Each step gave a low groan beneath Erith’s weight as he crept upward, the iron key to Saryn’s door wrapped around his fingers.

At the landing, he leaned toward the wooden doorframe, tilting his head to catch any hint of sound from within.

No shuffling. No whispers. Only the stillness of Velmoran’s night pressed back at him.

He turned the key in his palm once, then slid it into the lock.

There was a soft click, and Erith pushed the door open in one swift motion.

Moonlight danced across the swaying edge of a half-drawn drape, spilling into the tightly packed room—a narrow bed against the wall, a scatter of crates, and a lone table with a single chair. Stale air pooled inside the room, untouched for days.

Erith returned to the landing, motioning for the group to come inside.

Rin slipped through the doorway first, his gaze sweeping the dim room before settling on a nearby crate. He tugged at the crate, testing its weight.

“Maeric—help me with this.” His voice stayed low. Together, they carried the crate across the room, bracing it against the closed door.

Rin held out his hand for the key, took it from Erith, and turned the lock.

His expression was uneasy as he addressed the group. “Might as well try to get some sleep. We’ll do shifts. Who—don’t touch that!” He hissed at Amun, who had stepped toward the drape.

“We don’t know who might be watching,” said Rin.

Amun raised his hands in surrender and stepped back.

“I can take first watch,” Erith offered.

“I will too,” Maeric added without hesitation.

The group settled onto the floor near their packs, the unease of the night still weighing on them.

Erith rested his head against Maeric’s shoulder. He shifted closer, wrapping an arm across Erith and giving his arm a brief, reassuring squeeze.

The night stretched on in silence, and one by one, the others drifted into sleep. Hours slipped past until it was time to wake Rin and Tal for their watch.

Erith lay back down, certain rest wouldn’t come, even as the weight in his eyes grew heavier. He let his head settle against Maeric’s shoulder—and slowly, sleep found him.

“Erith. Nearly time.” 

Maeric’s soft whisper pulled him back. Erith blinked into the dark. The moonlight was gone. The dim room held only shadow, and in it he could see the others. Each carried their own mixture of tired unease.

The minutes crawled by, each one stretching longer than the night itself—until a muted creak broke the stillness from somewhere outside.

Every eye turned toward the door. Rin and Tal rose in silence, keeping low as they moved toward the door.

Another groan of wood.

Rin’s hand slid to the hilt of his blade, fingers tightening.

Finally, a quiet, but deliberate knock.

“Tal? It’s time to go Tal,” came a man’s hushed voice from outside the door.

Tal reached back, palm open for the key. Rin pressed it into her hand while Maeric shoved the crate aside with a low scrape across the floor.

The door swung open to reveal an older man stepping inside—unkempt hair, grey stubble, and eyes quick to scan the room.

“Right. There is a small vessel moored in the southern docks. We won’t have much time before it leaves for Moranthal, so we best be to it now in one group.”

Erith didn’t recognize the man at first in his plain travel clothes, but in his mind, he could picture him in healer’s robes, speaking with Saryn in the Soliri on the day they’d first arrived.

“Are you leaving Velmoran too, Visk?” Tal asked.

He gave a low chuckle. “We all are. My preference would have been to have left last night—I prefer not to hang from the gallows, but I don’t mind sticking my neck out for you, Tal.”

Tal smiled at the old man, and he returned it before saying, “Let’s move. We’ll stick to the alleys—it should only take a few minutes to reach the docks.

The group filed out, descending the stairs into the narrow alley. Dawn had only just begun to break over the city, casting a pale light across the cobblestones.

At the end of the alley, Visk peaked out, scanning the square. After a careful look, he motioned them forward.

They crossed quickly, slipping toward the next alley—until a voice cut clean through the quiet.

“In a rush, Erith?”

A cold knot lurched in Erith’s stomach. That calm, unhurried voice sent ice down his spine.

He turned. Cerus emerged from the doorway of a nearby building, a small formation of guards fanning out behind him.

“Ah. Seems you have business with the Soliri.” Cerus said, his tone carrying a mockery of surprise as he nodded toward Visk. “Curious hour to be out with them—away from the temple, wouldn’t you agree?”

Movement ahead caught Erith’s eye. More guards filed into the alleyway ahead, closing the group off, herding them back into the square.

“Strange times,” Cerus continued, “even when you think you’ve grown accustomed to it all. Murasi prowling in numbers, striking sifting camps. A boy wielding Kaida in ways that sound far too much like fable.”

He advanced a step out of instinct, separating himself from the others, his eyes locked with Cerus’s.

“I admit,” Cerus said, his voice cooling, “the curiosities of this world give me no greater thrill. But the unknown…” His gaze sharpened. “...is rarely forgiving.”

Erith’s glance broke away, sweeping the square, the walls, the guards surrounding them.

The weight of it dug in. Steel at their backs, numbers against them, and Cerus—calm, certain, at the forefront.

Erith’s mind raced, searching for any opening. He found none.

Cerus’s mouth curved into a grin. A low laugh rumbled out from him as he raised his hands in a feigned gesture of reassurance.

“Come now. There’s no reason for concern, Erith. I only chose this venue as a… more open space for us to talk.”

His eyes gleamed.

“So tell me, Erith. How would you like to proceed?”

✦☽✧❖⨁☼✺☼⨁❖✧☽✦