Floor 1: Chapter Fifteen - The Pale Stranger

The first bell chimed, low and somber, carrying over the rooftops and threading through the square below. I leaned into Val’s shoulder as a hush fell over the streets, the music and laughter dissolving into a reverent quiet.

"Guess it's time," I murmured.

"Yep," Val said, voice bleak but steady. “No one lives forever.”

"I’ve only ever heard stories of what happens to the spirits here." I watched cautiously. “How they eventually disappear. How they can go sooner if they want to.”

"At least they get to choose. Not everyone gets that luxury." His breath slipped into a low sigh.

"Sorry." I shifted, offering, "We don’t have to watch."

"No. It’s okay." He paused. "I’m here."

The highest lanterns, the ones that had climbed furthest, shimmered, their lights thinning into the stars as if the sky itself were swallowing them.

Below, families gathered close. Some whole, some barely more than silhouettes, their edges blurred and fading. Spirits clung to loved ones in embraces that hovered between sorrow and relief. Tearful whispers echoed words too soft to carry, and then, one by one, the spirits began to fade. Not all of them, and not all at once, but enough to notice.

Not violently. Not even quickly. They unraveled like silk threads pulled loose, dissolving into a fine mist of opalescent light. Their faces, their shapes, their touch, all vanishing into something smaller, brighter, weightless.

A barely visible mother kissed the forehead of a living child as she faded. A father pressed a hand to his son’s chest and smiled, bittersweet, before breaking into a thousand glittering fragments.

The light drifted upward, and I knew it wasn’t just vanishing. It was joining something greater, their remaining Aether feeding the endless cycle that gave shape to the world. Not an ending. Not entirely. The thought gave solace to the ones left behind, and I believed it. Why not, after all? It was better than nothing.

I leaned forward, bracing my hands on my knees, watching in silence. I didn’t know any of their names. Didn’t know their grief. But I felt it, thick and humming in the air, a kind of letting go that wasn’t really a goodbye.

"Gods, this is sad... and eerily beautiful, all at the same time." I tried to lighten the mood, if only slightly.

Val stayed expressionless, unmoving. "It’s what the whole night’s about. All of it to send them on their way."

I could feel the stillness in him. The grief hiding under his skin. The rare kind that meant he was paying attention to every detail, maybe more than he wanted to.

Then, just as I was ready to breathe out and let the quiet settle into my bones, I saw it.

Not a sound. Not a flash.

Just a thread. A thin, dark ripple, nearly invisible against the night sky.

As the glittering light from each fading spirit drew high into the air, some of it was pulled. A small fraction. So slight no one else seemed to notice, bent away from the others, toward the tether, vanishing into it like water disappearing into parched earth.

I blinked, heart skipping. It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t obvious. It wasn’t even enough to disturb the ‘beauty’ of the moment.

But it felt wrong.

Val shifted beside me, his gaze still sweeping the crowd below. He didn’t react. Neither did anyone else.

I rose to my feet, boots scraping the shingles as I moved further along the roof’s edge. “Are you seeing this?”

Val glanced up, frowning. “Yeah... and would you be careful?” He reached out, catching the hem of my dress in his fist, steadying me.

“No, not that.” I jabbed a finger toward the sky, breath catching. “The black necrotic tether looking thread in the sky. Like it’s… ” I swallowed. “...siphoning some of their aether.”

Val’s frown deepened. “What are you talking about?”

“That!” My voice pitched higher, pointing again. “That... thing.”

He looked where I pointed, really looked, searching the skyline, before shifting back at me, cautious now. “Remy... there’s nothing there… at least nothing I can see.”

I stared at him, words tangling in my mouth. He wasn’t joking. He really didn’t see it. How could he not?

Am I crazy???

“It feels wrong.” I pulled back from the ledge, the unease settling deep in my gut. “It’s like it’s feeding on them or something.”

Val released my dress and offered his hand instead, helping me step safely onto more solid footing. I squeezed his fingers a little harder than necessary.

“I think I need to find Eshlyn,” I said, still watching the tether twist unseen above us. “She’ll know what it is.”

Val hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

Val squeezed my hand before letting go, and together we moved across the roof, careful on the slick tiles. The festival was still quiet below, the fading remnants of laughter hushed into reverence. Only the occasional murmur of a family’s goodbye broke the silence.

I glanced back once, over my shoulder.

