Floor 1: Chapter Two - The City of Souls

The City of Souls. The main and only city that I knew of, here on floor one. The grandiose place I’d been spirited away to shortly after enrolling in the ascension challenge. It was very different from the light, spring-scented streets I grew up in; these had a way of making my skin crawl.

The streets twisted and turned, folding in on themselves in ways that felt deliberately confusing. No two alleys looked the same, yet somehow, they all blended together. Dark stone buildings stacked too closely together, their warped wooden doors and slanted rooftops each telling a story of age and neglect.

A damp chill clung to the air, carrying the faint scent of dried herbs, burning incense, and something… old. The ladder clung to my nostrils, whispering to me in a ghostly hum, the city streets were big enough to get lost in ten times over. I hadn’t bothered learning about the districts or family names that loosely governed in sections. I only kept my head down, hood up, and shoulders hunched beneath my cloak as I moved through the passageways heading toward the center.

Despite the attempt at a low profile, eyes were on me. I could feel it. Not the sharp, assessing stare of a city guard or the hungry, sizing-you-up gaze of a pickpocket. No, this was different. It was the slow, lingering awareness of walking through a place you don't belong.

Even less inviting than the last time I’d been here, I thought to myself.

A halfway translucent spirit paused as I drifted past, their edges wavering with clear fingers that brushed over a wooden stall filled with faded silks. A pretend gesture I recognized immediately. The kind everyone used when discreetly staring from the corners of their eyes. Judging you in silence or anticipating trouble. At least that merchant's gaze didn’t follow me as I strolled by.

Surely I don’t look that rugged, I thought, trotting along the dark grey bricks of the town square.

Another spirit sat on the steps of what seemed to be a tea shop. The figure shared the shape of an old man with hollowed-out features, staring into a cup that wasn’t actually there. He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. just... waited. The stillness of his expression sent a shiver up my spine as I winced. This is creeping me out more than the woods did.

I got the sense I should pull my cloak tight, but resisted the urge to walk faster as I slipped by another set of straggling souls. The city wasn’t devoid of the living, not exactly. I’d seen at least a few dozen people since I’d arrived some weeks ago, but there was a clear sense of separation between the two.

Making my way through the various stalls, I spotted a small group of humans gathered in hushed conversation near a shop I’d only seen from the outside. It had a large wooden banner, swaying in the wind, out front. Xolob’s trinkets. The gathered humans each had a similar uniform and were discussing something in tones too low to catch. They definitely stood out from the crowd, but I attempted to pay them no mind.

I'm so glad I left floor five for this. I thought in a sarcastic attempt to cope with the fact that I really had no choice in the matter.

A sigh left my lips as I adjusted the satchel at my hip, fingers briefly brushing against the small glass vial near the top. I couldn't help but reflect on the strange blood from the undead troll I’d placed in it. The liquid sloshed in thick stickiness with every step, black as tar.

Just before I begin to doubt my sense of direction, I turned the corner, finally spotting the polished wooden sign of The Witch’s Brew swaying slightly in the cold air. I had frequently used this corner as a reference point for exploring the rest of the city. The apothecary was wedged between two taller buildings, half-forgotten like the city had simply built around it and moved on. Despite its age, it still carried a comforting glow.

The small glass window in the front was fogged over from within, faint candlelight flickering behind it. A small bundle of dried lavender and crushed rosemary hung above the doorframe.

…

The wooden door creaked as I stepped inside, air heavy and thick with the scent of dried herbs and bitter tinctures. The shop was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from candlelight flickering over rows of glass bottles. Bundles of hanging plants, and jars filled with ingredients that I couldn’t name if I wanted to.

Knowledge of the arcane completely eluded me growing up. The privilege of study was reserved for the rich and pompous, of course. Despite my disadvantage, I still managed to figure out a few minor incantations, though most were only useful as a party trick.

A familiar ghostly figure hovered behind the counter. The shopkeep here, Selene, was probably the nicest person I’d ever met, and it was a bit too early to begin including Dent in that assessment. Unlike many of the other spirits, she wasn’t a flickering wisp or a hazy afterimage of what once was. Her figure was more defined, almost appearing solid, though obviously still a spirit. I approached as she drifted smoothly between the shelves, arranging vials with precise, practiced motions.

