===
Closed for the Festival. Back tomorrow with fresh brews and pastries.
===
Damn. Still closed.
I was annoyed. The Gilded Hearth was still shut. Same sign hanging up as yesterday.
Plain brown parchment paper. Neatly written common script. Sign hung on the door of a two-story cafe tucked into a quiet corner of Vallenport’s market district.
Did she write the sign wrong? Maybe it was meant to say back with fresh brews instead of back tomorrow with fresh brews?
I walked there early. Early enough for the sun to be rising.
Was I too early? But Brenna normally did open that early.
It had been foggy in the morning for the last couple of days. An early morning mist. The fog mixing with the sun to make a pinkish-purplish fog. Blanketing the canals, the leftover signs, flags and decorations for the lantern festival and covering it in a shimmering dew. But it dried quickly disappearing as the hot summer sun rose into the sky.
I had to go somewhere else again.
Maybe the spot I went yesterday?
But I didn’t feel like eggs or talking. I had some books tucked under my arm. I wanted to sit somewhere, read and eat breakfast.
I turned and started walking.
As the sun got higher in the sky. The crowds slowly appeared. More and more gondolas appeared in the water.
I walked along the Grand Canal. Vallenport was a city built on a series of interlocking islands. All connected by stone bridges and waterways, giving it a mystical ambience.
The Grand Canal connected everything. Follow it and you could walk through every one of the six main districts of Vallenport. It wasn’t the straightest route - snaking around - but you would eventually get from one end to the other.
I decided to walk along to the entrance of the Grand Canal. The Harbour District. Early in the morning the crowd was interesting. Humans, elves, dwarves, beast-people and a lot of merchants.
As I walked along the cobblestone path the wind picked up and I heard the singing stones. Towards the Harbour District, buried underneath the cobblestones was an ancient formation that made the songs sing— emitting a soft melody when the wind blew on them.
A lo-fi melody. A gentle whistling jazz.
Other than merchants were tourists. You could tell they were tourists, most of them had the blue map books that filled half of Joras’ map shop.
Eventually I arrived at the Seafront Promenade in the Harbour District. It was built along the city’s main bay in the harbour district. Good views of the water. On a morning that wasn’t misty you could even see all the way to the Storm Shores and the permanent storms that gave it its name.
Not today. Too misty.
I didn’t like the Promenade. Too busy. Gilded Hearth was better. It was close-by. Busy-but-not-too-busy.
The Promenade had one thing for it. A good selection. It was packed with restaurants, inns, and craft shops. The buzz of trade and the shouts of gondola drivers hawking tours for tourists was the majority of the noise this early.
I smiled at the crowds. Looking around.
A good change of pace. Oh?
I saw a familiar orange sign. The Rolling Crust – with no crowds.
It was famous. It sold a fancy type of meatball pastry. Normally there was a line from one end of the promenade to the other. Several blocks long. So I had never eaten there.
How lucky. It was deserted.
I walked up to the counter.
‘I’d like one of the meatball pastries’ I said pointing at the sing.
The old woman in an orange apron at the counter shook her head ‘Sorry we don’t serve them until the next bell.’
Unlucky. The bells had just rung and the next bell was three hours. Bells rang every three hours — the first being the dawn bell. All the way until midnight.
The old woman continued: ‘Would you like to order something else?’
‘Ah — I’ll think about it.’ I said walking way.
I rubbed my hand on my chin, thinking. What should I do?Should I go somewhere else? I walked away. I did want to go to a cafe to read.
Wait? Why am I so confused?
Bong.
Bong.
Bong.
Bong.
Bong.
Bong.
The deep, warm sound of a bell rang. It rang six times.
Oh no. She meant the prime bell!
I got tricked.
The first bell was the Dawn Bell - then the Prime Bell - at 6a.m. I had heard a bell and thought it was the Prime Bell.
I turned back towards the meatball place.
There was a line stretching out of sight.
Aaaah. Missed it.
I wasn’t gonna wait.
I walked around before I found a quiet spot. A small Bard’s Cafe. Ordered my usual.
A Bards Cafe was just a normal cafe with a small stage in the middle for performances. This early in the day — deserted. Musicians were a lazy bunch. It got busy late. Exactly what I wanted.
Other than me there was only a pair of people talking quietly at a table in the corner.
I put my books down on the chair. And a paper bag on the table.
Actually I lied. I had waited in line.
I wanted the pastries.
The waiter dropped off my drink.
I pulled the pastry out of the bag. It was round. The size of a small mandarin. Golden brown crispy breadcrumbs sprinkled with unknown herbs. Threads of thin cheese oozed out of the cracks in the reading.
I bit into it. It crunched. Satisfying. The meat inside was tender. Wrym? Beef? I wasn’t sure what that was but it was fantastic.
I briefly forgot about the books. I ate quickly. 6 pastries were too few. I should’ve ordered more.
Back to the books.
For fun I had brought some history to flip through. Tales from the Forgotten Isles, Explorers Almanac of the Elder Isles. Lots of books about the past.
For magic I had brought A Guide to Ruins and Relics which talked about traps and the most common exploration and detection spells to counter them and The Mage’s Repertoire: Spells for Every Adventurer. A catalogue of spells categorized by utility, combat, and support. It also included a lot of lesser-known spells, encouraging experimentation.
I started with the magic books and considered my options.
So far I had [Mage’s Hand] and that was it. I had to fill 6 spell-slots. So 1/6. The bookstore owners recommend categories were:
1. Movement
2. Information
3. Defence
4. Offence
5. Utility
6. Support
I hadn’t realised how much of a hack my Draconic abilities were until this moment.
Most people only had one-spell in each category and they had to make do. My special abilities could be used for any of those purposes.
It’s like getting an extra 6 spells for nothing.
=== Tavalor
Mana: (Max)
Power Level: ★★★★★★ (Ancient Dragon)
Spells: 1/6 [Mage's Hand]
Special Abilities: Ancient Dragon
--Active: [Dragon’s Breath], [Dragon's Flight], [Intimidation], [Appraisal]
--Passive: [Dragon's Sight], [Ancient Scales]
===
[Dragon’s Breath] covered offence.
[Dragon’s Flight] covered Movement.
[Mage's Hand] was good for both defence, and utility.
[Ancient Scales] made me immune to damage. So no need for other defences.
1. Free choice
2. Information
3. Free choice
4. Free choice
5. Free choice
6. Support
Looking closely. Really I only needed two spells. I had four free slots to do whatever I wanted with.
I think [Watcher’s Eye] was a definite yes.[Dragon’s Sight] I think I would combine with [Watcher’s Eye]. No need for [Arcane Sight]. Dragons Sight had the same effect, I could see magical auras, trace enchantments and spells.
