The sun had set by the time Shiver and Vale returned.

The street was abuzz as the upper circle came to life with elves headed to restaurants or bars.

They arrived dressed in archaeologist’s clothing, sporting the long brown coats emblazoned with the guild’s emblem. The very same coats worn by the two men that had accompanied them. Their faces were concealed by large, brown hats ordinarily worn when the archaeologists were out on expedition. They walked confidently into the guild, taking their seats in a waiting area, Shiver gave Blaze a discrete nod.

The tying and gagging was successful – just not in the way those men had anticipated.

Blaze entered the guild and headed straight towards the reception. She stood on her tiptoes and knocked on the high desk before her.

‘Welcome to the arc- oh hello there little one, something I can help you with?’

Blaze cleared her throat, meeting the receptionist’s eyes with an unparalleled look of self-importance.

‘That’s my little firefly.’

Shiver nudged Vale with pride. Blaze projected her voice, such that it drew the attention of nearby guild members.

‘I’ve been sent to speak to your guildmistress. Two of your men have stirred up some trouble in Madame Valmira’s pleasure house. You must not have heard me. I said, the PLEASUR-‘

Before she could continue the receptionist lunged to cover Blaze’s mouth with her hands. She looked around anxiously, her cheeks having turned a dark red. She scampered around the desk to kneel before the girl.

‘Hush now. The guildmistress will be right there to settle things, let me go get her. You wait right here and bring-‘

‘I’ve got important things to do, lady. I’ll be off now.’

The receptionist cursed as Blaze slipped out of her grip and walked briskly towards the entrance.

Shiver rose, tailing the anxious receptionist as she hurried up the stairs to the guildmistress’ office. Walking through a winding hallway, she ascended further to the top floor of the building, knocking anxiously on what must have been the guildmistress’ door. Shiver smirked as she quickly returned to her seat in the waiting room.

Before long, a tall elf with wavy brown hair dressed sharply in black leather pants and matching boots strode down the stairs, the receptionist in tow. She wore an elegant rapier at her hip. They watched as they disappeared into the evening rush.

‘Are you sure she’ll be capable of it? Aveline looked sharp.’

Vale shot Shiver an anxious glance, adrenaline flooding her system. The orphan just smiled as she sat patiently.

True to her words, Blaze entered the guild once more, this time heading straight for the pair. She smugly dropped a set of keys into Shiver’s lap, looking at her expectantly.’

‘Great job firefly. But you know what we agreed.’

‘But-‘

‘No buts. We need you to be our lookout in case anything goes wrong. You can come along next time.’

Blaze sulked, but promptly exited the guild. Vale had to admire the little girl’s professionalism.

‘We’ve bought ourselves a bit of time, let’s go see what this guildmistress has to offer.’

---

‘So… which map were you after again?’

Locking the door behind them, they stared into Aveline’s office.

Organised chaos was an appropriate description, with books and maps covering her office. Vale gulped but steeled herself, rushing to the guildmistress’ table and pouring over the documents on display.

‘It seems like she was putting together an expedition. She’s trying to find something in the Winterlands. This is promising. Let’s see… a rescue operation? An archaeologist seeking the fabled Archcity of-’

Vale’s eyes widened. She knew she was in the right place.

‘No sign of a journal just y- What are you doing Shiver?’

Shiver was walking idly along a large bookshelf which spanned the entire length of the room.

She ran her finger across the book spines, her eyes cast towards the floor.

‘I’ve heard rumours of weird noises coming from the guildmistress’ room. No, it’s not what you think, pervert. Sounds of a metallic creaking, the archaeologists talk. You see, the guildmistress is entrusted with the responsibility over the guild’s most valuable artefacts. Ah, perfect.’

Shiver knelt, tracing her finger across slight marks etched into the room floor. She began pulling books from the bookshelf, sending them tumbling to the ground.

‘Shiver what are you-‘

‘There we go.’

A click and the bookshelf swung open, and just as the rumours suggested, emitted a dull metal creak.

‘Someone really needs to oil these hinges. After you, my lady.’

