The evening ocean breeze rattled the chains overhead, and the ensnared mermaid swung with abruptness as if trying to break free from the tavern sign. Hunter inhaled the scents of roasted meats and coastal spices, pulling open the weather-worn wooden door. With recent familiarity and enhanced Second Star Refiner vision, he maneuvered past tables and a few tavern drunks with ease in the dim light.

Approaching the back, the bar owner’s jewel encrusted eyepatch glinted underneath the lamp as he eyed him while drying a glass.

“Buckfast Wine.” Hunter dropped three copper coins on the counter with a resounding clink.

With a simple nod, the barman swiped his ruby skull ring across the coins, letting them disappear in an instant. “Last time you showed up, you experienced an unusual brawl. It’s not often we have exiled pirates joining our fare.”

Hunter nodded and glanced over his shoulder as a robust woman approached his side.

Clearing her throat, Charis winked at the barman. “If it wasn’t for everyone wanting to pick a fight with Sabyllos, neither of you’d have had to help clean up the mess.” She set an empty pint on the counter, the tips of her raven-colored ponytail trailing her green lamellar leather bracer as she leaned her arm on the bar. “Three more for the tab, Elijah. We’ve still got some celebrating to do.”

Elijah grinned, filling three pints of ale. “A well earned bounty by Sabyllos’ account so I heard.” He nodded Hunter’s way. “I loved seeing Nastes’ face when his sorry ass was carted off to the drunk tank.”

“Hopefully, they learned their lesson.” Hunter thought it best to keep things polite. He glanced from Charis to the side table where the two other members of the Obsidian Rift downed the last of their drinks.

Charis smiled, grabbing the three pints in hand. “They never learn a lesson; that’s why we’re still in town. General Eratos hired us to fend off the death cultists or any others that cause trouble.”

Hunter’s chest tightened. “Good thing then. I’ve heard they’re trying to rise up against the tower.”

“Nah, not on our watch. But thanks to your recommendation for Mercos, we have improved weapons that snagged us a high paying bounty today.” Charis nodded to Sabyllos as he raised his hand. She glanced back at Hunter. “We’re still searching for another member to replace the ones we lost. You should join. Sabe’s not as arrogant as he looks.”

Hunter grinned and gave a casual wave back to Sabe. “I’ll pass. I have a contract with the Roaming Cultivators Guild to upkeep for the time being.”

“Fair enough.” Charis shrugged a shoulder. “If you change your mind, we’ll be around for as long as General Eratos is concerned about the death cultists and the tower.” She stepped away, carrying the pints to the table.

“Not joining them?” Elijah slid the generous mug of Buckfast Wine to the edge.

Grabbing the fresh-poured mug, Hunter shook his head. “Not tonight, I’m looking for someone. Don’t see them out here so I take it they’re in the pit.”

Elijah tilted his head in the direction of the fighting ring, his gaze still locked with Hunter’s. “It’s not for the faint of heart back there.”

“I’ll be fine. There’s not much that an adventurer doesn’t see.”

Elijah clinked the counter with a couple of copper coins before offering them to Hunter. “Consider it payback for helping clear this place of vermin the last time you were here.”

Hunter raised a palm to refuse but Elijah shoved the coins into his hand and closed it with his own. “Consider us even, I don’t like owing favors. And here’s a tip about Nastes. He might look all prissy but him and Aspa have a vicious streak in them. They hold grudges, so watch your back.”

Hunter looked down at the coins in his hand. “Thanks, I appreciate you looking out for me.”

He snorted. “I’m looking out for myself. If they get to you, it will lead back to me. I don’t like the attention, catch my meaning.”

Hunter smiled. Then he dropped one coin in the staff tip jar and the other in a jar with a picture of a shark on it labeled: Shark Island Extreme appreciates your support.

Near the stage, Hunter recognized the two bards warming up ahead of their night-time session.

Hunter thanked Elijah and tapped his fingers along the bar as he made his way through the back curtain.

He waded through the oppressive atmosphere thick with the foul smell of sweat, stale urine, and ale. It lingered like a wretched nymph with boundary issues.

Grime-covered lanterns cast a sullen glow, throwing shadows across makeshift arenas scattered across the fighting den. The arenas looked like they’d been cobbled together by a blind Cyclops. In search of Pheres, Hunter surveyed the crowd, a sea of desperation and illicit dealings.

The sound of spurs clashing and rowdy cheers grabbed Hunter's attention, leading him to a shady corner. Elbowing his way through the crowd, he saw two roosters that looked like they were on the losing end of a Minotaur brawl. Their feathers, as tattered as a terrible temper, made poor Buckie look like the Adonis of roosters.

Watching the poor birds fight for survival wasn't as bad as feeling their torment. Hunter extended his aura towards them, and despite their resilient fighting spirits, their auras flickered like dying wisps. The strain on their beast cores mirrored the external battle scars.

Neither bird was long for this world.

