They were gone. I missed them. All because I let myself get distracted by some drunk rambling, and now they are gone. Brilliant. How was I meant to find the seer now? The thought cracked open the panic that clawed up my chest. My eyes darted to the clock, four hours left until the sunrise. I had time.
I shot out of the chair, forcing my way through the crowd. My fists clenched. I raged at myself, I'd let it slip. Maybe even fooled. By now the tavern heaved with bodies, packed wall to wall. The neat clusters of strangers from earlier had dissolved into one loud, drunken carnival. A mess of tongues shouting over each other, all blended into noise. I'd held my breath, air reeked of sweat, spilled ale and spice, heavy enough to choke. Before I reached the door, I turned my head, but not a soul spared me a glance or as much as flickered their gaze my way, as I walked out.
I gasped for air, sharp and freezing as it seized me, locking in my lugs like chains. Cold surged down my throat, iced my lungs as it burrowed into my blood. Wind swept through, my fingers tingled, turning numb and blue almost immediately, scouring away the last shred of warmth I thought I had. Merciless and unbearable. Like Erdonal itself.
Burned luminite thickened the air, half-masking the reek of grease and sweat. Somewhere out on the dark horizon of the North Sea, it churned through clarifying machines, grinding metal and flame together. Erdonal owned it all – every piece of metal, and every clarifying ship and every scrap that was on the Continent. The fire bled across the horizon, extracted metal from the sea was burned to clarify, shooting flames and stench skywards, as if a volcano tore through the waves. The fire burned night and day, and for the first time I'd see it up close. Ownership of luminite – was Erdonal's favorite excuse for killing, for power and for the greatness of their empire. And while staring at the glow of fire, I knew that Erdonal wasn't far. Its grip was already here.
The soldiers of Erdonal were gone, melted into the night. But the snow hadn't buried their tracks yet. The forest closed everywhere I looked. I couldn't see farther than an arm's length. Olghir was supposed to be close. An easy walk. I pulled my cloak over my head and stepped into the woods, still, I turned, scanning the street for a watcher, a shadow, a hint of pursuit. Nothing. Only the distant roar of sailors' drunken chorus spilling from the tavern. Moonlight lit the ground, draping the path in pale silver and guiding me towards the village.
I had no idea what I'd ask, but did it even matter? Instinct or maybe just foolishness drove me forward. Everyone knew the danger with the seers. Their power was faint, half words carried weight and more often than not, it was all how and when the question was asked. You had to be careful, precise, otherwise you would leave empty handed. Lady Fairton would be furious if she found out that in the middle of the night I sneaked out into Olghir.
I strode quickly along the path, forcing my pace to leave the forest behind. The night was alive here, owl hoots hollow overhead, wings stirring the branches, then came the rhythm of insects, a droning buzz that crawled over my skin. It made me jump. Pulse quickening. But I was alone. No footsteps but mine. It was me and forest creatures. From too much alcohol my stomach curdled, then again a clean crack of a step behind me. I turned fast.
No one there.
Then the air shifted. As strange as it felt, the wind turned savage. Sudden blizzard slammed into me, shoving me backward once, twice, until my knees hit hard. It pressed with such force I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, only clench my eyes against the onslaught. Again I clawed for balance, but the gale crushed every effort, forcing me low. Snow whipped so violently I had to squeeze my eyes shut. And then—silence. I opened them. A market glowed faintly in the distance like a ghost. Olghir.
Someone brushed past on my left, their cloak snapped harshly against my cheek. Ahead, a cluster of people gazed at me as if I'd stumbled into the wrong story. I was still on my knees. Then, as if nothing happened, their voices and footsteps resumed.
Old ladies in stiff-necked linen gowns slipped through the crowd, their arms heavy with baskets of herbs, jars, and trinkets. With voices pitched and with practiced sweetness, they lured with promises of miracles—cures, charms, spells and teas, able to tempt even the most invincible souls. There were so many of them, circling like moths around a flame.
"For you to become the strongest on the Continent." One whispered.
"Cast a spell on your loved one, so his love is only yours." Someone in the far corner hissed like a snake.
"I'll make you the most beautiful girl on the Continent, even Kings will want to marry you." One of them screamed in the strange cadence of a merchant's pitch.
And still more came, one after another. People surged from all the corners of the forest. In the dead of night, the streets pulsed as if it were market day. Lanterns dimly burned in steady straight lines, their glow smearing across the cobblestones. The streets ahead branched, each looking the same – tight, winding and heavy with shadows. Somewhere beyond the lights was the seer.