Hmm. What should I name it? Dragon’s Sight + Watchers Eye. Get rid of the watcher and the sight. [Dragons Eye]
Perfect. I imagined how I would use it. Floating magic cameras. I would throw out 100 different [Dragon Eye’s] to scout.
1. Free choice
2. Information: [Watcher’s Eye]/[Dragon’s Eye]
3. Free choice
4. Free choice
5. Free choice
6. Support
I remembered the conversation with Emberfist during the forest training:
'[Vineweave],' Emberfist said, holding up her hand. 'A spell for the thinker. The problem-solver. You can use it to restrain enemies, climb walls, fix broken structures, or even reinforce your defences in a pinch. It’s not as glamorous as Fireball, but it’ll keep you alive longer.'
Definitely [Vineweave]. It let me build a house or a shelter. Climb walls etc. Really this was the magical equivalent of a tent.
1. [Vineweave]
2. Information: [Watcher’s Eye]/[Dragon’s Eye]
3. Free choice
4. Free choice
5. Free choice
6. Support
The others were tough.
Hard to decide. Very hard to decide.
The history books provided context and ideas for different types of builds. A lot of specialists builds. Shield Mages. Elemental Builds. Blademasters. Necromancers.
Nothing unusual.
All the other builds were unnecessary.
Currently I was the ultimate tank. All of my special abilities made me stronger, faster and impossible to physically damage at all.
I could crush anything with a fist.
[Dragon’s Breath] with [Mage’s Hand] covered distance attacks and defence as well.
Maybe a healing spell and a spell for stealth?
The options that I had seen so far were trash.
I had a basic understanding of structural magic after several months of interacting with it. And seeing it in Vallenport with [Dragon’s Sight].
Structured magic was either draconic or elvish runes in a specific combination.
Childs play for a dragon.
Most spells I had seen so far didn’t look right.
They were crudely written.
Like a kindergartener’s first handwriting project.
[Mage’s Hand], [Fireball] and [Vineweave] were the exception. It was as if a college professor had written it.
Why was a low level spell constructed better than a high level spell?
Another mystery to add to the list.
From my research the best healing and stealth spells both came from the same sources.
Elves or Dragons. I didn’t currently have a good source for draconic spells.
But I did for elves. I should see what Luneth would think.
If not her — could I find elf who I could buy some spells off? Or someone else?
Since I could easily determine spell quality – it would be easy to find a good forgotten or overlooked spell somewhere for sale.
Worst case was going all the way to the Elves. They had hidden themselves away in a hidden continent in the West. That would be my last case option.
For now what I had was good enough. Learn [Vineweave] and [Watcher’s Eye]. Pick up better spells.
***
Storm Shores - Silver Spire – Several Weeks Earlier
The Storm Shores were not one big island or stretch of coastline but a group of islands. Really it should have been called an Archipelago. On one of those mist-shrouded islands, stood a citadel-- a towering white spire, with its upper chambers open to the to the winds, perpetually surrounded by swirling fog. Beneath the spire lay the Chamber of Whispers. A secret cavern hidden deep beneath the waves. It was said to amplify the visions of oracles.
In the dim glow of the Chamber of Whispers, the air hummed with arcane energy. A circle of seven Sisters, clad in their flowing white robes, sat cross-legged around a shallow pool of silvery water. The chamber's walls, veined with glowing crystals, echoed their rhythmic chanting as the Oracle, a tall figure with a luminous presence, stood at the pool’s edge. She extended a pale hand over the water, her fingers twitching as though plucking unseen threads.
‘Reveal the Veil,’ the Oracle murmured, her voice carrying the weight of command. The water shimmered, then rippled outward, reflecting the image of a dungeon beneath Vallenport. Four images flashed in the pool of water. Jagged corridors, crawling with dangerous shadows. Traps etched in shadowy-runes. A hidden vault brimming with treasures.
The Sisters leaned in. Twisting pathways. Cursed sigils. A lone survivor fleeing with a broken artifact. Every detail burned into memory. One whispered, words unravelling into the air, binding themselves to enchanted crystal tablets.
The tablets left the island faster than light. Long-established channels carried the whispers. Across continents. Through shadows. The White Robes dealt in information, and nothing travelled faster than something people were willing to pay for.
***
Several Weeks Earlier - Northern Continent - Imperial Solara
The auroras burned green and purple over a white wasteland. Mountains, jagged and silent. The comet cut through the sky, a streak of gold, its light throwing long shadows across the tundra.
The beasts howled, then stopped. Then went mad. Soldiers, bloodied and tired, had spent weeks cleaning them out. This was the last push.
Kethar, the Beastslayer, stood on a frozen ridge, his fur-lined silver armor slick with blood. His blonde hair caught the wind. Beside him, Auris adjusted his enchanted scarf, its runes faintly glowing. Crimson robes, red hair, a look too refined for this kind of cold. Too elegant for the battlefield.
They had just received fresh orders from the Capital. Word from the Silver Spire had spread.
Auris unfolded the parchment. His eyes narrowed. 'A dungeon. Tied to ancient magic. If Vallenport takes it, they’ll rival the Imperium.'
Kethar didn’t look at him. 'We’ll reach it first,' he said, his voice flat. 'Let their nobles try to stop us.'
The order was given. Soldiers boarded the warship, its hull bristling with enchanted weapons. Southward. To the dungeon. To the next battle.
***
Several Weeks Earlier - Elder Isles - Free City of Miragos
The Free City of Miragos was the main rival of Vallenport. A twin to it, in the Elder Isles.
Sunlight caught gilded domes and mosaics. The harbour bustled—traders shouting, musicians playing. Cobblestone streets alive with deals and deceit. Beneath the shine, ambition. Ruthless ambition. The kind the Merchant Lords thrived on.
The Hall of Tides. A cavern of mother-of-pearl and marble. Voices sharp. Robes rustling.
'If Vallenport claims the dungeon,' one roared, his jewelled cane slamming down, 'they’ll dominate the Elder Isles
'We must act,' another hissed. 'Send someone. Someone capable.'
Silence. Then Dorian stepped forward. Son of one of the Merchant Lords. Gold armor polished to a mirror sheen. A circlet catching the light. His eyes, sharp as knives.
'I’ll go,' he said. Smooth. A bow, theatrical. 'Miragos needs my... talents.'
The Merchant Lords nodded. Discussion brief but agreement immediate. The Silverwind, sleek and fast, slipped from the harbour under a moonless sky. Bound for Vallenport. Bound for the dungeon.
***
Several Weeks Earlier - The Mages’ Council of Vallenport
The Council of Mages convened in the Grand Arcane Hall, a towering structure overlooking Vallenport’s canals. Its walls were carved with ancient glyphs that pulsed faintly, filling the air with the hum of stored magic.