The ‘thread’ was still there. Barely visible, like a smudge against the night, drinking in the light that drifted upward. I tried to shake it off, but the chill slid under my skin and stayed there.

Val dropped down first, landing lightly beside the crates stacked in the alleyway where we’d climbed up. He reached up without hesitation as I lowered myself, catching my waist to steady me when my boots hit the ground.

His hand lingered for half a second longer than necessary before he stepped back, giving me space.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low but even.

“Yeah. Peachy.” I shook my head. “Just wondering if I’m losing my mind.”

We slipped into the thinning crowd, weaving through clusters of onlookers and families clutching the last moments with their fading loved ones. I kept scanning for any glint of silver on Eshlyn’s gown, but the darkness swallowed color, leaving only the faint, floating lights of paper lanterns and the shimmer of dissipating spirits.

I felt Val staying close at my side like a quiet, steady weight against my growing sense of unease. “Last I saw, she was near the fountain,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.

We moved deeper into the square. Most of the living had begun to drift toward the edges, giving the lingering spirits room to say their goodbyes.

I caught a flash of silver ahead, the gleam of Eshlyn’s gown as she stood nearby, Dent next to her, stuffing the last bit of some festival pastry into his mouth.

“Found her!” I breathed, relief cutting through the unease curling tight in my chest.

Val nodded, shadowing me as I pushed forward.

Eshlyn turned before I even reached her, eyes narrowing slightly, like she could already sense something was wrong. “Remy?” she asked, voice low. Concern, not alarm, yet.

I didn’t waste time. “Can you see it?”

“See what?” She responded.

“That… ” I twisted, gesturing upward, scanning for the dark tether. It was still there, thin and insidious against the night sky, subtle but impossible to miss if you were to really look. I pointed, following the dark ripple’s slow, impossible pull on the drifting light. “There. It's… It's like a black thread. It looks like it’s taking some of the aether from the spirits.”

Eshlyn frowned, stepping closer, tilting her head as she squinted up. Beside her, Dent shoved the last of the pastry into his pocket and craned his neck as well.

“I don’t see anything,” Eshlyn said slowly, careful, like she wasn’t sure if she should.

Dent just shrugged, already losing interest. “Hate to say it, but you're sure you're not seeing things?”

“Yes,” I insisted, then faltered. “I think”

Eshlyn’s brow creased, delicate but deep. She looked at me, searching, trying to read something in my face.

“I believe you,” she said gently. “But... no, I don’t see anything.”

I opened my mouth to say more, to press it, to explain better, but I lost hope that there was anything left to say, so I only stared. Gut twisting. Then another voice cut through the cool night air, calm but deliberate, every word laced with a quiet certainty that made the back of my neck prickle.

“You’re not crazy.”

I turned and found myself standing in the shadow of a stranger.

A man, tall and unnervingly composed, dressed in a dark tunic tailored too perfectly to be ordinary. Black gloves flexed at his sides, pristine and unwrinkled. His white hair fell in careless waves, just long enough to frame a face that was wrong in a way most people would mistake for beauty, too symmetrical, too flawless. Lovely, the way a fine-edged blade might be.

But it was his eyes that gave me goosebumps, muted, blood-red, steady, and without even a flicker of doubt. They didn’t just look at me. They read me. Watching, like a sudden movement, would mean a swift end.

No festival colors adorned him. No lantern, no token of mourning or celebration. Just a polished coat, laced boots that didn’t make a sound on the stone, and an air of stillness that felt vicious. He was too perfect, like a well-placed trap, or poisoned wine, fragrant and inviting.

“...But you are certainly unexpected,” he said, each syllable measured, soft as a weapon sheathed in silk.

He stepped closer, and the ripple through the others was immediate.

Val shifted behind me, a wall of steady tension. Eshlyn, all her usual calm, stiffened, the air sharpening around her. Even Dent’s grin flickered and vanished, his posture drawing tight and coiled.

Something in me twitched, sharp and certain like an instinct to run or go for the daggers at my thigh, but I kept my hands where they were, loose, easy. He barely said a few words to me, but I already knew. Draw a blade, and I wouldn’t even have time to regret it. Better to keep my mouth quick and my movements slow.

It took everything within me not to move. To actively choose not to react. Instead, I opened a hand, subtle, small, but clear enough to catch the others’ attention. Wait.

Their weight lingered at my back, hesitant but obedient.

Only then did I square my shoulders and turn fully toward the stranger, forcing the pulse pounding in my chest into something steadier, calmer. I smiled. Not big. Not wide. Just enough to show I wasn’t scared. Just enough to lie.

