The tavern thrummed with life, a chaotic symphony of laughter, clinking tankards, and the melodic strumming of lutes. Warm light from iron sconces danced across the wooden beams above, casting flickering shadows that moved in time with the crowd. In the corner, standing on a small, makeshift stage, a tiefling bard captivated the room with her haunting yet uplifting melody. Her pink-hued skin shimmered under the light, her two long, polished horns curving elegantly back over her braided hair. She swayed gently as she sang, her voice weaving through the tavern like a spell, drawing every patron into its rhythm.
Across from her, a burly bard sat on a three-legged stool, his large hands deftly plucking at the strings of his lute. His kind, weathered face lit up with joy as he leaned into the tune, his checkered shirt and faded overalls giving him an unassuming charm. The lantern light caught the silver streaks in his beard as it shook in time with his hearty voice. Together, the two bards created a perfect harmony, their contrasting tones blending seamlessly.
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord! The refrain burst forth from the crowd, the tavern’s patrons roaring the words with jubilant abandon. Tankards were raised high, ale sloshing over their edges as the chorus filled the air. A group near the hearth linked arms, swaying as they belted the song, their laughter punctuating the verses. In the corner, a pair of merchants clinked mugs while a grizzled soldier tapped his boot to the beat, the firelight glinting off his dented armor.
Even the tavern’s staff had been swept up in the energy. The barmaids, balancing heavy trays laden with drinks, hummed along as they weaved through the crowd, their steps almost like a dance. Behind the counter, the barkeep grinned as he filled another round of frothing mugs, his rhythmic motions keeping time with the music.
Every corner of the room seemed to pulse with life. The scent of spiced meat and fresh bread mingled with the sharp tang of ale and the faint, smoky aroma of the roaring hearth. The atmosphere was infectious, the kind of warmth and camaraderie that made strangers feel like old friends.
In the middle of it all, the tiefling bard stepped forward, her braids swinging as she raised one hand to the crowd, encouraging them to sing louder. The room obliged, their voices swelling in unison, creating a sound so vibrant it seemed to vibrate in the very walls. Meanwhile, her counterpart chuckled heartily, his nimble fingers moving effortlessly over the strings, adding a playful flourish to the melody.
Cheese wobbled and jiggled in perfect rhythm with the music, its gelatinous body undulating like a living metronome. Its vibrant, translucent surface shimmered under the tavern's warm light, catching hues from the glowing hearth and flickering lanterns. Wide, sparkling eyes were glued to the performers on stage, reflecting their every movement with childlike wonder. The little slime bounced higher with each beat, an embodiment of pure, unrestrained joy.
At a sturdy oak table nestled in the corner, the Champions sat amidst the swirl of warmth and sound. Their cloaks and armor were tucked away in their inventories, leaving them to blend more easily into the lively crowd. Plates of steaming, fragrant food crowded the table alongside mugs of frothy ale and spiced cider. The din of the tavern wrapped around them—a comforting cacophony of laughter, cheers, and music.
Elira tore into her meal with relish, tearing apart a roasted leg of some fantastical beast with gusto. “Oh man, this is so good!” she mumbled through a mouthful, chasing it down with a hearty swig from her mug.
“Pace yourself, Elira,” Magnus chuckled, cutting into his own meal: a delicate dish of what looked like seared fish topped with edible flowers. Across from her, Magnus sat gracefully, his long green hair falling over one shoulder as he delicately ate his meal. Pip perched on his shoulder, nibbling at a tiny scrap he had shared, its tiny paws working furiously. The two were an odd, endearing pair, drawing occasional smiles from passing patrons.
Seraph, seated beside Darius, nibbled at her dish—some sort of delicately spiced pasta—while Darius regaled her with tales of his past misadventures. She giggled softly, her silver eyes glinting in the firelight, while the towering dragonborn leaned in closer, clearly enjoying her company as much as his meal.
Lorian, ever the quiet observer, ate thoughtfully while keeping a protective hand near Cheese. The little slime had taken up bouncing along the table’s edge, its antics eliciting chuckles from nearby tables. Cheese’s infectious enthusiasm seemed to mirror the vibrancy of the tavern itself, drawing smiles even from strangers.