The cramped nature of the old store reminded me of how I’d pick my targets back in five. Using that spell I picked up on to grab what I needed from a distance. The trick was imagining a translucent hand in the air, grasping to carry whatever small item I could get it to latch onto.

The memory faded as Selene looked down at me with a faint, warm smile. “Remy!” she exclaimed with a soft voice, carrying that otherworldly hum that all ghosts had, like the echo of something once whole. “Back again so soon?”

I smirked, shaking my head. “You say that like I come here every day.”

"I can't help but worry for anyone venturing deep into the forest these days. I’m never sure you’ll make it back in one piece.”

You don't know the half of it, I thought before replying, “Well, you know, it’s never as bad as they say.”

She peered at me with a questioning grin before placing a small corked bottle on the shelf. “The claw marks down your side say differently. Yet here you are, typical Remy, covered in mud and sass.” I chuckled at the comment, but she continued, “… and judging by the state of you, you didn’t stop by for tea.”

My hand instinctively lifted from under my torn cloak. Right. I must’ve looked even worse than usual.“Yeah… I’ve got something I’d like you to look at,” I said, pulling the small glass vial from my satchel and placing it on the counter.

Selene studied it for a moment, the faint glow of her form reflecting off the glass. She didn’t touch it, though; I imagine it wasn’t out of neglect but to save the energy it’d take for her spectral fingers to even interact with it. After a brief pause, she nodded toward the back of the shop.

“Eshlyn,” she called, “we have something for you.”

…

I turned slightly to notice the individual thoroughly stuffed behind a cluttered workbench, flipping the pages of a thick tome. She hadn’t noticed me yet, too focused on the book in front of her. A long moment passed before she dipped a glass dropper into a vial of bubbling liquid, carefully releasing one drop onto an outstretched leaf. It curled inward with a simmer, blackening at the edges.

“Too acidic,” she whispered, barely a breath, but her lips said enough. I caught it, even if no one else did, then watched as she quickly adjusted her notes.

Selene let out a light, amused sigh. “Eshlyn, please, put the book down for a moment. Our guest has something she’d like you to look at.”

The elven figure barely glanced up as she stepped past the crowded desk, head tilted just enough for me to catch her eyes from behind the book. Green, like mine, but they stood out against her slightly blue-tinged skin, like polished emeralds beneath the sea. She was a sea-elf. Full or half, I couldn’t tell, but her long, purple hair cascaded downward in soft waves, catching the candlelight in deep indigo hues. The strands drifted with each movement as if following a current.

Her gaze finally met my own. A flicker of assessment lingered before a long pause. That’s when I realized her robes were far too fine for a place like this. The fabric was embroidered with silver threads, and the kind of detailing that displayed wealth and status. Her posture said the same, practiced and pretentious in all the ways I hated.

As her eyes drifted downwards. I could tell she was taking in the ragged cloak, torn remnants of ill-fitting armor, and scuffed boots caked in dried forest dirt… And there it was, the subtle shift I knew all too well. Not an alarm or curiosity. Just... disdain.

“You brought something in,” she questioned, voice tinged with sly contempt.

This should be fun, I grinned lazily. “Well… anticipating your unparalleled observation skills… I put it on the counter.”

Selene gave me an amused glance but didn’t step in.

Eshlyn, on the other hand, exhaled through her nose, plucked the vial off the counter like it might contaminate her, and walked back toward her workbench. “Such unnecessary interruptions, a stray dog discovers shit and thinks it's a diamond,” she muttered, beginning to examine the bottle.

I couldn’t resist, so I leaned my elbows on the counter, continuing to watch her work. “So. Are you always this friendly, or is the overwhelming affection just for me?”

She didn’t even look up. “Are you always hopelessly insufferable, or am I getting special treatment?”

I held back the oncoming grin sliding its way across my face. Rich girl can punch back.

Selene chuckled in quiet amusement. “She grows on you.”

“Like mold?” I muttered in a whisper loud enough for everyone to hear.

Eshlyn’s eyes flicked up. “I heard that.”

A low chuckle escaped my mouth before I could wind my amusement back in, but my attention drew back to the vial in her hands as she swirled the liquid, watching it move under the candlelight.

Then, for the first time, her brows furrowed slightly, as if she actually might be interested in… whatever it was. She set the vial down and pulled out a thin metal needle, dipping it into the liquid before letting a single drop fall onto a clean glass plate.