"Why don’t you stick around. You’ll see I’m full of surprises," I said, keeping my tone even, like I hadn’t just stepped into a game I was already losing.

The figure’s unshakable composure faltered, just a flicker, before settling back into a perfectly rehearsed smile. “How entertaining an invitation,” he said, voice smooth and unhurried, “and undoubtedly true.”

His voice was velvet over a blade, polished, lethal. He stepped closer, deliberate, every movement measured.

I felt the tension coil tighter behind me: Val’s shift, Eshlyn’s sharpened stillness, Dent's broad figure at my side. I flicked my hand low at my hip. A signal. Don’t.

It was subtle, but the man’s eyes, sharp, assessing, caught it. His mouth twitched, a fraction. Not a smile. Not a frown. More like he was cataloguing me, or us. “It appears we haven’t been properly introduced,” he said, voice low, almost conversational. “Forgive the oversight.”

I tilted my head, feigning calm even as my skin prickled with warning. “No. Allow me to apologize. My colleagues can be slow to trust.” I let a half-smile curve my mouth. “You can never be too careful.”

He chuckled once, a dry, hollow sound. “Death lurks around every corner.”

“And yet,” I countered, “you’re out here in the open. Nameless.”

The pressure in the air shifted, a slow loosening, like a blade being lowered an inch, and I knew I’d hit the mark. He studied me for a long, measured moment, the square too quiet around us, the night too heavy.

Finally, he spoke: “My name is Lawrence,” he said, each syllable deliberate, like it meant something. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He extended his hand, bowing slightly, a gesture polished to a razor’s edge. A gentleman’s pose, all manners and menace.

This was it. I could take his hand and accept whatever that meant for me. Or refuse and find out what became of those who said no. Keeping the charade meant taking it, even as every instinct screamed against it. I knew there was no choice, not really. So I stepped forward, light but sure, and placed my hand in his.

“Remy,” I said.

He bent lower, brushing a kiss to my lightly closed hand just near enough to chill the air between us before straightening.

The weight in my chest eased a fraction as my hand came free. “Very nice to meet you as well,” I said, matching his polished civility with a smile of my own.

“And your colleagues?” he asked, his gaze flicking past me. Calm. Uninterested.

Eshlyn stepped forward first, offering a curtsy so graceful it looked effortless. “Eshlyn.”

Lawrence’s mouth quirked. “An unusual name for a sea elf. Care to share your family lines?”

“I do actually,” she said smoothly, carefully.

Dent tipped his chin in a half-bow, all lazy charm. “Dent.” Lawrence didn’t seem impressed, but Dent didn’t seem to care.

Then there was Val. He didn’t bow. He didn’t even step forward, just moved closer to my side, a silent, simmering wall.

“And you are?” Lawrence asked.

Val’s voice was low, unflinching. “What lurks around the corner.”

The tinge of displeasure was subtle, a shift at the corner of Lawrence’s mouth, a tightening around his eyes, before he smoothed it away with a smile cold enough to draw blood.

“You have sharp company,” the words soft, amused. Dangerous. “But it’s you I find most curious.” He wasn’t really looking at me, not in the way normal people did. It felt like he was peeling me apart, layer by layer, looking past skin and bone and thought.

I forced a shrug, casual as I could manage. “Because I’m lucky enough to see whatever that thing is in the sky?”

He tilted his head, still studying me, the curve of his mouth hinting at something almost like amusement. “Not quite,” he said, the word nearly a scoff. “Because you can, and yet you know not why, or know what it is.”

I should have stayed quiet. I should have let it slide past, moved the interaction toward parting ways. But the way he said it, like he already knew something, made the words slip free before I could catch them.

“What is it then?” I asked plainly.

Lawrence’s red gaze sharpened, the first real shift in him since the encounter began. “Balance.” He said, tone light, but edged. “Where there is light, there must also be dark. In life, death. An equilibrium. Nature demands it.”

“And others?” I pressed. “There are others who can see it?”

“Unlikely anyone else here,” he said, too easily, like he knew more but had no intention of explaining further.

I felt Val tense again beside me, his silence heavy but somehow comforting.

Lawrence noticed. He noticed everything. “There are… a few,” he added, voice a low thread of velvet and wire. “Those who have peered deep enough into the roots of aether.” His gaze returned to me, lingering.