Vale rushed to join her as Shiver strolled into the room. It was dimly lit, and a number of shelves and display cases lined the walls of the hidden room. Vale’s eyes widened as she glimpsed a torn tapestry lining the far wall.

Elves kneeling in supplication over a vast… figure. The detail had faded with time but the respect that they paid was clear.

Whatever it had been, it hung over the elves, casting a watchful gaze over them with irises of abyssal blue.

Did its gaze contain benevolence, apathy or disdain?

Whatever the artist sought to portray, it had been lost to time.

Stranger still was the spider that stood over the elves, two of its legs extended skyward.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

‘Our guildmistress has a strange taste in artwork.’

Shiver wrenched her eyes away from the tapestry to the artefacts that filled the display cabinets within. She rubbed her hands together in glee, taking a step forward.

One of the central display cabinets depicted a hammer that reached up to her torso. The hammer’s head glowed intensely, forcing Shiver to squint as if glaring into the sun on a sweltering summer day. She gently opened the display case, reaching inside to grasp its handle, her curiosity driving her onwards.

The smiths in the undercity would go insane for th-

Shiver’s vision went white.

A moment later, she found herself on the floor, her chest heaving, and sweat drenching her through.

For a moment, she felt like she had been submerged into a forge burning as hot as the sun itself, the heat stripping away her skin and boiling tendon and blood alike.

In that split second, she felt utterly helpless, at the mercy of the forge.

It was a familiar feeling.

‘Shiver! Are you alright?’

The girl spat derisively to the side as the sensation faded and struggled to her feet waving away Vale’s offer for help.

‘Get away. Something’s not right.’

The room was filled with all manner of similar artefacts. Shiver’s eyes widened as she spotted a greatsword, adorned by a handle the colour of darkest red. Its blade a reflection of the night sky – pinpricks of light shining in the depths of its darkness, as splashes of colour circled ethereally in their midst.

She glimpsed an elegant ballpoint pen, cast entirely in a smooth white metal. In place of ink, blood seemed to drip from its tip unceasingly, onto a parchment of black. Just glancing at it, she felt the hysterical urge to run it down her skin, part it and let her own blood flow free.

A magnifying glass sat idly in a small glass case, its surface clouded by grey mist. Shiver felt it grasp gently at her curiosity and drag her towards it. When she tried to shake herself off, she felt like it had her head in a vice, enticing, seducing her with the mysteries it promised to unveil. She felt the beginnings of whispers tantalizingly enter her aware-

Shiver clamped her teeth down on her tongue, drawing blood. She stumbled back, catching herself on another case. Her chest heaved as she noticed lines of blood trailing from her eyes.

Shiver noticed as Vale’s gaze was drawn towards a dagger of ivory. Wisps of black mist seemed to peel gradually off its curved blade, encircling the girl. The girls eyes flashed and she let out a ear-piercing scream.

There was no way that had gone unnoticed.

‘Vale! Get back, this is out of our paygrade. We need to leave.’

Shiver cursed as she heard shouts outside.

The door slammed open – opening at such a velocity that shards of wood flew from its impact with a nearby dresser. The guildmistress herself strode in, her eyes drilling into Shiver’s own, her rapier in hand.

‘Avalkin’s hairy ballsack.’

---

In a twisted turn of fate, Shiver and Vale found themselves tied and gagged in the guildmistress’ office. Karma had a way of coming around, it seemed.

‘None of the artefacts are missing, guildmistress. They are secure.’

Aveline Veringold sat on chair, her arms crossed on the edge of its back as she watched her two captives with interest. It reminded Shiver of tales of winterlions stalking their prey in the old days when they still roamed the Verscallian Peaks.

‘Lock it. They’re only so secure in a vault hidden behind a bookshelf. How many times have I told you that it’s too much of a cliché. If these street thieves managed to find it, how do you think we’d fare against a professional?’

Shiver was thoroughly offended.

Tying and gagging her was one thing – she could deal with that. Insulting her competence?

Yet, she sensed an undertone of unease in the guildmistress’ body language. She cast tentative gazes at the bookshelf concealing her vault.

‘Stop trying to lick your gag, girl. It won’t do any good.’

Aveline watched Shiver with mild amusement. Strangely, her face fell for a moment.