I pushed myself to my feet, brushing snow from my dress, already knowing that Lady Fairton will without a doubt notice the smudge. My hair had slipped free, and my stomach twisted. So I caught it and I jammed it beneath my hood with shaking hands. This blond was rare in these places. It would raise too many questions and standing out in Olghir wouldn't just mean attention.
A row of carriages with wheels sunk deep in the mud, lined up on the road to a barely lit cabin. Slaves. Girls circled around, clinging to the wheels and steps. The men inside stayed veiled, hidden. Hooded figures of handlers drifted between, murmuring bargains I caught in fragments, as I passed the cluster – twenty furlons for the browned eyed girl who can speak to snakes, and fifteen furlons for the young frail one. The girl looked barely a teen.
I moved fast. This was no place to linger. I had to find the seer and come back before sunrise. I pressed my palm against my dress, feeling for the hidden blade. Still there. Drawing in a steadying breath, I lifted my chin and stepped forward, choosing the nearest street without looking back. The air clung heavy, swamp-sour, damp enough to taste. As it was common for the old praying grounds of the witches. Result of the dark magic. Everything magic gave it took something in return, thus most of the places heavy with witchcraft would reek of the stench and had almost one or barely any greenery.
Each cabin and tent belched smoke, dragging with it a smell of rotten herbs, bitter tea leaves, and charred paper. The alley that I was at was seethed with shadows of unknown kind, runaways hiding from the capture, opportunists looking for a way to profit from basically anything. I tried to speculate, to guess at where the seer might be settled for the night. But the crowd was swarming me. Strange hands brushed at my sleeves, some guy leaned in with slurred promises of a "good night," and men calling me closer with grins too wide. And in the thick of it, it felt like the search was hopeless. Finding seer here was like finding a needle buried deep in rotten hay.
Stalls glittered with amulets dangling from hooks, insignias stacked in piles. Some bold seller hunched over his stall, coaxing buyers toward his cracked mirrors, each one shimmering with whatever fantasy you craved. The crowd was buying it. I slowed when I noticed a line trailing along the corner. People pressing shoulder to shoulder, all funneling toward the small parlor crouched at the edge of the street. Something about it made my pulse trip.
The faint pulse of my magic stirred. It brushed my fingertips in a ticklish, electric hum, so small, but insistent, as though it wanted to be noticed. Could it be the seer?
Then, out of the sudden, a cloaked figure slammed into me hard enough to rattle my bones. Hand twitching on the half-drawn dagger, until I saw – him. He stood above the crowd, a predator's silhouette swallowing lantern light and people alike. Hood shadowed most of his face, yet in a split of a second his black onyx eyes locked on me, inhumanly still. I caught a glimpse of his jaw, cut in clean lines across his face, dark features carved in shadows, and his hair black as charcoal, slightly curled framed him with an almost careless precision. He bore the colours of Erdonal, emerald threaded with gold. A heavy black tunic gripped his frame, the crest of Erhan Family gleaming faint on the chest. An Erdonal nobility, here? In the dirtiest gutters of the Continent? Everything about him screamed and warned me to stay away. And yet my heart betrayed me with every thunderous beat.
His gaze clamped onto mine, for what it felt like eternity. It felt like centuries pressed into that second, everything we were and weren't passing in between us in silence. And then it was gone. The dark figure's lips brushed out something like an apology before his cloak swallowed him as the crowd closed around him like water. Even in the fleeting glimpse I caught the ornate stitching of his cloak. Across the whole back sprawled a painted dragon, crimson and alive. The wind whipped my blonde hair across my shoulders as he spun away, in a heartbeat swallowed by the crowd. His scent lingered, the heat of amber tangled in the sharp bite of mirth. It hit me, like I couldn't breathe away, nearly tugging a smile from me. It wasn't fair how pleasantly sweet it was. I dragged myself back. Yet, there was something about that man and it terrified me how much I wanted to know why.
The fog in my head snapped clear the instant I saw them. The Erdonal crew. The Captain and the youngest of the soldiers – Aeyen, all standing in line for the seer. It was them, it was impossible to mistake them for anyone else. Chill tore my spine.
Finally, the Gods have smiled upon me.
My feet stayed nailed to the ground. Taking another step meant being one step closer to an answer I might never be ready to hear. But turning back now would mean letting my fear own me, and my pride stronger than fear and I couldn't let Daniel have that smug grin on his face. I forced myself around the corner, grinding my feet and with my eyes locked on the back of the parlour's door, I went.