Compared to the tranquility of the street outside, the tavern was a frenzy of the senses. Shouts and cheers abounded the large room, lit by candles hanging from the walls. Theodore was surprised to see natural candles being used outside of ritual applications. Most all light sources had been replaced by the digital candles of Vandenberg’s design. It seemed that now, in his passing, the sorcerer truly began to feel the impact his inventions had on Syllina, in such a short time frame.

Henrietta struggled to find a place to sit. The whole tavern was crowded with people of all sorts. Men, women, and the occasional other moved about to and from the bar to grab drinks and food for their tables. Everyone in the room appeared to be incredibly storied, with scars, names tattooed on their necks, and what she could only assume to be some kind of “trophies” from their lives. It was difficult to gauge who would be of best help to them. And who would even bother, for that matter.

“Hey!” The bartender shouted, placing his hands down onto the table of the bar. “No pets allowed! Get your filthy animal out of here, before she gouges an eye out!”

Poppy crowed her disapproval, extending her wings in defiance. Henrietta had to stifle a laugh with her hand. Rarely was Poppy ever angry, but it was hard to take the bird so seriously when she sleeps in a nest with plush, miniature pillows. Of course, for those who were unaware of Poppy’s living conditions, the raven was still quite a sight to behold.

“Oh, she’s no bother,” Theodore said, reaching a hand up to sooth the raven. “A shame to the very name of birds of prey. But if you’re looking for something to be afraid of, I think we shall suffice.”

The bartender was unamused by his threats. What Theodore thought would be a good method of garnering a reputation amongst the patrons of the tavern, seemed to have the opposite effect he intended. A quick glance about the room would reveal a cross look on everyone’s faces. The man at the bar acted as a voice to the crowd.

“Ah, so you’re one of those.” He said with a chuckle, standing straight to cross his arms. He seemed incredibly strong, as though he could rip Theodore in two without a thought. “I don’t deal with troublemakers. Take your fights to someone else’s bar.”

“Seems like you have plenty of troublemakers here already,” Theodore said, looking about the room while making his way towards the center. Henrietta urged him to step back towards the door, in the event they needed a quick exit. “I just need one. My compatriots and I are performing field research for a strain of the flu. We would require some assistance in keeping any unsavory types from distracting our efforts. And we can pay.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, young man,” The bartender shook his head, walking around to the front of the bar to approach Theodore. “None of you are dressed like researchers at all. That man is wearing a suit. The kid is practically wearing rags. And you’re dressed like a street performer yourself. What are you supposed to be, a magician?”

At this point, the man was almost toe to toe with Theodore, but was at least a full head taller than him. He looked down at the increasingly less confident man and looked between his different eyes before settling on looking into the brown one.

“If you’re going to walk into here and tell me a lie, at least do it right. I suggest you go home.”

For a moment, there was silence. Theodore felt the glare of the man burrow through his eye, as though the man could peer into his mind. But the silence was quickly broken by the sudden screech of a chair. From across the room, a lone man stood up from his table. From where they stood, the group could only see the man’s back. He was a tall man, with dark brown skin and a suit made from a mixture of leather and cloth. As he turned toward the group, the glint of his tools became clear. Two pistols strapped to his sides. Another two attached to his chest. A blade next to those, but it was difficult to see if the man carried anything in the pouch on his belt. He was very clearly a dangerous man.

“I suggest they stay right there.” He said in a deep voice, that sounded more like a growl than a suggestion. They each froze at the sight of his eyes. They were as red as blood, and filled with the fury of the storm. But similarly, the center was filled with calm. A concentrated rage. Although the sight was enough to paralyze any of the group, none were more frightened than Theodore, who grew a sickly pale.

“Oh my God,” His voice slipped through his lips like the last echo of a spirit. “Solomon, is that you?”

The man stepped forward, tossing his chair to the floor without a thought. It was then that Henrietta noticed: His eyes had never left Theodore’s since the moment he turned around.

“You are acquainted?” Charlie inquired, showing just a hint of hesitance in his voice.

“Acquainted doesn’t begin to cover it, does it, Theo?” Solomon said, taking a slow step forward. Despite the anger in his eyes, his face was almost expressionless, as though studying Theodore. Step by step, he moved forward. Every second seemed to last longer than the one before. And suddenly, all at once, he was right in front of Theodore. The bartender had long since backed away, leaving the two to stare at one another.

Solomon raised his hand up to Theodore’s face, grazing the golden tattoo around his Rotten Eye. For just a second, Solomon’s eyes twitched. For just a second, there was a twinge of sadness on his face.

“You have my father’s eye.”

And then, they were swallowed by darkness.