The Grand Magus, an elderly figure wrapped in a robe of starlight, presided over the meeting, his deep-set eyes gleaming with quiet authority. 'The comet heralds a shift in magical balance,' he intoned. 'And the dungeon—if it exists—represents a risk we cannot ignore.'
Mages whispered. Apprentices stayed silent, wide-eyed. The older ones argued.
Drystan pushed his glasses up his nose. 'This is an opportunity,' his voice sharp. 'If we claim the dungeon, we cement our role as the heart of magic in the Elder Isles.'
Elarian the Elven Vice-Magus shook his head: 'An opportunity or a trap?' he countered. 'We must tread carefully. The comet’s magic is unfamiliar—and dangerous.'
Voices clashed. Heated words
The Grand Magus raised his hand, silencing the debate. 'We shall send our best. Whatever lies beneath Vallenport must remain within the city’s control.'
No one spoke after that. The hum of magic took over. Decision made.
***
Several Weeks Earlier - Vallenport’s Wealthiest District
A hidden estate. The room lit by an enchanted chandelier. The light flickered, casting long shadows over the massive round table. Dark wood. Ancient. The surface shimmered faintly, glyphs glowing with each raised voice.
The table split the room. Nobles on one side. Practical men and women on the other. Silks and gold on one half. Leather and wool on the other. Their faces showed it all—calculation, anxiety, ambition.
At the head of the table, Duke Cassian Mariner. Salt-and-pepper hair, sharp features, navy doublet embroidered with golden waves. The crest of House Mariner. He dominated the room. Rumours said he was dying. If so, his voice didn’t show it.
'This dungeon is an opportunity,' Cassian said, loud enough to cut through the tension. 'But it’s also a threat. If foreign powers take it, Vallenport’s independence is at risk.'
Beside him, Lady Tidewell nodded. Years at sea had weathered her face. Silver-streaked hair pulled into a braid. Her coat—faded but elegant—spoke of practicality. Her voice was steady. 'We must act decisively. Secure the dungeon. Keep outsiders out. Ensure Vallenport prospers.'
Across from Cassian, Alden Stormridge. Broad shoulders. Rugged face. Earthy tones in his clothes. He scowled as if he didn’t trust anyone in the room. 'And if the magic is dangerous?' he asked, his tone sharp.
Cassian didn’t flinch. His eyes gleamed, hard and unrelenting. 'Then we deal with it ourselves. No outsiders. This is our city.'
The table fell silent. The glyphs pulsed faintly.
***
Several Weeks Earlier – Elven Continent, Elandrial (Capital City)
In Elandrial, the shimmering heart of the southwestern forests, crystalline spires stretched toward the heavens, their surfaces aglow with ley line energy that pulsed in harmony with the Worldtree. The comet’s fiery streak burned bright against the perpetual twilight, its light reflected in the glinting canopies of the City of Light, Lunathiel. The spires seemed to hum in recognition of the comet’s ancient power.
The High Council convened in the Chamber of Eternal Glade, an open-air sanctum surrounded by twisting roots of the Worldtree itself. Runes carved into the pale bark shimmered faintly as Galarion, the Archmage, rose from his seat. Tall and imperious, he carried himself with the gravity of someone who had lived centuries and yet still found the world fascinating. His silver robes, edged in ethereal blue, caught the moonlight as he spoke.
‘This comet’s magic is old,’ he murmured, his voice measured and deliberate, as though each word bore weight. ‘It does not belong to our weave. If it has fallen near Vallenport, the balance is at stake.’
The Council murmured in response, their voices resonating like wind through the trees. From the assembled figures, two figures stepped forward in unison—Lyra and Mira, the Starlight Twins. Their crystalline armour gleamed in the moonlight, shifting from a calm silver to a determined azure as they moved.
‘Their humans aren’t disciplined,’ Lyra said, her voice crisp and even. ‘They don’t understand the delicacy of the situation.’
‘And if they tamper with it—’ Mira added, her tone fiery, eyes sparking with passion, ‘—it could tear everything apart.’
Lyra continued, ‘We must act swiftly.’
‘Decisively,’ Mira finished, her hand resting briefly on the hilt of her enchanted blade.
Their synchronized words rippled through the council.
The twins were identical except for the hair. Mira’s green hair and copper-bronze skin marked her as Wood Elf. Lyra’s blond crown braid and icy blue eyes screamed High Elf nobility.
The Archmage’s eyes lingered on the twins, his voice softened. ‘The Starbreeze will carry you to Vallenport. Ensure that this magic stays out of careless hands.’
The twins bowed in perfect harmony, their armor shifting to a resolute green. As the Council watched, they departed, the ethereal song of the Worldtree following them. The Starbreeze, a sleek vessel of glowing whitewood, awaited them, ready to brave the Stormy seas.
***
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The sun was bright and almost blinding when I left the cafe. The late morning sun bathed Vallenport’s cobbled streets in a warm, golden glow, reflecting off the still-lingering festival lanterns that swayed lazily above the canals.
It was different. It wasn’t the usual bustle of merchants and early risers. Instead a crowd had gathered by the fountain in the square, their voices blending into an excited murmur.
What’s going on?
At the centre of the commotion was a young newspaper boy, standing on the edge of the fountain, waving a rolled-up paper above his head. His voice rang out, clear and enthusiastic:
'EXTRA, EXTRA! GIANT CONTINENT DISCOVERED! Read all about it! Lands beyond the Storm Shores found at last! Mysteries, ruins, and riches await! Special Gazette edition!'
I paused mid-step, my brow arching. Around me, snippets of conversation filled the air:
'Did he say a new continent?'
'Beyond the Storm Shores? That can’t be real…'
'I heard the Sapphire Corsairs were involved. Must be true if they’re saying it.'
Curiosity piqued, I made my way toward the crowd.
Interesting. Even Old Tavalor doesn’t have any memories of giants. Only rumours that they were here first.
The boy, no older than twelve, was thriving under the attention. His bundle of enchanted newspapers shimmered faintly with magic, the ink on their covers glinting under the sunlight. 'Don’t miss out! First-hand accounts! Official confirmation from Nova Imperium College! Find out what Captain Drakemoor saw with her own eyes!'
'Oi, give me one!'
'Two for me!'
'Hold on, lad, I’ve got coin!'
The crowd jostled as hands reached for the papers. I lingered at the edge, arms crossed, observing. I could feel the buzz of magic emanating faintly from the newspapers—a simple enchantment to catch the eye, but effective.
Eventually, the boy caught sight of me. 'You there, sir! You look like a man who loves adventure! Special edition—one silver!'
I smirked, fishing a coin from my pocket. 'Let’s see what all the fuss is about.'