I swallowed thickly, heartbeat stubborn in my throat. “Then why can I see it?”

For a beat, he said nothing. Then, almost fondly: “That is the question, isn’t it?”

Another flicker of that secretive smile, but this time he didn’t push. He just let the silence stretch, long and thin. I shifted, not enough to look defensive, just enough to remind myself I could still move if I had to.

“If it's nothing to worry about, then why does it feel so… malicious?” I spoke, trying to sound sure even though all I had were questions.

“The darker sides of balance often do.” He muttered, easily.

“Thanks for the lesson. So what are you doing out here if not to celebrate?” I asked, feigning curiosity in an attempt to hide my nerves and tilt the conversation into more casual waters.

His expression didn’t change, but something cold moved behind his eyes.

“I came to pay respects,” he said easily. “There was a shop. Recently lost to fire.” He paused. “A friend, lost with it.”

Something sharp jabbed at my ribs, and Val closed in, closer behind me, chest nearly brushing the corner of my back.

“A shame,” I said, careful to keep my tone neutral.

“Indeed.” Another pause. This one deliberate. Measured.

“I had hoped to find answers,” he said, voice low. “Or perhaps the right questions.” Then he stepped back, a signal he was finished, for now.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Remy.” He said, not acknowledging the others.

“You as well,” Eshlyn spoke up when I didn’t.

Lawrence stopped. Quick. Silent. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

“Before I go,” he said, as if just remembering, “are you expecting anyone? Perhaps a large group meeting a few blocks ahead?”

“What?” I cut in before anyone else could. “No. No one.”

“Perfect then,” he said lightly, smoothing his gloves with a casual flick. “Not to worry. I’ll take care of it.”

And just like that, he turned, vanishing into the thinning crowd without a sound.

---

                                                                                 ...

We slipped from the square shortly after, the buzz of the festival fading behind us. The streets were quieter here, not silent, just softer, more solemn, less crowded. Lanterns swung gently from their posts, casting lazy gold arcs over the stone.

Dent stretched, lacing his fingers behind his head with a groan. “So tell us, Remy, what exactly do you do that attracts all the weirdos?”

“I don’t do it on purpose!” I huffed, bumping my shoulder into his. “Besides, he wasn’t weird, just… creepy.”

“Weird enough to make my skin crawl,” Dent shot back, grinning.

Eshlyn snorted, quiet but real. “I’m with Dent on this one. Although…” She lifted an eyebrow at me. “He was kind of gorgeous.”

“Eshlyn!” I laughed, half-mortified.

“What?” She smiled, all innocence. “Am I wrong?”

“It doesn’t matter how pretty he is,” Dent added, grimacing. “The whole thing felt gross.”

Val finally chimed in, voice low and dry. “Weirdest interaction I’ve ever had. I’ll be glad to never see that guy again.”

“Worried because he’s prettier than you?” Eshlyn teased, eyes dancing as she said it, but she was looking at me, not Val.

“I’m not intimidated,” Val grumbled. “Guy looked like he wanted to kill us. Starting with Remy.”

“Awww, you’re so cute when you get all protective.” I pinched his cheek, grinning, and he swatted me away.

“Don’t pinch my cheeks!” he protested, mock-offended. “Besides, didn’t you all see those eyes? One more step and I would’ve decked him. Consequences be damned.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” I teased. “I had it handled.”

“I had no idea you could be so persuasive,” Dent said, slanting a look at me.

Eshlyn nodded. “You’re full of surprises, Remy. Tonight’s no different.”

The praise had me blushing, so I waved it off. “Stop. It’s easy to let people talk when they want to.”

Dent snorted. “Yeah, pretty sure he did not want to talk.”

I shrugged, letting it drop.

Val walked at my side, hands tucked in his pockets. His shoulder brushed mine lightly with each step, enough to notice, not enough to call attention to. I enjoyed how the tension felt behind us.

“We could get food,” Dent suggested. “Celebrate surviving this… weirdly emotional death parade.”

“Still thinking with your stomach,” Eshlyn said, voice dry but not unkind.

I smiled, the kind that came easier now. "It is late, but some food doesn’t sound bad, honestly."

We rounded a corner, the air a little cooler here, the street more narrow. Fewer lanterns. Fewer people. Just the gentle, familiar sound of our boots against the cobblestones.

“Easy enough, I can order…” Eshlyn stopped mid-sentence, her body snapping still. Without thinking, the rest of us followed, Dent stiffening, Val stepping closer to me, my own breath catching in my chest.

