Lyra frowned at the valley. It was no doubt laced with magic wards. She hated magic, it made things so complicated. Her personal mage was busy with another job, but she had years of experience herself to pull from and could guess what barriers were in place and their triggers.

She ordered one of her men to advance from one side of the valley. No doubt that would set off a warning. When the Third Apprentice engaged in combat, her man would send a signal which would be passed around the parameter to Lyra. Occupied, the mage wouldn't notice another alert as she slipped into the valley to get what she needed.

From atop a high cliff, Lyra watched until there was a flash of fire on the other side of the valley. Moving the instant it appeared, she leaned backwards over the cliffedge, her prepared rope allowing her to rappel quickly into the trees below. Even if the mage did notice, she descended through the barrier so quickly, he probably wouldn't give it a second thought.

Besides, this part of the valley probably wasn't warded at all. She'd seen enough of Aziron's border guards fall to the ground coughing blood because they tried to maintain wards across the entire border. Mages had their limits.

Still, to be extra sure, Lyra moved carefully leaving no tracks. She moved through the trees headed for the village she knew was just around the lake.

The small group of men she'd just sacrificed to distract the apprentice was hardly enough to put the valley on high alert, but still there was a tense energy in the town. Adults trying to play it cool and not upset the children.

She'd have to move fast. Scanning the people again she found her target, a man in a bright blue sash who flitted from person to person, casual to the naked eye. However, each person he chatted with quickly left what they were doing and changed course. Obviously he was someone of importance.

However, the man himself wasn't her target. She watched him until it became clear which house he didn't stray far from. Lyra pulled up the hood of the dull green cloak she'd donned and made her way to the back of the man's home.

Lyra nearly laughed, the door wasn't even locked. She waltzed in like she owned the place giving the homely kitchen a disdainful glance before moving quickly and silently to the next room.

Luck was on her side and it was all too easy. A little girl, no older than three slept in the arms of a woman who, presumably, was her mother. The woman's long black hair draped down to just tickle her child's head. It obscured her face but her breathing pattern assured Lyra she was indeed as asleep as the brat.

Lyra considered. She could just slit the mother's throat and take the child, but that might alert everyone too soon. This required a subtler touch. Lyra removed a vial from one of her pockets and hummed a soft tune as she dipped the sharp needle inside. Quick, subtle, but boringly painless—the poison would get the job done.

With expert touch, she pricked the woman in her carotid artery. The mother barely twitched as the life left her. Jayln took out another bottle, sprinkling it on the edge of her cloak and holding it to the kid's nose to make sure it stayed asleep.

For a final touch, she took off the cloak and rolled it into a bundle, tucking it under the blanket the child had been wrapped in as a replacement for its previous occupant. Job done and holding the little child unceremoniously under her arm, Lyra left as quietly as she came.

After all, she had her own daughter to retrieve.