Solstice awakened to the smell of fresh bread and the sound of distant haggling. His body felt strange – both new and familiar, like a well-worn glove that had been reshaped. The inn room was simple but clean, morning light filtering through curtains that had seen better decades.


    "Finally awake, dear?" The voice belonged to an old woman who somehow hadn''t been there a moment before. She sat in the room''s only chair, knitting something that seemed to shift colors as her needles clicked. "Death takes some getting used to, doesn''t it?"


    He reached instinctively for weapons that weren''t there. The old woman''s smile deepened, creating a maze of wrinkles that suggested centuries of amusement.


    "None of that now. You''ll want breakfast first. Can''t face destiny on an empty stomach."


    Something about her presence reminded him of the Dreamweaver – that sense of something vast compressed into simple form. But where the Dreamweaver had felt alien, she radiated a grandmother''s warmth. If grandmothers were secretly cosmic forces.


    "Who are you?"


    "Just an old woman who likes to help lost souls find their way." Her knitting needles never stopped moving. "Though some call me Fate, when they''re being formal. Come along, dear. Duskreach waits for no one, not even death''s latest returnee."


    The city revealed itself in layers as they walked. Buildings of stone and timber rose three or four stories, their upper floors often hanging over narrow streets. Magic lights glowed in some windows despite the morning sun, while merchants set up stalls selling everything from enchanted trinkets to frontier supplies.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    "Duskreach stands at civilization''s edge," Fate explained, pausing to purchase fresh bread from a vendor who didn''t seem to see her coin. "The last stop before the wilds. Or the first taste of order for those coming in from the darkness. Depending on which way you''re facing, of course."


    They passed a smithy where spelled steel sang under enchanted hammers, then a warehouse storing supplies for expeditions into the wilds. Everything seemed to serve dual purposes – practical needs wrapped in magical possibility.


    As they reached a wider street, Fate gestured northward toward the mountain base. "The wealthy build their homes up there. They say the view is better, but height has always attracted those who fancy themselves above others." Her voice took on a darker tone. "Particularly that mansion with the black gates. More shadows gather there than simple night can explain."


    She turned to face him, her grandmotherly smile somehow sharper. "But a warrior should always gather strength and allies before confronting shadows, don''t you think?"


    Solstice started to question her meaning, but a commotion in the street ahead drew his attention – some kind of merchant dispute. When he looked back, Fate was gone. Only the lingering smell of fresh bread suggested she''d been there at all.


    The hair on the back of his neck rose. Someone watching. He turned, catching a glimpse of a figure on a rooftop – sleek and dangerous as a hunting cat, dressed in blacks and grays that seemed to drink in light.


    Then something struck the back of his head with expert precision, and darkness took him again.


    His last thought was that at least this darkness felt temporary.