The boy hopped down from the fountain and handed me a paper with dramatic flair. 'Enjoy, sir! You’ll not regret it!'
As the crowd continued to clamour for more copies, I stepped aside, unrolling the newspaper. The front page magically leapt out at me, its bold, enchanted headline glowing faintly:
====
GIANT CONTINENT DISCOVERED!
Exclusive Report from The Vallenport Chronicle
Beneath the headline was a sketch—magically animated—of a vast, untamed land. Towering mountains faded into rolling forests, with shimmering rivers winding through the terrain. Above it all, strange auroras danced across the sky, casting an otherworldly glow.
My eyes scanned the text:
Titanos: The Lost Continent
Expedition leader Captain Elyssa Drakemoor returns triumphant, confirming the existence of Titanos, a massive landmass beyond the Storm Shores. Early accounts suggest this continent is unlike anything known to scholars or explorers. Vast forests, towering ruins, and powerful ley lines are among the discoveries reported. The Sapphire Corsairs and Nova Imperium College have jointly verified these claims, sparking what may be the greatest age of exploration since the Age of Dragons.
====
The crowd’s excitement had grown louder around me. One man, clutching a paper of his own, exclaimed to his companion, 'Do you think it’s true? A whole new land? Riches? Magic?'
'It’s got to be true,' another replied. 'The Corsairs don’t lie about things like this. I heard Drakemoor even brought back artifacts—strange relics, they say.'
***
The crowd’s excitement had grown louder around him. One man, clutching a paper of his own, exclaimed to his companion, 'Do you think it’s true? A whole new land? Riches? Magic?'
'It’s got to be true,' another replied. 'The Corsairs don’t lie about things like this. I heard Drakemoor even brought back artifacts—strange relics, they say.'
I folded the newspaper neatly. My mind raced.
Titanos. I smiled in excitement. This world is amazing. An adventure. A real adventure. A new lost continent.Next up after this dungeon?
This would take a while though. There were a lot of things to arrange if I wanted to go.
The implications of such a discovery were staggering—new magic, ancient ruins, uncharted territories.
And the Nova Imperium College’s involvement meant this wasn’t some baseless rumour, The Nova Imperium was the Imperial college of the Northern Continent after all.
I moved to leave, but not before the newspaper boy caught his attention again, this time hollering a familiar refrain: 'Secrets of Titanos revealed! Artifacts recovered! A new chapter for Vallenport!'
As Tavalor turned onto the main street, the voices of the crowd followed him. The city, always alive, now felt like it was humming with anticipation. Beyond the festival and the lanterns, something much larger had begun to stir.
***
The curtains had been drawn and the drawing room was bathed in the soft flow of morning light filtering through the tall, arched windows.
Emberfist sat in a large wine-coloured wing backed armchair. Her red hair glimmering in the light of the sun as she leaned forward, scanning the newspaper with an intense frown.
Luneth, perched gracefully on the edge of a velvet chaise lounge, was a stark contrast. Her dark hair was swept back into a loose braid, and her silver spectacles glinted as she read the same newspaper, her expression calm but her eyes sharp with curiosity.
The TITANOS headline dominated the front page, its bold letters almost leaping off the crisp parchment. Both Emberfist and Luneth turned their attention to me as I entered the room, their expressions betraying varying degrees of concern and interest.
'So you guys have heard already?' I asked, glancing at the newspapers in their hands.
Emberfist slapped the newspaper onto the armrest of her chair, her fiery red hair catching the light as she leaned forward. 'A new age? Ha. More like a chaotic one. TITANOS isn’t just some ancient ruin—it’s the match that’ll light a powder keg. All the empires—they’re all gonna start moving, and fast.'
Luneth, perched on the edge of the chaise lounge, adjusted her silver spectacles, her dark eyes flicking toward Emberfist with a smirk. 'You’re not wrong. The Northern and Western Empires are already stirring. The Northern Imperium of Solara? They’ll send their fleets before long. And the Confederacy? They might seem disjointed, but Shimmerwind alone has enough resources to make this messy. Not to mention the Celestial and Jade Dynasties from the East—once they catch wind of Titanos, they’ll mobilize, too.'
Emberfist scoffed, crossing her arms. 'And the elves? They’ve been quiet for too long. This is exactly the kind of thing to get them out of their forests and back into the world stage. Let’s not even start on the Free Cities—they’d sell their own kin to get an edge.'
I nodded, stepping closer to the centre of the room, my gaze shifting between them. 'It’s not just about who gets there first. Titanos is too big a pie. It’s enough to make everyone go mad. It’s a new age. An Age of Exploration.’
I felt excited. Those kind of stories were always my favourites. Discovering a new world. A new continent.
Luneth’s tone dropped, her voice cold and precise. 'Exactly. And in chaos, those who move quietly and decisively win. Rushing in like fools will just get us killed—or worse, leave us empty-handed while others reap the rewards.'
Emberfist grinned, a fiery glint in her eyes. 'We need to take action. Stake our claim. Better than skulking in the shadows, waiting for scraps.'
Luneth arched a brow. 'Do you really think brute force is the answer here, Emberfist?'
'Not brute force. Precision force.' Emberfist leaned back, her grin fading slightly. 'Look, I’m not saying we rush in with swords blazing. But we can’t sit back and let them take everything. This isn’t just about artifacts. Titanos holds the kind of knowledge that could shift the balance of power. We need to stake our claim.'
I raised a hand, cutting through their growing argument. 'But this is a long term thing. We aren’t going there tomorrow. We don’t even know where it is.'
'What have you heard about the dungeon?' I asked, changing the subject. my voice low, almost conspiratorial. 'Any progress?'
Emberfist leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. 'Rumours,' he said with a grunt. 'Most of them useless. They say it’s old, dangerous, and filled with more traps than treasures. Typical scare tactics to keep the faint-hearted away. But one thing keeps coming up—those who’ve tried to map it haven’t returned.'
Luneth’s voice was a sharp counterpoint. 'Not entirely true,' she said, her tone cool and matter-of-fact. 'One explorer made it out, or so the whispers go. Half-mad and missing a leg, but alive enough to claim he saw something—a chamber filled with glowing relics.’
I nodded, absorbing their words. 'And the factions?'
'House Mariner has sent scouts,' Emberfist replied, his tone sour. 'That lot is always first to sniff out opportunity. But I’ve heard whispers of outsiders arriving—Imperium Solara, Miragos, even some from the Elven Continent. They won’t wait. Neither should we.'
Luneth leaned forward now, her voice dropping to a near whisper. 'I’ve been gathering intel. There’s talk of an archive with clues. If we can find it first, it might give us the edge we need.'
I tapped my fingers on the armrest, my mind racing. 'Let’s find out more. We’re this close.' I said showing a small gap between my index finger and thumb.