Hunter soon realized, from the copper coins exchanging hands, that this was low-stakes betting for those craving the thrill but lacking the coin to support their habit. He clenched his fist, exercising every ounce of self-control to refrain from charging into the ring and stopping the fight.

The enjoyment these people got from watching beasts suffer sickened him. Where was the entertainment in that? Gritting his teeth, he turned away, fully aware that, unlike their coin, his time wasn't his own to spend.

Passing by two more fighting arenas, he reached a quieter area where punters strutted around like peacocks in fine robes, exuding a confident aura as if they could conquer Olympus. However, the same desperate greed filled their eyes as everyone else in the room, reveling in the grotesque theater of feathers and blood.

Hunter was surprised to find Pheres standing outside this pretentious circle, looking in with a grim expression. Pheres seemed like a weary traveler unable to find an inn, and the high-rolling gamblers paid him little attention except when grabbing his money for high-stakes bets.

Following Pheres' gaze to the middle of the small arena, lustrous roosters fought like titans clashing. Their feathers shimmered with unnatural intensity, as if they were juiced up on something stronger than Ambrosia.

Expecting a frosty response from Pheres, Hunter withdrew the special bottle of Buckfast. If things didn't go well, he could always hit him over the head with it. In close quarters, Pheres had the advantage. Not only was he physically stronger, he was a Peak Star Refiner, and if cornered, he could easily overpower Hunter.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Pheres looked away from the fight as the larger of the two roosters fell to the ground. The smaller rooster pounced with metal spurs and talons hooked, ready to tear its false nemesis apart, surrounded by their true enemies—men.

Pheres caught sight of Hunter while still a few steps away from him. "What are you doing here?" He tensed, shifting as if ready to draw a weapon. "Are you here to free these roosters? Be my guest; I'd love to see you torn to shreds by an angry mob."

"Sorry to disappoint you. I'm here because, unfortunately for me, we need to talk."

Pheres stepped back, eyes narrowed on Hunter. "There is nothing you and I need to talk about. Unless you have the coin to pay for the rooster you stole from me."

Hunter's chi surged from his core, spreading out like a defensive shield against Pheres' intrusive sweep. It wasn't something cultivators did in polite company, but Hunter wasn't about to call him out on it.

“I didn’t steal that rooster; he clearly didn’t want to be anywhere near you and ran off.”

“It was your strange meddling aura that gave the stupid bird the chance to escape. But don’t worry, I’ll give your sister the chance to work your debt off.” Pheres wore a smug grin.

A red mist filled Hunter's vision. The taunts were designed to goad him into a fight, but he wouldn't take the bait.

“You’re talking rot. You know as well as I do how protective my Uncle Eratos is of my sister’s honor. He won’t like the way you are talking about her.” Hunter warned enough of a threat to make Pheres pale at the mention of Eratos.

“Using that big shot uncle of yours to fight your battles? Why don’t we take this outside and see how big your mouth is when you’re looking up at me from the flat of your back.”

“Because we’re not in the school yard anymore, and I came across a precious something of yours that I know you’ll want to have returned.” Hunter cast his eyes down to the bottle half-concealed by his side and flashed the label so Pheres could see it.

Pheres' eyes bulged, and he made a grab for it, but Hunter had anticipated the move. Stepping back, he opened the distance, keeping the bottle out of reach. Despite the difference in physical strength, Hunter's faster reflexes and ability to read Pheres' expressions gave him an edge.

Fortune favored Hunter as a few curious gamblers looked their way. Clearly Pheres didn't want any attention drawn to the bottle or the fact that he wanted it hidden away.

“Follow me.” Pheres clenched his jaw but backed away to an alcove where those who wished to drink themselves into a stupor watched the VIP cockfights.

“Who gave that to you?” Pheres' voice was high-pitched, drenched in desperation.

Hunter used it to his advantage. “Right now, that doesn’t matter. I am willing to give it to you, but only if you get me to Master Agathos before nightfall.”

Pheres grew even paler, all flush from earlier drinking leached from his cheeks. A darkness crept into his eyes, edging on murderous intent. “Are you insane!” His nostrils flared. “Clearly, you must be and have a death wish carrying that bottle around. Give it to me or put it away.”

Hunter stowed it in his ring, greatly concerned about the fear the bottle instilled in him. “Listen, no need to panic. The bottle's yours once you get me to Agathos. I heard you know a shortcut.”

“I’ve been here since late afternoon; it must be near nightfall by now. We won’t make it in time.”

“What’s the big deal about making it there before nightfall? Is it past his bedtime?”

Pheres sneered, as if ready to gloat about something Hunter didn’t know. “Are you telling me you’re going in totally blind to who Master Agathos is? You really must have a death wish. Anyone who is anyone knows that the hedge maze surrounding his property is not somewhere you want to get lost in at night. And a weakening low-level cultivator like you…” A chill swept over Hunter as Pheres pressed him with his aura. Then he frowned. “You're not a First Star Refiner anymore. How the hell did you advance so quickly? Are you making deals with death cultists now?”

