Isabella Solder
The first thing I noticed was how cold the floor was.
The second was that Dagian was still asleep — which meant I had a head start.
I lifted my head slowly from the pillow and blinked at the faint glow sneaking through the window. The world outside was tinted soft blue — the kind of light that looked halfway between dream and morning. The Blue Moon must've risen not too long ago, because everything had that gentle shimmer to it, like fog pretending to be light.
It'd been three days since I landed in this world — three whole days of staying inside, quietly learning what I could about Duskfall. I'd spent most of it helping Marissa around the house, trying not to feel useless. She'd taught me little things: how to brew tea that didn't taste like dirt, how to scrub the soot off marrow-lamps before lighting them, and how to tell what time it was by the color of the moons.
But today, I couldn't take it anymore.
I wanted to see the city. I wanted to breathe it.
I rolled over, careful not to make the bed creak, and looked at Dagian. He was still asleep on the floor, one arm tucked under his head. Even when he slept, he looked tense, like he was ready to jump up any second.
His hair was dark and messy, falling over his forehead just enough to hide part of his face. The faint blue light traced along his jaw and the small scar near his chin. His breathing was steady, slow. Calm in a way he never was when awake.
Vireth — that strange scythe of his — leaned quietly against the wall, its faint veins pulsing every few seconds. Even asleep, it responded to him. I'd noticed it before, but seeing it now felt… different.
He looked nothing like the people back in Astren. There was a roughness to him, but not the bad kind — more like he was carved from the same material as the world around him. Rough edges, steady core.
I caught myself staring a little too long and quietly scolded myself.
"Right," I whispered under my breath, slipping out of the bed. "Enough watching."
The floor was cold under my feet, and I winced. Marissa's house was small, but cozy in its own strange way — walls lined with herbs and bits of old fabric, the faint smell of mint and smoke everywhere.
By the window, a folded set of clothes waited on the chair. Marissa must've left them for me. I smiled a little. She'd said they were "nothing fancy, just something that won't make you look like you fell out of the sky."
I slipped into them — a dark skirt that brushed just above my boots, a long-sleeved blouse, and a shawl patterned with small stitched moons. It was a bit big on me, but warm. The material was rougher than what I was used to back home, but it smelled like lavender and firewood, which somehow made me feel safe.
As I adjusted the shawl around my shoulders, I glanced back at Dagian again. Still asleep.
I grinned. "Perfect."
Moving as quietly as I could, I grabbed one of Marissa's old satchels and slung it over my shoulder. It felt strange to sneak out, like I was breaking some unspoken rule, but I told myself it wasn't bad — I wasn't running away, just looking around.
The door creaked softly when I pushed it open. I froze, holding my breath. Dagian mumbled something in his sleep but didn't move. I waited, then slowly exhaled and stepped out.
The hallway was dim and cool. The faint smell of dried herbs lingered from the shelves, and the floorboards hummed with the steady rhythm of a house that had lived a long time. I passed the kitchen and paused by the table. A few mugs were still out from last night — I picked them up and set them neatly on the counter. I didn't want Marissa to think I just left without thinking.
A part of me wanted to leave a note, but I didn't know what to say.
"Went for a walk" sounded like something you said when you didn't come back.
So I just whispered, "I'll be careful," to the air and hoped that counted.
When I stepped outside, the chill hit me immediately. The Blue Moon's light wrapped the street in soft color — silver-blue and pale. Mist hung over the ground like it was too shy to leave.
For a second, I just stood there, breathing it in.
The air in Duskfall was heavy but alive. It smelled like rain, smoke, and old stone — like the world had a heartbeat you could almost hear if you stayed quiet enough.
From here, I could see the tops of the buildings stretching out in uneven rows, the Citadel towering in the distance. The fog curled around its base, and the faint lights from its upper windows shimmered like distant stars.
I didn't know why, but I smiled.