Ahead, to the left, the mouth of an alley gaped open. Shadows too deep pooled there, not the soft blur of night, but something off-putting. Stagnant and lingering. It hit me first, that wrongness. Like the air was thicker, heavier, holding its breath. None of us spoke, but we moved closer, steps quiet, slow.

The alley wasn’t lit, but the faint spill of lantern light from the street was enough to make out shapes.

Bodies.

Not just one or two. Ten, maybe twenty, strewn in unnatural positions, like they had just… fallen. No struggle. No mess. Just corpses, drained of all life and slumped where they stood.

Most had weapons still sheathed, but their faces, what little I could see of them, were slack. Peaceful, almost, except for the sheer wrongness of so many lives snuffed out at once. A sharp, coppery tang hit the back of my throat. Blood or bile, but not nearly enough for a massacre of this scale.

Val took a step forward, bending down next to one of the many lying corpses, enough for the lamplight to catch the angle of his face, the grim line of his jaw. He examined it quickly before mouthing back to me, ‘Guild’.

“What the hell,” Dent muttered, voice low.

“They were killed recently. I can still feel the necrotic energy.” Eshlyn’s sharp eyes swept the alley once, twice. Her jaw clenched. “A spell capable of killing this many people at once. It shouldn’t be possible.”

I didn’t move. Couldn’t. The image carved itself into my brain, precise. Clean. Efficient. Just like the man in the square. “All of them dead, and no signs of a struggle.”

Not far off, I heard the thin, distant wail of a Watch whistle.

“Time to go,” Val said quietly, already stepping back.

I didn’t argue. None of us did. We turned, slipped back into the safer streets, away from the bodies, away from the heaviness that clung to that alley like smoke.

The night was quieter now, but not in a way that felt good. Not in a way that felt safe.

---

                                                                                 ...

The door to Eshlyn’s suite shut behind us with a final thud, and for the first time since the alleyway, I felt like I could breathe again.

No one spoke as we made our way into the quiet living space. Dent threw himself into the cushions of the lowered den, sprawling like he owned the place. Val sat beside him, thoughtful, wound tight beneath the stillness. Eshlyn moved with habitual grace, pouring herself a drink, the delicate clink of glass the only sound in the room.

I hovered near them without sitting, tense and restless.

Dent broke the quiet first, voice pitched low. “Holy shit.”

“No kidding,” Val muttered.

Eshlyn set a tray of wine glasses on the table, the crystal gleaming in the low light. She handed each of us a glass in turn, and I took mine without a word.

Dent tossed back the liquid in a gulp, then slumped onto the rug, one arm draped lazily over a knee. “Where do we even begin?” His voice was light, but the tension sat just under it.

“We need to lay low.” Eshlyn’s voice cut clean through the air. She didn’t bother sitting, just stood by the table like she wasn’t done moving yet.

Val nodded once, slow and deliberate. “He’s not the kind to let things go. People like that, they don’t leave loose ends.”

“Is that what we are?” I asked, finally breaking the stillness in my throat. “Loose ends?”

Eshlyn met my gaze, eyes sharp. “Don’t you think so? He practically admitted to mass murder. We know it was him. That’s enough reason to stay out of sight.”

Dent slouched deeper, swirling his glass lazily. “I can be scarce.” He shot me a sideways look. “Think you can manage it too, Remy? Maybe not charm the next serial killer that strolls by?”

I rolled my eyes, letting the jab slide.

“Just for a while,” Eshlyn said, voice softer but no less firm. “Until we know what we’re dealing with. Let the Watch handle the mess.”

“Wait it out,” Val added, voice unreadable. “Sometimes that’s the best move.”

They all looked at me then, expectant but not pressing. Waiting for sense to win out.

I nodded once, sharp and small. “Right. Lay low. No problem.” The words left my mouth easily enough, but something inside tightened, deep and certain. I had no intention of doing that, but I still smiled, thin and easy. “Not like I have a death wish.”

The others relaxed a fraction. Even Val. The weight in the room eased, but I kept the smile plastered until they turned to other things. Dent made some half-hearted joke about sleeping for three days, Eshlyn sighed into her glass, but it didn’t matter.

…Because I wasn’t going to wait. At least, not a minute longer than I needed to.

I caught Val’s gaze across the table. He studied me, wary, searching. I just smiled back, light, careless, but he didn’t look away immediately.