They both nodded, the weight of the moment settling over us. The morning light seemed sharper now, the future stretching out before us like the labyrinth we were about to plunge into.
'For now,' I said, breaking the silence, 'we focus on the dungeon. Every lead, every scrap of information. If it’s out there, we need to know about it before anyone else does.'
Luneth smirked faintly. 'Leave that to me.'
Emberfist uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. 'And if it comes to clearing a path, you know I’m ready.'
***
The Harbor District was alive with chaos and anticipation. Traders yelled over each other, gondoliers navigated the crowded canals, and street performers played lively tunes to distract from the thick tension in the air. All eyes, however, were drawn to the docks, where three ships arrived within hours of one another.
First to appear cutting through the morning mist, was the Starbreeze. A crystalline vessel of Elven make, its hull shimmered like starlight caught in glass. Its sails, spun from enchanted silk, glowed faintly with ley line energy, and the water beneath it seemed unnaturally calm, as though in reverence to its passage.
Onlookers murmured as the ship docked with perfect precision, its crew disembarking in seamless, silent unity. It had been a long time since anybody had seen High Elves.
Next came the Imperial Warship, its presence announced by the deep toll of its iron bell. Black iron hull, bristling with enchanted cannons, it dwarfed every other ship in the harbour. The banners of Imperium Solara snapped in the wind, a blazing sun against crimson. Soldiers in silver and crimson armour marched off the gangplank with precise steps, their commander—a towering figure with golden epaulettes—casting an imposing shadow over the bustling docks.
The final arrival was the Silverwind, barely noticeable at first. Sleek, subtle, it slipped into the harbour like a shadow. Its dark wooden hull bore no sigils or banners, only faint carvings that hinted at its Free City origin. The crew disembarked quickly, blending into the crowd. From the upper deck, a young man in golden armour watched the chaos below, his polished boots gleaming in the midday sun.
***
Three Days Earlier, Day Before Lantern Festival
The Golden Lantern Inn was the finest in the Harbor District, a sprawling three-story building with ivy-covered walls and windows glowing warmly against the evening mist. It was where dignitaries, merchants, and the occasional adventurer sought comfort after a long journey. Tonight, however, its halls were filled with more than the usual mix of curious travellers.
The Twins, Lyra and Mira, entered first, their crystalline armour shifting to a neutral grey, reflecting their calm composure. Mira glanced around the crowded room, her green eyes sharp, while Lyra’s icy gaze lingered on the bar where a black haired young man in polished golden armour leaned casually, a drink in hand.
‘That one,’ Mira murmured under her breath. ‘Something’s off.’
Lyra didn’t respond, but her gaze narrowed slightly.
The man—Dorian of the Free Cities of Miragos—smiled faintly as if aware of their scrutiny. He raised his glass in a subtle salute to the sisters, as though he could hear their unspoken suspicions.
The doors swung open, the room falling momentarily silent as Kethar strode in, his fur-lined silver armour still dusted with frost from the Northern Continent. His loud footsteps echoed through the inn. Behind him, Auris, the mage in crimson robes, followed, his eyes scanning the room with a mix of curiosity and disdain.
‘You’re too loud,’ Auris muttered under his breath, his voice clipped.
Kethar didn’t slow. ‘And you’re too cautious. If we want answers, we demand them. Not skulk about like thieves.’
‘Demanding leads to nothing but dead ends,’ Auris replied, his tone cutting. ‘Or perhaps you’ve forgotten how diplomacy works?’
Their bickering drew looks from the other patrons, but Kethar seemed unbothered, his presence dominating the room as he made his way to the innkeeper.
From a shadowed corner, Lord Alden of House Stormridge sat with two other nobles. His gaze flicked between the twins, Dorian, and the Solaran duo. ‘An interesting gathering,’ he murmured to his companions, his tone dry.
The room buzzed with quiet tension. The Twins exchanged glances, their thoughts aligned. Dorian took another sip of his drink, his expression unreadable. Auris and Kethar’s argument grew louder until the innkeeper shot them a warning look. From his corner, Alden watched it all unfold, noting every glance, every word, every hesitation.
***
The Lantern Festival filled the streets of Vallenport with a kaleidoscope of light and sound. Lanterns of every shape and colour floated above the canals, their enchanted glows casting rippling patterns on the water. Musicians played lively tunes from gondolas, and vendors called out to the crowds, offering everything from sugared almonds to steaming cups of spiced cider. Beneath the revelry, however, the tension was palpable.
Lyra and Mira moved through the crowd like a single entity, their crystalline armour shimmering faintly with every step. Their synchronised movements turned heads wherever they went, whispers trailing behind them like smoke.
‘Look at them,’ a female merchant muttered to her companion. ‘So pretty. Even when they walk. Like they’re dancing without meaning to.’
Mira’s green eyes flicked to the onlookers, sharp as blades. Lyra, sensing the same unease, kept her icy gaze forward, ignoring the murmurs. They weren’t here to entertain—they were here to observe.
‘Too many eyes,’ Mira murmured under her breath.
‘Let them look,’ Lyra replied coolly. ‘The more they watch us, the less they see elsewhere.’
***
In stark contrast to the twins’ grace, Kethar cut through the festival like a storm through calm waters. His fur-lined silver armour gleamed in the lantern light, and his sheer size made people part before him without a word.
‘Isn’t that one of the Imperium’s Beastslayers?’ a man whispered to his companion, his voice tinged with fear.
Kethar pretended not to hear, though his sharp gaze scanned the crowd for threats—or opportunities. He was aware of the whispers, the sidelong glances.
Good. Fear had its uses.
***
Auris lingered near a group of scholars debating the magical origins of the lanterns. His crimson robes and faintly glowing scarf made him look like just another learned mage, blending seamlessly into the intellectual crowd.
‘Fascinating, isn’t it?’ he said, his voice smooth, drawing the attention of a particularly animated speaker. ‘But tell me—what have you heard of Titanos? Such a topic would surely interest a scholar like yourself.’
The scholar hesitated, eyes narrowing. ‘You ask dangerous questions, my friend.’
Auris smiled faintly, inclining his head. ‘And only the brave seek answers.’
***
Dorian was the festival’s golden prince. He moved through the crowd with easy charm, his polished armour catching the light as he laughed with nobles and flirted with merchants’ daughters.
But behind the mask of a charming noble, he played a different game.
In a shadowed corner of the marketplace, he leaned close to a hooded figure. Their whispered exchange lasted only seconds, but Dorian slipped away as though nothing had happened, a faint smirk on his lips.
‘Keep them talking,’ he muttered to himself as he rejoined the crowd. ‘The less they notice me, the better.’
***
The Vallenport Grand Library stood as a towering monument to knowledge, its arched windows glowing faintly from within. Situated in the heart of the Scholar’s Quarter, it was a haven for the learned and the curious alike.