I started down the lane, pulling my shawl tighter as my boots clicked softly against the cobblestones. The city wasn't awake yet, not fully. Lamps were being dimmed, shutters creaked open, and somewhere far off, a bell chimed — a deep, soft sound that rolled through the streets like a wave.
I imagined Dagian hearing it from his bed, grumbling and rolling over, probably assuming it was another patrol call.
The thought made me laugh quietly to myself.
Everywhere I looked, there were details that felt both strange and wonderful. The rooftops were lined with metal gutters that caught the faint blue glow of the moon. The houses leaned slightly into each other, as if afraid of falling apart. Crates of bones and old metal scraps sat near doors, each marked with chalked symbols that probably meant something about the Hunt.
Even the fog looked alive here — curling and twisting like it wanted to dance.
It was eerie, yes. But it was beautiful too.
After three days of staring out the same window, I felt like I could finally breathe again. Maybe it was foolish, but I didn't care. For the first time since I'd fallen through that impossible rift, I wasn't just surviving — I was living.
I didn't know where I was going. I didn't have a plan.
But as the moonlight spilled softly over the quiet streets of Evervale, I whispered to myself, smiling,
"Let's see what your world looks like, Dagian."
**
The further I walked, the more the city started to wake up.
It wasn't sudden like in Astren—no blaring alarms, no bright lights flicking on at once. Here, morning happened in whispers. A shutter creaked open; a door groaned; the distant hum of gears stirred to life like something enormous exhaling after a long sleep.
The Blue Moon hung low, its glow soft enough to paint everything in pale silver. The fog looked like it belonged to it, drifting lazily through the narrow streets. My footsteps sounded too loud in comparison, so I tried to match the quiet—walking softer, slower, as if I were part of the city's secret.
The first person I saw was an old woman lighting a marrow-lamp outside her door. The lamp flickered weakly, its blue fire dancing around the bone core inside. She muttered something under her breath—words that sounded like a small prayer—and when the flame caught properly, she smiled faintly to herself.
"Blue for morning," I murmured, remembering what Dagian had told me.
The woman noticed me and gave a polite nod. I hesitated before waving awkwardly. She tilted her head, studying me for a second too long, but then returned to her work.
My heart pounded for a moment, but when she didn't question me, I let out a quiet sigh of relief and kept walking.
The street opened up ahead, sloping downward toward a small square. I followed the smell before I saw it—warm bread, smoke, and something sweet underneath.
A bakery.
The window was fogged from the heat inside, but I could make out silhouettes moving—someone kneading dough, another tending a fire. A boy about my age stood at the door with a basket of loaves.
"Fresh from the oven!" he called, voice still cracking from youth. "Two for one if you bring back clean bone!"
I slowed, smiling a little. His eyes flicked to me, curious, then brightened when he realized I was actually looking at him.
"First time here?" he asked.
"Is it that obvious?" I said.
"Only a little," he replied with a grin. "You don't smell like the district yet."
"Is that… good or bad?"
"Depends how long you plan to stay."
He offered me a loaf anyway, probably out of pity. I fumbled with the coin Marissa had given me for "just in case," dropping it once before managing to hand it to him. He laughed.
"You're not from Alderra, are you?" he asked, teasing.
I forced a smile. "Umm… yes I am."
He didn't question it. "Well, enjoy it while it's warm. Bread doesn't last long here."
I thanked him and moved on, tearing off a small piece to taste. It was coarse and a little burnt on the edges, but it was warm—and for a second, I could almost pretend I was home again.
I wandered through side streets and markets, letting the noise and rhythm guide me.
Vendors were setting up stalls—metal frames creaking as tarps stretched over them. The air filled with the sound of wooden crates scraping stone, and the occasional shout of greeting that echoed down the narrow roads. A few Hunters passed by, still in their black sleeveless uniforms, weapons strapped to their backs. They didn't look much older than Dagian.
Everyone here looked tired but alive. They moved with a kind of quiet strength, the sort that came from surviving more than living.
