《Caelestiālis》


 Prologue

    A long time ago, a war began to overcome the world. The Gods battled each other till only eighty-eight of them remained.


    A Goddess named Astra topped among all and ended the war before the world could be a living chaos. She coalesced the 88 Gods now bearing the name of constellations to form the world of Celestials, a realm bound by stars, magic, elements, and myths.


    She divided the 88 Gods into their respective regions into two empires. The Northern and the Southern Hemisphere. The Constellation of each region will keep their empire safe and at peace, so it was their purpose to do so. It was then the birth of Caelesti¨¡lis. Where diverse kinds of people and living creatures exist in harmony. Astra made the empires flourished, helped the celestials evolved into a much capable form. No one doubted the Goddess, she is the everglades of intelligence, purity, and leadership. She is the pride of Caelesti¨¡lis.


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    However, anomaly rouged Celestia. The great warp plagued the regions into their doom. Astra condemned the darkness, sacrificed herself and protected their only home, but to everyone¡¯s regret, the Goddess fell to her demise.


    The star that once bright with luminosity,


    left the hemisphere in dust.


    Dread folded Celestia, grief made them lose their faith.


    Now forsaken with greed, corruption, and instability.


    Then, a light flew out through the depths of empire. Bearing the glimmer of hope or aberration:


    Blessed thy children of the Sun


    Hear the call of the heaven


    Cataclysm will emerge


    Gloom dread to purge


    Descended from the sky


    Arrows of fire


    Ashes will rain


    Burn, for it is you wish


    Howbeit, light will emanate


    Divine cast you with brightness


    Reclaim the loss you grieve


    Bow, for the sun will rise again


    A prophecy proclaimed by the heaven. Celestia dawned with the thought of hope or darkness. Will this be a chance to redeem what is gone? Or a massacre of darkness refolding?

 Chapter 1: Under the Stars of Araes

    The sky is once again dark, I notice as I stomp and run, the beating palpitation rushing through me. Just another normal day¡ªrunning from the Arden guards is my job.


    "Hold up, you miscreant!" One of them shouts.


    I don''t stop.


    I squeeze myself between buildings, jumping from barracks to barracks, letting the familiar streets guide me to my escape. Adrenaline courses through me as I climb the wall just in time, leaving the guard to reach a dead end.


    I snicker as I hear the guards curse, unable to reach me. I''ve never felt so alive, gripping the two buns of bread I successfully grabbed from the crowded market of Araes, the city of the nation Ara. This is where I''ve lived ever since I was born, the place where my mother died, the place where I learned how to steal and make a living out of it, the place where I learned I can never trust anyone, a place barely even called a home. But this is where I belong. The streets are crooked, homeless people are scattered all over the city, people getting abducted, and Arden guards beating innocent citizens. The mere sight of this city hollers agony.


    The nation has been in a dire state ever since our Goddess perished. Our God, the constellation Ara or as the natives call her Razla, is nowhere to be found. Well, I believe she let herself out considering the state this place has been. The impudence of these divines to abandon the mere purpose of their existence¡ªI abhor the Gods.


    As I try to dismiss my thoughts of hatred, trying to calm myself, I see a familiar face in front of my home. It''s the proprietor, collecting the month''s payment probably, though this time she seems more pissed than usual. This seems like bad news.


    "Ah. Here is one of the children." she says, noticing me. Mona, our landlady in this hellhole of a building, is a stern woman with graying hair and a permanent scowl. The others call her "Wank Mona," thanks to the rumors about her time in prison and her alleged partner.


    I tighten my grip on the bread, its warmth fading against my palm as my pulse quickens. "What do you want?" I ask, trying to sound braver than I feel.


    Mona smirks when she sees the bread in my hand. "Roaming the streets again, are we?"


    I shoot her a glare, swiftly tucking the bread behind my back.


    "Where is your sister?" she asked, but I remained silent.


    She let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed her temple. "Look, kid, I know it''s hard to get by these days. But I need you and your sister to pay your rent''s due."


    I glance past Mona, my grip tightening on the bread. She''s staring at me like she can see right through me. I don''t know what she wants from me. I''ve told her the same thing a thousand times: Esther''s not here.


    "Where is your sister?" Mona repeats, her voice clipped and impatient.


    I try to keep my cool, though my insides are beginning to knot. Esther''s been working outside the city for the past few months, earning whatever she can to keep us afloat. She comes home once a week, usually on market day, but lately, it feels like she''s been gone longer and longer.


    "She''s working," I reply, doing my best to sound casual.


    Mona raises an eyebrow. "Working? And how long''s she been gone this time?"


    "A week," I say quickly. "She''ll be back in a few days. She''s doing farm work out in the country, you know that."


    I watch her eyes narrow, her gaze shifting to the bread in my hands. Mona''s not a fool. She''s seen me scurrying through the market before, sneaking around the stalls to grab whatever I can. But this bread... this bread is a small victory. The last thing I can steal that hasn''t been taken from me yet.


    "Farm work, huh?" Mona''s lips curl into a tight smile, one that doesn''t reach her eyes. "Well, maybe she can use her ''hard-earned'' wages to pay her rent then, because I''m not letting you two slide this time."


    I feel my heart sink.


    "I told you, Mona, Esther will have the rent when she gets back." I try to sound confident, but it''s not convincing even to me. We''re barely surviving on what little Esther can bring in. She works long, grueling days outside the city, and it''s getting harder to make ends meet.


    Mona''s eyes flick to the bread again. She sighs in frustration, as though she''s already heard enough excuses from me. "I don''t want to hear ''when she gets back.'' You''ve been saying that for months now. Either you give me the money, or you''ll find yourself out on the street. That''s the deal."


    I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "She''ll be back soon. I''m telling you. Just give us a little more time."


    Mona crosses her arms, staring me down. "If she''s not back by the end of the week, you''re gone. Understand?"


    I nod, though my stomach churns. I know Mona. She''s not the kind of person to back down. When she says something, she means it.


    "Yeah. I understand."


    Mona doesn''t say another word. She turns on her heel, walking away with that cold, distant air she always carries. I watch her go, my mind already racing through the possibilities. I could lie to Esther when she gets home, pretend everything''s fine, but I know deep down that wouldn''t be fair to her. She''s been doing everything she can to keep us afloat. If I keep this from her, she''ll only be disappointed in me.


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    With a sigh, I step back inside our small, dimly lit apartment. It smells musty, the familiar scent of mildew and worn-out wood filling the air. There''s a single chair near the cracked window, and the small cot where I sleep.


    I can''t help but glance over at the empty space where Esther''s things are scattered. Her old scarf is draped over the back of the chair, and a few worn-out books are stacked haphazardly on the table. She always makes time to come home, even if it''s just for a few days. But lately, she''s been gone more than usual. The work''s been harder, the pay''s been smaller.


    I can''t blame her for that. She''s trying her best.


    While I on the other hand is a useless freeloader, I can''t keep up with everything she''s been doing for us. I can''t make enough to pay the rent, feed us, keep us out of the cold. I''m not as strong as she is. Not by a long shot.


    I sit on the edge of the cot, my fingers still wrapped around the bread, but it feels like nothing. Just another piece of food that will only fill us for a little while.


    I know I''m not supposed to feel sorry for myself. Esther always tells me that. "Don''t wallow in it, just get through it," she says. But how can I not? It''s exhausting. The constant running, stealing, hiding, the fear of being caught, of being thrown out into the streets with nothing.


    There''s a knock at the door.


    I jump, startled. For a second, I wonder if it''s Mona coming back to finalize her threat, but when I open it, I''m surprised to see Esther standing there.


    Her auburn hair is tied back loosely, some strands falling to frame her face. It''s long and usually a bit wild after a long day of work, but today, there''s a kind of softness to her look, like she''s come straight from the farm but is still full of energy. Her hazel eyes sparkle in the dim light, and despite the weariness that clings to her, her smile is wide and bright, like it always is when she''s happy to see me. She''s carrying a sack over her shoulder, the familiar weight of it making her seem even smaller than usual, but her spirit hasn''t dimmed. Esther''s always had this infectious energy, a lightness about her that refuses to be dimmed by anything. Even after the long days of hard work, she''s still Esther¡ªoptimistic, cheerful, and full of life.


    "Hey, Dawn!" she says, her voice lively as always. "Had to finish up some things on the farm, but here I am!"


    My heart lifts at the sight of her, but it''s quickly overshadowed by the nagging worry in my chest. She''s home early this week. Something''s wrong.


    "You''re back early," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.


    She beams, brushing a few strands of auburn hair behind her ear. "Yeah, I wrapped things up earlier than I expected. Thought I''d come home and see how you''re doing. Have you been eating well? I brought some treats."


    Her cheery demeanor doesn''t quite match the growing anxiety that I''m trying so hard to hide.


    "Esther¡­" I pause, unsure how to bring it up. I know she''s tired, and I don''t want to burden her with more stress. "Mona¡­ she came by."


    Esther''s face doesn''t change, but her smile falters for just a moment. "Ah, Mona¡­" She exhales slowly, setting down the sack and rubbing her hands together. "What''s she said this time?"


    "She wants the rent. She says if you don''t pay by the end of the week, we''re out."


    Esther laughs softly, a sound that''s almost a little too light. "She always says that. She knows she can''t kick us out. Where would she find another pair of tenants like us?"


    I can tell she''s trying to make light of it, but her eyes have a hint of concern in them too. It''s the way she is¡ªalways optimistic, always finding a way to stay positive. But even I can see it''s getting harder for her to keep up the act.


    "We don''t have much time, Esther. You''ve been working so hard, but it''s just not enough anymore."


    Esther''s face softens, and she steps forward, pulling me into a hug. "We''ll figure it out, okay? We always do. Things may be tough now, but I believe in us."


    Her words are comforting, but they feel like a fleeting promise. We always do. But what happens when the "always" runs out?


    When our parents died, we became nothing more than strays, left to fend for ourselves on the streets. My earliest memory is of running¡ªbarefoot, breathless, my sister''s hand gripping mine like a lifeline as we fled from the Arden guards. All for a single apple I had foolishly reached for at the market. Hiding, scrambling, pressing ourselves into the shadows¡ªthis became our way of life, a daily ritual of survival.


    Years passed, and my sister did everything she could to keep us afloat. She scrubbed floors as a maid, peddled scraps as a vendor, ran messages through dangerous alleys, and even pretended to read fortunes for desperate fools. Now, she breaks her back in the fields, all so we can keep going.


    And me? I lie. I cheat. I steal. That''s all I''ve ever been good for. A cursed wretch, shunned by the divines, warped by fate as punishment for our parents'' defiance. No matter how much I want to help her, I can''t. I''m nothing more than dead weight¡ªa useless, unwanted burden.


    "I don''t want you to feel like you have to carry everything," I murmur, my voice muffled against her chest. I want to help¡ªI truly do¡ªbut with this darkness clutched in my hands, I''m afraid of what I might become.


    She pulls back just enough to look at me, her hands still on my shoulders. Her hazel eyes are warm and filled with that unwavering positivity. "I know, I know you are. But It''s alright, I can handle it. Trust me, okay?"


    I nod, though my mind is still heavy with the weight of everything. But when I look at her¡ªher bright eyes, her cheery smile, the way she refuses to let the world beat her down¡ªI feel a flicker of hope.


    "But you have to stop making it sound so easy." I say with a small grin.


    She laughs, ruffling my hair like she always does. "That''s my job, kid. Making life a little bit easier. Now, come on. Let''s eat. I brought some treats, remember?"


    I follow her to the small table, where she unpacks bits of dried fruit and the small pastries she''s brought back from the farm. I place the loaf of bread I took from the market beside them. My stomach growls, but just as I reach for a bite, Esther''s voice softens.


    "And Dawn," she adds, looking at me with a raised brow. "What''s this I hear about you taking bread from the market again?"


    My stomach drops, and I avoid her gaze. "I¡ªI was hungry," I mutter, but the words feel hollow even to me.


    Esther sighs, her gaze soft but firm. "Dawn, we''ve talked about this. You can''t keep doing that. I know it''s hard, but we can''t steal our way through life. I''m doing everything I can, but we must be better than that."


    Her tone isn''t harsh, but it''s filled with that quiet disappointment that hits harder than any punishment. I look down at the bread, suddenly feeling ashamed.


    "I''m sorry, Essie," I whisper, my voice barely audible.


    She reaches out and gently lifts my chin, her hazel eyes searching mine. "I know you''re just trying to help. But we must find another way, okay? No more stealing, I mean it."


    I nod, the weight in my chest lightening just a little bit. It''s hard to imagine how things might get better, but with Esther by my side, I feel like maybe we can make it through another day.


    "Okay," I say, a little more confidently this time. "I won''t do it again."


    Esther smiles, brushing a lock of crimson hair out of my face. "Good. Now, let''s eat."


    With that, I sit down beside her, allowing myself to relax for the first time in what feels like ages.

 Chapter 2: The Fox in the Crate

    The sun barely peeks over the jagged rooftops of Araes when I wake. The air is thick with the scent of damp wood and the lingering musk of last night''s rain. Esther is still asleep beside me, her breathing steady, her auburn hair a tangled mess against the thin blanket.


    I roll onto my back, staring at the cracked ceiling, my thoughts already racing. Rent is due by the end of the week. I promised Esther I wouldn''t steal again, but what other choice do I have? Honest work is out of the question¡ªnobody hires street rats like me. Not when there are proper workers, people with names that mean something. People who aren''t cursed.


    I clench my fists, bitterness rising like bile. It''s always been like this. The city has always been a battlefield, and we''ve always been at the losing end.


    A soft knock at the door startles me. My body tenses. I glance at Esther, but she doesn''t stir. Carefully, I slip out of bed, tiptoeing across the room before cracking the door open just enough to see who''s there.


    A boy stands in the dim morning light, shifting on his feet. He''s around my age, maybe a little older, with dark curls and sharp eyes that dart down the hall. His clothes are ragged, patched in too many places to count.


    "Hey, Dawn!" he says, grinning widely as he leans against the doorframe. The smile on his face is the same one I''ve seen too many times¡ªbright, easy, full of charm.


    I hesitate. Jax isn''t a friend, not exactly, but he''s someone I''ve seen plenty of times in the back alleys of Araes. A runner, like me. A thief, like me. But Jax is the kind of guy who doesn''t mind getting in your face with that perfect smile and making you believe he''s someone you can trust. That''s his game.


    "What do you want, Jax?" I ask, keeping my voice steady but not bothering to hide my suspicion.


    He laughs, leaning in closer as if we''re old pals. "What, no hello for your favorite alley rat?" His tone is light, teasing, like there''s no one else in the world but the two of us. "I was just passin'' by, figured I''d drop in. You know, see how you''re doing."


    I narrow my eyes. "I''m good. Why don''t you take your smile somewhere else?"


    He gives me a mock pout, and I can''t help but feel a tiny bit annoyed. "That''s the first." He pushes the door open a little wider and slips inside, looking around like he''s just popped into a friend''s house for a chat. "I''m just sayin'', it''s been a while since we hung out. Thought you might wanna do something."


    He walks further into the small room, taking a casual glance around, though I can''t shake the feeling that he''s taking mental notes. He is good at that¡ªmaking himself seem like part of the furniture, when all along he''s scheming something.