Lyra and Mira entered with a quiet grace that turned heads. Their crystalline armour caught the light of the enchanted lamps, reflecting soft hues of silver The librarian, a sharp-eyed man in burgundy robes, trailed after them, his expression growing increasingly irritated as the twins moved in perfect synchrony through the aisles.
‘You could at least explain what you’re looking for,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Makes it easier to help.’
Lyra turned, her icy blue gaze sharp. ‘We’ll manage,’ she said evenly, her tone polite but distant.
‘Thank you for your… attention,’ Mira added, her voice a subtle echo of her sister’s.
The librarian threw up his hands and retreated, muttering about ‘maddening precision.’
In a quieter corner of the library, a young scholar paused mid-scroll as the twins approached. His eyes lingered on their matching crystalline armour, his curiosity plain.
‘You’re… unusual,’ he said, his voice trembling slightly as he adjusted his spectacles. ‘That armour—are you from Lunathiel? I’ve read about the Elven Continent, but… I’ve never seen anyone like you.’
Lyra offered a faint smile. ‘Few have.’
Not long after, a faint rustling signalled the arrival of another pair—elves from the southern continent. Their green-and-gold cloaks shimmered faintly, their sharp features unmistakably Wood Elven. They paused mid-step when they spotted Luneth, standing near a towering bookshelf, her pale skin and moonlit aura stark against the library’s warm tones.
One of the Wood Elves, a tall male with deep green eyes, froze, his hand gripping the edge of a shelf. ‘A Moon Elf,’ he whispered, his voice reverent, almost disbelieving.
His companion, a shorter elf with braided auburn hair, glanced at Luneth with wide eyes. ‘I thought they never left the Lunar Isles.’
Luneth turned, her silver gaze cool and unreadable. ‘We don’t,’ she said simply, her tone carrying an air of quiet finality.
The taller elf stepped forward cautiously, as if afraid she might vanish. ‘What brings one of your kind here? To Vallenport, of all places?’
Luneth tilted her head slightly, her expression betraying nothing. ‘The same thing that brings you,’ she said, her voice soft but firm. ‘Knowledge.’
The Wood Elves exchanged glances, clearly unsettled. ‘It’s… an honour,’ the shorter one murmured, bowing slightly.
Luneth inclined her head in acknowledgement, then turned her attention back to the shelf, her movements deliberate and dismissive.
The room’s delicate tension shattered as the heavy oak doors swung open. Kethar strode in, his fur-lined silver armour gleaming, his broad frame commanding immediate attention. Behind him, Auris followed, his crimson robes flowing as if he glided rather than walked.
The Wood Elves stiffened, retreating a step as Kethar’s gaze swept the room, lingering on the twins and then Luneth. His presence was a storm rolling into the quiet sanctuary of the library.
‘How quaint,’ Auris said smoothly, his sharp eyes taking in the scene. ‘A gathering of minds from every corner of the world. It’s almost poetic.’
Mira’s green eyes narrowed. ‘Poetry isn’t why you’re here.’
Auris’s smile sharpened. ‘No, but civility might go a long way.’ He bowed slightly toward the twins. ‘And you must be Lyra and Mira of Lunathiel. Your reputation precedes you.’
Kethar snorted, stepping past him. ‘We’re not here for pleasantries. We’re here for answers.’
Lyra’s gaze remained icy, her voice even. ‘And barging into a library like an angry bear is how you plan to find them?’
The tension thickened, every movement weighted. The Wood Elves exchanged uneasy glances, and even the librarian seemed to shrink behind his desk.
Auris raised a hand, his tone soothing. ‘We’re all here for the same purpose, aren’t we? Knowledge. Let’s not spoil the opportunity with unnecessary conflict.’
For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then Lyra turned back to the shelf, Mira following suit.
***
The Moonwarden Records Office was a modest stone building in the heart of the Scholar’s Quarter, its arched windows dimly glowing with the light of enchanted lamps. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of aged parchment, and the quiet scratch of quills was a constant backdrop as clerks and scholars worked.
I stood at a reading table near the back, surrounded by stacks of documents. My fingers brushed over a faded scroll, the words whispering of long-forgotten history. Then, the door creaked open, breaking my concentration.
I glanced up just as Dorian walked in, his polished golden armour catching the faint light of the room. He had the kind of presence that turned heads—effortless charm wrapped in arrogance. Even the clerk at the front desk straightened, her brow arching in mild surprise.
‘Good afternoon,’ he said smoothly, sliding a document across the desk with a winning smile. ‘I’d like to request access to the historical archives. Particularly anything related to… well, let’s call it sensitive matters.’
The clerk frowned, her fingers hovering over the document. ‘You’re not the first to ask about those records today,’ she said, suspicion in her tone.
Dorian leaned in slightly, lowering his voice, and then slid a heavy bag of coins across the counter. ‘A fascinating subject, isn’t it? I assure you, my interests are purely academic. The Free Cities have always admired Vallenport’s archival thoroughness.’
Her frown softened as she pocketed the coins, gesturing toward the stairs. ‘Second floor. Section E. You’ll find what you’re looking for there.’
‘You’re an absolute gem,’ Dorian said, flashing another dazzling smile as he ascended the stairs.
The second floor was quieter, the air thick with dust and the faint rustling of papers. From my place at the reading table, I watched him enter Section E, his gaze scanning the shelves with practised ease. He paused, noticing the gaps where scrolls had recently been borrowed. His hand brushed a nearby logbook, and I caught his faint murmur:
‘Interesting. I’m not the only one digging.’
His attention shifted toward me then, drawn by the movement of my hand over a tome. His approach was measured, calculated. When he was close enough, he tilted his head, studying me.
‘You seem far from home,’ he said, his voice light but probing.
I turned to face him fully, my horns casting faint shadows in the dim light. ‘And you seem far too polished to be searching through dusty records,’ I replied, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
He chuckled, leaning casually against the table. ‘Touché. But Vallenport has a way of drawing unexpected company, doesn’t it?’
My gaze flicked to the scroll in his hand. ‘You’re not the first to say that.’
‘Neither are you, it seems,’ he countered, gesturing to the documents I had collected.
We studied each other for a moment, the silence between us heavy with unspoken questions. Finally, I broke it. ‘Perhaps we’ll find answers. Or perhaps we’ll only find more questions.’
He tilted his head, his smile never faltering. ‘Either way, it’s going to be fascinating.’
The tension hung in the air as we both turned back to our work, the faint rustle of parchment the only sound. Whatever paths had brought us here, it was clear they were destined to cross again.