And yet, there was color.
Children drew shapes on the street with chalk—circles and moons, tracing them over and over like tiny rituals. One little girl, her face smudged with dust, looked up at me as I passed.
"You can hop through the moons if you want," she said seriously. "Just don't step on the red one or you'll be hunted."
I laughed. "Is that the rule?"
"Everyone knows that," she said, pointing at the smudged red circle. "The Red Moon means bad things."
"Then I'll be careful," I promised.
She nodded, satisfied, then skipped back to her friends.
I kept walking, the bread in my hand half-eaten, smiling without realizing it. Every street felt like it carried a story. Some buildings leaned together like they were gossiping. Others stood apart, tall and cracked, but proud. Signs above doors were painted with symbols I didn't recognize—half-moons, skulls, flowers made of bone.
A few people looked at me as I passed, their eyes lingering just a second too long. I kept my head down like Marissa had taught me, pretending I knew where I was going.
When I reached a bridge that arched over a narrow canal, I stopped to watch the water. It wasn't clear—more black than blue—but it reflected the moonlight beautifully. I leaned over the railing, staring at my reflection, and felt a weird pang of homesickness.
In Astren, water was everywhere—rivers, fountains, beaches. Here, it looked like something rare, precious, even dangerous.
As I leaned forward, I noticed movement under the bridge—two boys hauling a net filled with something glistening. One of them looked up at me and grinned.
"Don't stare too long, miss," he said. "The canal stares back."
I blinked. "What?"
"Joking," he said, laughing as his friend elbowed him. "Mostly."
They moved on, dragging their catch behind them.
I smiled faintly, shaking my head. "Weird city," I whispered to myself.
But I liked it.
I walked a little further until the streets began to curve upward toward the Citadel's lower district. The fog was thinner here, replaced by the faint hum of machines and glowing wires running along the buildings.
A group of merchants haggled over bone prices. The words "pit-harvest" and "Guild quota" came up more than once. I caught fragments of conversations—talk about a rift in the sky, about hunters being called to investigate. My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to keep walking. No one seemed to suspect me.
To my left, I saw a small flower stand tucked between two shops. The flowers weren't like any I'd seen before—thin petals that shimmered faintly blue, like they'd grown from the moonlight itself. I stopped to admire them.
"Pretty, aren't they?" said a voice.
The shopkeeper, a woman with short silver hair and dirt-streaked hands, smiled at me. "They only bloom during the Blue Moon. You'll never see them under Yellow."
"They're beautiful," I said. "Do they have a name?"
"Moonblossoms," she said. "People buy them for luck. Not that luck means much down here."
I hesitated, then pulled a small coin from my satchel. "I'll take one."
She chuckled softly, taking the coin. "You sound new. Most people here stopped buying hope a long time ago."
I smiled nervously. "Maybe I'm just stubborn."
She handed me a single bloom, its light pulsing faintly in my hand. "Then keep it safe, stubborn girl."
I tucked it into my shawl pocket and thanked her.
As I walked away, I could feel the weight of eyes again—this time different. Heavier.
When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw them.
Three men leaning against a nearby wall, half-hidden by fog and shadow. Their clothes were ragged, their faces sharp with the kind of hunger that didn't come from food. One of them nudged the other, nodding toward me.
I looked away and kept walking, heart picking up speed.
The street had emptied out without me noticing. The fog was thicker again, muffling the sounds of the city. My steps echoed against the cobblestones, too loud, too alone.
"Hey, sweetheart."
The voice came from behind me.
I didn't stop.
"You lost?"
I ignored it, turning down another street. The sound of footsteps followed.
A hand brushed my shoulder. I flinched, spinning around.
Three of them. Their eyes roamed me with the kind of curiosity that made my stomach turn.
"Haven't seen you before," one said, grinning. "You from Alderra? You look a little too clean for Evervale."
"I'm just heading home," I said quickly.