    Esther still hasn''t woken up, thank the gods. I can''t let her see him hanging around; she won''t like it, not one bit.


    "Look, Jax," I say, folding my arms across my chest. "I''m not in the mood. I''ve got enough stuff to deal with."


    He flashes another grin, not bothered in the least by my cold reception. "Aww, come on. No need to be like that. Just a little company, that''s all. The city can be a lonely place, you know?" He leans against the cracked wall, making himself comfortable like he''s been invited. "Besides, I''ve got a little gig lined up, something that could make both of us a nice little pile of coin. You in?"


    I feel a flicker of temptation at the thought. Easy money. Jax''s kind of jobs always were. But I shake my head quickly, determined to stay firm. "I''m not interested," I reply, but there''s something in my voice that sounds like an apology.


    He lets out a long breath, clearly not taking my rejection seriously. "Alright, alright," he says, a little mockingly. He tilts his head, eyes glinting with that playful mischievousness. "I won''t lie, it''s a good offer. Nothing you can''t handle."


    I feel the weight of his words press against me, but I don''t budge. "I said no."


    He raises his hands in mock surrender, though the grin never fades. "No need to bite my head off. Just thought you could use a little fun. You could always use a little Jax in your life."


    The way he says it, as if it''s a joke, just makes me more uncomfortable. His charm is thick, but I can see right through it. He doesn''t care about me or what I''m going through¡ªhe''s just offering a job to anyone who''s willing to take it. And the more I think about it, the more I realize he is the type to smile while sticking a knife in your back.


    "You''re still a pain in the ass," I mutter, though I can''t quite hide the hint of a smile pulling at my lips despite myself.


    He winks, pushing off the wall with a flourish. "Only the best kind of pain, if you ask me." He lingers a moment longer, watching me with a knowing look before stepping back toward the door. "But if you change your mind, don''t be shy. I''ll be around."


    He pauses at the door, one last smirk on his face. "I''ll let you get back to your beauty sleep, princess. But don''t stay cooped up too long. Araes is a big city, and you don''t wanna miss out on all the fun."


    Before I can say anything else, he''s gone, leaving behind the lingering scent of smoke and a sense of unease.


    I close the door slowly, my hand resting against the cool wood. My chest tightens, the temptation still tugging at me, but I can''t go back. Not after everything I''ve sworn. I lean against the door, my breath slow and steady, forcing my heart to quiet. Jax''s words linger like the scent of smoke he left behind¡ªsweet, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.


    Easy money. Quick job. Nothing I can''t handle.


    I shake my head, trying to push the thoughts away. Esther would kill me if she knew I even considered it.


    I glance at her, still fast asleep, curled up beneath the thin blanket. She looks peaceful like this, as if the weight of the world hasn''t settled on her shoulders just yet. But I know better. The exhaustion is there, just beneath the surface. She''s been pushing herself too hard, working too much.


    And for what? Rent? A roof over our heads? For me?


    My stomach twists. I must do something.


    I sit at the table for a long time, my stomach churns but not from hunger. It''s the weight of everything¡ªMona''s threat, the empty purse, the look on Esther''s face when she tries so hard to act like everything''s fine.


    I can''t keep doing this.


    I won''t let Esther carry this burden alone.


    I grab a scrap of parchment from the table, the back of an old letter Esther never got around to throwing away. The ink is dry and faded, but the other side is blank enough for what I need. My fingers hesitate for just a moment before I press the charcoal tip to the page.


    Esther,


    Went out early. Don''t worry. I''ll be back before sundown.


    -Dawn


    It''s short, simple. A lie wrapped in just enough truth to keep her from worrying too much. I don''t want her to wake up and panic, thinking I''m back to my old ways.


    I leave the note where I know she''ll see it, pinned under the weight of a rock. Then, moving as quietly as I can, I grab my coat and slip out the door.


    ~


    The morning streets of Araes are slow to wake. The storm from the night before has left everything damp, the air heavy with the smell of rain and mud. The cobbled roads are slick, and the few merchants setting up their stalls mutter curses as they brush water from their wares.


    I pull my coat tighter around me and keep my head low, weaving through the narrow alleyways where I know I''ll find Jax. He''s predictable like that, always lurking where trouble brews.


    The market is alive with voices now, traders shouting prices, customers haggling, the scent of fresh bread mixing with the less pleasant stink of damp wood and unwashed bodies. I slip past the fishmonger''s stall, the old woman behind the counter giving me a sharp look. She remembers me, no doubt. A few months ago, I would''ve tried my luck snatching one of her salted fish. Not today.


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    I spot Jax before he sees me. He''s perched on a crate near a wine vendor, casually flicking a coin between his fingers, his usual smirk firmly in place.


    I take a deep breath and approach.


    He notices me immediately, of course. "Well, well," he drawls, flicking the coin into the air and catching it with ease. "Didn''t think I''d see you so soon, princess. Changed your mind about my offer?"


    "Not exactly." I cross my arms. "I need a job. A real job."


    Jax''s eyebrows lift slightly, but he doesn''t look surprised. If anything, he seems amused. "That so?" He leans back against the stall behind him, stretching his legs out like he''s got all the time in the world. "Didn''t take you for the ''honest work'' type."


    "I''m not," I admit. "But I need money, and I''m not stealing anymore."


    At that, Jax actually laughs¡ªlow and easy, like I just told him the sky turned green overnight. "Alright, sure," he says, flashing a grin. "You wake up one morning and decide to turn respectable. That''s cute."


    I scowl. "I''m serious."


    "I can see that." He tilts his head, studying me like I''m some puzzle he''s trying to figure out. Then, with a lazy shrug, he flicks the coin one last time before pocketing it. "Sweetheart, you do know I''m not exactly in the ''honest work'' business, right?"


    "You know people," I say, exasperated. "You hear things. There has to be something."


    Jax exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head with an almost fond sort of disbelief. "Dawn, you really are something else." But despite his teasing, he doesn''t brush me off. Instead, he drums his fingers against his knee, considering.


    After a moment, he says, "There''s a place near the docks. Weeping Mermaid. Real charming establishment, if you don''t mind the occasional bar fight."


    I frown. "A tavern?"


    Jax shrugs. "They always need extra hands. Cleaning, running errands, keeping drunks from stabbing each other. Honest work, more or less."


    I hesitate, and he smirks like he can hear the gears turning in my head. "What''s wrong? Not glamorous enough for you?"


    "It''s just¡­" I sigh. "Are you sure it''s safe?"


    He snorts. "Define ''safe.''"


    I shoot him a look, and he raises his hands in mock surrender. "Look, it''s a job. It pays. And it doesn''t involve lifting purses. That''s about as safe as it gets in this city."


    I mull it over. It''s not exactly what I had in mind, but Jax isn''t wrong. I need something, and this is better than nothing.


    "Fine," I say. "Where do I find it?"


    Jax grins, tilting his head toward the eastern part of the city. "Near the shipyard. Big sign with a mermaid crying her eyes out. Can''t miss it."


    I nod and turn to leave, but Jax''s voice stops me.


    "Dawn."


    I glance back.


    He''s watching me with that same unreadable look, but then he just shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle. "Good luck keeping your hands clean."


    I don''t answer right away. Instead, I square my shoulders and say, "I''m gonna try."


    With a half-smile, he flicks the coin into the air again. "Just don''t expect me to start doing honest work anytime soon."


    I roll my eyes and walk away, ignoring the way his laughter follows me down the street.


    ~


    The closer I get to the docks, the thicker the air becomes with the scent of salt and damp wood, mixed with something sharp¡ªspilled ale, maybe, or the unmistakable stench of unwashed sailors. The eastern side of Araes is louder than the market, filled with the constant creak of ships rocking in the harbor, the shouts of dock workers hauling crates, and the occasional crash of something¡ªor someone¡ªbeing thrown against a tavern wall.


    I spot the Weeping Mermaid easily enough. Jax wasn''t exaggerating¡ªthe sign hanging above the entrance is crude, painted with a mermaid whose tears streak down her face like she''s just heard the worst news of her life. The wooden double doors look battered, one slightly off its hinges.


    I push open the door.


    Inside, the place is exactly what I expected. Dim candlelight flickers against the stained wooden walls, and the scent of ale is thick in the air, clinging to the damp floors and the sweat of the men hunched over their drinks. A few sailors crowd a table near the back, voices loud and slurred. A burly man with a scar across his nose is cleaning a tankard with a rag that looks dirtier than the mug itself.


    I take a breath and step forward.


    The man behind the counter looks up as I approach. He''s older, maybe in his late forties, his expression is flat, unreadable, as he wipes the counter with slow, deliberate strokes.


    "50% off on our ursa steak if you buy 5 pint of beer." he grunts before I can speak.


    "I''m not buying anything," I say quickly. "I''m looking for work."


    That makes him pause. He leans against the counter, eyes raking over me like he''s deciding whether I''m worth his time. "You don''t look like tavern folk."


    I cross my arms. "And you don''t look like someone who turns down free labor."


    A pause. Then, to my surprise, the man chuckles. "Got a mouth on you."


    The broad-shouldered man is built like someone who''s spent his life throwing people out of taverns rather than serving them drinks. He has a shaved head, a thick, grizzled beard peppered with gray, and arms covered in faded tattoos¡ªsymbols of old allegiances or past regrets. His skin is rough and weathered, like old leather left too long in the sun, and a long, jagged scar runs down the bridge of his nose, splitting his face into something permanently set in a scowl.


    He sets the tankard down and leans forward. "What''s your name, girl?"


    "Dawn."


    "Well, Dawn, you got experience working in a place like this?"


    "Not exactly," I admit. "But I can clean. I can serve. Whatever you need."


    He exhales through his nose, then gestures toward the mess behind him. "See that table in the back? Bastards left it lookin'' like a storm rolled through. Clean it up. Do it fast, do it right. Then we''ll talk."


    I nod and move without hesitation.


    The table is a disaster¡ªhalf-eaten food, spilled ale, a broken bottle. I grab a rag from the counter and get to work, scrubbing the sticky wood, stacking empty plates, trying to ignore the way the sailors still seated nearby eye me as I pass.


    By the time I''m done, my hands reek of beer and something sour, but the table is clean.


    I straighten up and turn back toward the counter. The owner is watching me, arms crossed.


    "Not bad," he says. "You work like that all the time?"


    "I work like someone who needs the money," I reply.


    He smirks at that. "Good answer."


    He nods toward the bar. "Name''s Rogan. You start tonight. Pay''s a few coppers a shift. You steal from me, you''re out. You get smart with the wrong customer; you deal with it yourself. That clear?"


    Clear enough.


    I nod. "Got it."


    "Good. Then grab a rag."


    Just like that, I have a job. It''s not glamorous. It''s not safe, exactly. But it''s mine.


    And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I''m walking a different path¡ªone that doesn''t lead straight into the dark.


    By the time my shift ends, my feet ache, and my hands are sore from scrubbing tables and dodging drunken hands. But there''s a small weight in my pocket¡ªcoins. Honest pay. It''s not much, but it''s real.


    As I step out into the cool night air, I pull my coat tighter and start walking home. I adjust the weight of the coins in my pocket, feeling their edges press into my palm. They''re not much, but they''re honest. The thought makes my chest tighten with something I don''t quite have a name for.


    I cross through the market square, now nearly empty save for a few stray dogs sniffing at abandoned scraps. The stalls, once brimming with goods, stand eerily still, their bright fabrics dulled by the lack of light. It''s strange to see the city like this¡ªbare, exposed, like the bones of something once grand.


    My fingers brush against the splintered wood of a cart as I pass. A few months ago, I might have lingered, checked the crates for anything worth taking. Now, I keep walking.


    Old habits die hard.


    I push the thought aside as my building comes into view. The lights inside are dim, but I know Esther is awake.


    The door creaks as I step inside, and the warmth of home immediately wraps around me. The scent of something familiar lingers in the air¡ªstew, maybe, though knowing Esther, it''s likely stretched with too much water and too little meat.


    She''s at the table, her hands wrapped around a chipped mug, steam curling from whatever''s inside. At the sound of my footsteps, she looks up, and relief flashes across her face¡ªuntil she takes a good look at me.


    "You''re late," she says, her voice light but edged with worry.


    I hang my coat on the hook by the door, rubbing at my sore hands. "I told you I''d be back before sundown."


    She raises an eyebrow. "And I told you not to make me worry."


    I huff a small laugh, shaking my head as I drop into the chair across from her. My entire body aches from the hours at the tavern¡ªmy feet, my back, my hands, all of it¡ªbut there''s a strange satisfaction in the exhaustion. It feels earned.


    Esther watches me, sharp as ever. Her gaze flicks to my clothes, still damp from the sea air, then to my hands, stained faintly with ale and grime. Then, slowly, she sets her mug down.


    "What did you do?"


    I exhale through my nose, knowing there''s no way around this. "I got a job."


    She blinks. "You what?"


    "At a tavern," I say, meeting her eyes. "The Weeping Mermaid. I clean tables, serve drinks. It''s not much, but it''s something."


    Esther stares at me, the words clearly struggling to settle in. "You¡­ went out looking for work?"


    I nod. "Yeah."


    She leans back, arms crossing over her chest. "Without telling me?"


    "I didn''t want you to stop me."


    She frowns, and for a second, I think she''s going to argue. Instead, she studies me in silence. I see the thoughts racing behind her eyes¡ªThis is dangerous. What if someone finds out? What if¡ª


    I don''t let her say it.


    "It''s fine, Essie," I say, my voice steady. "I''m fine."


    She doesn''t look convinced. "Dawn, your¡ª"


    "Don''t." I shake my head, cutting her off before she can bring it up. "You don''t have to remind me. I know what I am. I know the risks." I lean forward, my voice softer now. "But I can''t just sit here while you work yourself half to death. I need to do something."


    Esther''s face twists, guilt flickering in her expression. "You don''t¡ª"


    "Yes, I do." I gesture at her, at the exhaustion lining her face, the tension in her shoulders that never seems to go away. "You''ve been carrying everything on your own. Rent. Food. Me. I can''t keep letting you do that."


    She presses her lips together, glancing away. "You''re not a burden, Dawn."


    I give her a small, sad smile. "I know. But that doesn''t mean I can''t help."


    She exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over her face. "Is it safe?"


    "As safe as it gets in this city," I admit. "Rogan¡ªhe''s the owner¡ªhe doesn''t ask questions. He just wants the work done."


    Esther is quiet for a long time. I know she''s still uneasy, that the fear is still there, coiling beneath her skin. But eventually, she sighs and reaches across the table, squeezing my hands in hers.


    "I don''t like this," she murmurs. "But if this is what you want¡­"


    "It is."


    She gives me a look, tired but affectionate. "Then I guess I have to trust you."


    I grin. "Yeah. You do."


    Esther lets out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "The Weeping Mermaid, huh?"


    "Yep."


    "Sounds charming."


    I snort. "Oh, it''s delightful."


    She laughs as she nudges a bowl of stew toward me. "Eat," she says. "Before you pass out at the table."


    I don''t argue. I just pick up the spoon and take a bite, letting the warmth settle in my chest.


    For the first time in a long while, I feel like I''m doing something.


    Moving forward instead of standing still.