The blood twitched, predating a shiver up my spine. I didn’t need to be an expert alchemist to know that was not a good sign

Eshlyn leaned in, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the plate as she turned back to Selene. “It’s not congealing properly, and there’s something…” She narrowed her eyes, watching the way the drop of blood pulsed unnaturally. “...I’m not sure of.” Her head tilted in silent curiosity. “I’ll need more time.”

“Not a problem.” Selene gave her a small nod. “Take all the time you need.”

Eshlyn quickly capped the vial, finally looking at me directly. “Where did you get this?”

“Undead troll,” I said before following up. “Well. Formerly undead. Now I guess it’s just… dead?”

She went quiet again, something unreadable passing through her expression. Then, she let out a slow, thoughtful nod. “You’ll have to come back later.”

“That’s fine,” I muttered, pushing off the counter. “I need to do some shopping anyway.” I turned toward the door, then paused, glancing back before asking, “You wouldn’t know anyone in the market for a decent-sized bushel of fruit, various nuts, and berries, would you?”

Selene tilted her head slightly, a faint shimmer passing through her translucent form. “That depends,” she said, her tone light but measured. “Did you steal them?”

I put a hand to my chest in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I received them most fairly from a very hairy and overly generous source.”

She hummed softly, intrigued but unconvinced. “A druid, then?”

“That's right!” I grinned. “Though this druid seems to be particularly useful.”

Selene drifted closer, studying me for a long moment before giving a slow nod. “I could use fresh produce for my alchemical work. Dried reagents last longer, but certain tinctures require something more... potent.” She tapped a spectral finger against her chin. “Foraging has been difficult lately, and the woods continue to grow increasingly hazardous.”

Tell me about it. I resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. “Go on… ”

“I can give you 30 silver for the lot,” she finally said.

I tried to stop my eyes from lighting up before letting out a dramatic scoff, “Thirty?! That’s practically robbery.”

Selene smiled. “You just told me you got them for free.”

… Damn. She had me there.

I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms. “Fifty.”

She lifted a brow. “Thirty-five”

I leaned an elbow on the counter. “Forty-five”

She gave me a long, unreadable look before sighing. “Thirty-seven, and I’ll throw in a free minor healing salve.”

I could probably push for more, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to be picky, and attempting to sell it elsewhere sounded like a real chore. “Deal,” I said, unhooking my pack before pulling out a tightly bundled cloth filled with fresh fruit and nuts. I had already eaten my fill, and more was only a half-day walk down the river.

So useful that druid.

Selene reached for a small coin pouch, carefully counting out thirty-seven silver pieces before setting them on the counter. The coins clinked softly, an oddly grounding sound in a place filled with ghosts. She pushed a small glass jar of healing salve toward me as well. “I hope it comes in handy for when your overly generous druid isn’t around.”

I slid the coins into my belt pouch and picked up the salve, tucking it into my bag. “Pleasure doing business with you, as always.”

Selene gave me a knowing smile. “Try not to get into too much trouble, Remy.”

“Me?” I grinned. “Never.”

Eshlyn let out a quiet huff, clearly unconvinced.

I smirked at her before stepping outside, letting the door swing shut behind me.

…

Adjusting the weight of the coin pouch at my hip, I ran my fingers down the newly acquired silver coins inside. It matched well with the fifteen or so other silver I managed to hold on to over the last few weeks, but it wouldn’t last long... not if I wanted to replace my armor with something that actually fit.

Fifty-two silver pieces. A hot meal tonight would only take one. Another five for a bed at the inn left me with a maximum budget of… forty-six silver… more like forty if I wanted to stay another night.

Which meant I had two choices. Go to a proper armorer and walk away broke… or try my luck finding something used.

Starting down the same path I took on my way here, my gaze ran across the large wooden banner of Xolob’s Trinkets. Spending the time to take a lingering look, I noticed the haphazardly painted stamp of a goblin’s face, grinning wide beneath a pile of assorted junk.

Cute drawing, but the window display is an absolute mess. Odds and ends were stacked precariously, a contortion of old weapons, mismatched jewelry, and what I swore was an entire taxidermied frog sitting on a silver plate.

What in the hell…

Didn’t matter. I wasn’t here for quality. I needed cheap, so I let out a sigh before meandering to the entrance. The six humanoid figures grouped up outside thoroughly eyed me on my way in. I was close enough to catch a glimpse of them before the door swung shut loosely behind me. Of course, my past self would have slapped me if I didn’t immediately recognize the emblem on their sleeves, a diamond shape with a black eyeball protruding from its center.