"Home?" another repeated, stepping closer. "Didn't think angels lived around here."
The third one laughed. "Careful, she might bite."
They laughed together, the sound low and ugly.
I took a step back, clutching the satchel strap tight. "Please, just—"
"Oh, don't worry," the first one said, reaching out again. "We're just saying hello."
Something inside me snapped.
It wasn't fear, exactly. It was something sharper. A pressure building behind my ribs, warm and bright. My hands trembled—not from shaking, but from the strange current that suddenly hummed under my skin.
"Don't touch me," I said.
They didn't listen.
The air shimmered faintly around me, invisible to them but clear as light to me. A pulse of gold flickered across my vision. The closer they came, the stronger it grew. I could feel it — energy rushing from somewhere deep inside, begging to be let out.
I clenched my fists, the light gathering. My heartbeat slowed, then sped up again, faster than it ever had before.
I didn't know what I was about to do — but I knew I could stop them.
And then, before I could move—
A heavy thud cracked the air.
The man nearest me was suddenly gone, slammed against the wall hard enough to crumble the bricks. The other two froze.
Through the fog stepped Dagian.
He didn't have his scythe, but he didn't need it. His amber eyes were colder than I'd ever seen them. He moved fast — one punch, one kick, one step forward — and the thugs scattered like paper in the wind.
It was over before I even caught my breath.
The gold faded from my hands. My knees felt weak.
Dagian turned to me, his chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. His voice was low, edged with exhaustion more than anger.
"You really don't listen, do you?"
Dagian
The last man hit the wall and slid down, wheezing. I let my arm fall to my side and breathed out through my teeth. The night was cold enough to bite, but the heat from the fight still clung to me. The fog twisted lazily through the street, pulling thin ribbons of moonlight across the stones.
I looked over my shoulder.
Isabella stood there, frozen halfway between fear and shock, her hands trembling with faint golden light. It flickered once, then vanished completely.
"You really don't listen, do you?" I said, my voice low.
Her eyes snapped toward me, wide. "I—"
"Do you know what this part of town is?" I interrupted, motioning toward the alley. "You shouldn't even be on this street after dusk, let alone walking around alone."
She flinched, her lips parting like she wanted to speak, but no words came out.
"I just wanted to see—"
"See what?" I cut in, harsher than I meant to. "The way people survive down here? The smell of rot? Or maybe you wanted to see how quickly someone disappears when they walk where they shouldn't."
Her head lowered, the loose ends of her shawl brushing against her hands. "I didn't think—"
"That's the problem," I said. "You don't think."
The words hung between us, heavier than I intended.
She swallowed hard, and her voice came out small. "I'm sorry."
For a moment, I wanted to leave it at that. Let her sit with it, let her learn something from it.
I sighed and rubbed a hand over my face. "You can't afford to walk around like this," I said, softer now. "You stand out. People notice. And not the good kind."
"I didn't mean to cause trouble," she murmured.
"You didn't," I said. "You just found it."
That almost earned a laugh from her, but it faded before it could. Her gaze fell to the cobblestones again, the faint light of the moon catching in her hair.
The quiet stretched again. I could still hear the faint drip of water from a rooftop nearby, the distant rumble of a passing patrol somewhere deeper in the city.
I exhaled, shoulders relaxing. "…Come on," I said finally, reaching out.
Her eyes lifted, confused, just as my hand brushed her wrist.
"Let's get you home before someone else decides to be stupid," I said, my voice quieter now.
She hesitated, but I tugged gently, just enough to make her move. Her skin was cold, colder than I expected, and she startled at the contact — though she didn't pull away.
It wasn't much, just a touch, but it felt heavier than it should've.
"I didn't think you'd come looking for me," she said softly as we started walking.
"I wasn't planning to," I replied. "Then I heard yelling and figured it'd be you."
That got a small laugh out of her — quick and breathy, but real. "You really don't trust me, huh?"