 Chapter 3: Tavern at the East Side

    The Weeping Mermaid reeked of stale ale and salt, the air thick with the scent of unwashed bodies and burning tallow. I kept my head down as I wove through the crowded tavern, balancing a tray of drinks in one hand and dodging a particularly drunk sailor''s clumsy attempt to grab my wrist.


    "Easy there, sweetheart," the man slurred, grinning with yellowed teeth.


    I gave him a tight smile and yanked my arm free. "Touch me again, and I''ll pour your next drink over your head."


    Laughter erupted from a nearby table, drawing the man''s attention away. I exhaled and moved quickly toward the bar, where Rogan was already lining up more mugs.


    "Yer holdin'' up well," Rogan grunted as I set down the empty tray. "Most new girls either quit or get carried out."


    I wiped the sweat from my forehead. "It''s just a job."


    He let out a raspy chuckle. "Aye, but not many got the grit for it. You keep that edge, you''ll do fine."


    Before I could respond, the door banged open. The crowd barely reacted¡ªstorm-gusted winds and rowdy drunks were nothing new¡ªbut I knew better.


    Jax strolled in like he owned the place, his coat hanging open, dark hair tousled as if he''d just rolled out of trouble. His golden eyes scanned the room until they landed on me. With a grin, he made his way over.


    I groaned inwardly. "Not now, Jax."


    "Not even a warm welcome?" he said, leaning against the bar. "And here I thought you''d miss me."


    "I see enough of you as it is."


    He smirked, plucking an unattended mug from the counter and taking a sip. Rogan shot him a glare but didn''t bother chasing him off¡ªJax was a known nuisance, but he had a habit of spending coin when he felt like it.


    "So," he drawled, "how''s the honest life treating you?"


    I ignored him, collecting another round of drinks. He followed, sidestepping customers with effortless grace. "Really, Dawn, I''m impressed. Thought you''d last a day at most."


    I set the mugs down at a table without answering.


    Jax leaned in, lowering his voice. "You know, I heard something interesting today."


    I arched a brow. "And?"


    "Word is, the city''s getting worse. People are vanishing¡ªmore than usual. Some say it''s Uromodomiaz, others think it''s something worse." He let the words hang in the air. "Thought you might like to know."


    I frowned. I had seen the city''s decline firsthand, but now, new anomalies were beginning to surface in this forsaken land.


    The nation of Ara wasn''t the only constellation fading from the celestial sphere. Ever since the Goddess perished, the eighty-eight constellations had begun to fall¡ªone by one¡ªerased by malice, hatred, or the death of their gods. The northern hemisphere was in ruins, with only ten of its thirty-six nations remaining. The southern hemisphere fared little better, with twenty-four constellations left, most of them on the brink of collapse, one of them is where I live.


    Esther liked to bring home whatever scraps of news she could gather while working or searching for jobs, but the stories were always the same¡ªdeath, war, suffering. The world was unraveling, and yet no one was doing a damn thing to stop it.


    Not the Gods, not the imperial kingdom, not the church, nor the so-called holy blessed nations.


    Cowards. Liars. Incompetent bastards, all of them. Sitting in their gilded halls, whispering empty prayers and counting their coin while the rest of us rot.


    I snatched a rag off the counter and wiped down the table, my tone dry. "Wouldn''t be surprised if that psycho snake¡ªUromo-whatever¡ªdecided to pick this place clean for more sheep."


    Jax chuckled, unfazed by my sarcasm. "You''ve got a way with words, don''t you?" He took another sip from his mug, leaning against the bar as if he were talking about the weather. "But I wouldn''t be too quick to dismiss him. Uromodomiaz might be crazy, but he''s got a following. Can''t be that bad if people are flocking to him, right?"


    I shot him a glance, annoyed at how easily he seemed to shrug off everything. "Don''t make it sound so simple. You''re just as much a parasite as the rest of ''em, feeding off whatever you can. At least they have a cause¡ªno matter how insane it is."


    "Everyone''s got their cause, Dawn," he said, shrugging lazily. "Doesn''t mean it''s worth anything. People are desperate, looking for someone to believe in, even if it''s a madman with a crown made of lies. Hell, if I were in their shoes, I''d be looking for a savior too. Who wouldn''t?"


    I clenched my jaw, wiping down another table with unnecessary force. "I''m not the one looking for salvation."


    He raised a brow, his grin still in place. "Really? Then why''re you working here? You could be out there taking what you want, like always. Instead, you''re wasting your time serving drunk assholes. Seems to me like you''re looking for something too."


    I didn''t answer immediately, the weight of his words sitting heavy in my chest. It wasn''t so much the truth of them that bothered me¡ªit was the fact that he could so easily see through me.


    Instead, I wiped my hands on the rag and leaned back against the counter, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. "I''m just trying to survive. That''s more than enough."


    He smirked, leaning in closer, his voice quieter now. "And you think the rest of us aren''t? The world isn''t going to hand you anything. If you want to get ahead, you gotta take it."


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I didn''t respond, but the unease in my gut twisted tighter. He was right about one thing¡ªthe world wasn''t going to hand me anything. I had learned that the hard way. But I wasn''t about to fall into whatever trap he was trying to lure me into.


    "Remind me again why you''re bothering me while I''m at work?"


    Jax, still lounging against the bar as if he owned the place, smirked. "You know, you''re a hell of a lot more interesting when you''re annoyed. Most people just let me ruffle their feathers and move on."


    I rolled my eyes. "You''re not special. You just know how to push buttons."


    "Well," he shrugged nonchalantly, "I guess I''m just that charming."


    I didn''t dignify that with a response. Instead, I glanced over at a group of rowdy sailors who had spilled their drinks all over the floor. This is just my second day. Please, Gods, wherever you are, give me the strength to survive this, or I might just strangle someone.


    Before I could deal with the mess, Rogan slammed a fresh tray of drinks onto the counter, sloshing ale over the edges of the mugs. "Quit standin'' around. Got paying customers."


    I bit back a groan, grabbing the tray and weaving through the crowded tavern. Jax, of course, followed, keeping pace with an infuriating ease.


    "You really gonna ignore me?" he mused, sidestepping a stumbling drunk without missing a beat.


    "That was the plan."


    "Cold, Dawn. Real cold."


    I reached the table and dropped the mugs down harder than necessary, earning a few grumbles but no real complaints. The sailors were already too deep in their cups to care.


    Jax leaned casually against the chair beside me, watching me work with lazy amusement. "So, tell me something."


    I didn''t answer. Didn''t even look at him.


    He pressed on anyway. "If you''re so dead set on scraping by in a place like this, why not pack up and leave? You and Esther could find a cleaner city, one that''s not rotting from the inside out."


    I stilled for half a second before forcing myself to move again. "Not everyone has the luxury of running away."


    "That''s the thing, though." Jax took another sip from his stolen drink, unfazed. "It''s not a luxury. You just have to know how to do it."


    I turned toward him fully, locking eyes with a sharp glare. "Oh, wow. Didn''t know that. What a brilliant idea. Golly, why didn''t I think of that years ago? Thanks for the sage advice, wise sir."


    Jax chuckled, unfazed by my sarcasm. "Don''t mention it," he said with a lazy grin. "Just trying to help you out."


    My fingers curled around my raggedy shirt, grip tightening. "This city isn''t a loss. Not yet."


    Jax watched me, that easy smirk of his fading just a little, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. For once, he didn''t have a snarky retort ready.


    A chair scraped loudly across the floor, breaking whatever moment had settled between us. One of the sailors stood, his movements sluggish, his eyes glazed.


    I knew the look. He was looking for a fight.


    He wasn''t the only one. Across the tavern, another group was getting rowdy, voices rising, the tension crackling like a storm about to break. Rogan was already making his way around the counter, rubbing at his knuckles like he was hoping for an excuse.


    Jax sighed, setting down his drink. "Well, this just got interesting."


    I shot him a look. "Try not to get involved."


    He grinned, already stepping back into the shadows. "No promises."


    And then, like clockwork, the first punch was thrown.


    ~


    The brawl that followed was chaotic, but it didn''t last long¡ªdrunk men weren''t known for their stamina. By the time Rogan had made his way through the chaos, fists flying and curses laced thick in the air, the sailors had been dragged apart, shouting threats, but nobody had really been hurt. Not enough for anyone to care.


    I''d ducked out of the way early on, keeping my head down as I grabbed the mess tray and hurried to clear the tables. The floor was sticky with ale and blood, the air smelling even worse than it had before. My hands were raw from scrubbing at the stains that had soaked into the wood, my shirt clinging to my skin in the damp heat. My shift had barely ended, but it felt like I''d been working all day.


    Jax had disappeared back into the shadows, no doubt finding someone else to bother, and I couldn''t be bothered to look for him. My head pounded from the noise and the tension; the last thing I wanted was his cocky grin staring back at me.


    The mess wasn''t going to clean itself, though, and that was my responsibility. I hadn''t signed up for this, but I sure as hell was going to finish it.


    As I worked, wiping down the counters, refilling mugs where they''d been knocked over, I tried to push out the thoughts swirling in my mind¡ªthoughts of the city''s rot, of Jax''s words, of my inability to get out. The harder I scrubbed, the more I felt like I was just cleaning up a mess that was bigger than any one person could fix.


    Rogan had moved on to another task, but he shot me a glance over his shoulder, his eyes softening for a moment. "Yer a good kid, Dawn," he muttered, wiping his hands on his apron. "Most wouldn''t have stuck around this long."


    I didn''t respond. Didn''t need to. I just kept working, my mind too tangled to care.


    By the time the tavern had cleared out¡ªsailors stumbling off to their ships and a few drunks still draped over tables like ragdolls¡ªI was bone-tired. My legs ached, my hands trembled from the strain, and my eyes stung from the lack of sleep.


    The air was cooler outside, but it did nothing to ease the ache in my body. The streets of Araes were quiet now, the chaotic energy of the tavern and the brawl still buzzing in my ears as I walked through the darkened city. The only sounds were the occasional scuff of my boots against the cobblestones and the distant murmur of the waves.


    I gripped the small leather pouch containing the copper coins I''d earned tonight. It wasn''t much, but it would help. I had promised Esther I''d do whatever I could to cover our share of the rent. Mona''s deadline was closing in, and I wasn''t about to let her take our home.


    When I finally reached our little apartment, the door creaked open with familiar reluctance. The faint smell of stew lingered in the air, and I could hear the sound of Esther humming. She was always so cheerful, so full of energy, it was like the weight of the world never touched her.


    "Dawn!" she exclaimed, rushing over. "You''re back! How was your shift?"


    "It was¡­ long," I said, trying to hide the weariness in my voice as I dug into my pocket for the coins. "But I made enough for the rent this time. Here." I pulled out the coppers, holding them out to her.


    But Esther''s smile only widened as she put a hand on mine, stopping me. "You don''t need to worry about it, sis!" She beamed, practically glowing with excitement. "I paid the rent already!"


    I blinked, taken aback. "What? How? You don''t¡ª"


    "I got a bonus!" she interrupted, her eyes twinkling. "My boss gave me a bonus for the work I''ve been doing! Can you believe it?" Her voice was practically bubbling with joy, and I couldn''t help but smile despite myself.


    "Esther, that''s amazing!" I felt a rush of relief flood through me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn''t on the edge of survival. We had enough. We could breathe for a while. "You deserve it."


    "Right?" she said, winking. "Now, the fun part. We''re going out tonight! I was planning on cooking, but you know what? Tonight, we''re getting something nice. You deserve it!"


    I raised an eyebrow at her. "Wait, you''re not cooking?" I asked, a little amused.


    She shook her head, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "With you getting a job and me getting extra pay, I figure it''s time we celebrate a little. It''s not every day we get to do that." Her grin widened. "So, how about we head to the tavern, or maybe somewhere even better?" She nudged me playfully, already reaching for her coat.


    I laughed, feeling the weight of the day finally slip off my shoulders. "I''m in. Lead the way, Essie. I''m not about to turn down a night out with my favorite person."


    She winked, grabbing her purse. "Then it''s settled. Let''s go make tonight a good one, yeah?"


    With that, we walked out of our little apartment, side by side, heading toward whatever small joy this city still had to offer us. But for tonight, I didn''t care about anything but being with Esther, celebrating a small victory that felt huge. A victory that was ours.

 Chapter 4: Dream of Dread

    I was falling.


    The ground¡ªor maybe the sky¡ªshifted beneath me. I couldn''t tell where I was or how I got there, but I could feel the tremor of something ancient stirring, like the very world beneath my feet was coming undone. I couldn''t move. I couldn''t breathe.


    Why does this feel like... a memory?


    The darkness was suffocating, thick and cold. I tried to scream, tried to move, but nothing came out. There was only the sound of footsteps¡ªsoft, measured, like someone walking through the mist. I couldn''t see their face, but I could feel the weight of their gaze. Watching. Waiting.


    Who are you?


    I wanted to ask, but no words would come.


    A figure emerged from the shadows¡ªblurred, indistinct, like a shape made from the very darkness itself. It wasn''t human. It was something else, something wrong. It moved closer, and with each step, the ground beneath me seemed to ripple, cracking open to reveal glimpses of a world I couldn''t understand. A world that had been lost to time.


    The figure reached out toward me, a hand extended¡ªbut it wasn''t gentle. It felt predatory. Like it was coming for me.


    My heart pounded in my chest, my body frozen, rooted to the spot. I couldn''t move. I wanted to scream, to run, to do something, anything. But I was trapped.


    The figure''s hand brushed the air beside me, and a chill ran through me¡ªdeeper than any physical cold. It was like it had touched something inside me, something far worse than the surface.


    Who are you?


    I wanted to shout, but nothing came.


    The figure tilted its head, as if it could hear my thoughts. And then, it whispered, the voice distant but clear as glass:


    You''ve forgotten us. Forgotten the past. Forgotten the truth.


    I gasped, jerking awake in a cold sweat. My heart was hammering, my chest tight. The room around me was still. Esther was humming in the other room, just as she always did. But I couldn''t shake the feeling that I wasn''t alone. That something was pressing down on me, something that I couldn''t name.


    The words from the figure echoed in my mind, a bitter, haunting refrain: You''ve forgotten the past. Forgotten the truth.


    I wiped my brow, pushing the dream¡ªor whatever it was¡ªaway. It lingered at the edges of my mind, but I had no time to dwell on it. There were more immediate concerns. Like getting through another day in a city that felt like it was unraveling with every passing hour.


    I stretched and rolled out of bed, my long crimson hair falling in messy waves around my shoulders as I rubbed my eyes. No matter what I did, my hair always had a will of its own, curling and tangling in defiance of any attempt to tame it.


    I shook off the last remnants of sleep and ran a hand through my hair before grabbing my clothes from the chair. My usual tunic¡ªnothing too nice, nothing too worn. Functional. I glanced at my reflection in the small mirror above the dresser. My crimson hair was a tangled mess, but it would have to do.


    The faint sound of Esther''s voice drifted in from the kitchen. "Morning, sleepyhead! I''m making breakfast. You want eggs?"


    I grinned, still half-asleep. "I''m not that much of a princess, you know."


    She laughed, bright and carefree. "Maybe not, but you could still use a proper meal. Come on, get up! You''ve got work today, right?"


