That night, the wind battering Eret's walls seemed to moan as if burdened with the city’s laments—a harsh murmur scratching the ears and skin of those daring to listen.

Meena, still restless from her encounter with the knight, lay on the cold ground, staring at the worn-out ceiling that let a sliver of starlit sky peek through. The following days passed in a similar way, with Meena trying to reclaim her usual routine. But something had changed. Everywhere she went, she felt a presence, a gaze following her, even when no one was around. She began to see her reflection in windows and mirrors as a figure that wasn’t entirely her own, as if something dark was lurking on the other side.

One night, she decided she could no longer ignore what was happening. She knew there was only one place where she might find answers, though she didn’t like the idea: "The Raven’s Shadow," a hidden tavern in Eret’s most secluded alleys. There, for the right price, any information could be obtained.

Meena slipped through the shadows, her cautious steps echoing softly against the wet cobblestone, while the figures of guards appeared and disappeared at the corners, like watchful specters. Upon reaching the tavern, she pushed open the heavy oak door, which creaked with an ancient lament. Inside, it was dark, lit only by a few flickering candles casting long shadows on walls blackened by smoke.

The innkeeper, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, was behind the counter, cleaning glasses with a dirty rag. He looked up as he saw her approach, and a mocking smile crept across his lips.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked in a gruff voice.

“I’m looking for information,” she replied softly, ensuring only he could hear.

“Here, you can find anything, as long as the payment matches the information,” he replied. “What do you want to know?”

Meena wasted no time on trivial replies. She slid a silver coin across the counter and looked him directly in the eyes.

The innkeeper took the coin and made it disappear somewhere under the counter. His eyes, small like ink spots on an ancient parchment, observed her intently.

Meena leaned a bit closer, lowering her voice.

“A knight,” she began. “He wears black armor and a raised emblem on his chest. A skull. I want to know who he is.”

The innkeeper regarded her in silence for a long moment, weighing whether it was worth giving her the information. Finally, he nodded slowly.

“That symbol…” he whispered, as if the name carried a curse, “belongs to the House of Death. One of the oldest families in Eret. But that house fell from grace many years ago. They were betrayed, massacred, and their lands were confiscated. No one should be wearing that symbol nowadays... unless they want trouble.”

Meena felt a chill run down her spine upon hearing those words. The "House of Death" was a name she’d heard during her years in the orphanage, a noble family mentioned in her history lessons as one of the most powerful and feared in Eret before disappearing under mysterious circumstances.

“Who is he?” Meena asked with curiosity.

The innkeeper shook his head slowly.

“No one knows for sure,” he replied. “Some say he’s a survivor of the massacre, the last of his bloodline. Others believe he’s a specter seeking revenge. But I’ll tell you this, girl: whoever he is, he’s not someone you want to cross paths with. Leave him be.”

But Meena already knew she couldn’t leave it alone. There was something about that man, in those dark eyes, that had touched her deeply, something that burned like an open wound. She needed to know more, to discover who he really was and why he had crossed her path, like a shadow promising as much danger as answers.

She left the tavern, and the night air greeted her with a sharp cold on her face. The streets of Eret were deserted, the silence broken only by the echo of her own steps. In the distance, the wind whispered between the buildings, as if carrying the dark omen of something imminent, something waiting for her in the shadows.