixing it with something that could be catastrophic."

Circe's gaze shifted to a section of the ledger detailing a series of transactions and visits to a location. "There are addresses listed here. One of them—an apartment complex near the docks—seems significant. The frequency of visits is suspicious."

Luna's expression grew thoughtful. "If they're using Nox Mortis, they'd need a secure place to handle it. That apartment complex could be where they're conducting their operations."

Circe's eyes fell on a particularly cryptic note in the ledger. A symbol was scrawled in the margin, one that Circe recognized from a previous investigation. "This symbol… It's linked to an old case involving a dangerous alchemist we never managed to catch. He used to work with substances like Nox Mortis."

Luna's gaze hardened with urgency. "If he's involved, that apartment complex could be a key part of their operation. We need to check it out before they cover their tracks."

Arthur nodded in agreement. "Let's move quickly. The sooner we investigate, the better."

Circe glanced around the warehouse, noting the piles of discarded papers and crates. "We've got enough here to warrant further investigation. But right now, that apartment complex is our best lead."

As they prepared to leave, Circe's eyes sparkled with a sudden thought. "How about we stop by a bar nearby before heading to the complex? A drink might help us unwind and gather more local intel."

Arthur shot her a questioning look, then nodded. "Sounds good. You in, Luna?"

Luna raised an eyebrow, her demeanor brightening. "Sure, why not. I could use a drink."

The trio made their way to a small, unassuming bar a few blocks away. Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, with low lighting and the clink of glasses creating a soothing backdrop. They settled into a booth, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Luna relaxed, enjoying the easy flow of conversation and the comfort of a familiar setting.

Arthur and Circe chatted about their recent cases, and Luna joined in with anecdotes of her own. The bar's mellow ambiance offered a welcome respite, and Luna found herself genuinely enjoying the moment, her laughter mingling with the sounds of the bar.

As they sipped their drinks, the door to the bar swung open, casting a fleeting shadow across the room. Luna glanced up, her enjoyment momentarily interrupted by the sight of a tall, commanding figure making his way toward their booth, his presence both imposing and familiar, stepped into the bar.

Arthur and Circe exchanged a glance, their faces betraying a flicker of anticipation. Luna's laughter caught in her throat as she froze, her eyes widening in a mix of shock and anger. The casual warmth of the bar seemed to vanish, replaced by the weight of her pass.

The bar's ambient warmth felt distant as Damian slid into the booth across from Luna. His nerves were evident, his usual poise replaced with a hint of apprehension. As he began to speak, the atmosphere between them grew tense.

"Luna," Damian said, his voice trembling slightly, "it's been some time. I didn't expect to see you here. I thought I'd check in, see how you've been."

Luna's eyes flashed with anger. "You think you can just waltz in after all these years and act like you're interested in how I'm doing? You were never around when I needed you."

Damian's composure faltered as he tried to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry. I know I wasn't there. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just—"

Luna cut him off, her voice rising. "You didn't just miss out on birthdays and holidays. You weren't there when I needed guidance, comfort, or just someone to talk to. I was a child, Damian, and all I wanted was a family. But you and Mom were too wrapped up in your own world, too busy with your own shit to notice or care."

Damian's face grew pale, his hands clenching and unclenching on the table. "I know. I'm sorry. I should have been there. I understand that now."

Luna's anger poured out, her voice shaking with the weight of old wounds. "You don't get to just apologize and make it all better. I grew up feeling abandoned, neglected. I watched other kids with their parents, feeling like there was something wrong with me because I didn't have that. I wanted a mom and a dad who actually gave a damn, who were present, but you were too absorbed in your own bullshit. Too busy with your own problems to give a damn about your daughter."

Damian's eyes filled with regret, though he struggled to find the right words. "I was... I was lost in my own world. I didn't realize how much I was hurting you. I wish I could take it all back."

Luna's voice broke as she continued, her emotions raw. "It's too late for that. I had to figure things out on my own. I learned to be independent, to rely on myself because no one else was there. I didn't have a choice. And now, you show up out of nowhere, expecting everything to be fine, expecting me to just forgive and forget?"

Damian's expression was a mix of sorrow and helplessness. "I didn't expect forgiveness. I just wanted... I don't know, to understand, to make amends in some way."

Luna's face was wet with unshed tears, her anger giving way to a profound sadness. "Well, there's nothing to be done now. I'm past needing you or your apologies. I've moved on, and you're just a reminder of the emptiness I grew up with."

Damian's shoulders slumped, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry, Luna. I'm truly sorry for everything. I just hope... I hope you find peace, even if it's without me."

Luna's gaze was steely, her voice cold. "Peace is something I had to find on my own. And right now, it's better if you leave."

Damian nodded, his face etched with remorse. "Alright. I'll go. If you ever change your mind..."

"Damian," Luna spat, her voice laden with fury, "don't come to me with that shit 22 years later. Where the hell were you when I needed you? You and Mom were so wrapped up in your own crummy world, you couldn't even be bothered with your own damn child."

Damian's face paled further, his composure breaking under the intensity of Luna's words. He tried to speak, but Luna was on a roll, her voice rising to a near scream.

"You think a few half-hearted apologies are going to fix anything? Even if you could die, there's a pit in hell that burns hot enough for you and Cassandra. I'm truly ashamed to bear the name Crossworth."

Arthur and Circe, who had been making their way to the exit, paused at the commotion. Arthur shot Circe a concerned glance, while stepping outside.

Damian's eyes widened with hurt and disbelief. "Luna, I—"

"Save it," Luna snapped,"You don't get to come crawling back into my life now and act like you give a damn. I've moved on, and I'm done pretending like your presence means anything to me."

Damian's shoulders slumped, and he rose from the booth, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and sorrow. "I'm sorry. I truly am. I'll leave you to it."

As Damian walked away, Luna's anger still burned fiercely. She watched him go, her eyes blazing with the intensity of her feelings. Arthur and Circe approached cautiously, their expressions a mix of empathy and concern.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Luna, I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Luna took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Yeah, well, you don't get over something like that easily."

Arthur and Circe exchanged a look of understanding. They respected Luna's space but knew that this confrontation had deeply affected her. As they left the bar, the weight of the emotional exchange hung in the air, a stark reminder of the unresolved pain and the complex relationships that shaped Luna's world.