Xanathar’s Guild must be feeling confident to wear their emblems on full display. It’d be best to steer clear, but even I know I’m not worth the hassle for a gang like that. They’ll ignore me if I keep my head down. They carried a lot of weight on my home floor, and many others if the rumors I’d heard had any merit.

Smelling like aged leather, candle wax, and dust, the inside was somehow worse than the window display. The shop was cramped, shelves stacked from floor to ceiling with old trinkets, dusty tomes, rusted weapons, and a collection of questionable “artifacts” that looked like they had been stolen, pawned, or just straight-up fished out of the harbor. And behind the cluttered counter, sorting through a pile of tangled jewelry, was a…goblin.

Must be Xolob.

They were quite small, barely coming up to my waist. I couldn’t help but stare curiously at its deep green skin, wild silver-streaked brown hair, and at least four different scarves lying over their patchwork leather vest. Their ears twitched when I stepped up to the counter, but they didn’t look up right away.

“Customer or loiterer?” They asked with a voice scratchy but quick.

I smirked, stepping further inside. “Depends on the prices.”

That got their attention. Their bright, golden eyes locked onto mine, then immediately flicked to the coin pouch tucked loosely into my satchel, prompting their sharp little teeth to curl into a grin.

“Ohhh, a buyer,” they purred, tossing the tangled necklace over their shoulder while rubbing their hands together. “And what, pray tell, does a buyer such as yourself require of my most prestigious and well-stocked establishment?”

I made a show to glance at the shelf where a rusted helmet sat next to a pile of old books, a wooden duck, and something that looked like a cursed doll. “Prestigious, huh?”

“Come, come! What is it?” They hopped up on the counter. “Trinkets? Potions? A sword, perhaps? I have a very nice set of throwing daggers… Enchanted! Probably.”

“Armor,” I cut in… “And a bow,” deciding to add that last bit after somehow feeling like I might strike a decent bargain against this goblin.

They paused, ears flicking slightly, golden eyes narrowing. “Armor… and a bow? In your size?”

Here we go.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Mhmm… Reinforced leather, preferably. Light, fitted, and...” I glanced down at my torn, bloodstained cloak and ripped armor. “...not falling apart at the seams.”

Xolob huffed, already storming up a stack of crates behind the counter, somehow doing it in a way that made my demands seem outlandish. “Hmmm. I might have something. Might.”

I crossed my arms, waiting. “How much to sure up your certainty?”

“You’re funny,” they said with a dry tone before tossing an old leather chest piece onto the counter. “And it depends.”

A low smile creased my face as I reached out to inspect the armor. It wasn’t terrible. A little worn, had a few scratches, but it was definitely better than what I had. I turned it over in my hands, about to ask for a price, again, when the door opened behind me.

…

Xolob’s ears twitched, their golden gaze flicking toward the entrance, as the grin slowly faded from their face.

I turned my head to see what they were looking at, catching the six men outside finally entering the shop.

They didn’t march in with a show of force. Instead, they moved in slowly, spreading out like they had all the time in the world. A few lingered near the entrance, while others casually drifted toward the shelves, fingers brushing over old trinkets, worn blades, and half-buried curiosities.

So lame, I wouldn’t mistake them for shoppers in a million years… must be new recruits.

I had wondered when they’d finally make their way in, after standing outside for the better part of the day. I am in no mood, I thought to myself, but they weren’t looking in my direction. I followed their gaze to the far back corner of the store, where another customer was perusing some of the stranger artifacts.

The customer in question was tall, and I could tell he was at least relatively muscular. Hidden under a full set of black, polished armor. He had snow-white skin, a direct contrast to his hair, which was as dark as the night sky. Pointed ears, larger than mine. Definitely an elf, maybe a dusk elf? His set of steel breastplate stood out a bit as well, being obsidian black with silver inlays, expensive but well-worn. Across his back, two swords were strapped in an X-shape, the hilts simple but well-fitting.

Xolob went back to the crates, continuing to shuffle items. “I don’t get too many bows in here, but I think I do have at least one,” they said, finally returning to their gleeful focus. I tried to draw my attention back to Xolob, but peering away from the front-row seat I’d been blessed with felt almost criminal. It felt like I had no choice but to watch as the burly figures began circling the elf in a distant arch.