    I didn''t need her reminding me. It had been hard enough getting this job, and I wasn''t about to screw it up. I walked into the kitchen, drawn by the scent of warm food and the comfort of Esther''s presence.


    She beamed at me as she set a plate of scrambled eggs and bread on the table. "Here you go. Eat up!"


    I sat down and picked up my fork, focusing on the meal rather than the unease still lingering in my chest. Esther, however, was watching me. Her eyes were softer now, laced with quiet concern.


    "You sure you''re okay?" she asked, her voice quieter than usual.


    I froze mid-bite, meeting her gaze. I didn''t want her to worry. She''d done enough for both of us already.


    "I''m fine," I said, forcing a smile. "Just tired. You know how it is."


    She didn''t look convinced, but she didn''t press. Instead, she smiled back, though it was a little more subdued than before.


    "Well, you''re doing great," she said. "I''m proud of you, sis."


    Something about those words warmed me, even though they didn''t quite chase away the weight pressing at the back of my mind. I wasn''t sure if I was more exhausted from the late shift at the tavern or from everything else we were dealing with. But it didn''t matter. I had no choice but to keep going.


    I finished my breakfast, ignoring the lingering sense of unease. There was no point in holding onto a dream, no matter how real it had felt.


    "Thanks again," I said, my voice firmer now. "But I should get going. Don''t want to be late."


    Esther nodded. "Of course. But remember, if you need anything, you can always talk to me. I mean it."


    "I know," I said, offering her another smile¡ªthis one a little more genuine. "See you later."


    I left the warmth of the kitchen behind, stepping out into the crisp morning air, and tried to shake off the remnants of the dream. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets as I made my way to the tavern. The city was already awake, but it felt different today. There was a tension in the air, a sense that things were spiraling faster than I could grasp.


    I had to push the feeling aside, focus on the present. I couldn''t afford to get lost in whatever that dream was trying to tell me. Not when there were more pressing concerns¡ªlike work.


    The tavern wasn''t far. I passed the usual stalls, the vendors shouting their wares, the smell of salt and fish from the docks hanging thick in the air. The Weeping Mermaid loomed ahead, a familiar sight despite the unease gnawing at me. I stepped through the weathered doors, and the familiar scents of stale beer and wood hit me. The tavern wasn''t as bustling in the morning, just a few early patrons nursing their drinks or gambling away whatever coin they had left.


    Rogan was behind the bar as usual, polishing a mug. He gave me a nod as I walked in. "Late night?" he asked with a knowing grin, not looking up.


    "You could say that," I muttered, grabbing my apron and tying it around my waist. "What''s the plan today?"


    "The usual," Rogan said, shrugging. "Keep the drunks in check. Make sure no one breaks anything."


    I nodded, moving to my usual spot near the back, where I could keep an eye on things without being in the thick of it. As I busied myself wiping down the tables and setting up the area for the day''s shift, the faint echo of that figure''s voice still lingered in my mind.


    I shook my head, forcing myself to focus on the tasks at hand. But there was something unsettling about the way that voice had seeped into my thoughts. Like a shadow, following me even in the daylight.


    A few hours into the shift, the tavern began to fill up. The usual crowd of sailors and dock workers trickled in, each one carrying their own stories of the day. I was used to the noise, the clinking of mugs, the raucous laughter. It was part of the routine now.


    The usual ruckus filled the tavern as more patrons trickled in. The air thickened with the smells of sweat, fish, and the ever-present scent of alcohol. A few of the sailors shouted to each other from across the room, and a group of dock workers hunched over a game of cards in the corner. The noise was comforting in a way, a reminder that life went on, even if everything around us felt like it was teetering on the edge of something darker.


    I kept to my corner, moving between tables, collecting mugs, and refilling drinks. The routine was almost calming, a small respite from the unease that had plagued me since that dream. I was just starting to get into a rhythm when the door swung open again.


    A man stepped inside, his boots clicking sharply on the wooden floor. He was tall, wearing a long coat that was far too nice for a tavern like this, with a deep red scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. His hair was dark and cropped short, with a streak of silver running through the side, adding a distinguished look to his otherwise unremarkable face. But it was his eyes that caught my attention. They were sharp, almost too sharp, like he saw right through everything. He scanned the room with a cold, assessing gaze before his eyes settled on me.


    I felt a chill wash over me, and for a moment, I couldn''t look away. There was something unsettling about him, something that prickled at the back of my mind, but I couldn''t place it. He didn''t look like someone who belonged in a place like this, and yet there was a quiet assurance in his every movement.


    He made his way to the bar, his footsteps measured and purposeful, never hurried.


    "Can I get you something?" I asked, my tone a little more guarded than usual.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    The man didn''t answer right away, instead sliding onto a stool with an almost deliberate ease. He turned his head slowly, fixing his gaze on me again, as if I were the only thing that mattered in the room.


    "Just water for now," he said, his voice low and smooth, almost like it was too perfect to be real. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "And your finest glass."


    I froze for a moment, feeling an odd mixture of curiosity and discomfort as I approached. There was something about the way he looked at me¡ªsomething almost too intentional. Like he knew me, even though I''d never seen him before.


    "Here you go," I said, handing him the glass of water. "Anything else?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but I could feel my pulse quicken.


    He didn''t immediately respond, his gaze drifting back over the room as though he were still measuring everything, calculating something. When he spoke, it was quieter, but I could hear the sharp edge in his words.


    "Do you ever wonder what happens to people when they disappear?" he asked, his eyes flicking back to mine, holding my gaze this time.


    I blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. "What do you mean?"


    He leaned in just slightly, as though he were about to share some deep secret, but the moment passed too quickly. "Just a thought," he said cryptically, sitting back with his drink.


    I couldn''t shake the feeling that there was more to this man than his calm demeanor let on. His eyes were too calculating, his words too careful. There was a tension in the air now, a current that I couldn''t quite touch, but it was there, swirling between us.


    I cleared my throat, feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. "If you''re looking for something, you''re in the wrong place," I said, my voice a little more sharp than I intended. I wasn''t used to feeling on edge like this¡ªnot in a tavern like this, where the danger was usually obvious.


    He smiled then, a smile that didn''t quite reach his eyes. It was small, enigmatic, like he was amused by something I couldn''t understand. "Perhaps," he said, his voice tinged with something almost amused. "But sometimes, the right thing to look for is exactly where you least expect it."


    Before I could ask him what he meant, a loud crash from the back of the tavern distracted me. A group of sailors had gotten into a scuffle, pushing each other over a bet they had made earlier. One of them had knocked over a table, and the noise echoed through the room, breaking the moment of tension between me and the stranger.


    I moved to intervene, but the man at the bar didn''t look phased by the commotion. His gaze never wavered from me, and I couldn''t help but feel that it was more than just idle curiosity in his stare.


    Rogan had already begun shouting at the brawlers to break it up, and I quickly joined in to help, pushing my way through the chaos. As I tried to calm the situation, I kept glancing over my shoulder at the man. He had never moved, still sitting calmly at the bar, sipping his water as though nothing was happening.


    When the brawl was finally broken up and the tavern settled back into its usual murmur, I returned to the bar to find the man gone. He had left without a sound, as if he had never been there at all.


    I stared at the empty seat for a long moment, the unsettling weight of his presence still hanging in the air. The whole encounter felt... wrong, like a puzzle piece that didn''t quite fit. But there was no time to dwell on it. The tavern was back to business, and the noise of the day had returned, just as it always did.


    I needed to focus.


    The rest of the day passed in a blur of dull routine, I busied myself with wiping down the tables, refilling drinks, and keeping an eye on the unruly patrons. But no matter how hard I tried to focus, the unsettling feeling from earlier refused to let me go.


    The memory of that man lingered in my mind, his gaze too sharp, too calculating. And that question of his¡ªDo you ever wonder what happens to people when they disappear?¡ªit stuck with me, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. People disappear all the time in this city, sometimes for reasons as simple as getting drunk and wandering off, or as sinister as being dragged into the darkness by something far worse. But the way he asked it, like he already knew something, made it feel like there was more to his question than just idle curiosity.


    "You look like you''ve seen a ghost, Dawn."


    I blinked, looking up to find Jax leaning against the doorframe, his usual smug grin in place. He was dressed in his typical loose, comfortable clothes, barely hiding his lean build, with that ever-present mischievous glint in his eyes.


    "You again?" I muttered with a sigh, brushing a strand of tangled hair out of my face. "You sure seem to have too much free time if you''re showing up here this often."


    Jax chuckled, pushing himself off the doorframe and stepping further into the room. His presence seemed to fill the space, as usual, like he was always a step ahead of you, knowing exactly where to be at the right time.


    "Free time''s relative," he said, a playful wink following his words. "I''ve just been making sure you''re not getting too comfortable with your ''honest'' little life here."


    I rolled my eyes but didn''t respond immediately. The way he said "honest" made me want to remind him that I was trying to make something of myself¡ªsomething more than the thief he knew me as. But I wasn''t in the mood for another lecture, and I knew where that road led.


    Instead, I shifted my weight, looking at him with a mixture of exasperation and curiosity. "What is it?"


    He spread his arms wide in mock innocence, a gesture that only made his smirk wider. "Can''t a guy check in what you''re up to? See how the city''s treating you?"


    I raised an eyebrow. "The city''s treating me the same as always. Not that you care."


    Jax''s grin didn''t falter. He stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning the space around us like he was mentally cataloging every detail. "You''re right," he said, his tone turning a bit more serious, though it was still laced with that trademark amusement. "I don''t really care about the city. But I care about you."


    I blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. The words hung in the air, but something about them felt¡­ off. He wasn''t the type to suddenly drop a line like that. Sure, he liked to mess with me, but that? That felt too intentional, too rehearsed.


    I narrowed my eyes, studying him more closely. His grin was back in full force, the mischief never quite leaving his gaze, but there was something under it. I couldn''t put my finger on it, but I had this nagging feeling that he was up to something. I knew him, despite his obscurity. I knew his teasing, his games, his way of twisting words just to get under my skin. But this? This felt unprovoked.


    "Are you high?" I asked, the words dripping with suspicion. I couldn''t help myself. "Or are you just bored and looking for something to mess with?"


    He raised an eyebrow, a laugh escaping him like he was waiting for the punchline. "Aw, Dawn, you wound me. Can''t I just show a little concern for my favorite troublemaker?"


    I didn''t buy it. I could see through the act, the shift back to his usual teasing demeanor. It was a mask. I''d seen him wear it enough times to know that whatever he''d said a second ago was just part of the game. He was trying to get a rise out of me. And if I let him, it would only lead to more distractions.


    I sighed, stepping past him toward the small table by the window, needing space between us. "Don''t waste your time. I''m not in the mood for your games today."


    He followed, that ever-present smirk still firmly planted on his face, his voice taking on that playful, casual tone again. "What? Can''t take a little sincerity from an old friend?"


    I glanced over my shoulder at him, not buying a word. "Sincerity from you? Please, I know better. And besides, we are not friends"


    He just laughed again, as if the whole thing was some grand joke. "Alright, alright. You''re no fun when you''re suspicious." He shrugged like it didn''t matter to him, but I could see the flicker of something in his eyes. Something that I didn''t trust.


    The sound of footsteps approached the bar, sharp and quick. A moment later, a tall, lanky figure appeared in the doorway, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch longer than it should.


    I knew him immediately.


    Irah.


    He wasn''t quite human, and his appearance gave that away in an instant. His unkempt brown hair stuck out in every direction, wild as if he had rolled out of bed late¡ªagain. But it wasn''t just his messy hair or rumpled clothes that set him apart. The cat-like ears that poked from the top of his head were a telltale sign of his race. A rare and mysterious people, Irah''s kind had long, slender features with sharp eyes and enhanced senses, giving them an almost predatory elegance.


    In Celestia, creatures like Irah weren''t uncommon, but they remained enigmatic. His kind were known for their agility and heightened senses, traits that made them both feared and admired, and often seen as wanderers.


    Irah''s sharp eyes scanned the room, his cat-like ears flicking slightly as he noticed Jax being... Jax. His tail swished behind his in silent irritation.


    "There you are," he snapped, striding over to Jax with long, angry steps. "What the hell are you doing here? We''ve got a job to finish, and you''re out here messing around in a tavern?"


    Jax, not at all fazed by Irah''s annoyance, flashed him a lazy grin. "Taking a break, mate. Relax. We''ve got time."


    Irah''s gaze flicked toward me, his irritation softening just a little, though his frown didn''t disappear. "Oh. Dawn. You''re here too." His tone wasn''t exactly warm, but it was less hostile than it had been moments ago. "Great."


    I waved awkwardly, unsure of what else to do. The last thing I wanted was to make things worse, so I stayed quiet, avoiding his piercing gaze. Irah never had the most... welcoming energy.


    Without giving Jax a chance to respond, Irah grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away from the bar with surprising force. "No more of this," he growled, dragging Jax toward the door. "We''re getting back to work. Right now."


    Jax didn''t resist, but he shot me a playful look over his shoulder. "Hey, Dawn, you won''t mind if I take off for a bit, right? Irah''s in one of his moods again," he called out, his smirk wide and unbothered.


    I gave a small nod, though I felt the usual awkwardness creeping up as I watched the two of them. It wasn''t like I had much say in the matter anyway.


    Irah grumbled under his breath as he pulled Jax closer to the door. "I swear, Jax, you''re impossible. Every time we''ve got something to do, you decide it''s time for a drink instead." He shot me an apologetic glance over his shoulder, as though it was somehow his fault for not keeping Jax occupied. "Don''t mind him. He''s always like this. I''ll drag him back before he gets himself into trouble."


    Jax let out a mock sigh. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."


    With that, Irah half-dragged, half-guided Jax out of the tavern. Jax didn''t seem to mind at all, still looking as carefree as ever, but Irah''s frustration was evident in the way he practically shoved Jax out the door.


    I watched them leave, a little bemused. Irah always had that intense, serious aura around him, and Jax''s carefree nature only seemed to annoy him more. I guess that''s what made them work together¡ªsomehow.


    Once the door swung shut behind them, I let out a breath I didn''t realize I''d been holding. The tension in the room had definitely dissipated, but I couldn''t help but feel a bit off-kilter. Being caught in the middle of their back-and-forth was never easy.


    Still, I figured it was better than being dragged into whatever trouble they were bound to find themselves in next.


    ~


    I entered the apartment with a heavy sigh, the exhaustion of the long day pressing down on my shoulders. The door clicked softly as I closed it behind me, and I peeled off my worn boots, setting them down with a soft thud. The dim light of dusk filtered through the curtains, casting the room in a muted glow.


    Esther was usually home by now, her cheerful voice filling the air with stories of her day. But tonight, there was only silence. No sound. No sign of her.


    I set my satchel down by the door and made my way to the small table in the corner. There, a single piece of parchment sat, folded neatly. The sight of Esther''s familiar handwriting made my heart skip a beat, the weight of the letter suddenly feeling heavier in my hands.


    Dawn,


    I''ve gone out to the outskirts again. The farm needs me, especially with the season changing. Don''t worry about me. I''ll be back before long, but until then, take care of yourself. I left some of the savings I had tucked away for us by the bed. I''ll write as soon as I can. I love you, be safe, and remember what we talked about. Don''t take any risks.