***
The shop stood in a quiet nook of the district, nestled between a jeweller’s with opalescent windows and a gondola repair stall reeking of tar and varnish. The Cartographer’s Compass, read the hand-painted sign, its curling letters reminiscent of waves. Beneath it, smaller text declared: Navigating the Unknowable since 784 A.M.
The door, carved with a detailed compass rose inlaid with shimmering brass, was a work of art in itself. The air outside carried hints of brine and parchment, a promise of the treasures within.
Inside, the air was cooler, heavier, carrying the distinct scent of old parchment, fresh ink, and something faintly metallic. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with scrolls, atlases, and bound tomes. Odd objects cluttered the tops—spinning globes that turned without touch, brass instruments etched with intricate runes, and a glass sphere filled with floating ink that swirled and shifted, forming continents and seas before dissolving into abstract patterns.
At the centre of the room stood a large, heavy table. Its surface was dominated by a glowing map of Vallenport. The canals shimmered with enchanted light, pulsing in time with the tides. Tiny flickers of light darted across its surface, representing gondolas and ships moving through the city.
Behind the counter stood the cartographer, tall and severe, his silver monocle glinting as he scrutinised us. His vest, embroidered with constellations, hinted at precision and grandeur. A pen hung from a chain at his chest like a weapon, poised for swift use.
As Emberfist stepped toward the counter, the door creaked open again, and the familiar glow of crystalline armour entered her peripheral vision.
Lyra and Mira, the Starlight Twins, moved as one, their synchronised steps drawing the cartographer’s immediate attention. Their armour refracted the faint light of the room, casting faint prismatic hues across the walls.
Lyra’s voice was calm, deliberate. ‘We’re looking for ley line maps.’
‘Old ones,’ Mira added, her gaze already scanning the shelves.
Before the cartographer could respond, a third voice chimed in.
‘What a coincidence.’
From behind a spinning globe stepped Auris, his crimson robes flowing like liquid fire, his expression poised and unreadable. He held a rolled map in his hand, examining it as though his presence was purely coincidental.
‘You’re here for ley line maps as well?’ Mira’s tone carried a sharp edge.
Auris smiled faintly. ‘Curiosity about the city’s magical infrastructure is hardly exclusive, is it?’
The tension grew thick enough to cut with a blade. Emberfist crossed her arms, her fiery presence almost palpable as her gaze shifted between the twins and Auris.
The cartographer, ever professional, cleared his throat. ‘I only have one complete ley line map of the Elder Isles, and it’s not for sale. However,’ his eyes gleamed, ‘I may be persuaded to make copies. For a price.’
***
The Temple of Eternal Tides was as much an archive as it was a place of worship. Its soaring vaulted ceilings were painted with celestial scenes, the constellations shifting gently across the surface as if alive. Rows of shelves, carved from pale stone and imbued with faint magical auras, held centuries’ worth of scrolls and tomes. Scholars murmured in hushed tones, their voices blending with the ambient hum of magic that resonated through the air.
The Starlight Twins were the first to arrive, their crystalline armour muted in the subdued light of the temple. They moved in perfect synchrony down the aisles of scrolls, their sharp eyes scanning for anything referencing ley lines or ancient ruins. Their presence was serene yet commanding, drawing more than a few cautious glances from the temple scribes.
Lyra paused, holding a delicate scroll in her hands. Mira leaned closer, her voice low. ‘This predates the disruptions. Exactly what we need.’
Before Lyra could respond, a soft cough broke the quiet. From the adjoining aisle stepped Auris, his crimson robes flowing as he feigned surprise.
‘What a pleasant coincidence,’ Auris said, his tone smooth, a faint smile curling his lips. ‘The famed Starlight Twins, gracing these humble archives.’
Mira’s green eyes narrowed, but Lyra kept her expression neutral. ‘Coincidence, indeed,’ she replied, her voice calm but laced with suspicion.
Moments later, the door creaked open, and the ambient hum of the temple seemed to falter. Kethar, imposing as ever, entered the archive with heavy steps, his fur-lined silver armour catching the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. He scanned the room, his gaze locking on the group.
‘Well,’ Kethar said, his voice gruff. ‘This is quite the gathering. Should I be surprised?’
Behind him, Emberfist slipped in quietly, her fiery hair and wine-red cloak stark against the temple’s cool tones. She leaned casually against a pillar, her sharp eyes watching the others with amused detachment.
Auris, always quick to seize control of a room, stepped forward, addressing no one and everyone at once. ‘It seems we’re all drawn to the same rumours. The past has a way of calling to those who seek power, doesn’t it?’
‘Or understanding,’ Lyra countered, her tone cool.
Mira added, ‘Some of us prefer knowledge to exploitation.’
Kethar’s hand rested on the hilt of his blade, his expression unreadable. ‘Knowledge or power, it doesn’t matter. Treasure belongs to those strong enough to claim it.’
Emberfist chuckled softly from her corner. ‘Strength is nothing without intelligence. Blundering into ancient ruins is a quick way to end up dead—or worse.’
Lyra tilted her head slightly, her icy gaze fixed on Auris. ‘I suppose your presence here is purely academic?’
Auris’s smile widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes. ‘Of course. Though I wonder, do your interests align with Lunathiel’s teachings? Or is this a more… personal endeavour?’
Before Mira could respond, Emberfist pushed off the pillar, stepping into the circle of conversation. ‘Enough posturing. We’re all here for the same reason. Let’s not pretend otherwise.’
The room fell quiet, the air thick with unspoken challenges.
Kethar broke the silence, his voice low and measured. ‘If you think you can fight the Imperium, you’re mistaken. We don’t play games.’
‘Games require subtlety,’ Mira shot back. ‘Not something the Imperium is known for.’
Auris raised a hand, his tone placating but edged. ‘Now, now, let’s not let our passions overshadow our purpose. There’s enough history here for all of us—though some of it may prove… difficult to interpret without proper guidance.’
‘Careful,’ Lyra said softly, her words cutting through the tension like ice. ‘Guidance is only as good as the intentions behind it.’
The exchange ended in uneasy silence, each group retreating slightly but never fully disengaging.
***
The Noble's Rise district radiated opulence, its streets lined with luxury shops, elite residences, and towering cultural hubs. It was the first time I had been. It was nice. A luxury shopping district.
I had decided to go somewhere fancy for a change. I had brought Luneth and Emberfist with me. We were going to The Crystal. The most exclusive restaurant in all of Vallenport.
The Crystal was a marvel of magical engineering. Floating crystal platforms hovered over serene water gardens, their surfaces glowing faintly with enchantments. Water lilies shimmered with soft, bioluminescent light, their reflections casting a dreamlike glow over the diners. Each table was magically isolated with shimmering privacy barriers, offering an intimate cocoon where conversations remained private.