"Not even a little."
She smiled at that. It was faint, but it lingered.
We turned the corner and walked in silence for a while, the sound of our footsteps echoing faintly off the narrow walls. The fog was thick, the air colder now that the Blue Moon had started to fade.
"You know," she said after a moment, "I didn't mean to worry you."
"You didn't,"
She looked up at me, studying my face for a long second. "You're a bad liar."
I didn't answer. I just kept walking.
After a while, I noticed her shivering. Without thinking, I shrugged off my coat and draped it over her shoulders. She blinked in surprise, clutching it with both hands.
"You'll freeze," she said.
"I've had worse," I replied.
Her eyes softened. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," I said. Then, after a pause, "Seriously. Don't. I'll regret it."
She giggled quietly, hiding it behind the collar. I could feel her eyes on me every few steps, curious and warm. It was strange — the kind of silence that didn't feel heavy anymore.
The fog around us caught the moonlight just right, and for a moment, her face glowed with it.
"I really am sorry," she said.
I stopped walking and looked at her. "I know."
"I just wanted to see what your world was like."
"It's not much of a world," I said. "But… now you've seen it."
"Yeah," she whispered. "And I think I understand you a little more now."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I didn't say anything.
Instead, I glanced toward the faint outline of the Blue Moon and started forward again.
"Come on," I said quietly, and this time, when I reached for her wrist again, she didn't hesitate.
She fell into step beside me easily, her shawl brushing against my arm. The warmth of her skin lingered faintly against my fingers, even after I let go.
**
The streets were quiet now, wrapped in that yellow glow that meant the world was between danger and peace. Isabella walked beside me, still wearing my coat, the hem brushing against the ground. Her hands were tucked into the sleeves, and her eyes darted around like a child seeing the world for the first time.
I didn't say anything. I rarely did. She seemed content enough with the silence.
We turned a corner near the training yards, where the cobblestones smoothed out and the fog thinned just enough to see the marrow-lamps flickering in a long row. The air smelled faintly of ash and oil. Ahead, voices carried—rough, familiar ones.
"—I'm telling you, it wasn't my fault!"
"Your spear got stuck in a door, Veil."
"It was wood, Rogan! I didn't expect the thing to bite back!"
I stopped before we reached them, but it was too late. Rogan spotted me instantly.
"Well, well, look who crawled out of his den," Rogan said, grinning wide as always. His hair was tied back messily, and his grin was even messier. "Dagian the Silent returns from exile! What's it been, a week?"
"Working," I said.
"Sure," Veil said, leaning on his spear. "Working. That what you call brooding these days?"
I rolled my eyes, already regretting slowing down.
Then Rogan's gaze slid past me. His grin widened like he'd just discovered a lost relic.
"Who's this?" he said, pointing a finger in theatrical shock. "No way. No way."
Veil straightened. "Dagian… brought a person?"
"Not just a person," Rogan said dramatically. "A woman. Someone, mark the calendar. The gods are weeping."
Behind them, Tamsin—the calmest of the bunch—folded her arms, trying not to smile. And then, of course, Jace—the youngest, barely nineteen—nearly tripped over his own boots gawking.
"She's—uh—wow," Jace said, blushing immediately.
Veil threw both hands up like a priest seeing a miracle.
"WE ARE WITNESSING HISTORY," he announced to literally no one. "The Quiet Blade has a—"
"Friend," I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "She's a friend. From Alderra."
"Alderra?" Veil repeated. "As in Alderra-Alderra? The clean place? The one that still has walls that don't leak and people who bathe twice a week?"
"That one," I said flatly.
Rogan barked out a laugh. "What's someone from there doing down here? Slumming it for fun?"
"Visiting," I said. "She's staying with me and Ma for a while."
There was a pause. Then all four of them exploded.
"STAYING—WITH—you and Ma?!" Rogan shouted. "As in living under the same roof?!"
