ShadowBound: The Need For Power

The docks at night were a different world entirely. By day, they were a chaotic sprawl of merchants, sailors, and dockhands shouting over one another, the air thick with the scent of fish, salt, and tar. But now—under the pale gleam of the moon—everything was quieter, slower, and far more dangerous. The water lapped against the barnacle-covered piers, carrying the soft groan of wood and the occasional cry of a gull.

Serah and her team moved like wraiths along the edge of the pier, the wooden planks creaking faintly under their boots. The bait had been set earlier after their little meeting—a shipment disguised as high-value contraband, rigged with subtle tracking enchantments and a hidden failsafe that would alert them if it was moved. Now, they waited for the ones bold or desperate enough to take it.

They had chosen their vantage points carefully. Kael was crouched high in the skeletal frame of an old crane, his crossbow resting across his knee. To anyone glancing up, he was just another shadow clinging to rusted metal. Elira was tucked behind a stack of shipping crates, her sharp eyes darting over every shadow that shifted. The rest of the team was scattered, keeping their lines of sight clear while making sure they appeared as nothing more than part of the dockside clutter.

The night stretched on. A fog had begun to roll in from the sea, shrouding the far end of the docks in a silver-grey haze. Lanterns swayed on tall posts, their flames throwing long, wavering silhouettes over the water. Somewhere, a rope snapped taut with a dull thwip as a moored ship shifted against the current.

Serah crouched near a coil of thick hemp rope, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of her blade, the other clutching a small listening device. Her eyes never left the baited crate at the end of the pier. It sat in plain view but carried the kind of quiet allure that thieves and smugglers couldn't ignore.

Time passed in the slow, deliberate crawl of a stakeout. The air grew colder, each breath hanging like mist. The team communicated in gestures—a flick of the fingers, a tilt of the head. Not a word was spoken.

Then, movement.

At first it was just a ripple of shadow between the fog and the lamplight, so faint that Serah thought it might be the sway of a hanging net. But then she saw it again—three figures, moving low and quick, their steps deliberately light. They emerged into partial view, silhouettes outlined against the faint silver shimmer of the water. Both wore dark, hooded cloaks.

Elira caught Serah's eye and gave a subtle nod. Kael adjusted his crossbow but didn't raise it yet. They had to be sure these weren't just dockworkers lingering after hours.

The three figures stopped near the baited crate. One knelt, running gloved hands along its surface. The other two scanned the shadows, the slow, searching movement of someone well aware they might not be alone.

Serah's heartbeat slowed to a steady, measured rhythm. She had been in enough of these standoffs to know that one wrong move would send them scattering—or worse, fighting.

Minutes felt like hours. The kneeling figure tapped the crate twice, then whispered something too soft for the team to hear. They produced a pry bar from under their cloak and wedged it beneath the lid.

Serah gave the hand signal.

The squad shifted silently into position, closing in from multiple angles. The fog muffled their movements, but the sound of wood splintering from the crate was still enough to mask any faint noise they made.

They were within striking distance when—

A shout rang out from somewhere beyond the docks. Loud, rough, and completely out of place. The two figures froze, heads snapping toward the sound.

It wasn't one of Serah's team.

From the darkness beyond the pier, several more shapes emerged, this time moving quickly and without stealth—dockside guards, their lanterns swinging, voices calling to one another. The thieves abandoned subtlety instantly, slamming the crate shut and bolting toward the fog.

"Move!" Serah hissed, signaling the team to scatter.

The mission had just turned into a chase.

The moonlight turned the docks into a patchwork of silver and shadow as Serah's boots hit the wet planks, the salty air sharp in her lungs. Ahead, the thieves were a blur of dark hoods and darting limbs, weaving through crates and ropes with the desperation of cornered rats. Behind her, the clamor of the dock guards was growing louder—metal clinking, voices barking orders, boots pounding against wood. They didn't have the luxury of a slow chase. One wrong move and they'd be caught between thieves and authority.

"Split!" Serah hissed over her shoulder, her breath a puff in the cold night air. "Jorin, Myla—drag the guards off! Dead end by the salt sheds, then double back!"

"You got it," Jorin whispered back with a flash of teeth, peeling off with Myla into the shadowed maze of crates. Moments later, the sound of pursuit shifted, some of the guard voices veering after them like hunting dogs scenting easier prey.

That left Serah, Kael, and Elira in the hunt.

The thieves darted left between two leaning stacks of cargo. Serah followed without hesitation, vaulting a coil of rope that threatened to snag her ankle. Kael was just behind, his longer strides eating up the distance, his dagger already drawn. Lira stayed low, sliding under the arm of a crane and kicking off into a sprint.

One thief glanced over his shoulder—and that was his mistake. Serah caught the flicker of fear in his eyes, then surged forward, using a stack of barrels to spring up and cut across their path. Her boots landed with a dull thud on the opposite side, forcing them to swerve.

"Elira! Now!"

From the shadows, Elira lunged out like a striking cat, her arm snaking around the nearest thief's neck. He barely managed a grunt before she yanked him backward into the crook of her elbow, knocking the wind out of him and sending his stolen satchel clattering to the dock.

The other two thieves bolted harder, zigzagging toward the pier's end. Kael was on them in a heartbeat, using the ropes strung between mooring posts to swing himself in front of them. One of them slashed wildly with a short blade, the motion clumsy. Kael sidestepped with predatory grace, hooked the thief's wrist, and twisted until the weapon clattered to the ground. A sharp knee to the gut folded the man, and Kael shoved him to the planks.

The last thief tried to vault over a low crate, but Serah was faster. She grabbed the back of his tunic mid-leap, yanking him down so hard his breath left him in a single wheeze. She pinned him with one knee, her dagger's tip brushing the hollow of his throat.

"Don't even think about it," she murmured, low and lethal.

They moved quickly from there. Rope from the dockside was more than enough to bind the three thieves, each gagged to keep them from drawing unwanted attention. Serah's eyes flicked to the narrow lane where Jorin and Myla had gone, tension coiled in her gut—until two silhouettes emerged, slipping back into the shadows with their usual swagger.

"They bought it," Jorin grinned, tossing an empty coin purse in the air like a trophy. "Led 'em right into the sheds, slammed the gate, and vanished."

Myla smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "They'll be there for a while. Not our problem."

"Good," Serah said, scanning the docks for any lingering signs of trouble. The guards' shouts were muffled now, far enough away to buy them time. "Let's move. Fast and quiet."

The five of them melted back into the maze of crates and shadows, thieves in tow. The tide lapped at the posts below, masking the faint thud of boots on wood. By the time the first curious guard made it back to the pier, Serah's team was already gone—vanishing into the sleeping city, the spoils and secrets of the night firmly in their hands.