Caelus leaned back in his chair, his own plate half-empty, savoring the atmosphere more than the food. The warmth of the tavern seeped into his bones, chasing away the exhaustion from the day’s mission and the weighty meeting with Rowan. The music was nothing like what he had ever listened to before, but here, amidst the lively crowd and the sense of camaraderie, something was off.
Caelus’s gaze swept across the table, his eyes lingering on each of his companions as they laughed, ate, and basked in the warmth of the tavern. Eventually, his attention settled on Riven, tucked beside Elira. At first glance, she seemed almost invisible, her small frame eclipsed by Elira’s broad shoulders. Her hood was pulled low, casting her face in shadow, but even in the dim light, Caelus could sense something was off.
Her posture was telling. Shoulders hunched, her head rested heavily on one hand, fingers pressed against her temple as if trying to hold something at bay. The way she sat—half-turned, as if shrinking from the world—betrayed her discomfort. She didn’t eat, didn’t drink, didn’t look up.
Caelus frowned, his smile fading as he watched her. The lively energy of the tavern seemed to dim around her, the revelry a stark contrast to her isolation.
Before he could speak or reach out, Riven moved. She rose with an almost ghostly quietness, tugging her hood lower as she slipped past Elira. Her movements were fluid, deliberate, and practiced, as though she’d spent a lifetime perfecting the art of vanishing into the background.
The crowd, caught up in their own merriment, didn’t notice as she weaved through the bustling patrons. The door creaked softly as she opened it, the chill of the night seeping in for a brief moment before it closed behind her with a muffled thud.
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No one else saw her leave. No one, except Caelus.
He sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing. Something wasn’t right. The others were too engrossed in their meals and the music to notice her absence. He glanced at Lorian and Seraph, who caught his questioning look but couldn’t hear him over the noise. When Caelus pointed toward the door, Lorian raised a brow but gave a subtle nod of understanding, followed by a quick thumbs-up.
Caelus pushed back his chair and stood, his movements purposeful yet calm to avoid drawing attention. He stepped away from the table, weaving through the crowd toward the exit, his thoughts racing. Riven didn’t leave for no reason.
The cool night air greeted Caelus with a crisp bite as he stepped outside, the tavern’s warm glow and raucous laughter fading to a muffled hum behind the heavy door. The street stretched out before him, its cobblestones glinting faintly under the flickering lanterns. Shadows danced along the edges of buildings, where alleyways yawned into darkness, and the distant sounds of a bustling city at night murmured faintly in the background.
Caelus scanned the street, his sharp gaze sweeping left and right. The thoroughfare seemed almost deserted, save for the occasional figure trudging home or the distant clatter of a cart’s wheels. There was no sign of Riven.
“Where could she have gone…” he muttered under his breath, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone. His mind raced, turning over possibilities. Riven wasn’t the type to wander aimlessly, especially not in the middle of the night. Wherever she went, there was purpose behind it.
He took a steadying breath, his fingers flexing at his sides as a thought struck him. Summoning the Soulbound Interface might work. He stretched out his hand, picturing the glowing runes and shimmering screen in his mind. As if responding to his thoughts, the interface materialized in front of him with a faint hum, its translucent panels displaying a familiar array of options.
Navigating swiftly, Caelus tapped on the “Champions” tab and selected Riven’s name. A small icon appeared, and without hesitation, he initiated a call.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, from above—a loud, jarring ringtone shattered the quiet night.
Caelus’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the source. High above him, nestled in the thick branches of an old, sprawling tree, was a small figure. Riven.
She panicked, fumbling with her interface before hurriedly declining the call. The noise cut off abruptly, leaving the night silent once more. From her perch, she leaned over, peering down at him with a mix of irritation and embarrassment.
“What the—? I didn’t even know that was a thing!” Riven’s sharp voice cut through the stillness, carried by an edge of irritation as she peered down from her perch. She fiddled with her Soulbound Interface as if tempted to toss it away entirely, her hood falling slightly to reveal a sliver of her face, flushed with frustration. Yet, in the brief flicker of lamplight that illuminated her sharp features, Caelus caught a glimpse of something more—something buried beneath her irritation.