Tough mark for newbies, though he does look like he’s got some money. I bet some higher-up is making this group prove themselves.

One of the scruffier men drifted close, fingers skimming along a shelf as if debating a purchase. Another one, younger than the others, took a slow step forward as well, stopping just beside the elf’s left flank.

The poor guy was oblivious. Such intricate armor, yet he can’t even stop to look around once in a while. I thought sarcastically. I guess I should give the recruits some credit; at least a few of them are doing a decent job of acting natural.

Then, in one fluid motion, the younger guild member swooped in with a flick of movement, quick, smooth, and practiced. He reached down, fingers hooking around a pouch strapped to the warrior’s belt. A clean pickpocket. Quick, quiet, and with barely a disturbance in the air. The pouch was already halfway off its bindings. The dumb brute in black hadn’t even noticed.

I exhaled slowly through my nose. Not my problem. I am not getting involved in this. Not today.

Turning slightly, I angled my body away, pretending to examine the old leather armor in my hands. Just gonna mind my own business…

“Hey, what the hell!” a smooth, masculine voice let out as the elf grabbed the man's wrist, pouch still in hand.

Oh, look at that, heirloom-armor-boy’s not entirely useless

Xolob finished their search, pulling out a carved wooden bow sporting black twine. The goblin stopped just short of placing it on the counter before peering through a gap in the shelves, just in time to take in the newfound commotion.

The guild member tried forcing his arm free, but the warrior’s grip was tight. The few other customers in the store began scurrying for the door, finally realizing what was happening.

Xolob stood up on the counter before practically roaring, “THIEVES! Thieves in my shop!” A gesture that easily yanked what little attention could be gathered from outside.

At the same time, as if Xolob’s words were a battle cry, the elf, still holding the thug's wrist, drew the blade from his back, and in a one quick motion, chopped the recruit’s hand completely off.

Holy shit! I reeled. Could have at least tried wrestling the guy off first!

Time stretched, the world hanging in that moment of sheer, brutal clarity as the severed hand hit the floor with a dull, wet slap.

The recruit’s scream tore through the shop, shrill and guttural, clutching at the bloody stump where his hand had been a second ago. The pouch, a prize he’d already begun paying for, rolled across the wooden planks of the floorboard.

For half a heartbeat, there was silence. Then came the all too recognizable sound of steel blades scraping from their sheaths. A chorus of metal resonated in the air when, all at once, the remaining five thugs drew their weapons.

Six verses one… I hope this dusk elf knows what he’s doing…

The first one lunged—fast but reckless, a show of fear blinding his instincts, but the elf was faster. Unsheathing the second sword, he made a clean cut through the air, parrying the strike with a sharp clang that sent the thug staggering back. He pivoted without hesitation, stepping in to follow up with the second blade already swinging.

Don't get involved…

Don't get involved!…

I repeated the phrase to myself as the elf continued the deadly brawl against the many recruits. For a moment or two, I just watched. Neither party was making any ground, but I could tell there were just too many blades for the elf to keep track of. He’d slip up soon, no doubt about it. Then I caught sight of what would be the elf’s undoing. One of the recruits had stepped back from the fray, putting the sword away to draw a bow from off their back.

Dammit all…

I snatched the black twine bow from in front of me, right out of Xolob’s dainty fingers. Firing an arrow before I could think… It struck true, right into the wannabe soldiers' back. He let out a shivering scream before slowly collapsing onto his knees, gasping for breath. He nearly fumbled onto the floor when two thugs charged me, leaping from the elf's position in a long stride.

Fucking shit… I guess I’m part of this now. No going back.

They closed the gap quickly as I unbuckled one of my daggers and met the first one head-on. He took the opportunity to swing as I closed in, blade aimed for my neck, but I ducked low. His thick sword reverberated off the hardwood of the adjacent shelf before I caught his wrist and slammed my knee into his gut. He buckled on impact, doubling over, and I knew I couldn’t waste the opening.

He slumped over in a pool of blood as a quick, clean slash from my dagger opened his throat. I’d never been in such close proximity to a kill before. Holy shit, did I just murder someone!? That was self-defense… Right? The taste of bile rose in my throat, but adrenaline continued its assault.

A shadow flickered in my vision before I could fully comprehend what had just happened. Instinctively, I met the oncoming blade with my own, just barely avoiding another swing meant to take my head off.