That didn’t matter either. I wasn’t dragging him into this. Not more than I already had.

As the others broke apart, casual goodnights muttered, Eshlyn caught my arm. “Sleep well, darling,” she said, pressing a kiss to my cheek before stepping away.

Dent offered a lazy two-fingered salute. “No morning run tomorrow.”

I nodded, a grateful smile flickering for both of them.

Then Val leaned in close, a whisper against my ear. “If you’re thinking about doing something stupid. Don’t.” As if he knew exactly what I was planning.

I only nodded.

---

                                                                                 ...

 

The room was dim when my cracked my eyes open. Pale light bled in around the thick curtains, the kind of filtered gray that meant it was well into morning, but late enough that the city was already alive beyond the windows.

I lay there a moment, staring at the ceiling. Letting the weight of that night settle into my bones. Three days, that's how long I’d spent quieting their nerves. It should be enough to ease suspicion, to give me a workable excuse if needed.

The bed shifted as I sat up slowly, the blanket whispering down my legs. No noise. No sudden movements. My boots were by the door, my pack tucked against a chair. My heart thudded, steady and stubborn, a reminder of what I was about to do.

No more waiting. I’d leave today.

I thought of Lawrence. Etched him into my intent, focused it until it tingled against my fingertips, and wrote. It was a trick I’d done a hundred times, but this time, my hand shook.

I was ghosting my friends.
Meeting a killer who could very well want me dead.

But he hadn’t killed me before. He’d saved me that night, saved me from that group, however gruesomely.

The thought of their faces gave me pause. Made me second-guess what I was doing, but the words were already burning under my skin. So I let them form, tracing them into the aether-script note, a quick, floating scrawl across invisible glass:

I may have the answers you want. Let’s trade.
- Remy

Simple. No begging. No fear.

The script shimmered faintly, then disappeared, as if it had never been there. I sat there a moment longer, stomach knotting tighter with each passing second.

Gods, what the hell am I doing?...

I needed to know why I could see what no one else could. He had answers, and I had something he wanted.
Knowledge about Xolob.

I’d have to be careful about what I gave him, but I wouldn’t run scared. If Lawrence wanted me dead, he would have killed me in the square.

…Just relax, it’ll be fine.

The reply came as suddenly as the note had vanished, sharp, clean.

Sundown. The docks. Come alone.
 - L

I pulled on my boots slowly, buckling the straps one by one. Every small, deliberate movement calmed me. By the time I donned my armor and slung my cloak over my shoulders, I was as sure as I ever would be.

So I cracked the door open just enough to slip through. The suite was still and quiet, the kind of heavy stillness that meant the others were still lost in uneasy sleep. I hesitated only once, glancing back over my shoulder. The bed. The dresser.

Should I leave a note?
No.
I was risking everything. But I was doing it alone.

The door shut behind me without a sound.

I made it three steps down the hall before a soft clink of porcelain stopped me.

Eshlyn turned the corner from the kitchen alcove, balancing a small tray with two steaming mugs. She caught me mid-stride, her eyes widening before a long pause.

“I made you coffee,” she finally said, voice low and easy, like this was any other morning. Like she hadn’t just found me sneaking out.

I swallowed and managed a smile, thin and practiced. “Thank you. You're very thoughtful.”

She didn’t move, didn’t block the way, just shifted the tray slightly in her hands, letting the steam curl up between us. “Where are you headed?” she asked, soft but certain.

“Just need some air.” I lied.

“I see.” She paused again, then stepped back towards the kitchen. “I have a cup you can take.”

“That would be lovely.” I followed as she poured the contents of the mug into a taller cup with a lid.

For a moment, I thought she might press, ask where I was really going, or worse, demand to come with me. But she didn’t. She just gave a small, almost sad smile, one I couldn’t quite read, and handed me the filled container like a peace offering I wasn’t brave enough to take.

“Remy.” She muttered as I took it.

“Yes.” I didn’t want to lie to her. Gods, I wish I didn’t have to.

“Be careful,” She said, eyes lingering.

“I will,” Another lie, but I tucked the growing guilt somewhere deep before giving her a nod and moving down the hall, towards the door.

---

                                                                                 ...

 

The day drifted by in a haze.
I wandered the city in wide, loose circles, avoiding the usual streets and linked rooftops. A path that gave me plenty of time to think. I pictured Lawrence’s red eyes and the tether curling through the sky. I pictured the alley full of bodies. Thought about how Dent and Val might react to me being gone. What Eshlyn might tell them, if anything.