“Don’t insult my intelligence. I’ll tell you if you tell me the significance of Buckfast Supernova, beyond what I already know. Is it a code word?”

“Yes, it’s code for mind your own business.”

Hunter leaned in. “If you’re interested in knowing who gave it to me, you see, it’s very much my business.” He hit a wall of silence in Pheres' hard glare. “Fine, suit yourself. Just get me to Master Agathos.”

“Are you out of your mind? It’s nearly dark. Nobody in their right mind would pay him a visit now, even with a golden invitation.”

Hunter brandished the referral letter they got from Orcus and mockingly waved it at Pheres. “You mean one of these?”

Pheres raised an eyebrow. “Orcus! I should've known. Did he give you that cursed bottle too?”

“All you need to know is they were dead certain you’d help me once I flashed this bottle. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't want to shatter their illusions. They don’t seem like a folk who’d handle rejection with grace.”

Pheres' eyes darted around the room, and he licked his lips with nervousness. His reaction indicated he feared someone more than his own father, and it somehow connected back to the cursed bottle of Buckfast. He eyed the cockfighting ring and then brandished a betting slip in his hand, only to rip it up. “You're lucky I've grown bored of these cockfights. Tonight’s spectacle is lackluster at best.” He stomped off toward the main tavern, sweeping aside the curtain, and released a heavy sigh. “The sooner I leave here, the better. Those bard rejects are butchering my ears with their rubbish.”

Hunter followed him out of the tavern, a grin playing on his face.

***

Lyra had it right; Pheres knew a shortcut. A concealed entrance in the city boundary wall shrouded in vines. He shoved aside the foliage and, with a scowl, unlocked the door using a rusty key, ushering Hunter through.

The chilly coastal breeze tousled his hair, making Pheres grumble louder with every step. They trod the overgrown path through the fields, not exchanging a word. To his right, the tower loomed against the setting sun. If Pheres had caught Hunter's sidelong glance, his face didn't show a reaction, nor did he bother commenting about the tower or the cursed death cultists.

“Pick up the pace, snail.” Pheres broke into a sprint without waiting to see if Hunter followed.

Hunter matched his speed without much effort, and they reached the end of the trail where an enormous hedge blocked their way, stretching out in both directions.

Hunter scratched his brow, finding no visible entrance.

“If you ask me the painfully obvious question of how we get in, I might just slap you.”

Hunter extended his arm. “Wouldn’t dream of saying it. Feel free to lead the way.”

Pheres surveyed their surroundings, eyes wide and searching. Satisfied they were alone and untracked, he rolled his shoulders back and took a deep breath. The words that escaped his lips were foreign to Hunter, an incantation rolled off his tongue.

Suddenly, the seemingly impenetrable hedge parted, offering just enough room for them to slip through sideways.

On the other side, they were met by more towering green hedges stretching out in both directions. A stone appeared in Pheres' hand, glowing dim green. He took a few steps to the right, and it dimmed even more. Turning the opposite way, it brightened to a lighter shade of green.

“Come on, this way. Keep up.” He pointed to the twilight sky, stars winking down. “We’ve got minutes before it is fully dark.”

“What happens then?” Hunter had a feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

Holding the stone out, Pheres kept his eye on the glowing light but gestured to the hedges, now a blur of green and red rushing past them.

Hunter fed chi into his eyes, sharpening his sight on the hedges, revealing unopened red flower buds that resembled giant fuchsias. But they weren't fuchsias; their color was a much brighter pink than these crimson buds.

These were Red Skulls, named for their tendency to open at night, spraying a pheromone to attract night beetles for pollination. The problem was, while the spray worked like a charm on the beetles, it was toxic to anything lacking an exoskeleton to shield them from the poison and mimic the female pheromones.

Hunter whipped out his silver cloth from Claude, tore it in half, and offered one part to Pheres, half-wanting to shove it in his mouth to silence his constant complaints that they wouldn’t make it. Each twist, turn, and backtrack they took because the guiding stone dimmed or turned red in warning that they had taken a wrong turn only made him grumble louder.

Up ahead, like heavenly light pouring over the hedge tops, towering wall sconces of Master Agathos' residence came into view.

“Look, we’re going to make it!” Hunter sprinted faster and grabbed Pheres' arm to speed up his pace.

The moment of triumph was dashed as soon as the flower buds opened on both sides, showering them in a yellow misty haze.

Hunter scrambled for his sabertooth pendant, knowing the silver cloth wasn’t enough. He choked as the fine particles passed through the silver cloth.

The end of the maze was in reach, and his pendant could counter the poison if...

Beside him, Pheres slowed, clutching his chest, then fell into a coughing fit.

Pain tore through Hunter's chest as he struggled to breathe. Darkness closed in thicker than any night, carrying the sound of whirring beetle wings. It was the last thing he heard before falling into the deep well of blackness.