I twisted in time to catch a glimpse of the elf before retaliating. He was still fully engaged in the battle with one thug on each side, his movements precise and unrelenting. Swords moving in perfect rhythm, every swing and parry had a purpose. He flowed through the fight like he was born for it. Yet, somehow …I was right there with him. One way or another, I had found my bearings, sidestepping another swing at the same moment the elf pivoted, forcing the attacker to stumble into my path. The elf and I were close now, and the thug was wide open. I lashed out with precision and speed, my dagger piercing through his thin leather armor, hitting something deep enough to make him drop.

The elf didn’t hesitate either. Blade flashing, he drove his sword clean into the man's chest. With that, I couldn’t help but vomit. Chunks of half-digested fruit sprang from my mouth, spilling onto the recruit closest to me. The man blinked at the sudden onset of stomach acid drenching his face. At least it provided a short distraction in his attempt to rush for the elf from behind. Still hurling, I slammed a dagger into his shoulder when his path crossed adjacent to me. The recruit staggered at the sudden impact. The man's roar of pain lasted just long enough for the elf to twist around and finish the job, his blade cutting deep into the man’s skull.

The last one stood a bit further away, already closing in on the back door. He hesitated, propping up the now one-handed thief on his right and the recruit I had shot with an arrow on the left. I felt the recruits' confidence shatter as he took in the bodies at our feet.

“Cowards!” the elf exclaimed. As if this were some sporting event.

“Screw this!” the remaining recruit sneered back at him as the three of them bolted for the door with whatever energy they had remaining, shoving past racks of junk and tipping over loose shelves in their wake. I was surprised the two injured ones could still run, even assisted, but they were already at the back door when we raced after them. The elf and I burst through just in time to see the gangsters scrambling toward a sewer grate.

Slick bastards.

It was already pried open as if it had been their plan all along. They dropped quickly into the dark below. The sound of bodies splashing into stagnant water followed.

Me and the dark-haired elf stood mere inches apart when I met his gaze for the first time. His piercing light-blue eyes stared back at me. We both lingered there, mesmerized somehow. His eyes burned cold, breath steady. I could swear I saw something buried deep in those eyes of his.

The hell am I doing, I thought to myself, breaking the trance.

Showing no signs of slowing down, the elf raced for the sewer opening just a moment later. He was going after them.

Bad idea!

I threw myself forward with all the weight I could muster, slamming into his side just as he reached the opening. We hit the ground with a jolting thump, harder even than I’d leaped away from that troll in the forest. The elf let out a low, startled grunt, the air knocked from his lungs as my elbow unknowingly dug into his ribs on impact. I didn’t even have time to process how damn solid he was. His body was all lean, compact muscle. It took everything I had just to keep him pinned, knowing immediately, it wouldn’t last long.

Once more, his icy blue eyes snapped to mine. “The hell is your problem!?” he growled.

I exhaled sharply, keeping my weight firmly pressed down over him. “You motherfucker! What do you think is going to happen? Your two swords versus the whole Xanathar’s Guild!? If you're just itching to die, then do it sometime I didn’t just stick my neck out to save you!”

He didn’t answer right away, but his jaw ticked, nostrils flaring. I could feel his pulse beneath my palm… steady and strong. For whatever reason, he wasn’t fighting me, not really. So eventually, his breathing slowed. Not by much. But enough for me to ease off him.

A deep feeling of regret slowly began to set in, tinged with clarity. Gods, why did I have to shove myself into this guy's shitty situation? …but it was entirely too late for that line of thinking.

He brushed himself off before rolling onto his feet and letting out a massive sigh. “How’d you know they were guild anyway?”

“I recognize the emblem from back home,” I muttered, trying not to show the bounding frustration that gripped at my gut.

“I guess I should thank you…“ His head shook with reluctance. “Names Val.”

I took at least a few deep breaths, shaking my head the whole time, before eventually responding, “...Remy… “

My eyes drifted to the frame of the black twine bow, now that the adrenaline was wearing off. I must have instinctively placed it over my torso after taking the thing from Xolob. I should really return it, but going back into that shop would be risky, considering The Watch could barge in any minute. I’d jump in the sewer if I didn’t think it was infested with guild members, so instead I started off down the alleyway. “The Watch will be here soon. I’m ducking out while I still can.”

Val stared in response, “Probably best if I do the same. I know a place we can hide out nearby.”