By the time the sun dipped low, painting the rooftops in gold, my mind was quiet, not calm, not exactly, but set. I’d see where this led.

From the ledge of an overhead building, I watched the docks below, eyes tracing the short stretch of wood and stone, slow and patient. The tide lapped at the pilings, steady and rhythmic, like the city’s heartbeat had slowed with the setting sun. Glowstones lit up, casting long, crooked shadows across the wharf, glinting off damp wood. The air smelled of salt and old rope, cooler here, brisk with the threat of rain.

I stayed hidden longer than necessary, letting the minutes stretch, scanning for any sign of movement, any hint of him.

And eventually, there he was. Just as his note said.
Two figures slipped from the shadow of a corner building at the far end of the wharf.
Lawrence, unmistakable even at a distance, moving with that effortless, predatory grace. Beside him, a girl, dark-haired, slight, her presence quieter but no less unsettling. She wore no heavy cloak or armor, just a simple black dress, loose enough to move in, fitted enough to be deliberate. A silver chain hung at her throat, catching the dying light. Even from here, I could tell: she didn’t walk like an apprentice or a guard. She walked like something ancient wearing a young woman’s skin.

I edged back instinctively, heart climbing up my ribs. Studying them both.

That’s when Lawrence’s head tilted, not searching, not guessing, locking eyes with me like he’d known exactly where I was the whole time.

A flick of his hand.
No warning, no sound.
And then, he was here, a breath, a blink, standing on the rooftop next to me.

My stomach dropped. I fought against the instinct to stumble back, locking my knees and holding the ledge like it could anchor me. The air shimmered faintly in his wake, the ghost of a spell still thinning. No incantation. No motion of his lips.

“You’re early,” is all he said, voice smooth, unbothered.

Beside him, the girl materialized more slowly, stepping through a ripple in the air like a veil being parted. Up close, she was even more disconcerting, too perfect, too sharp. Large sapphire eyes that could be mistaken for beauty if they weren’t so calculating. Like a lure with polished bait ,perfectly placed.

She studied me with an interest that felt clinical, then, soft as the wind, she spoke:
“Daffodils.”

The word floated between us, light as mist, without greeting or explanation.
I blinked. Completely thrown.

Lawrence chuckled under his breath, a low, dry sound.
“Pay her no mind. Dawn prefers to speak in ways others don’t quite understand.”
He gestured loosely toward her without looking. “Right, allow me. Remy, this is Dawn. Dawn, Remy. She’s here to observe.”

Observe. That didn’t feel comforting.

I took a few deep breaths, slowly pushing the rush of adrenaline that came with his sudden appearance, then swallowed down the knot in my throat and tried to keep my voice level. “Pleasure to meet you, Dawn.”

She moved into a curtsy with predatory grace before donning an easy smile, “Lavender.”

The tension between my shoulder blades loosened without permission. Something about her, the strange, pretty presence clashing against the nonsensical words, slipped under my guard. I let out a breath of a laugh, low and real. “Forgive me,” I chuckled. “It's just, you’re kind of adorable.”

“I suspected you would find her… calming.” Lawrence smiled faintly. “And you even came alone. How delightful.”

“I guess you want to get down to business, then?” I asked, composing myself.

“Of course,” he said, almost indulgent. “Let’s not waste time.”

I squared my shoulders. “Tell me why, or how, I could see that thing the other night when no one else could.”

“Do you truly wish to know?” Lawrence’s voice softened, but the warning was sharp beneath it. “Knowledge is power. And power is a heavy burden for those not ready to wield it.”

I hesitated, just for a breath.“Yes. Whatever it is, I want to know.”

And just how much of a threat you are to my friends.

“Then come with me.” He outstretched his hand just like that night at the festival. Palm open, patient.

My pulse spiked at the notion. Here I was again. Propositioned with taking this deadly stranger's hand. This time, there was no charade to upkeep. No audience. Just me. My choice. My burden.

I stared at his hand for a moment longer, enough to know this wasn’t about fear. It was about what I wanted. What I was willing to risk to get it.

The rooftop, the city, the world stretched quiet around us. Then I placed my hand in his.

The smile Lawrence gave me was real this time, sharp and satisfied, just as the world dropped away from under my feet. The rooftop turned into foliage. The harbor to a riverbank. One blink, and we were somewhere else entirely.