    -Essie


    I sighed, pressing the letter against my chest for a moment. I could almost hear her voice in my head, trying to sound casual, as if it was just another routine thing. But I knew it wasn''t. I knew how much she hated leaving me alone. How much she worried about me, about what my curse could mean if things got too far out of hand.


    I stood there, holding the letter in one hand, the other gently pressing against my temple. It wasn''t fair, this whole situation. But I didn''t have time to sit around feeling sorry for myself. There was no choice. I needed to keep going.


    I folded the letter neatly and set it down on the table, glancing around at the empty room.


    "Guess it''s just me for a while, again." I muttered to no one in particular, the quietness of the apartment wrapping around me like a shroud.

 Chapter 5: Into the Inn

    On the western edge of the southern hemisphere lies the Holy Land, a revered domain where prophets¡ªbelieved to be chosen by the Gods¡ªfounded The Church. To its followers, it is more than a place of worship; it is the heart of faith, a pillar of salvation, and the bridge between mortals and the divine. People from distant lands journey to its towering cathedrals, seeking absolution, divine guidance, and blessings that only the ordained claim to bestow. For centuries, the sacred halls have echoed with prayers and hymns, the flickering glow of candlelight illuminating murals depicting the deeds of the divines and their chosen prophets.


    Yet The Church is not merely a sanctuary of faith¡ªit is an institution of immense influence, one that has woven itself into the very fabric of the Imperial Kingdom. It is said that no monarch ascends the throne without the Church''s blessing, for their rule is justified through divine will. High-ranking clergy whisper into the ears of nobles and lords, their counsel shaping laws and policies, ensuring that the Gods'' influence¡ªat least as they interpret it¡ªremains ever-present in the kingdom''s governance. The Church''s reach extends far beyond the royal court; its authority dictates social order, enforces morality, and determines which truths are spoken and which are silenced.


    To the faithful, it is a beacon of hope, a guiding light in times of darkness, offering salvation to those who obey its teachings. For the devout, the Church''s word is law, its doctrine an absolute truth that must never be questioned. But not all view it as a benevolent force. There are those who whisper of corruption lurking beneath its grand facade, of holy men who wield faith as both a shield and a weapon, ensuring their own power remains unchallenged. Some claim the Church''s influence has long surpassed that of the Imperial family itself, that its true strength lies not in prayer but in control¡ªover kings and commoners alike.


    Even so, its presence is undeniable, its authority unshaken. Whether seen as a divine institution or a force of oppression, one truth remains¡ªThe Church''s power endures, and those who stand against it often find themselves facing not just exile, but damnation itself.


    Beneath the vaulted ceilings of a grand chamber, where golden chandeliers bathed the stone walls in warm light, a lone figure knelt in silence. The scent of burning incense thickened the air, mingling with the distant murmur of chanting priests. Shadows flickered along the marble floor as the heavy doors groaned open.


    A man in ornate white robes stepped forward, his eyes settling on the figure before him. A slow smile formed on his lips, though his gaze was unreadable.


    "Oh, what an unexpected surprise." His voice was calm, almost amused. "Eighteen years¡­ and now, you stand before me, no longer a child but a grown woman."


    The figure stirred. Slowly, she lifted her hands, drawing back the hood of her black robe. Beneath it, her auburn hair spilled over her shoulders, and her expression remained unreadable as she met his gaze.


    "¡­Sister Esther," he murmured, recognition softening his tone.


    She met his gaze with unwavering resolve. "I have come to declare that our duty is complete, Grandfather."


    ~


    It had been five days since my sister left for work. In that time, I''d fallen into a routine¡ªhandling chores, working at the tavern, and trying not to dwell on the unfamiliar quiet that filled my days. For the first time in years, I wasn''t out scouting for something to steal, my mind constantly weighing risks and rewards.


    But stability was... strange.


    I hadn''t realized how much of my life had been spent in motion¡ªsearching, scheming, surviving. Now, the hours stretched long and uneventful, like I was waiting for something to happen.


    And in this city, something always did.


    Rogan stood behind the bar; his sharp gaze flicked to me as I stepped in. "You''re late."


    "I''m on time," I said, shaking off my cloak.


    "Late enough," he grunted. "Get to work."


    I bit back a sigh and moved toward the back, tying my apron around my waist. As I grabbed a tray and headed toward a table of sailors, a figure entered into the tavern¡ªa young woman, her presence striking against the dim lighting of the room. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves, catching the candlelight as if it were spun from gold. She moved with a quiet grace, her eyes scanning the room, searching.


    The tavern''s low murmur seemed to quiet for a moment, as if the patrons sensed something different about her. I caught Rogan''s glance¡ªhis eyes flicked toward her, then back to me, but he said nothing.


    The woman was clearly out of place here. Her clothes were fine, much too refined for the docks, yet she wore a simple elegance that didn''t scream noble¡ªmore like someone trying to blend in without quite succeeding.


    She paused, and then her eyes landed on me.


    "Dawn," she called, her voice soft but firm.


    I stopped mid-step, my fingers tightening around the tray I was holding. How did she know my name? I glanced around, but the patrons were pretending to mind their own business again, clearly uninterested in this unfamiliar face. But I couldn''t shake the feeling that everyone in the room had noticed her arrival.


    She took a few steps closer, her gaze never wavering. "I''m looking for Dawn," she repeated, this time more directly.


    I swallowed, unsure how to respond. "I''m Dawn," I said, cautiously. "Can I help you?"


    She nodded, a flicker of relief passing across her features. "I thought it was you," she said, offering a small but genuine smile. "I''m Arty."


    Arty. The name rang no immediate bells, but the way she carried herself¡ªlike someone used to being heard¡ªtold me she wasn''t just some lost noblewoman wandering into the wrong part of town.


    She looked around the tavern, then back at me. "Do you mind if we talk?" she asked.


    I hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Rogan. He was already turning to tend to the next customer, uninterested in our interaction. "Sure," I said, leading her to a quieter corner of the tavern where a few empty stools waited.


    As we settled into the space, she glanced over her shoulder before speaking again. "You don''t know me yet, but I need your help."


    "Help?" I repeated, a mix of curiosity and caution creeping into my voice.


    "You are a thief, right?"


    I went still.


    Her words lingered between us, heavy and deliberate.


    I should''ve denied it. Most people in my position would have. Instead, I just looked at her, searching for any sign of deception.


    No fear. No hesitation.


    Only certainty.


    "Not anymore," I said evenly. "What of it?"


    Arty''s gaze softened, but there was a certain urgency behind it, one that didn''t leave much room for hesitation. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice just enough that only I could hear.


    "I need you to sneak something in," she said. "A letter. It''s important, and I don''t want it falling into the wrong hands."


    I exhaled through my nose. "Who told you I was the kind of person who''d take that job?"


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Arty hesitated, then sighed. "Jax."


    I tensed.


    Of course.


    That damn alley rat never knew when to shut up.


    "Jax?" I repeated, irritation threading through my voice. "How do you know him?"


    Arty tilted her head slightly, studying me. "He''s a friend¡ªof sorts," she admitted. "Though I doubt he''d call it that."


    That sounded like Jax. Never one to get too attached yet always tangled up in something.


    She continued, "He and his group are preoccupied with something bigger right now. Something that can''t wait. Otherwise, he would''ve handled this himself. But this letter¡ªit''s urgent. It has to be delivered tonight, and it has to be done quietly."


    I crossed my arms. "And you trust him enough to take his word that I''m the right person?"


    Arty met my gaze evenly. "Yes. Jax told me that if I needed someone who could slip past locked doors and get something where it needs to go, I should find you."


    I exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against my arm. "Where does it need to go?"


    She leaned in slightly. "The Black Griffin."


    I stiffened.


    Not just any location. The Black Griffin was the place for powerful merchants, nobles, and spies. The kind of place where a misplaced letter could be worth more than gold.


    It was more than just an inn¡ªit was a bastion of power, whispers, and shadowy dealings. Nestled in the heart of the city, just beyond the reach of the docks, its exterior was deceptively unassuming¡ªstone walls, dimly lit lanterns, and a weathered sign depicting a majestic black griffin with outstretched wings. But inside, it was a different world entirely.


    My gaze sharpened. "What''s in it?"


    Arty hesitated. "Something that could change the course of things."


    Cryptic. Jax''s kind of cryptic.


    I narrowed my eyes. "If it''s so important, why not just use a courier?"


    "Because I don''t know who I can trust," she admitted, voice quieter now. "I barely know you either, but Jax swore you were the best. Said you had instincts sharper than a knife."


    I clenched my jaw. Jax really didn''t know when to shut up.


    I leaned back in my seat, arms still crossed. "Well, he was wrong. I don''t do that anymore. I have a job¡ªa legitimate one."


    Arty studied me, her expression unreadable. Then, she reached into the small pouch at her hip and pulled out A handful of gold coins tumbled onto the table.


    I didn''t move. Just stared.


    The candlelight caught the edges, casting glints of yellow across the dark wood. A few nearby patrons flicked their eyes our way, but none seemed to notice what she had just done. Not yet.


    I inhaled sharply and shot her a glare. "No, put that away! You do know you''re inside of a tavern full of messed up people."


    She didn''t flinch. "Take it. Consider it payment for a simple sneaking in."


    I scoffed. "If it were that simple, you wouldn''t need me."


    "I beg of you."


    I stared at the gold, its weight pressing down on me. The soft clink of coins against the wood sounded louder than it should have. Arty''s calm expression didn''t change, but the quiet plea in her voice lingered like an unspoken promise.


    I dragged my hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up. This wasn''t how I planned to spend my day¡ªcertainly not with Jax''s name on my lips again, and definitely not in this damn tavern, surrounded by people who had no business knowing anything about what I was¡ªor used to be.


    But... if I let her leave here without doing something, things could go sideways. Fast. I''d seen it before. People with money and desperate looks got into trouble. And the kind of trouble that followed a woman like Arty... it was trouble that would swallow her whole.


    I exhaled sharply, leaning forward, my eyes narrowed at the pile of gold between us. "Fine," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck as I tried to shake the irritation out of my bones. "I''ll do it."


    Arty''s face softened, relief flashing across her features. "Thank you."


    I grimaced, still not sure what exactly I''d gotten myself into. "But don''t get any ideas. I''m only doing this because you''re standing here in the middle of a tavern full of people who could easily turn you into a target." I shot a glance around, aware of the occasional wary gaze lingering on our corner.


    The last thing I needed was for her to get snatched up because some wandering thug thought she was an easy mark. I didn''t know her, but she wasn''t stupid. I could see that much. She was just... out of place. And that made her vulnerable.


    Her lips parted, her smile barely there but full of quiet gratitude. "Understood," she said, her voice low but sincere. "It''s just¡ªthere''s no one else I can trust with this."


    "I don''t trust you," I shot back without thinking. "But here we are."


    Arty didn''t flinch. "I wouldn''t expect you to. But Jax swore by you, and that''s enough for me right now."


    The fact that I''d already agreed to this made me want to slap some sense into myself. But instead, I just straightened up, making a mental note of the task ahead.


    "Well? Can you please tell me, who should I give that to?"


    Arty hesitated for just a beat before speaking, her voice quiet and controlled. "Room 10." She glanced around the tavern once, her eyes flicking toward the door like she was considering if anyone might overhear. "There should be a coat or a table there, somewhere visible, but not too obvious. It needs to blend in."


    I frowned, "And who exactly is waiting for this letter?"


    Arty''s gaze darkened slightly, but she quickly masked it with a neutral expression. "It does not matter, what matters is for that letter to be delivered."


    That didn''t answer the question, but I didn''t press her. If she didn''t want to tell me, I couldn''t force it out of her. Still, something about her words felt off. I didn''t know her enough to trust her fully, but then again, I didn''t have to.


    I sighed and rubbed my eyes. "Fine," I muttered. "I''ll get it to room 10, but don''t expect anything more from me. Once I hand it off, I''m out. You''re on your own after that."


    Arty nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. "That''s all I''m asking. Thank you, Dawn. You don''t know how much this means."


    Before I could reply, she stood, reaching for the gold again, but I quickly placed my hand over it.


    "No more gold," I said firmly. "I don''t need your money. This isn''t about that."


    She hesitated but then let her hand fall away, her smile turning a little softer. "Then I''ll consider it a favor, and I''ll owe you one."


    I watched her turn and walk away, but something still gnawed at me. I couldn''t shake the feeling that I was walking into something I shouldn''t.


    ~


    The moment the last patron stumbled out of the tavern, I grabbed my cloak and slipped into the cool night air. The streets of Ara stretched before me¡ªdark, endless, alive with secrets. Every alley, every shadow seemed to whisper. I kept my steps quick, heart hammering. The Black Griffin wasn¡¯t far, but tonight, it felt like the entire city was conspiring to make me second-guess myself.


    As I neared the inn, unease settled in my gut like a stone. The building loomed in the dim light, unassuming at first glance. Lanterns swayed in the breeze, casting flickering shadows across the sign¡ªa black griffin perched against a stormy sky. But inside¡­ inside was something else entirely. Whispers. Secrets. Hidden dealings wrapped in silks and coin. Powerful merchants, spies, even nobles¡ªeveryone here moved beneath a veil. And the last thing I wanted was to be seen.


    I drew a steadying breath and stepped through the door, pulling my cloak tighter. The air inside was heavier than outside¡ªthick with tension, like a held breath. I moved with practiced ease, blending into the shadows, feigning belonging. No one was supposed to know who I was or why I was here.


    My heart pounded louder with each step toward the back. Room 10. Arty had said it would be simple: slip the letter into a coat pocket, leave it on the table, and walk away. Easy.


    But the deeper I moved through the room, the more wrong everything felt. My skin prickled, the sensation of unseen eyes crawling over me. No one looked directly at me¡ªbut the silence was too sharp, the air too still.


    I reached the hallway. Room 10 stood at the end, exactly as Arty had described. With careful precision, I picked the lock, my heart hammering in my chest. Inside, the room was simple. Clean. A table sat near the bed¡ªperfect for a quick drop. I crossed the room in a few silent strides, set the letter down with care, and turned to go.


    Then I froze.


    The hairs on the back of my neck rose like a warning. A presence. Watching.


    My breath caught, chest tightening as I slowly turned.


    A figure stepped out of the shadows¡ªtall, broad-shouldered, his presence swallowing the space around him. We locked eyes, and the world seemed to stop. His gaze pinned me in place, dark and unrelenting. Every instinct screamed: run. But I couldn¡¯t. The air thickened like smoke in my lungs. My body refused to obey.


    The room warped at the edges, like reality itself was recoiling. My breaths came in sharp bursts as I fought to keep control.


    Then¡ªhis voice.


    ¡°Speak. Who do you serve.¡±


    Not a question. A demand. Cold. Unyielding. The voice of someone who didn¡¯t tolerate hesitation, who expected obedience the moment he spoke.


    I swallowed hard. He wasn¡¯t asking if I served someone. He had already decided I did. And if I took too long to answer, I wouldn¡¯t get the chance to.


    I couldn''t find my voice. I tried to move, to speak, but it was as though my body had betrayed me. The space between us felt impossibly thick, like the world had narrowed down to just him and me.


    Without warning, something inside me stirred¡ªmy curse.


