The three left Moira’s tavern and set off through the kingdom. They wandered for what felt like forever, the city was massive, stretching out in every direction with dizzying complexity.
Zorn stared down at his new gloves. They were fingerless, made of a sturdy, supple leather that felt like a second skin. He adjusted the straps, pulling the buckles tight around his wrists until his obsidian star glyph was completely hidden from view.
His mind flashed back to the quiet of the tavern just moments before they left. Moira had pressed the leather into his hands, her expression uncharacteristically soft.
She told him she had bought them at Donal's request, but the magic inside them was all her own. She had enchanted the fabric to act as a shield, a small layer of protection between him and a world that wanted his light extinguished.
Zorn took a breath, feeling the weight of the gift. It was a reminder that despite the insanity of the journey, he wasn't just bait. He was someone worth protecting.
Eventually, they navigated a set of steep stone stairs that led them seamlessly into a more rundown, impoverished district. The silver glow of the upper city faded here, replaced by the grit and shadow of the slums.
Zorn was exhausted, his mind still spinning from the morning’s revelations, while Khor’s face was a mask of pure distress. The only one who looked remotely comfortable was Donal.
“Don, are you crazy? You’re really going to trick Brennan?” Khor asked with a heavy sigh.
Donal wore a relaxed smile, looking as if he weren’t taking the biggest gamble of his life. The weather was clear and beautiful, a jarring contrast to the tension radiating off his companions.
“Don’t worry. We can just hand the artifact back to him once he leads us to the Red Saints,” Donal said nonchalantly.
“I have a feeling that won’t be as easy as you’re making it sound,” Zorn added, his tone flat and unamused.
“It isn’t! Brennan would go into a rage!” Khor snapped.
Donal walked between them, ignoring the protests on either side as he admired the sunny afternoon.
“You’re finished if he senses that energy on you,” Khor whispered angrily to Donal.
“If the energy can escape me, that is,” Donal chuckled.
Zorn’s eyebrow shot up. What was that supposed to mean? What exactly was this relic?
“We need to find us a Star Ranger,” Donal said, folding his arms as his eyes scanned the city for a specific area.
“A Star Ranger?” Zorn asked.
“Think of them as a tracker, a surveyor, and a weather forecaster all in one. Only the weather they read isn’t found in the clouds.” Donal pointed toward a weathered stone building and started walking.
Zorn’s face scrunched in confusion as he hurried to keep up. “What?”
Donal laughed at the reaction. “They track the currents of divine, celestial, and elemental energy that run under the world like hidden rivers. They see through the veil at all times.”
“Why do we need that?” Zorn asked.
“Because Don didn’t think this through!” Khor shouted. “He’s being too abstract! He can't actually follow Brennan’s trail himself!”
Zorn gasped, looking at Donal in disbelief. “Dude, are you winging this?”
Donal chuckled. “Of course I am.”
“DON!”
“I can’t track an Eclipse God, no. Brennan practically blacks out my own energy. But a Star Ranger can track him as he follows the bait without any trouble,” Donal explained.
“Fine. Where do we find one?” Zorn asked.
Khor sighed heavily into his palm, clearly recognizing the building they were approaching.
“You like cowboys, Zorn?” Donal asked with a grin. He stopped at the door and pointed back at it with his thumb.
“Yup. Here we go,” Khor muttered.
“You guys have the Wild West here? Magic cowboys?” Zorn’s eyes widened as he leaned toward Donal.
Donal laughed at the enthusiasm.
“The one Don has in mind is going to be expensive,” Khor warned. “He isn’t part of our group, so his help comes with a high price tag.”
“He isn't a Fae Star?” Zorn asked, sounding disappointed.
“Nope!” Donal popped the ‘p’ and put his hands on his hips. “He’s known as the Alchemist of Change. A seeker of freedom.”
Donal pushed the door open and held it for them.
“His name is Cinco,” Khor added as he walked inside. “The numerology of freedom and change, Five. Though his fees feel more like a life sentence to me.”
“Simple name,” Zorn noted.
“Easy to remember,” Donal shrugged, following them in as the door creaked shut.
Creeaak…
Click.
The interior was unglamorous and eclectic, filled with dated decor and dim, warm lighting. The walls were lined with inexpensive drinks, and the air was thick with the sound of people laughing and playing games. It felt shabby, yet charming.
“What is this place?” Zorn whispered.
“One of our spots,” Donal said. “We don’t have permanent bases. We just have members who volunteer to run shops and hand out bounties or contracts for us. It keeps us moving.”
Zorn was speechless. “I thought you said there wasn't a fortress?”
“Do you see any Fae Star signs?” Khor sneered.
“We hide in plain sight. Shops, houses, restaurants, anything. Now follow me!” Donal waved Zorn over enthusiastically, heading for a metallic spiral staircase. “We’re going to the restroom upstairs!”
Zorn shook his head, certain he had misheard.
“Wait. What? The restroom?”
A tall, burly man stood at the foot of the stairs. He was dressed in dark gear that matched his shoulder length brown hair. His dark eyes gazed down at them, stone cold.
“No customers allowed. Owner’s section only,” the man said gruffly, blocking their path.
Donal didn't say a word. He simply pointed to the pin on his mantle, letting it glint in the dim light.
The man’s eyes widened. He immediately unclipped the velvet line blocking the way and gave a short, respectful nod for them to pass. Zorn was caught between amazement and confusion as he climbed the metallic stairs behind Donal and Khor.
The upper floor didn't look much different from the downstairs area, though it was significantly quieter. The only occupants were a group of armored figures sitting in a circular booth, deep in conversation.
Are they Fae Star, too? Zorn wondered.
He glanced to the right and spotted a pinboard plastered with papers. Every single one was a bounty. Zorn’s eyes widened at the sheer number of them, but Khor caught his expression and gave him a sharp glare, ushering him along before he could linger.
“The restroom is this way,” Donal said, pointing toward a buzzing neon sign that sat above a plain door.
A woman from the booth looked over her plated shoulder. Her hair was a sharp black and teal bob, and her gold eyes were striking against her pale skin. She zeroed in on Zorn, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as she tuned out the voices of her comrades to focus entirely on him.
The woman saw a black and red aura clinging to him, yet it sparkled with the light of distant stars. She gripped her cup a little tighter and hummed to herself.
Celestial, she mused.
Zorn’s senses spiked. A cold shiver ran down his spine that had nothing to do with the drafty hallway.
Eyes, he thought instinctively.
He started to turn his head to find the source of the gaze, but the sound of Donal rapping his knuckles against the restroom door snapped him back to reality.
“Just making sure it’s occupied! Haha!” Donal grinned, looking way too amused for a trip to the bathroom.
Khor stood to the side with his arms crossed, the picture of impatience. Donal knocked again.
Knock.
Knock.
Zorn shrugged, trying to ignore the feeling of the woman's eyes on his back. “Okay, good. It must be vacant–”
“Come in,” a man’s voice called out from behind the door.
Zorn froze. The confusion hit him like a physical wall. His face blank with disbelief.
Did this guy really just tell us to come in? Zorn wondered. He looked at Donal, then at the door, half expecting a punchline that wasn't coming.
The click of the lock echoed in the small hallway.
Zorn’s eyes widened with pure shock.
He really meant for us to come in?!
Without a second of hesitation, Donal turned the knob and began to push the door open.
Zorn gripped his hair, his brain short-circuiting at the sheer lack of privacy.
Bro is just walking in on some man! What the hell?!
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