Tamsin pinched the bridge of her nose. "Rogan, breathe."
"I am breathing! I'm just making sure history is properly recorded!"
Veil smirked. "So, the Quiet Blade finally found a lady friend."
"She's not—" I started.
"Careful," Rogan interrupted, winking at Isabella. "He says that, but he's been single since birth. He doesn't know what friendship looks like."
"I can hear you," I said.
"That's the point," Rogan replied.
Tamsin stepped forward, offering her arm to Isabella. "Don't mind them. They think they're charming. They're not."
Isabella hesitated before smiling shyly and returning the gesture. "Isabella. Nice to meet you."
"See?" Tamsin said to the others. "She's polite. Already too good for you lot."
Rogan clutched his chest dramatically. "Wounded!"
"Rogan," I said, tone warning.
"Alright, alright," he said, holding up his hands. "Just… forgive our excitement. You don't see someone from Alderra down here often. We're used to grime, not grace."
Isabella laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It's not that different where I'm from. Maybe a little cleaner. Fewer… monsters."
"That's a pretty big difference," Veil said.
"You'd be surprised," she replied, her tone almost playful.
The group blinked, caught off guard by her confidence.
Rogan's grin returned. "Oh, she's got spirit. I like her."
"Rogan likes anyone who talks back," Veil muttered.
"That's because I'm a man of taste."
Tamsin sighed. "You're a man of trouble."
Their bickering started again instantly, overlapping voices filling the air. Isabella giggled quietly beside me. It wasn't forced—it was the kind of laugh that felt natural, easy. For a second, I almost smiled too.
Almost.
"Anyway," Rogan said after catching his breath, "we're heading to Yara's canteen by the east steps. Nothing fancy—bread, stew, bad jokes. You two should come."
"Pass," I said immediately.
"Come on," Rogan said. "When's the last time you sat with people who don't growl at you?"
"You're doing it now," I replied.
"Technically, that's talking," Veil said. "Growling's more aggressive."
Tamsin crossed her arms. "Dagian, don't be difficult. It's been a long week. And you clearly owe us for vanishing."
"Not happening," I said, turning to leave.
"Wait!" Isabella said suddenly, her voice light but clear.
I looked back at her.
"I think that sounds nice," she said softly. "It's been a while since I've been… out. It might be good to meet more people."
Rogan looked like he'd just been handed divine permission. "You heard the lady!"
I stared at her. She gave me that look—the kind that said she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Fine," I muttered. "But just for a bit."
Rogan punched the air. "Victory!"
Veil smirked. "You're so predictable, it's almost cute."
Tamsin just shook her head, clearly trying not to laugh. "Come on, before he changes his mind."
Jace leaned toward Isabella, whispering like it was a secret. "You're a miracle worker. He never says yes to anything."
She smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"Good," Rogan said, throwing an arm around Veil as we started walking. "Now come on, let's get something warm before the moons decide to turn red again."
We moved down the street together, a mismatched crowd of voices and footsteps. The fog had thinned enough for the marrow-lamps to paint our shadows across the cobblestones. Isabella walked beside Tamsin, listening intently as she explained which taverns served real meat and which ones didn't.
Every so often, Isabella glanced back at me with that same quiet curiosity—like she was still trying to understand the world she'd landed in, and maybe the man guiding her through it.
By the time we reached the canteen, the Blue Moon had dimmed slightly, its light soft against the rooftops. The chatter of hunters filled the air—rough laughter, the clink of metal bowls, the scrape of boots against stone.
Rogan held the door open with exaggerated politeness. "Ladies first," he said.
Isabella smiled politely. "Thank you."
Then, before I could stop him, Rogan added under his breath, "She's even polite. Dagian, where'd you find this one?"
I shot him a look sharp enough to cut through his grin.
He raised his hands. "Alright, alright. No jokes. For five minutes."
"Make it ten," Tamsin said.
"Ten? You wound me."