    It surged to life with violent force, a jolt that rippled through every fiber of my being. The world around me distorted, twisting into a dizzying blur. Time itself seemed to fracture, splintering into distorted images. I couldn''t breathe, couldn''t move¡ªmy body frozen in place as I was pulled into the maelstrom of visions.


    And then I saw it.


    Not just the man before me¡ªnot just his imposing figure, his sharp, piercing gaze¡ªbut everything. His past. His present. His future. It crashed into my mind in a torrent of fleeting, fragmented images. Glimpses of triumph and tragedy, whispered secrets, and blood-soaked battles. The weight of years, of decisions made in shadowed rooms ,and beneath a pinnacle, pressed upon me all at once.


    I could feel it¡ªhis every victory, his every loss¡ªas if they were my own. The burning ambition, the cold determination, the unspoken truths hidden behind the mask of nobility. Each fragment blurred into the next, so fast, so overwhelming, I could barely catch my breath.


    And at the center of it all¡ªhim.


    Relentless. Bound by duty, driven by something far more dangerous.


    He was power made flesh.


    My knees buckled. I stumbled back, vision swimming, the truth slamming into me like a tidal wave. The room spun. I couldn¡¯t breathe. I couldn¡¯t look away.


    Because now I understood.


    He''s the blessed son of the Gods.


    Heir to the Imperial Kingdom of Celestia.


    The Crown Prince.

 Chapter 6: Pounding Chest

    I didn''t even have the chance to breathe.


    He had me pinned to the door, his arm braced across my throat¡ªnot tight enough to choke, but just enough to remind me that he could. The wooden frame creaked behind me as his weight leaned in.


    "Who sent you?"


    His voice was like gravel underfoot¡ªcalm, measured, but with that edge. The kind of voice that didn''t threaten violence. It promised it.


    My heart slammed against my ribs, and a cold wash of panic swept through me. His grip wasn''t cutting off my air, but it made me feel small. Powerless. And I hated that. I fought against that feeling every damn day.


    I couldn''t show fear. Not now.


    "I don''t know what you''re talking about," I rasped out, but my voice betrayed me, trembling just enough to show the crack.


    His eyes narrowed, scanning my face like he could peel away every lie I''d ever told. The pressure of his arm didn''t ease¡ªin fact, it pushed harder, pinning me like I was nothing more than a bug beneath his boot.


    I swallowed hard and forced myself to meet his gaze. Fear wouldn''t help. Panic wouldn''t get me out of this room.


    The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.


    Then he leaned in, just a fraction¡ªclose enough that his breath ghosted over my skin.


    "Wrong answer."


    Pain bloomed as he shifted his grip, twisting my wrist behind my back with practiced ease. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from making a sound. I''d been in worse situations. I''d faced men who thought cruelty was the same thing as power.


    This wasn''t new.


    But I had never been this unprepared.


    "Try again," he murmured, his tone still calm. "Who sent you?"


    "I told you," I forced out, the words scraping my throat. "No one."


    His grip tightened.


    Then it happened.


    A spark. Sharp and cold, racing up my spine¡ªwhite-hot and wrong. Not pain. Something deeper. Something ancient.


    The curse stirred.


    Not now.


    My vision swam for a heartbeat, the world warping like ink bleeding through water. Something pressed beneath my skin, old and coiled and waiting. The air thinned. The room darkened.


    And his grip faltered.


    Just barely. Just enough.


    I moved.


    I twisted hard, yanking free as I slammed my knee into his side. It wasn''t enough to drop him, but it gave me space. It gave me a chance.


    I didn''t wait.


    I shoved past him, the door slamming open as I tore into the dim hall beyond, my boots hammering against the floor.


    He recovered fast. Too fast.


    I didn''t look back. Didn''t slow down. I didn''t know this place, didn''t care.


    I just needed out.


    His footsteps thundered behind me, gaining.


    I skidded around the corner, nearly wiping out on the slick, warped floorboards. A door hung crooked at the end of the hall, rotting and half-off its hinges. Probably useless. Probably a dead end.


    Didn''t matter.


    I threw myself at it shoulder-first. Nothing.


    I hit it again, harder this time. The wood groaned, split. I wedged my fingers into the crack and pulled.


    Pain lanced through my hand as the splinters tore my skin, but I didn''t stop. Couldn''t.


    My fingers were raw. Bleeding. I barely noticed.


    The door burst open and I stumbled out into a narrow alley, choked with garbage and fog. Somewhere behind me, I heard him crash through the hallway¡ªcloser than I''d hoped.


    I ran.


    The cobblestones were slick beneath my boots, and more than once I nearly ate the street face-first. But I kept going¡ªtwisting, ducking, weaving through the shadows and flickering lantern light until I couldn''t tell which way was up anymore.


    I vaulted a low railing, landing hard in the damp canal district. The stink of salt and stagnant water hit me like a wall. I ducked beneath a wooden bridge and pressed myself against the stone, chest heaving.


    Silence.


    I strained to listen¡ªboots scuffing stone, voices in the distance, but¡­ nothing close.


    Not yet.


    I exhaled slowly, forcing my pulse to slow. I wasn''t safe. But I had distance. Time.


    The letter was delivered. That should''ve been the end of it. Whatever mess I''d just stumbled into¡ªit had nothing to do with me anymore.


    At least, it shouldn''t.


    I needed to get home.


    My heartbeat still pounded in my ears, but I forced myself to move, sticking to the shadows. The city was quieter now¡ªmost of Araes had long since retreated indoors, leaving only the occasional patrol or drunken wanderer.


    I kept my pace quick but measured. Rushing would draw attention. I needed to blend in, disappear.


    Just as I rounded a corner, aiming for the familiar route home, I crashed into something¡ªor someone.


    A strong grip caught me before I could stumble back.


    "Whoa!" Jax''s voice rang out.


    My pulse spiking again. I''d been too distracted, too caught up in my own head.


    I looked up, already expecting the usual smirk, that teasing glint in his eyes.


    But it wasn''t there.


    Instead, his gaze locked on my hands¡ªmore specifically, the bruises scattered across my knuckles.


    My stomach twisted. I hadn''t even noticed how tightly I''d been clenching my fists.


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    Jax stepped closer, and the shift in his expression was immediate¡ªgone was the playful mask, replaced by something quieter, more serious.


    "What happened?" he asked, his voice softer than I expected. The usual sharpness had dulled, replaced by something I didn''t want to name.


    I crossed my arms quickly, still on edge. "It''s nothing," I snapped, looking away. The last thing I wanted was his pity.


    He didn''t back off. His eyes were still fixed on my hands, and when he reached for them, gentle this time, I jerked away, heat prickling at my skin.


    "I have to go¡ª"


    Before I could say another word, he grabbed my arm, his grip firm, and pulled me out of the alley.


    "Hey¡ªwhat the hell¡ª"


    "Shut up, you''re coming with me," Jax said, his voice hard. He didn''t wait for me to argue. Just kept moving, dragging me with him through the streets.


    I struggled for a moment, trying to break free, but he was stronger. And the way his jaw was set told me this wasn''t up for debate.


    "Where are we going?" I asked, irritation flaring, confusion trailing close behind.


    "Somewhere safe," he replied, not even glancing back. "And don''t try to get away. You''re not in any condition to be out on your own right now."


    I opened my mouth to snap at him, but he turned another corner too fast for me to catch up.


    "Jax," I said, my voice colder now, biting. "I swear, if you¡ª"


    He didn''t respond.


    We kept walking.


    He didn''t slow down, his grip tight, his pace unrelenting. I nearly tripped trying to keep up with the turns he took, and I was about to give up on asking anything else when we stopped in front of a weathered old building, nestled between narrow shops.


    The sign above was faded, but I could still make out the emblem¡ªa sword crossed with a quill.


    I narrowed my eyes. "Is this a guild?"


    "Something like that," he muttered, pulling me inside.


    The place was dimly lit and cluttered, filled with shelves of old scrolls, weapons, and magical artifacts I couldn''t begin to name. The air smelled like ink and leather, oddly comforting.


    He led me toward the back, up a narrow, creaky staircase.


    Even through my irritation, I felt it¡ªthe warmth that radiated from this place. It felt... safe.


    The second floor was more of a loft than anything. Open, cluttered, divided by instinct rather than design. A couch sat in one corner, flanked by mismatched chairs and a table buried under papers, books, and strange tools.


    Yeah. Definitely Jax''s kind of place.


    Before I could say anything, he pointed to the couch. "Sit."


    I gave him a look, but he was already rummaging through a cabinet near the wall. He pulled out a worn leather kit¡ªbandages, antiseptic, and a few other tools I couldn''t name.


    With a sigh, I slouched onto the couch, arms crossed, still stewing but too tired to fight.


    "I am fine," I muttered, "It''s not like I''m dying."


    Jax didn''t respond right away. Instead, he moved over to me and knelt in front of the couch. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his gaze on my hands again. Without asking, he reached out and began to unwrap one of my fists, carefully examining the bruises and cuts across my knuckles.


    His touch was gentle, annoyingly so.


    Then his eyes caught on something else¡ªa bruise at the side of my neck. I saw the moment he noticed. His fingers hesitated just slightly, his expression tightening.


    "Why didn''t you tell me about this?" he muttered, almost like he was speaking to himself.


    I looked away, jaw clenched. "Does it matter? It''s not like you care."


    His expression darkened, but he didn''t say anything. He just started cleaning the wounds on my hands, careful and precise, as if I might break.


    "You''re lucky you didn''t get caught," he said after a beat of silence. "If they had gotten their hands on you... it would''ve been worse than just a bruise."


    I clenched my teeth. "I didn''t ask for your help."


    "I''m not giving you a choice," he shot back, his voice flat and firm. "You''re staying here for a while."


    I blinked at him, caught off guard. "What? I''m not¡ª"


    "Yeah, you are," he cut in, not even looking up as he wrapped the bandage around my hand. "You''ve got enough on your plate right now. I''m not letting you walk back into the city alone, not after tonight."


    I opened my mouth to argue, but he raised a hand like he already knew I''d try.


    "You can go back to your place once you''ve rested. But for now, just stay put."


    I glanced around the loft again, unease still creeping under my skin. It felt strange being here¡ªoutside my routine, away from the narrow halls and quiet hum of our little apartment.


    And yet... something about this place felt safe.


    Still, I wasn''t about to let him get the last word. "I don''t need your charity," I muttered.


    He finished wrapping my hand and moved on to the bruise on my neck, gently applying some kind of ointment that stung just a little.


    "It''s not charity," he said quietly. "It''s just... what I''m doing."


    I bit back the urge to argue again. I was too tired. Instead, I just glared at him, trying to ignore how my heartbeat had finally settled, my anger giving way to a heavy, dragging kind of exhaustion.


    "You''re a pain in the ass, you know that?" I mumbled.


    He smirked, eyes flicking up to meet mine. "Yeah, well, you''re welcome."


    Jax finished tending to the last of my wounds, his hands steady as he made sure the bandages were snug. For a second, the room settled into a quiet that was... oddly comfortable. The soft crackling of a fire somewhere nearby filled the space with just enough sound to keep the silence from feeling too heavy.


    I shifted, uncomfortable with how still everything had gotten. My gaze drifted toward the window¡ªjust a slit in the wall framed with dusty curtains. The streetlamps outside glowed faintly, casting long shadows across the floor. It was late¡ªlater than I thought. And I could feel it. Every part of me ached, exhaustion digging into my bones like cold.


    "You''re still not saying anything about where we are?" I asked, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.


    Jax leaned back on his heels, studying me for a moment like he was deciding whether to lie or not to lie. "I told you¡ªit''s my place. Don''t worry about it." He stated.


    I narrowed my eyes. "You''re not going to explain it any further, are you?"


    He gave a short shake of his head, a faint grin playing at the edge of his lips. "Nope."


    "Great," I muttered, leaning forward slightly. My body protested immediately. Every movement sent a dull throb through my neck and shoulders. That bastard''s grip had left more than just a mark¡ªit had left a reminder.


    "You''re not going anywhere tonight," Jax said, like he''d plucked the thought right out of my head. "Might as well get comfortable. We''ve got a spare room. Rest. You''ll need it."


    I opened my mouth to argue¡ªbecause of course I did¡ªbut then I caught something in his expression. The smirk was gone. His gaze softened for just a breath, something flickering behind it. Something that didn''t quite match the usual smugness.


    "I''m not going to bite your head off," he added, shrugging like he hadn''t just looked at me like that. "Just... stay here for the night. It''s not like you have any other choice right now."


    I sighed, frustrated and tired. Gods, I hated when he was right.


    "Fine," I muttered, folding my arms across my chest again. "But I''m not staying long."


    Jax gave me a look¡ªone of those looks that said he knew better but wasn''t about to argue. "That''s what I said."


    He stood and walked over to a cabinet, pulling out a clean cloth. "Get some rest, Dawn. I''ll be right outside if you need anything. Irah won''t be back for a while, so you''ve got time to¡ª"


    His voice faded out as I leaned back into the couch, my eyes slipping shut for what I told myself would just be a moment.


    But the weight of the day crashed into me all at once. I hadn''t realized just how much I''d been holding in¡ªhow much tension had been wrapped around me like a second skin.


    The warmth of the room settled over me, and I let it. Just for a little while. I let the exhaustion take me under, dragging me into a sleep that was too deep, too heavy... and far from peaceful.


    ~


    Jax stood quietly, watching Dawn sleep soundly on the couch. Her body was relaxed, her face soft, but there was still a trace of tension lingering in the way her jaw was clenched and the faint furrow between her brows. Even in sleep, she couldn''t fully let go.


    He sighed quietly to himself, a mix of concern and frustration washing over him. He didn''t like seeing her like this, vulnerable and exhausted. She fought so hard to keep everything under control, to hold onto that sense of independence, but it was clear to him¡ªthere was only so much she could take before it all came crashing down.


    A pang of guilt twisted in Jax''s gut. Maybe if he hadn''t gotten involved, if he hadn''t been so insistent on getting her to do something, she wouldn''t have ended up like this. He didn''t think it would go this far. Hell, he hadn''t meant for it to go this far.


    Jax shook his head, his usual teasing smile absent. He wasn''t going to leave her here, sprawled on the couch. Carefully, he knelt beside her, his hand gently brushing her hair out of her face.


    Dawn stirred slightly but didn''t wake. Her breathing remained even, deep in sleep. Jax hesitated for a moment, then carefully slid his arms beneath her, lifting her with ease. She was lighter than he expected, but her body felt fragile in his arms, a stark contrast to the fierce and stubborn woman he usually knew.


    As he stood, he adjusted his hold on her, making sure she was secure in his arms. She was so small, so vulnerable in his grip. He moved through the loft with practiced steps, careful not to jostle her, his thoughts racing even as he kept his attention focused on her.


    Jax reached the small bedroom at the far end of the loft, pushing the door open with his foot. It was sparsely furnished, but it had everything needed to make her comfortable¡ªa bed, a small dresser, a chair by the window. The room was quiet, almost too still, the faint glow from the moon casting long shadows across the floor.


    He gently laid her down on the bed, making sure her head settled against the soft pillow, pulling the blanket over her and tucking it carefully around her. For a moment, he simply stood there, watching her, trying to ignore the nagging guilt that had settled deep in his gut. His hand lingered at the edge of the blanket, fingers brushing against the cool fabric. I pushed you too far, Dawn. He could still see her face, bruised and tired, the fear in her eyes when she tried to escape earlier. He''d seen it, and still, he couldn''t stop himself from involving her in this.