The restaurant’s reputation was legendary—not just for its supernatural service, but for its menu, featuring dishes so rare and magical they bordered on myth.
We arrived at the Crystal Hearth in a gondola more extravagant than I would have chosen. Emberfist leaned back against the wine-coloured cushions, her fiery red hair catching the glow of the lanterns lining the canals. The gondolier’s uniform shimmered faintly, embroidered with gilded waves, a testament to the kind of establishment we were about to step into.
‘I could get used to this,’ Emberfist muttered, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips.
Beside her, Luneth sat poised as ever, her dark braid falling neatly over one shoulder. She didn’t bother looking at the scenery, her silver spectacles glinting as she adjusted the cuff of her tailored coat.
‘Luxury is a mask,’ Luneth said, her voice as cool as the night air. ‘But masks have their uses.’
The gondola glided to a stop, and the gondolier tipped his cap as he helped us onto the floating crystal platform that served as the restaurant’s entrance. The Crystal Hearth loomed ahead, its glowing platforms suspended over water gardens that shimmered with bioluminescent light. The air carried a faint floral scent, overlaid with the hum of distant enchantments.
The maître d’ greeted us with a bow, his expression professionally neutral but his eyes flicking over our group with curiosity. Emberfist’s presence alone drew stares; her commanding aura made her impossible to ignore. Luneth, with her quiet precision, offered a subtle counterpoint.
We were led to a floating platform near the edge of the water gardens. The privacy barrier shimmered to life as we sat, its faint glow ensuring our conversation wouldn’t be overheard.
From my seat, I could see the room was filling with familiar faces. The Starlight Twins arrived soon after us, their movements synchronised as they took a table not far away. Their crystalline armour, muted for the evening, still caught the light like a fractured rainbow.
Not long after, Auris and Kethar entered. Auris’s crimson robes flowed like liquid fire, his glowing scarf catching the eye of every noble in the room. Kethar followed, his heavy silver armour clinking faintly, his sharp gaze scanning the tables as though he were on a battlefield.
Then there was Dorian, late as ever, his golden armour catching every flicker of light in the room. He moved with calculated ease, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. His table wasn’t far from ours, close enough to keep an eye on everyone else but distant enough to appear uninvolved.
***
Several Kilometres Away – Intersection between Scholars Quarters and South Docks
The canals had been quiet that night, the city caught in its usual hum of activity. Then, without warning, a flash of light split the air. The barrier rose in the heart of the Scholar’s Quarter, gold and silver, its surface crackling with ancient energy.
Different groups appeared to scout it. Then messengers were sent out. In person to avoid messages interception by using communication stones.
***
The Crystal prided itself on spectacle as much as taste. Each dish arrived with a performance—smoking platters, glowing goblets, and enchanted aromas that shifted with the diner’s mood.
The twins, true to their nature, ordered the exact same vegetarian courses: Sylvan Bloom Salad, its petals wilting and reviving with each bite. They ate in perfect synchrony, their mirrored movements unnerving the staff.
Auris, ever the showman, ordered the Celestial Platter, a dish that came with a glowing orb that projected star maps onto the table. Kethar, uninterested in the flair, settled for the Exotic Beast Platter. A robust meal that crackled faintly with energy.
Dorian, as expected, chose a dish that demanded attention: Golden Stag, served with a dramatic flash of light as edible gold flakes rained onto his plate. His wine, enchanted to glimmer with constellations, was more about spectacle than taste.
We opted for the Ocean’s Whisper, a delicate seafood platter that with a range of bizarre animals that required no theatrics.
The real drama unfolded between courses. The magical privacy barriers kept conversations private, but the subtle glances and measured gestures spoke volumes.
Auris leaned in toward Kethar, his tone low but sharp. ‘They’re playing their hand too openly. We need to stay ahead of them.’
The twins exchanged knowing looks, their voices soft but cutting. ‘This isn’t about who looks clever. It’s about who moves decisively,’ Mira said, her fork tapping against her plate in rhythm with Lyra’s.
Dorian, ever the performer, caught Tavalor’s eye and raised his glass in a mock toast. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
The servants, trained to perfection, moved silently between the tables, their eyes flicking toward the unusual dynamics. Other noble diners whispered behind raised goblets, their curiosity piqued by the gathering of such disparate figures in one place.
Between courses, subtle messages were passed—a folded napkin exchanged with a servant, a glance heavy with meaning, a whispered word under the guise of ordering dessert. Alliances were hinted at, veiled threats disguised as pleasantries.
One of the twins murmured something to a passing steward, who paused briefly at Auris’s table. The mage glanced up, his expression unreadable as the steward placed a single silver coin beside his goblet before disappearing.
I sat, observing it all, kept my focus sharp, my ears catching faint snippets of conversation whenever a barrier momentarily flickered.
The tension in the room snapped when a courier arrived, out of place in the elegant surroundings. He approached the maître d’, who nodded gravely and delivered the message to the central table. The first of several messengers.
The news spread quickly through the restaurant: new findings. A barrier had been discovered in the canals, its contents unknown but radiating ancient power. An entrance to a dungeon probably.
The reactions were instant.
Auris’s smile grew sharper. ‘Well,’ he murmured, ‘the game has just changed.’
Lyra and Mira exchanged a glance, their synchrony betraying a flicker of urgency.
Dorian’s fingers tapped against his goblet, his expression one of calm interest, though his eyes burned with calculation.
I leaned back slightly, watching the room absorb the moment while quietly reassessing my next steps.
The groups began to leave, each with a calculated purpose.
The twins were first, their departure as seamless as their entrance. Their armour shimmered faintly as they moved, their whispered conversation lost to the hum of the room.
Auris and Kethar followed, the mage pausing just long enough to give a parting glance to Dorian.
Dorian lingered, exchanging quiet words with the maître d’, likely arranging something unseen.
I flagged the maître d’ down. The maître d’ approached with a bow, his composure shaken but intact. ‘Gentlemen—and ladies,’ he said, nodding toward Emberfist and Luneth. ‘I trust your evening has been satisfactory?’
‘More than,’ Emberfist replied, her grin sharp.
We rose together, the privacy barrier dissipating in a faint shimmer. As we stepped onto the crystal walkway leading back to the gondolas, the glow of the barrier outside painted the canals in an eerie, golden light.
The Crystal faded behind us as we boarded the gondola, the city’s quiet hum returning as we glided through the canals. The barrier loomed in the distance, a silent challenge that promised chaos and opportunity in equal measure.
‘We finally get to go to the dungeon,’ I murmured, the words more to myself than to the others.
Emberfist smirked. ‘Good. I was getting bored.’
Luneth said nothing, but the glint in her eye spoke volumes. Whatever lay ahead, we weren’t leaving the game until we had all the pieces.
The stage was set. The players had made their first moves.