The double doors at the far end of the hall creaked open, spilling a faint draft of cooler air. A figure stepped through with measured grace, her long black cloak whispering softly across the floor. Gold thread shimmered faintly under the light, tracing delicate, arcane symbols along the hem and cuffs. The cloak's fabric moved like liquid shadow, catching and reflecting light with subtle motion.
Her hood was drawn low, shadowing the upper half of her face, leaving only the lower portion visible, the curve of her pale lips, the hint of a narrow chin. A thin chain of gold circled her throat, from which a small obsidian pendant hung, catching the light like a drop of midnight.
She halted a measured distance before Teryn, bowing her head just slightly. "My lord."
Teryn's voice was low, taut with restrained frustration.
"Seer. You know why I have summoned you. I need to know where that man is. And more importantly, I need to know who aids him. I got word from Daren that there was some sort of intervention from another man, possibly tied with the descendents of the Saints or another group."
For a bried moment, the seer hesitated. The flicker of reaction was almost imperceptible beneath her hood's shadow.
"I warned you," she said softly, "that Kael would escape. Wounded, but determined. I told you he would head back here. That is the truth."
Teryn's voice dropped a notch, quiet but edged with irritation.
"Yes, but you said nothing of an outsider. Of interference. If a descendant of the Saints is involved, it complicates our... plans." His fingers tightened around the armrest.
"That is another matter entirely." The woman responded. "I will tell you once I have an answer. If those aiding him are of mundane stock, I might find them easily. But if they are a descendant of a Saint..." Her voice softened, almost a whisper. "Such a divination requires more time. Preparation. I cannot rush it."
Teryn leaned back, eyes narrowing. "You're saying the truth behind his allies might involve beings too dangerous for you to pry into?"
"I say," the Seer murmured, "that they do not take kindly to being watched." She tilted her head slightly, shadows shifting across her face. "If I reach too far… it may bring more than answers. It may bring consequences."
Teryn exhaled slowly, his breath whispering like wind over dry leaves. Then, with a faint gesture, he inclined his head.
"Fine, you may leave. Come back when you have answers."
The Seer gave a faint nod and turned to depart, her cloak sweeping around her like a tide of ink. The pendant at her throat caught the light one last time before she disappeared beyond the chamber doors.
* * * * *
The road twisted down from the mountain's edge, coiling like an ancient serpent. As Lethan and Kael pressed on, the air grew warmer with each step, the harsh bite of frost yielding to the damp, earthy scent of the lowlands. Here, patches of stubborn snow clung to shadows and hollows, but more and more the ground beneath their boots turned to mud and stone. The sharp crunch of ice was replaced by the squelch of thawing earth.
They were entering Hargrave's outer reaches, a labyrinthine sprawl of dilapidated shacks and crooked houses that hugged the base of the mountain like barnacles. The air was thick with woodsmoke, cooking fires, and the faint stink of death. Here, narrow alleys snaked between leaning walls, roofs patched with mismatched tiles and tarred canvas.
Kael's limp slowed him, but determination sparked in his eyes. "We're almost there," he murmured. "This place… we call it the Low Warrens. It's where the forgotten of Hargrave gather. The mountain's shadow keeps it damp and cold, but it's safer than it looks, as long as you know who not to cross."
Lethan's eyes scanned the scene ahead. Children with sharp eyes and tattered clothes darted between alleys. Smoke drifted from cooking pits where scavenged meats sizzled. A cart creaked by, laden with barrels and crates, its driver muttering curses at the stubborn mule pulling it.
"Hargrave wasn't always like this," Kael said, almost wistfully. "Before the wars, it was a port of trade between the south and the rest of Dayis. Merchants from Umath and Teozin brought exotic spices and silks through here. Even some say traders from Iuyath dared its shores. But after the Echo Rebellions, the city split apart. The nobles took to the heights, up there," he gestured vaguely uphill, toward the stone towers barely visible in the distance, "while everyone else got pushed down here."
Lethan glanced at him. "The Echo Rebellions?"
Kael nodded grimly. "A long story. Another time. But it changed everything. Now the city's split into rings, at the center is the Citadel, where the noble houses rule. Around it is the Middle Ring, where the merchants and guilds live. Then there's the Low Warrens, where we are now, and the Docklands at the river's edge. It's a city of walls, gates, and guards."
As they rounded a corner, the alleys widened slightly into a crooked square. A handful of vendors had set up rough stalls, selling bread, smoked fish, root vegetables. The air buzzed with low conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter or shouted bargains.
Kael gestured toward a battered door beneath a sagging balcony. "That's the place."
Lethan hesitated. "Will he help us?"
Kael's expression darkened. "He will… though he won't be too happy to see me."
Kael rapped his knuckles lightly on the battered door, a muted rhythm in the hush of the low square. For a moment, there was no response, only the distant clatter of hooves in the street beyond and the low murmur of vendors closing down for the night. Then the door creaked open, just enough for a single eye to glare through.
"Kael," came a voice rough with age and smoke. "What in the Saints' silence are you doing here?"
Kael offered a faint, pained smile, his breath a little shallow from the effort of standing. "You know I had no choice... Can we come in?"
