The contact Solomon had mentioned was not what Elijah expected.
They met in a basement bar on the edge of the industrial district, a place that smelled of old wood and cheap whiskey. The clientele were sparse—a few older men nursing drinks, a woman reading a newspaper—but Elijah's senses told him that none of them were entirely human.
The man at the corner booth, however, was something else entirely.
He was tall, gaunt, wrapped in a traveling cloak that seemed to shift colors in the dim light. A lantern sat on the table before him, though it held no flame—only a soft, golden glow that pulsed like a heartbeat. His face was partially obscured by a cowl, but his eyes were visible: bright, sharp, and filled with an ancient amusement.
"Solomon Cross," the man said, his voice smooth as oil on water. "It has been some time."
"Caelus." Solomon sat across from him, gesturing for Elijah to do the same. "You said you had information about the rogue clan."
"I always have information. The question is whether you have anything to trade." Caelus's eyes flicked to Elijah. "And who is this? The prince's new vessel, I presume. How fascinating."
Elijah's skin prickled. The wolf stirred uneasily.
"He's not for trade," Solomon said flatly.
"Of course not." Caelus smiled, a thin line of teeth. "But I might be persuaded to share what I know in exchange for… a small consideration."
"What kind of consideration?" Elijah asked.
"A memory, perhaps. One of your earliest. Or a year of your life. Or a future favor, to be named when I require it." Caelus's lantern flared brighter for a moment. "I am a collector of moments. Memories, experiences, possibilities. They are currency to me."
Solomon's hand tightened on the table. "We're not dealing with you, Caelus. Not for this."
"Then why are you here?"
"To see if your price has changed. It hasn't." Solomon stood. "Come on, Elijah."
But Elijah didn't move. He was staring at Caelus, something nagging at him. "You know who kidnapped the prince."
Caelus's smile widened. "I know many things."
"Tell me. And name your price."
Solomon turned, his face hard. "Elijah, no."
"I need to know." Elijah's voice was steady. "If I'm going to carry this, I need to know who's coming for me."
Caelus leaned forward, the lantern's light casting strange shadows across his face. "Very well. The information for a small favor—a trifle, really. To be collected at a time of my choosing, within the bounds of your ability. No harm to innocents. No sacrifice of your soul." He paused. "Do we have a deal?"
Elijah looked at Solomon. The older man's expression was a mix of anger and resignation.
"Fine," Elijah said.
Caelus extended a hand. Elijah hesitated, then shook it. The moment their palms touched, Elijah felt something slip away—a memory, though he couldn't tell which one. It was like losing a word on the tip of his tongue.
"The prince was sold to the vampires by a faction within his own clan," Caelus said. "They were paid by the Shadow Weavers, a powerful evil clan that seeks to break the barrier and conquer the lower realms. The order came from their leader—the Weaver Queen. She wants the prince's power to unravel the barrier completely." He sat back, his lantern dimming. "That is what you wished to know."
Elijah's mind raced. "How do I stop her?"
"You don't. Not yet. You are a seedling in a forest of ancient trees." Caelus rose, his cloak swirling. "Grow. Climb. Become something she cannot ignore. Then perhaps you will have a chance." He vanished, lantern and all, leaving only the faint scent of ozone.
Solomon stood in silence for a long moment. "You made a deal with him."
"I got information."
"And he owns a piece of you now. A favor. You don't know what he'll ask for, or when." Solomon shook his head. "Caelus is older than the Spire, some say. Older than the gods. He doesn't deal in kindness."
"I know." Elijah met his gaze. "But I needed to know what we're facing."
Solomon sighed. "The Weaver Queen. If she's behind this, it's bigger than I thought. She commands the Shadow Weavers—spider clan, Level 70 at least. She has princes and princesses of her own, armies of lesser spiders. If she wants the barrier gone, she has the resources to make it happen."
"Then we need more than just us," Elijah said.
"Yes." Solomon headed for the door. "We need allies. And we need to be ready for whatever comes next."
As they walked out into the night, Elijah felt the weight of the deal he'd made settle onto his shoulders. But beneath it, the wolf stirred—not with fear, but with something like approval.
You are learning, the prince's whisper came. Growth requires risk.
Elijah hoped the prince was right.
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