The vitaecer stepped out, the old wooden door creaking shut behind him. Emily and Hound were left in silence, a silence that carried the weight of unspoken words and shared tension. Their gazes locked, as if each was trying to pry into the other's thoughts.

Emily broke the quiet, stepping closer to the bed. “I want to go home,” she stated firmly. “You’re the only person I know from Rivermirror, and I understand you have your own needs. Name your price, Hound.”

Hound smirked, a wry chuckle escaping his lips. “I love your newfound confidence,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “Or I could sell you to the closest brothel for the same price you’d offer me.”

Emily’s jaw tightened. “This is how you repay me for saving your life?”

“Relax,” Hound said, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I was joking. I’m not that shameless. I’ve got something to take care of. I’ll find you after.”

“Find me how? I’m coming with you.”

“Suit yourself,” he replied, his voice laced with irritation as he stood and began gathering his things.

The vitaecer lingered outside the clinic, puffing on a cigar infused with ether. The thick, black smoke curled around him like a shroud. His bloodshot eyes turned toward them as they exited. “Word around town is Puck’s dead,” he said, his voice raspy. “What really happened?”

Hound paused, his gaze unwavering. “I had a vision. This is the future I see best suited for myself.”

“Care to elaborate?” the vitaecer asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I’d rather not,” Hound replied curtly. “What do I owe you for the treatment?”

The vitaecer took a long drag from his cigar. “The child. If you killed him, no one would know your business. Knowing you, he’s likely to wind up dead in the streets anyway. Perhaps his vitality could serve better purposes here.”

“He’ll be at your doorstep by tomorrow,” Hound said coldly before walking away, Emily trailing behind him.

The market of Rivermirror bustled with life. Merchants shouted their wares, horses clattered down cobblestone streets, and a dusty wind carried the mingled scents of spices and decay. Emily struggled to keep pace with Hound, her curiosity bubbling over.

“Does your skin peel off when you use your abilities?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern. “And why do you need to inject yourself with ether to use them? Also, where are we even going?”

Hound didn’t break stride. “I told you, I have business to attend to. If you’d rather wait with the vitaecer, feel free.”

“I’m not asking to annoy you,” Emily shot back. “I’m asking to help. You do know I’m a student at the academy, don’t you? Ether and magic are kind of my thing.”

Her declaration caught Hound’s attention, but he kept his expression neutral. “How would you help if I told you we’re on our way to kidnap the boy who saw us with Puck last night? He’ll be taken to the vitaecer, where he’ll likely be experimented on until he dies.”

Emily froze for a moment, processing his words. “He’s just a kid,” she protested. “He doesn’t understand the consequences of spreading rumors.”

“He had a Seer tattoo,” Hound countered.

“And what does that mean?”

“He’s part of an organization that sells information for profit,” Hound explained. “They’ve been watching me for a while now. Leaving him alive isn’t an option.”

Emily’s voice softened, her tone pleading. “There has to be another way.”

Hound ignored her as they took a sharp turn, arriving at Blackstone, a renowned store for battle wear, weapons, and ether-infused gear. Two guards in rare, glimmering armor flanked the entrance, nodding to Hound as he passed.

Inside, the air was thick with the metallic tang of ether. The walls were lined with gleaming weapons and intricate armor. Emily’s eyes widened as she took in the sight.

“How much money do you have?” Hound asked.

Emily blinked, startled by the question. “Not enough to afford anything here.”

“Aren’t you from a House?” he pressed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she snapped. “I didn’t exactly plan a vacation to Rivermirror.” She handed over the last of her coins with a reluctant sigh.

Hound approached the counter without hesitation. “I’ll take a binding rope. Highest quality I can afford.”

The cashier’s expression turned curious. “How did the doll serve you?”

“It got the job done,” Hound replied flatly.

As they turned to leave, a group of four entered. Each bore the Seer’s distinctive tattoo: a vibrant blue teardrop stretching from the corner of their left eye to their lips. The air grew heavy with tension.

Emily offered an awkward wave, attempting to diffuse the situation. The Seers didn’t respond.

“Run after me the moment we leave,” Hound whispered. “Violence is forbidden in here, so they won’t try anything. Outside is another story.”

“Who are they?” Emily asked, her voice low.

“Seers. They’ve been tracking us since we left the clinic.”

The door opened, and they bolted into the crowded market. As if on cue, the Seers gave chase.