There it was: a flicker of vulnerability. It wasn’t obvious, but Caelus had spent enough time around people to recognize the telltale signs. The subtle droop of her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the tree branch tighter than necessary, and the faintest quirk of her lips before she masked it with a scowl. Almost as if, deep down, she’d wanted someone to notice she was gone.
Caelus stepped closer to the base of the tree, his boots crunching softly against the loose gravel and grass scattered across the cobblestones. He tilted his head to get a better view of her amidst the thick branches, their silhouettes swaying gently in the breeze.
“You alright?” he asked, his voice steady, his tone laced with genuine concern. He didn’t raise his voice, knowing it would only push her further into her shell. Instead, he kept it calm, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile thread tethered her to this moment.
Riven shifted uneasily in her perch, her small frame folding in on itself as if she could make herself disappear. The thick branch cradled her like a throne carved from the ancient tree, though her posture was anything but regal. She rested her chin on her knee, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, drawing them close to her chest. Her cloak fluttered slightly in the cool night breeze, the fabric whispering against the bark as she adjusted her weight.
“Yeah,” she muttered, her voice low and flat. “It’s… whatever.”
The words barely carried through the stillness, but Caelus caught them. He sighed, his shoulders softening as he abandoned any pretense of authority. Instead, his posture became open and unguarded. “It’s clearly not ‘whatever,’” he said, his tone calm but resolute.
He leaned against the tree’s sturdy trunk, the rough bark pressing against his back. The faint smell of earth and wood mingled with the lingering aromas of the tavern, a stark contrast to the lively warmth he’d left behind. Slowly, he slid down until he was seated at its base, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as if he were giving her space to react—or not react at all. One leg bent at the knee, while the other stretched out before him, boot resting lightly on the ground.
Riven didn’t immediately respond. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, far beyond the city’s lantern-lit streets, where the world melted into darkness. The distant pinpricks of stars shimmered faintly through the swaying branches, their light fragmented by the gentle rustling of leaves. Her hood had slipped back just enough to reveal her sharp features—taut with an emotion she clearly didn’t want to name.
For a long moment, the only sounds were the occasional creak of the tree, the distant murmur of the tavern, and the faint rustle of leaves stirred by the night breeze. Caelus didn’t push her. He simply sat there, his presence steady and unobtrusive, a grounding force against the weight of her silence.
Caelus shifted slightly, his posture remaining relaxed but his attention fully focused on her. His gaze softened, his expression open and patient. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked gently, his voice low but steady, like a calm ripple over deep waters.
Riven didn’t respond immediately. Her face, half-shrouded in shadow and the soft light of the stars above, was hard to read. She bit her lip, her sharp teeth catching the pale skin for a moment before she let out a breath she seemed to have been holding. “No. Not really,” she murmured, her voice so quiet it almost got lost in the rustle of leaves.
Caelus didn’t press her, didn’t shift or interrupt the silence that hung between them like a fragile thread. He simply waited, his presence steady, offering her the space to speak—or not.
After a long pause, her fingers tightened around her knees, her knuckles whitening. She glanced down at him for the briefest of moments, her eyes catching the faint glow of the lanterns in the distance. “It’s just…” she started, her voice faltering before she trailed off.
Caelus tilted his head, watching her closely. “Got a flashback?” he asked knowingly, his tone careful and measured. He didn’t need to explain; they both knew what it meant. Since their resurrection, echoes of their past lives—the lives of the legendary warriors they had become—often surfaced, unbidden and raw.
Riven flinched at his words, her jaw tightening as she turned her face away. Her nails dug into the fabric of her cloak. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice almost breaking. “But not like that.”
Her words hung in the air, weighted and heavy. Caelus straightened slightly, his brows knitting as he listened.
“It wasn’t Zephira’s memories,” she clarified, the name of her past life unspoken but understood between them. “It wasn’t from the Champion I became.” Her voice wavered, and she clenched her teeth as if bracing for a blow. “It was from when I was just… me.”