‘I should have stopped you before you entered. You’ve glimpsed secrets, if revealed, that would have me dead in a ditch.’

She clenched her eyes shut, her palms rushing to her temple. She groaned, as if experiencing an acute headache.

‘I like you. You two have spunk. You must be the one responsible for our recent thefts.’

Shiver sat back pleased as the guildmistress singled her out. Vale looked at her helplessly.

‘It’s a shame we can’t have you running around having, having glimpsed what you have.’

Vale started to scream helplessly against her gag as the guildmistress drew a sword and positioned over them.

Her grip tightened around its hilt, but before she could raise it-

‘Don’t mind me. I’ve heard the little rascal has been up to more mischief. No amount of discipline is enough Shiver, eh?’

The helpless receptionist together with two other archaeologists struggled to restrain the gargantuan woman who entered the guildmistress’ office. Aveline let out a huge sigh. Shiver could sense a tinge of relief that underpinned it.

‘Marta Trobid. Don’t tell me, the librarium has resorted to recruiting petty thieves? Just how desperate are you and those useless scholars going to hound me for?’

Marta leaned against a table casually, causing its legs to creak in protest.

She was such a welcome sight Vale could have kissed her.

‘I’m not on librarium business, Aveline. Besides, I’ve been well aware of your little collection. Your archaeologists talk, especially after a couple of drinks.’

The guildmistress’ thoughts were awhirl behind eyes of light gold. Pov hurried through the open doorway.

‘The librarium-‘

‘Those old fools. Their Fear and arrogance rules them. I care little for my learned colleagues - sorry excuses for “scholars”. Too easily deterred by Brimstone’s scrutiny. Do what you will.’

Vale’s mouth hung wide open, too astounded to speak. She shot an accusatory glance at Shiver who returned a glib smile – Marta was no labourer, no smith. She worked for the Brimstone librarium?

She was a Feardamned scholar.

Aveline stared blankly at Marta. She didn’t intercede as Pov gently undid the girls’ restraints. After a slight shake of her head, Aveline paced around them, shutting the door in the face of gawking guild members who had amassed to witness the scene. Her knuckles were white on the hilt of her sword.

‘What is there to stop you from ratting me out to those same codgy scholars? You know their stance on these cursed relics. Profanity they say.’

Aveline spat derisively.

‘Turning a blind eye to what they imply, they fly in the face of the “truths” our noble houses have been fee-‘

‘I’ll give you a glimpse of my very own discoveries. A little bit of extracurricular research if you will. Accumulated over the years. Surely you didn’t think yourself the only one savvy enough to stumble across an artefact or two.’

It was then Shiver noticed Pov lugging a thick brown sack that he hefted over one shoulder. His purple merchant’s robes were caked in sweat by the effort, and she felt a sharp pang of guilt.

He dropped them before the guildmistress.

‘Have them.’

Marta let out a warm chuckle as she handed a folder to the guildmistress. It contained sketches of the very same “cursed relics” undoubtedly contained in the sack, delicately sketched with unparalleled precision. Complete with notes detailing the symptoms those relics surfaced.

‘If these two utter a word, I’ll be just as dead as you are. Satisfied?’

Aveline’s shoulders shrunk in relief – not from Marta’s relics, but from the realisation that she had not alone in her endeavour to uncover the truths behind them. Her eyes flicked across Vale and Shiver’s faces, her gaze carrying a hint of an apology.

‘Besides, I know you’re preparing for an expedition, eh? This dear husband of mind might be able to assist in that regard. We’ll talk more. In the meantime…’

Vale withered beneath Marta’s gaze, as her glare bore deeply into them.

Then, as quickly as it had hardened, her glare lost its force, and her warm hands turned the girls over expertly, assessing for injuries. Her forehead wrinkled in a frown as she noticed the blood trailing from Shiver’s eyes, which she wiped off gently. She grasped their hands tightly and gingerly led them out of the guildmistress’ office.

Leaving her folder and discoveries behind in Aveline’s hands.

As they made their way back, the tension had not fled from Shiver’s eyes. Marta and Pov’s sacrifice weighed on her.

There was always a price to pay, even for a life as worthless as hers.