Inside, the warmth hit immediately—soup steam, firelight, and the hum of conversation. It was crowded but comfortable. Yara, the owner, nodded at us from behind the counter without breaking stride. "You bring trouble, Dagian?"
"Only the usual," I said.
"Good," she replied. "That's the kind I know how to clean up."
We found a table in the back corner. Rogan immediately started telling some story about a beast that supposedly exploded when hit with holy water. Veil and Tamsin argued about whether that was possible. Jace nodded along to both sides. Isabella listened to everything, smiling, laughing, asking small questions.
She fit in quicker than I expected. Maybe quicker than anyone expected.
When Rogan made another dumb joke, she laughed again—head tilted back, eyes bright, unguarded.
I caught myself staring. Then I looked away.
The noise, the warmth, the smell of stew—it all bled together in a strange, almost peaceful blur. For once, the weight in my chest felt lighter.
I didn't realize I was smiling until Rogan elbowed me.
"Careful, Dagian," he said with a grin. "If you keep doing that, people will start thinking you're human."
"Shut up," I muttered.
"See? Progress already."
Isabella laughed again, and somehow, that sound made the world around us feel just a little less dark.
**
Rogan's laughter was loud enough to wake the next layer. He nearly tipped his chair backward as he slammed a hand against the table, choking on his own punchline.
"So then," he gasped between laughs, "the beast—by the moons—the beast just stared at me. I swear it had more brains than Jace."
"Hey!" Jace protested, half-smiling. "That's not hard!"
Tamsin snorted into her cup. Veil just shook his head. "I was there. It did have more brains than you, Rogan. It was eating one."
The table broke into another wave of laughter. Isabella leaned forward, smiling so wide her cheeks flushed. Even Yara behind the counter couldn't hide her amusement as she muttered something about "idiots with badges."
The warmth of the canteen had a rhythm to it now — bowls clinking, quiet hum of talk, the occasional bark of a joke gone too far. It was noisy, alive. A rare thing in Duskfall.
I leaned back slightly, arms crossed, letting them enjoy it. I wasn't built for this kind of noise, but for once… I didn't mind it.
Isabella was laughing again, one hand covering her mouth, trying not to draw attention — failing miserably. The way she lit up the table almost didn't make sense down here.
"Alright," Rogan said, catching his breath, "new rule — no one's allowed to tell a story unless it involves either blood or stupidity. Preferably both."
"Then you'd never stop talking," Veil muttered.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
It was chaos — but good chaos. The kind that almost made you forget where you were.
Almost.
Because the air shifted.
It wasn't loud or sudden. Just different.
The door creaked open, and the warmth of the tavern faltered. The laughter thinned. Even the marrow-lamps dimmed for a heartbeat.
Every Hunter knows the sound of trouble — it's quieter than danger, but it carries farther.
The smell of the outside came in — cold rain and iron.
I turned my head before anyone else did.
A figure stepped through the doorway.
The light from the hearth hit him just enough to catch the faint sheen of his coat — black, long, sharp-edged, with golden streaks running along the seams. Not decoration. Rank markings.
And not just any rank.
Eidolon.
My pulse slowed.
He walked in with the calm of someone who didn't need to announce himself. His steps were steady, each one echoing faintly across the wooden floor.
The tavern had gone silent. Every voice, every laugh, every movement stilled. Even Rogan, mid-grin, froze with his drink halfway to his mouth.
The man's hair hung long, dark as pitch, the ends brushing the gold-lined collar of his uniform. His bangs shadowed most of his face, but not enough to hide his eyes.
They glowed faint red beneath the strands — not bright, not burning, just there, steady and unnatural.
He didn't look around immediately. He didn't need to. He knew every pair of eyes in the room was already on him.
When he finally lifted his gaze, I felt the weight of it.
"By the Moons," Rogan whispered beside me. "That's—"
"Yeah," I said before he could finish.
Juston Morzeth.
Eidolon Rank No. 4.