    Jax sighed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to leave but stopped before stepping out the door, he glanced back over his shoulder. Her face was serene now, peaceful in a way he hadn''t seen her in a long time.


    And with that, he walked away, leaving her to the quiet of the room and the fleeting peace that came with sleep.

 Chapter 7: Tiny Box

    I stirred, my eyelids fluttering open as the warmth of the sun touched my face. The morning light streamed softly through the window, casting pale ribbons of sunlight across the room. For a moment, I simply lay there, my body heavy with the weight of exhaustion. The events of the night before seemed distant, like a dream I couldn''t fully grasp.


    I moved slightly, stretching my arms above my head, and winced at the tenderness of my neck and bruised hand. I''d almost forgotten the pain in the haze of sleep, but now it was impossible to ignore. The room around me was quiet, the only sound being the gentle hum of the morning breeze. It was peaceful.


    I turned my head, and my gaze landed on Jax. He was sitting in a chair near the window, looking out with a distant expression, his posture casual, though his eyes seemed lost in thought. I blinked, confused for a moment, then remembered where I was. Jax''s place¡­


    I was about to push myself up, but my body ached, and the comfort of the bed was too inviting. Instead, I let out a soft breath, settling back into the pillows with a reluctant sigh.


    He turned his head as he heard my movement, and his eyes softened when he saw me. He immediately stood and crossed the room toward me.


    "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice still a little rough from the night, though it carried concern.


    I looked up at him, the memory of last night surfacing. My hand instinctively went to my neck, where the bruise still throbbed faintly, but I didn''t feel as vulnerable now. My body felt tired but safer than it had in days.


    "Better," I muttered, my voice still hoarse. "You didn''t have to do all this, you know."


    He raised an eyebrow, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I didn''t have to? Well, I figured since you were too stubborn to rest on your own, someone had to force you to."


    I looked away, biting my lip. "I don''t need coddling," I replied with a hint of irritation, though it wasn''t directed at him. My stubbornness was starting to kick in again, but the warmth and kindness of his care held me in check.


    He didn''t respond immediately. Instead, he walked to the small table in the corner and poured a glass of water, then brought it over to me. He held it out, and without thinking, I took it, my fingers brushing his as I grasped the glass.


    I took a sip of the water, feeling the coolness soothe my dry throat. I didn''t know how to say it, but I owed him something, something more than just a quick thank you. He didn''t have to bring me here, didn''t have to treat me like I wasn''t just a burden. He could''ve let me deal with my own mess, like everyone else always did.


    "Thanks, Jax," I said quietly, my voice softer now. I hesitated for a moment before adding, "For everything."


    His expression softened, and his usual teasing demeanor seemed to melt away, replaced with something else¡ªsomething sincere. He nodded, his voice low as he answered, "Don''t mention it."


    I looked at him, eyes lingering on his face for a long moment. Then, against my better judgment, I let a small smile slip onto my lips. "I suppose I''ll owe you one now. Just don''t make me steal a gem or something for it."


    Jax laughed softly, his eyes brightening for the first time since I''d woken up. "If you ever think I''d let you steal anything for me, you''re sorely mistaken, sweetheart."


    I felt a flutter of warmth in my chest. It was a simple exchange, but it made something inside me settle. And maybe, just maybe, I''d let myself rely on Jax for a little longer.


    "I''ll stay here for a bit; Esther is out anyway." I said, my stubbornness still lingering, though softened now. "But don''t expect me to be a model patient."


    Jax grinned, shaking his head. "You? Patient? I''d be more surprised if you didn''t start kicking things after ten minutes."


    I laughed quietly, a real laugh, the kind I hadn''t had in ages. It felt good, even if it was just for a moment.


    "Good to know you haven''t lost your sense of humor," I teased, though the softness in my voice betrayed the warmth I felt toward him.


    Jax leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and watching me with a mixture of amusement and something else I couldn''t quite place. "And you haven''t lost your stubbornness."


    I didn''t respond immediately, instead letting myself bask in the moment of calm before the storm. I still had a long way to go, but for now, I could rest. And that, for once, felt like enough.


    Jax watched me for a moment longer, then turned to leave the room. "I''ll grab some breakfast," he said over his shoulder, a playful tone creeping back into his voice. "Don''t go getting any ideas while I''m gone."


    I snorted, my eyes following him as he walked away. "Just make sure it''s something I can eat without being forced to run five miles."


    "Fair enough," he called back, his voice fading as he made his way down the stairs.


    I settled back into the bed, letting the quiet envelop me again, feeling the softness of the blankets against my skin as my mind drifted. The quiet of the room was soothing, but my body still ached, and something deeper gnawed at me. I couldn''t shake the thoughts that circled in my mind¡ªthe events of the night before kept replaying, and no matter how hard I tried to push them aside, they wouldn''t let me rest.


    That person. The Crown Prince. What was a royal like him doing in a place like that, in a rundown city like Araes? The question kept folding over itself, unanswered, twisting in my mind. It didn''t make sense. It couldn''t. Why had he come to a place like that, though? What had he been looking for?


    The unease lingered, settling heavily in my chest. I should''ve asked more questions, but part of me didn''t want to know the answers. It felt wrong, dangerous, even to think about it. And now I couldn''t get it out of my head.


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    Control it, I told myself firmly. Control it before it controls you.


    The curse. The powers that lingered just beneath my skin, always threatening to break free. Always pushing at the surface, waiting for a moment of weakness to seep out. Not after what happened last time. It was too risky.


    That''s why Esther had kept me hidden away for so long. She never let me meet anyone, never let me go anywhere. For my own safety, she always said. She didn''t trust anyone to know the truth, and neither did I.


    I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my breathing, but the thoughts wouldn''t stop. There was too much going on, too many loose threads I couldn''t pull together. I couldn''t afford to let them overwhelm me. Not yet.


    For now, I needed to stay calm, keep everything under control. The last thing I needed was for anyone to find out what I really was. I just hoped I could keep it hidden long enough to stay out of harm''s way.


    The door creaked open, pulling me from my thoughts. Jax reappeared, carrying a tray with a bowl of stew and a small loaf of bread. He set it down gently on the table beside me, then pulled out the chair across from the bed, sitting down with a slight sigh.


    "I didn''t know what you''d want, so I just grabbed something quick," Jax said, his tone lighter now. There was no teasing, but his usual easy-going attitude had returned.


    I sat up a little, reaching for the bread first. My stomach growled loudly¡ªapparently, I hadn''t realized how hungry I was until now.


    "Thanks," I murmured, breaking off a piece and taking a bite. It wasn''t fancy, but it was filling, and it tasted like something I could stomach after everything that had happened. "I didn''t expect to be treated like royalty today."


    He chuckled, "I''m no chef, but you don''t have to go around on an empty stomach, especially not after the mess you got yourself into last night."


    I hesitated, my gaze shifting as I met his eyes. "I didn''t exactly expect to be in this mess," I said quietly, my fingers tightening around the edge of the bread. The words felt heavier now, hanging in the air between us. I couldn''t deny it. I''d gotten myself tangled up with people I never should''ve, and now¡­ now, I wasn''t sure how to escape the fallout.


    His gaze softened, his expression unreadable for a moment. "You didn''t ask for any of this, Dawn," he said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "I¡­ I''m sorry. I shouldn''t have said anything to Arty. I knew what kind of trouble it could cause."


    I blinked, taken aback by the admission. Jax, the ever-confident and sharp-minded man who always seemed to know exactly what he was doing was apologizing? It wasn''t like him to show that kind of vulnerability. I shook my head, my hand reaching for the stew, though I didn''t touch it immediately.


    "It''s not your fault," I said, though a trace of bitterness edged my words. "You couldn''t have known what would happen. None of us did."


    He didn''t respond right away. His lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze fixed somewhere past me. "Doesn''t matter," he said at last, voice quiet. "I still put you in danger. And I''ve already dragged you into more than I should''ve."


    I let out a slow breath, fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of the bowl, the warmth of the stew seeping into my skin. "You can''t carry the weight of everything, Jax." I paused, glancing at him again. "Besides¡­ I made the choice to help her. It was my own recklessness that got me caught. That''s on me."


    Jax''s eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, there was something raw there, something unspoken. He didn''t respond immediately, just gave a slight nod and looked away. It was clear there was more he wasn''t saying, but now wasn''t the time for him to explain himself.


    "Well," he said finally, his voice a little rougher again, "enough with the guilt-trip. Let''s just make sure you stay in one piece, alright?"


    I smiled softly at that, a real smile this time, though it didn''t quite reach my eyes. I didn''t argue, though. I was too tired for that. There was too much to worry about¡ªthe city was crumbling, the cult was out there, and I still hadn''t figured out exactly how to free myself from it all.


    Jax stood up slowly, stretching his arms above his head. "I''ll be downstairs if you need anything. Don''t go doing anything stupid, alright? I mean it."


    I gave him a look, my usual defiant spark returning despite the heaviness I felt. "I''m not stupid, you know."


    Jax grinned. "Yeah, sure. You''re a genius."


    I rolled my eyes, then finally took a spoonful of the stew, savoring the warmth and comfort of something simple. I sat quietly for a moment, finishing the last bite of my meal as the room settled into stillness.


    I glanced toward the window, where late morning light slipped through the curtains in thin streaks. The sky was still overcast, a dull gray that warned of rain later, but for now¡­ everything felt still.


    Too still.


    I let my gaze drift around the room, but something about the silence tugged at the edge of my thoughts, needling a curiosity I couldn''t quite shake.


    With a quiet groan, I pushed myself up from the bed, my limbs protesting but slowly giving in. I wandered to the window, peering down at the narrow street below. It was empty, save for a stray cat darting across the cobblestones. I wasn''t the type to sit around doing nothing for long, but there was something about this place¡ªJax''s place¡ªthat kept my mind turning.


    How had he managed to hide this whole part of himself from me? We''d known each other for years, shared the same streets, the same jobs¡­ and yet I''d never seen this side of his life. This quiet, domestic part. The idea of snooping made me grimace, but at the same time, how could I not be curious? He was always a little too open when it came to joking around, too easy with that grin of his.


    And I wasn''t exactly guiltless myself. I hadn''t told him everything either. So maybe a little look around wasn''t the worst thing.


    I glanced toward the closed door. Jax had gone downstairs a little while ago¡ªprobably off to deal with whatever mischief he had going on today. I could hear faint movement below: tools clinking, distant voices, the usual hum of activity. No sign of him coming back up anytime soon.


    Perfect.


    I moved before I could overthink it. My steps were soft, practiced¡ªold habits. I cracked open the door and slipped into the hallway. The second floor was quieter, less lived-in than I expected. Just the loft, a few storage rooms maybe. Everything else belonged to the guild downstairs.


    I made my way down the hall, heading toward a door slightly ajar at the far end. Something about it called to me. I already knew it had to be his room¡ªof course he''d keep it tucked away, like the rest of him.


    The moment I pushed it open, I was struck by how... normal it was.


    The bed was rumpled, dark covers half-thrown. Shelves lined one wall, filled with books and trinkets I wouldn''t have pegged Jax to care about. On a table near the window, weapons were arranged with practiced care¡ªblades, tools, even a few gadgets I didn''t recognize. It was cluttered but intentional, lived-in but not messy.


    I stepped further inside, letting my eyes take in the details. A worn coat tossed over a chair. A bottle that smelled faintly of herbs. Letters, loose paper with odd scribbles. It didn''t feel like a thief''s den¡ªit felt like a person''s room. A real one.


    And that''s what made me pause.


    Because the Jax I knew didn''t seem like the type to have roots. But here, he did.


    My gaze landed on a small wooden box in the corner, half-hidden beneath a folded cloth. It was delicate¡ªbeautifully carved. Too delicate for someone like him.


    I shouldn''t have touched it. I know that.


    But my fingers brushed the lid anyway, and I hesitated. Just a second.


    Then I opened it.


    Inside were small, unassuming items¡ªtrinkets and keepsakes, each one carrying the weight of some forgotten story. A coin, its surface worn smooth by time and touch. A few scraps of folded paper, edges yellowed and creased. And nestled among them, a letter¡ªneatly bound with a ribbon, its seal still intact.


    I swallowed hard.


    Something about the letter made my chest tighten. I shouldn''t be looking at it. I knew that. But my hand moved on its own, fingertips grazing the ribbon as I lifted it out of the box.


    The handwriting on the front was unfamiliar. Neat. Deliberate.


    I turned it over slowly, heart ticking faster with every breath.


    And that''s when I heard it.


    Footsteps¡ªfaint, but distinct¡ªcreaking up the stairwell.


    My heart jumped.


    Jax is coming back.

 Chapter 8: Cheese in the Trap

    My breath caught in my throat as I quickly set the letter back inside the box, heart thudding like a drum in my chest. I froze, praying I hadn''t made a sound¡ªno creak of the floorboards, no rustle of paper. Maybe if I stayed still enough, I could pretend I hadn''t been here at all.


    The footsteps were getting louder, closer¡ªJax was almost at the top of the stairs.


    Shit.


    I scrambled toward the corner of the room, pressing myself behind the door and into the shadows. My fingers curled around the edge of the frame, tight and trembling, pulse racing so loud it drowned out everything else. I held my breath, listening.


    The footsteps stopped just outside the door.


    For one agonizing second, there was nothing¡ªno sound except for my own shallow breathing and the pounding in my ears. I could hear him muttering something under his breath, and for a split second, I wanted to roll my eyes. Typical Jax. Always making things harder than they had to be. Of course, I couldn''t just snoop and get out without running into him.


    But then, mercifully, the footsteps moved again. Fading.


    He''s walking away.


    I didn''t move. Not yet. I waited, barely daring to breathe. My hands were still shaking. I clutched the doorframe tighter and counted the seconds, willing myself to stay still. The letter, the box¡ªit all weighed heavy in my thoughts, but I couldn''t let myself spiral now.


    Not when I was still so close to getting caught.


    Once the silence settled again, wrapping the room in stillness, I finally exhaled. My body relaxed¡ªjust a little.


    But as I straightened, ready to slip out and pretend none of this had happened, I froze.


    Jax was standing in the doorway.


    His hand still rested on the knob, and his gaze was locked on me. I couldn''t read his expression. He wasn''t smiling. He wasn''t smirking. He just... stared.


    Time stretched thin between us, taut and unmoving. My heart stuttered in my chest.


    Did he know?


    I opened my mouth to speak¡ªanything¡ªbut the words wouldn''t come. I just stood there, eyes flicking from the floor to his face. He looked different. Not playful. Not cocky. For a fleeting second, something serious flickered behind his eyes. But it passed too fast for me to be sure.


    "Well," he said at last, voice casual¡ªbut edged with something else. "Didn''t take you for the snooping type. But... here we are."


    I forced myself to stand straighter, shaking off the panic curling up my spine. I wasn''t about to admit anything.


    "I was just... looking for something," I muttered, too quickly, too defensive. "Not like you don''t dig through my stuff when I''m not around."


    That earned a flicker of a smirk. Just a small one, but it made my skin prickle. He didn''t answer right away¡ªjust studied me with that tilted-head look of his, like I was some kind of puzzle he hadn''t quite solved.