The door opened a fraction wider, revealing a man perhaps in his sixth decade, though his posture betrayed none of the frailty his years suggested. His frame was lean and weathered, muscles taut beneath a roughspun tunic and a heavy wool cloak. Scars marked his exposed forearms and neck, as if from old knife fights or darker skirmishes, and his dark eyes were sharp with the weight of many years of watching.
He stepped back, allowing them entry, his gaze flicking between Kael and Lethan. The interior was sparse but warm, wooden walls lined with old weapons, a single hearth where coals glowed dimly, a table with two mismatched chairs.
"Sit," the old man muttered, shutting the door behind them. He gestured to a bench by the hearth, where Kael sank with a soft hiss of pain.
The man retrieved a wooden box from a nearby shelf, its contents clinking faintly. Without a word, he knelt and examined Kael's leg, pulling aside the makeshift bandages. His rough hands were surprisingly gentle as he cleaned the wound and applied fresh herbs and salves, winding new linen over it with practiced ease.
"Sloppy work," he murmured, not unkindly. "You're lucky it didn't fester."
Kael winced. "Did what I could on the mountain. We had to move fast."
The old man's gaze shifted to Lethan then, eyes narrowing slightly. He studied the younger man's pale complexion, his white hair, the faint, almost otherworldly quality he carried. "No injuries?" he asked quietly, almost as an afterthought.
Lethan shook his head. "No, I'm… fine."
A subtle furrow appeared on the man's brow, a flicker of something unspoken passing behind his eyes. "Strange," he muttered under his breath, almost inaudibly, before returning his attention to Kael's bindings.
When the work was done, he stood and regarded them both. "The guards won't take long to sniff you out down here. You brought trouble with you, Kael."
Kael met his gaze evenly. "I didn't have much of a choice. You know I couldn't let Teryn have his way."
The old man exhaled slowly, the lines around his mouth deepening. "No, you couldn't. And now you've got a stranger in this with you."
Kael glanced at Lethan, who straightened slightly under the scrutiny. "His name's Lethan. He's… well, he's with me."
The old man's gaze pinned Lethan. "Where are you from?"
Lethan hesitated, glancing at Kael before answering. "I… don't know. I don't remember anything from before I woke up on the mountain. Nothing at all."
The old man's eyes narrowed a fraction, though he said nothing for a moment. Then a thin, dry grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You don't know who you are, you don't know who the man in front of you is, yet you still decided to accompany him." He shook his head slowly. "Either you're the most loyal soul I've met in years… or you're the biggest fool."
Kael glanced down, his mouth tightening. "Don't blame him. He wouldn't be here if not for me."
The old man moved with quiet efficiency, drawing bread, a chunk of hard cheese, and a jug of water from a side shelf. He placed them on the worn table, the simple gesture filling the room with a faint sense of homeliness despite the tension. His hands were steady as he cut slices of bread and cheese, pushing them towards the two young men.
"Eat," he said gruffly, his eyes flicking between them. Then, as he settled into the chair by the fire, he let the silence stretch just long enough to feel weighted. His gaze lingered on Kael for a moment longer before he asked, "Does he know why you're running?"
Kael's shoulders tensed, his expression clouding with something between regret and resignation. He shook his head slowly. "No. He doesn't know."
The old man grunted softly, a dry sound like an old door swinging shut. "Figured as much. Well, best he knows now. You're tangled deep, Kael. And so's he, if he's with you."
Kael swallowed hard, his voice rough as he began. "I used to work for the Teryn household. They hired me as a guide, through ruins, old forests, and places most folk wouldn't dare to go. I knew the terrain, and my echo helped me find the safe paths. I didn't tell anyone about it, but Teryn…" He glanced at Lethan, his lips thinning. "One day he asked me, if my echo allows me to find the way, as if he already knew."
Lethan leaned forward, listening intently, his hands wrapped around a piece of bread but forgotten.
Kael's voice softened, his words tightening with each breath. "I'd grown used to it. The pay was good, the work wasn't bad. I thought if I was honest, it'd be better for me. So I said yes. And after that…" He shook his head, his jaw clenched. "Teryn changed. Cold. Watchful. Like he was waiting for something. Then, on a stormy night, thunder shaking the walls, I was accused of murdering his younger brother. They said I'd stolen from the household treasury too."
The old man's brows drew together, though he said nothing. The firelight caught the creases of his weathered face, painting shadows deep into the lines.
Kael's voice grew harder, though it trembled faintly. "I didn't do it. But it didn't matter. The next thing I knew, I was running for my life. But they… they caught my younger sister. I thought I could hide, figure out what was really happening, but the moment I left… they took her. So I came back."
His gaze shifted to Lethan, his expression filled with quiet guilt. "And then you came with me. You shouldn't have. I dragged you into something that's bigger than either of us."
Lethan let out a thoughtful breath, scratching the side of his jaw. "What made Teryn turn like that? Do you know?"
Kael hesitated, his brows tightening in frustration. He gave a small, helpless shrug. "I don't know. I thought it was because of what I told him about my echo, but… there was something in his eyes after that. Like he already knew something I didn't. I wish I could tell you why."
Lethan sat back, the weight of the story settling around them like a shroud. He glanced at Kael, then at the old man, trying to process the revelations.
The old man sighed and stood again, moving to fetch blankets from a nearby chest. "You'll stay the night," he said gruffly, not looking at them as he spoke.
"Eat. Rest. But leave in the morning."