Matthias lay flat on his stomach on the dark tiled roof. Clothed in mottled black, he blended in almost undetectably with the murky, overcast night; the only skin he exposed was a thin strip above his masked nose, and even that was partly concealed by lengthening, dead-straight dark hair that brushed over his vision. This was his element: here in the shadows he was invisible, and no one could touch him.
He reviewed the plan in his head. "Intelligence tells us some nobody's got the Glassbox." That's what Bantaque, the city's Lord of Shadows, had said. "Y'know Seraph, right?"
"Yeah," Matthias had replied, nodding. In the face of a heartless governor with a steel grip in dark times, Seraph was the city's guardian angel, and the people loved him but to Matthias he was more than that. He was a saviour, even if he didn't know it. He probably didn't know where all the street urchins went, probably assumed the little shadow boy in the corner of the alley was dead by now, probably though