    "Be more careful next time," he said, his voice lighter now, but not quite playful. There was something tucked beneath it. Curiosity, maybe. Or something else I couldn''t place.


    Then he stepped back, hand leaving the doorknob. "You want to sit down? You''re not looking so great."


    I hesitated, searching his face, trying to read between the lines. Something had shifted, and I didn''t know what it was, but I felt it all the same.


    "Yeah, sure," I said quietly, unsure even as the words left my mouth.


    I moved toward the chair near the window and sat, back to him. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to untangle the thoughts still clawing at the edges of my mind.


    Behind me, I could hear him moving¡ªopening a drawer, placing something on the table. I didn''t look. Just the sound of him being there stirred something weird in my chest. Something warm and uncomfortable.


    Then his voice came, softer this time. "You good?"


    I almost laughed. Was I good? I hadn''t been good in a long time. But I wasn''t about to say that out loud.


    "I''m fine," I said, keeping it clipped. Solid. I glanced at him for a moment, then looked away again.


    I leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on my knees, my fingers itched. Not from guilt. Not exactly. But from something else I couldn''t name. Something like... regret. I shouldn''t have gone through his things.


    I heard the clink of glass; the soft sound of liquid being poured. I could practically feel his presence shifting around the room, that same casual confidence he always carried. But it was quieter now. More... restrained.


    Then, the soft thud of a cup landing on the table beside me.


    I turned my head slightly, just enough to see the chipped mug he''d set down near my elbow. Tea. Or what passed for tea in this part of town.


    I blinked, caught off guard. "I didn''t know you had the mothering instinct."


    He didn''t laugh, but there was a faint glimmer in his eye when I glanced up at him. "Don''t push it," he said. "That''s the last of my stash. Thought you could use it more than me."


    That made something shift in my chest again. I hated it. This softness. This quiet kind of care. It was easier when he was being a smug bastard.


    I picked up the cup anyway. The warmth seeped into my fingers, grounding me.


    "I thought you were out for the day," I said eventually, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.


    He raised an eyebrow. "I was. Plans changed."


    "Because of me?"


    "Because someone decided to break into my room," he said, voice light, but not sharp. "Figured I should come home before my place went up in flames."


    I rolled my eyes, more out of habit than anything else. "It wasn''t your room I was looking for."


    He tilted his head, amused. "No? Could''ve fooled me, the way you were crouched over my stuff like a little thief."


    I stiffened. "I''m not¡ª"


    "Relax," he cut in, voice softening again. "I didn''t say that like it was a bad thing."


    I narrowed my eyes at him. "That supposed to be funny?"


    He smiled, slow and easy. "Wouldn''t dare."


    I hated how that smile always seemed to dig under my skin. Like he knew me. Like he saw me¡ªmore than I wanted him to.


    "You''re not gonna ask?" I said after a beat, not looking at him. "About why I was in here?"


    A pause.


    Then his voice, low. "Would it matter if I did?"


    I turned to face him, slowly. He was leaning against the wall now, arms crossed, watching me with that same unreadable look from earlier. Except this time, it wasn''t cold. It wasn''t even suspicious. Just... patient.


    Gods, that was worse.


    "I don''t know," I admitted, voice low. "Maybe."


    He studied me for a long moment, walking toward the window. He didn''t get too close¡ªjust stood beside me, looking out into the same nothing.


    "I figured you''d come around eventually," he said. "Curiosity always did get the better of you. Like a moth to a flame, or a thief to locked doors."


    "Is that why you left it where I could find it?"


    That earned me a small smirk. "Maybe."


    "Ass."


    "Compliment accepted."


    I snorted, despite myself. The tea was bitter and lukewarm, but I sipped it anyway. The silence returned, but this time, I wasn''t fighting it.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    I glanced at him again, and for a moment, I almost asked. About the letter. About the name I saw. About what the hell it meant. But something held me back.


    Not yet.


    Jax stepped away from the window, stretching his arms behind his head like nothing in the world weighed on him. "Oh, by the way," he said over his shoulder, his voice slipping back into that infuriatingly smug drawl, "I told Rogan you''re not making your shift today."


    I blinked, cup halfway to my lips. "You what?"


    "Don''t worry," he added quickly, turning to face me with a lazy grin. "I told him you were sick. Deathly pale, high fever, barely able to stand. Real dramatic stuff. Almost had me convinced."


    "I''m not sick," I muttered, setting the cup down with a dull thud. "I forgot I had work, that''s all. I was gonna go."


    He crossed the room in a few easy strides, placing one hand firmly on the back of my chair before I could stand. The other hovered near the table, his body leaning just enough to make the space feel smaller. Not in a threatening way¡ªbut enough to make my skin prickle.


    "Yeah, and you''re not going," he said, voice smooth like velvet draped over a blade. "You look like you''ve been hit by a cart and dragged halfway across the docks."


    I narrowed my eyes, trying to ignore how close he was. "That your way of saying I look tired?"


    "No," he said, smirking. "That''s my way of saying sit your ass down before you fall over."


    I stiffened, suddenly aware of how he''d bracketed me in with ease¡ªone hand behind me, the other resting just inches from mine. My pulse gave a tiny, traitorous skip.


    Still, I didn''t move. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I kept my face carefully neutral, even as my fingers curled slightly around the edge of the table.


    I hated how effortlessly he made bossing me around sound like a favor. Even worse, I hated how my body reacted¡ªlike some na?ve apprentice caught in a spell. But the worst part? He was right.


    He broke the silence again, annoyingly relaxed. "Arty''s gonna stop by later."


    I blinked. "Arty?"


    "Mhm. Said she wanted to see you."


    My brow creased. "She knows you?"


    Jax grinned without opening his eyes. "Everyone knows me."


    I didn''t smile. "No, I mean¡ªhow do you two even know each other?"


    That did it.


    There was a pause. His eyes opened now, just slightly, glancing at me with that familiar spark of mischief. His grin widened like I''d just handed him a plate of gold coins wrapped in compliments. I already regretted asking.


    "Oh? That interest in my personal life suddenly blooming, Red?" he said, eyes dancing. "What''s this¡ªjealousy?"


    My eyes narrowed. "Don''t flatter yourself."


    He chuckled, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. "You''re the one poking around in my room and asking about my social life. Starting to think you do care."


    I groaned audibly. "You''re insufferable."


    He nodded solemnly. "It''s a talent."


    I marched toward him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Answer the question. Why do you know Arty? She is a noble."


    "Who knows, maybe I''m a noble too." he said with exaggerated mystery.


    I snorted. "You live in a second-floor loft that smells like stale rum."


    "Ah, the noble life," he sighed wistfully. "Lavish."


    I narrowed my eyes, unconvinced. "It''s just... she''s not the kind of person who usually hangs around thieves."


    "Ah, but she does hang around one in particular," he said with a theatrical sigh. "It''s a tragic tale, really. Noble girl with a heart too big, runs into a charming rogue with a devil-may-care smile¡ªsparks fly, secrets are shared, dangerous escapades ensue..."


    "Jax."


    He laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, alright. The truth? I met her a few years back during one of her little ''adventures.'' You know how caged nobles get¡ªthey''re cooped up, restricted by their pretty little cages, all rules and expectations. So, they get the itch. They wander. And when they wander, they get into trouble. I happened to be there when she did."


    I blinked, surprised. "You saved her?"


    "Technically, yes," he said with a shrug, his tone light. "But she''d never admit it. She insists we ''handled it together.''" His voice softened slightly, though it was still teasing.


    I tilted my head, processing this. "And you just stayed in touch?"


    "She insisted," Jax said nonchalantly. "I''m good at getting into trouble, and she''s good at pretending she shouldn''t enjoy it."


    I exhaled, a reluctant laugh escaping me. "Gods. That actually tracks."


    "Anyway," he said, his voice taking on a more playful, casual tone as he turned back toward me, a rusted tin in hand, "Arty''s gonna be here later. Might want to fix your hair or something."


    I narrowed my eyes at him. "What''s that supposed to mean?"


    "Oh, nothing," he said, his grin widening with that infuriating brand of innocence he wore like armor. "Just saying you look like someone who slept in a warehouse full of regrets. Not that I''m judging."


    My immediate response was to grab the nearest cushion and throw it at his head. He dodged it effortlessly, that laugh of his sliding under my skin with its usual smugness.


    "Better," he said, his grin sharp and teasing. "That''s the Dawn I know. Now you look like you''re about to start a riot in a tavern, not curl up in some sad little corner with a cup of bitter tea."


    I shot him a dark look, but the words were already out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Keep talking, and I''ll start regretting ever staying here."


    Jax placed a hand dramatically over his heart, eyes wide in mock shock. "You wound me, Red. I''m only trying to help. All this charm¡ª" he gestured vaguely to himself, "¡ªand this is how you repay me?" He sighed deeply, but the playfulness never left his voice.


    I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I''m not sure which is worse¡ªyour teasing or your ego. Maybe both."


    "Oh, definitely both," he agreed easily, still grinning, the lopsided smile spreading across his face like it was second nature.


    He was teasing. It was annoying. But it felt normal. Familiar. Like slipping back into a rhythm I hadn''t realized I''d missed until now. I didn''t say it out loud, but a tiny part of me was grateful of this cheeky thief.


    The sound of a door creaking open from outside broke the rhythm of the room, and we both turned instinctively toward the noise.


    "Jax! You left your damn boots in the middle of the floor again." Irah''s voice rang out from downstairs, dripping with that familiar mix of frustration and resignation. "I''m not cleaning up after you this time."


    Jax let out an exaggerated sigh, but there was no real annoyance behind it¡ªjust the knowing tone of someone who had heard this a thousand times. "Ah, my lovely housekeeper," he drawled, casting a glance at me. "You might want to keep your distance. He''s in one of his organizing moods."


    "I''m sure he''s not that bad," I said, though I didn''t sound entirely convinced.


    Jax raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his lips widening. "You''ll think that until he starts rearranging your entire life like it''s a dungeon crawl. Trust me, you don''t want to be his quest target today."


    Before I could reply, Jax was already heading for the door. He paused, glancing back over his shoulder with a playful glint in his eyes. "You coming, or are you just gonna stand there like a lost kitten?"


    I narrowed my eyes. "I''m not a kitten."


    "You''ve got the look of one, Red," Jax teased, stretching his arms out in exaggerated motions as he stepped into the hallway.


    Reluctantly, I followed, my thoughts still tangled. This whole situation¡ªbeing here, with them, with Jax¡ªfelt like something I''d stepped into without any warning, and now I wasn''t sure how to get out of it.


    We entered the common room, and there was Irah, standing near the window. His arms were crossed, his foot tapping with that methodical rhythm that spoke volumes. His movements were precise, every part of him wound up with that quiet energy that came right before he exploded into action. His gaze swept over Jax''s mess¡ªboots strewn about, a stack of half-read books, a mug with some leftover drink, and an alarming number of empty bottles¡ªand then his eyes narrowed, locking on Jax with a stare that was both exasperated and threatening.


    Jax leaned casually against the doorframe, hands stuffed in his pockets, with a lazy grin on his face. "Take it easy, Irah. It''s all under control."


    Irah''s gaze darkened, his eyes sharp as daggers. "Under control, huh? This place looks like a storm-ravaged forest. It''s a miracle you can even see the ground through all the wreckage."


    "Well, we can''t all be as obsessive as you about keeping things in order," Jax said with a casual shrug. "A little chaos never hurt anyone. Besides, it keeps life interesting."


    Irah''s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening. "You really know how to test my patience, don''t you?"


    Jax''s grin only widened, and he leaned further into the doorframe, clearly enjoying the little game they played. "I do try," he said with a wink.


    Irah''s eyes flicked to me then, his frown softening just slightly. "Didn''t realize we had company," he remarked, his tone still tight but less irritable. He cleared his throat and straightened his posture, his shoulders relaxing as he turned to me with a more formal air. "Apologies for the mess, Dawn. I don''t usually let it get this bad, but Jax..." He gave Jax a pointed look. "Jax tends to leave his things everywhere, and guess who ends up cleaning up after him?"


    I waved it off, shaking my head. "It''s fine. It''s really not a big deal."


    Irah''s eyes briefly flicked to the scattered mess¡ªhis frown deepened, and I could see the frustration in the way he looked at Jax''s boots like they were an affront to his very existence. "Still, no excuse. You shouldn''t have to walk into this chaos," he muttered, then turned his glare back to Jax. "You should really try cleaning up after yourself once in a while."


    Jax, utterly unfazed, smirked. "I''m a busy guy. You know how it is. Work keeps me on my toes, and there''s just no time to tidy up."


    Irah''s gaze hardened, his voice now a low, measured growl. "It''s not about being busy. It''s about respect. You''re living in this space, not just using it as a dumping ground. Even if it''s not a palace, you could at least show a little respect for the place."


    I chuckled, stepping further into the room and surveying the mess, my mind still lost in thought. "Honestly, I''ve lived in worse. If I really had a problem with it, I''d say something."


    For a moment, Irah seemed to soften, though his posture remained as stiff as ever. "I appreciate that. But I''d still prefer it if this place wasn''t a disaster. Jax might not care, but I do."


    Jax raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I''ll clean up. Happy now?"


    "Don''t take too long, or I''ll start organizing for you," he warned, though there was something else behind his words now¡ªsomething sharp, a glint of curiosity that wasn''t there before.


    Jax laughed, turning toward me with a shrug. "Guess I''m not getting out of this one. He''ll drive me crazy until everything''s spotless."


    Irah''s eyes flicked toward me, and there was a brief pause, his gaze lingering a little longer than necessary. He studied me with an odd intensity, as if trying to piece something together. Was it just curiosity? Or was there something deeper, some question he was too careful to ask directly? His eyes softened slightly, but his demeanor remained as steady as ever. "I suppose you''re used to chaos, being around him all the time," he said, the words slipping out almost casually, though his tone was searching.


    "I suppose I could help, though I''m not sure I''d meet your standards," I muttered, moving toward the table where Jax''s papers were scattered, unsure of what to do with myself. The air felt thicker now, charged with something unsaid. I could feel his eyes on me, trying to read more than just the surface of the situation.


    Irah gave a small, almost appreciative nod, his gaze flickering back to Jax. "Thanks, but you''re our guest. You can just relax on the couch. It''s him who needs to clean up, not you."


    Jax rolled his eyes, clearly unbothered by the accusation. "You make it sound like I''m the one responsible for this mess. Maybe if you weren''t so obsessed with tidiness, we wouldn''t have to do this every time."


    Irah''s look was all too familiar¡ªpart disbelief, part exasperation. "Maybe if you didn''t leave your stuff everywhere, we wouldn''t have to do this at all."


    Jax grinned, unfazed. "Where''s the fun in that?"


    "Keep talking, and I''ll start¡ª"


    A sharp knock at the door cut Irah off. I flinched, caught mid-threat, hand still raised from throwing the cushion. Jax didn''t seem fazed¡ªof course he didn''t. He was already sauntering over to the door with that same smug ease, like nothing in the world could surprise him.


    "She''s early," he muttered, half to himself, and cracked the door open.


    A blur of pastel and gold burst through the gap like a sunbeam let loose.


    "Dawn!"