Lyric stood frozen, the stranger’s words echoing in his mind. “There are others in this city who know about you.” He clenched his fists, his breathing shallow as the last traces of the Harmonium extract burned through his veins, amplifying the vibrations coursing through his body. The resonance inside him felt alive, pressing against the edges of his control.

He forced himself to steady his breathing, twisting his torso slightly to let the wind spiral through his ribs. The resonance eased, settling into a low hum. He couldn’t stay here. The walls of the cramped storage room felt closer with every second, the damp air clogging his lungs.

Lyric pushed open the door and stepped into the narrow hallway beyond. The floorboards creaked beneath his boots, the sound almost too loud in the otherwise silent space. He followed the faint glow of a lantern at the far end of the corridor, his hand hovering near the dagger at his belt.

The corridor opened into a larger room—a back entrance to the Half-Lit Room. It was nearly empty, save for a few chairs and crates stacked haphazardly against the walls. A single figure stood near the exit, their back to him.

The barkeep.

Lyric’s pulse spiked. His hand went to his dagger as he strode forward, the sound of his boots drawing the man’s attention. The barkeep turned, his heavy brow furrowing when he saw Lyric.

“Didn’t expect you to wake up so fast,” the barkeep said, his voice gruff.

“You drugged me,” Lyric growled, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade. “And handed me over to that... whoever that was.”

“I didn’t have a choice.” The barkeep’s expression hardened, though there was a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “You’ve got no idea what you’re tangled up in, boy. That wasn’t just anyone—you’re lucky they didn’t kill you outright.”

Lyric stepped closer, the vibrations of his footsteps rippling faintly through the room. “Start talking. Why does that person care about me? What do they want?”

The barkeep held up his hands, palms outward. “They want power. Same as everyone else in this cursed city. And you? You’re something new, something they don’t understand. That makes you dangerous—and valuable.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Lyric said, his voice low.

The barkeep sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Look, I didn’t want to get involved. But when someone like them gives an order, you listen. They told me to keep an eye on you, to let them know if you started poking around where you shouldn’t. You’re lucky all they wanted tonight was a chat.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“A chat?” Lyric took another step forward, his resonance flaring faintly as his anger rose. “They drugged me, used Harmonium extract on me, and nearly tore me apart from the inside.”

The barkeep’s jaw tightened. “And you survived, didn’t you? That says something about you. Something that scares them.”

Lyric’s breath hitched. The barkeep’s words, meant as reassurance, only deepened the pit of unease in his stomach. If he was scaring people like the stranger, it wouldn’t be long before they stopped toying with him and started trying to eliminate him.

He sheathed his dagger with a sharp motion, his eyes narrowing. “If they come back, tell them I’m not interested. And if you ever try something like this again...”

The barkeep nodded slowly, his face grim. “Understood.”

Without another word, Lyric turned and pushed through the door, stepping into the cold night air.

The streets of Arcanis felt different now, darker and more oppressive. Lyric moved quickly, his steps carrying him away from the Half-Lit Room and deeper into the winding alleys of the lower district. The city’s usual hum of magic pressed against his senses, amplified by the lingering effects of the Harmonium extract.

He needed to think. The stranger’s words had been cryptic, but their meaning was clear enough: he was being watched, and his every move was under scrutiny. He couldn’t afford to stay in one place for long.

Turning into a quiet alley, Lyric leaned against the rough stone wall, his mind racing. What did the stranger mean by “others in the city”? Were they part of some larger faction, or was this a personal vendetta? And why was his unique Harmony such a threat to them?

The sound of footsteps jolted him from his thoughts. Lyric tensed, his hand going to his dagger as he scanned the alley.

“Relax,” a familiar voice said.

Lyric turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as he recognized the man from the Whistling Tankard—the one with the scar and the lopsided grin.

“What do you want?” Lyric demanded, his tone sharp.

The man raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Just making sure you’re still alive. Things got interesting back there.”

“How did you—” Lyric’s words died in his throat as realization struck. “You followed me.”

“Not just me,” the man said, his grin fading. “There’s been a lot of interest in you lately. You’ve got a knack for stirring things up, don’t you?”

Lyric’s hand tightened around his dagger. “Who do you work for?”

The man shrugged. “No one you need to worry about. But if I were you, I’d start being more careful. You’re making a lot of noise, and people are starting to notice.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” Lyric said, his voice low.

“Doesn’t matter,” the man replied. “What matters is what you do next.”

Lyric’s jaw clenched. He didn’t trust this man, but he couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t going to stop until he took control of the situation.

The man stepped back, his grin returning. “Good luck, Lyric Thorne. You’re going to need it.”

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Lyric alone in the alley.

Lyric took a deep breath, his mind racing. He couldn’t keep running, not if he wanted to survive. If the stranger and their allies wanted to play games, then he would play too—but on his own terms.

Straightening his shoulders, Lyric turned toward the distant spires of the Academy. It was time to start digging for answers.