Rava and Vivienne sat in an uncomfortable silence in one of the dining rooms of the Serkoth clanhall. The faint sounds of bustling activity in the hall outside barely filtered through the heavy wooden door, leaving them in a private bubble of stillness. The room was plain but sturdy, with thick beams overhead and a long table at its centre.

The lekine sat slouched in her chair, taking half-hearted bites of a chunk of bread in one hand and a sausage in the other. The lekine’s sharp eyes were fixed on some indeterminate point on the wall, her expression unreadable.

Vivienne, for her part, leaned forward on her elbows, her quintet of eyes darting occasionally toward Rava before she finally broke the silence. “So, are we going to talk about last night?”

Rava didn’t look up immediately, finishing her bite and chewing thoughtfully. “Do you want to?” she asked, her tone casual, as if they were discussing the weather.

“Not sure,” Vivienne admitted, her shadowy form shifting slightly, betraying her unease.

Rava glanced at her, one brow raised. “Then why bring it up?”

Vivienne shrugged, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “I feel like... I should? I mean, waking up next to you was unexpected. Not bad,” she added quickly, “just unexpected.”

Rava snorted softly. “We were drunk, Viv. People do things when they drink. Doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Vivienne raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Doesn’t have to,” she repeated, her tone light. “But you’re not ruling out that it could.”

Rava shot her a half-annoyed, half-amused look. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, you woke up in bed beside me,” Vivienne replied with a grin, her voice dripping with playful satisfaction. She leaned back in her chair, the corners of her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I don’t know. About all this, I mean,” she added, her tone softening.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something in her had shifted. It wasn’t guilt—she had no reason to feel guilty. She was dead, after all. But still, there was something about waking up beside Rava that felt... complicated.

Her mind drifted, caught between two realities. She loved her husband, still did. But as the days passed, he was becoming more of a faint memory, like an impression that faded with time. Was that what death did? Took the edges off everything? Made everything seem distant? He deserved to move on, didn’t he? She imagined him finding some kind of peace after her departure. Perhaps not with someone else, but maybe just in the knowledge that she was truly gone.

A quiet sigh escaped her lips.

Then a thought struck her with sudden force. How long had she been dead? From her perspective, it had all happened in an instant. One moment, she was dying—those impressions of pain, the fading warmth of her life. And then—nothing. Then she was before what she could only describe as a god, its presence heavy, imposing. And after that, she was thrust into this monstrous, ever-hungry body. Time had lost all meaning.

How long? A year? Ten years? A century?

The question gnawed at her. She would never know. Time seemed irrelevant now, like an abstract concept she could never quite grasp. And unless she spoke to her patron goddess again—if that even remained possible—she would have no way of knowing. But even if she did, what difference would it make?

Vivienne ran a hand through her hair, looking down at the table in front of her, lost in thought. The memories of her previous life were slipping away, fading like old ink on parchment, leaving only the vaguest outlines of who she had been.

She let out a soft laugh, more to herself than to Rava. “I’m just a mess, aren’t I?”

Rava raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She reached for her mug, taking a long, slow drink, as if giving Vivienne the space to sort through her tangled thoughts.

Vivienne wasn’t sure what she expected Rava to say—maybe nothing, or maybe something that would make all this feel less confusing. But Rava remained silent, her presence oddly grounding. And in that quiet, Vivienne felt something shift again. Maybe it didn’t have to make sense right now. Maybe it wasn’t about making sense at all.

She looked up at Rava, a rueful smile tugging at her lips. “Guess we both woke up with a lot to figure out.”

Rava gave her a half-smile in return, but there was something softer in her eyes now, a recognition of the tension in the air. “Yeah. But you’re not alone, Viv.”

Vivienne’s heart stilled at the words. It wasn’t a promise, not really, but the way Rava said it—steady, without hesitation—made something inside of her unfurl just a little bit.

“I suppose not.” She hummed. “So what now? I presume we aren’t just going to sit around waiting for Aegis to follow up on whatever happened in that little forest.”

Rava nodded thoughtfully. “Mother hasn’t assigned me anything yet, so I’m not entirely sure what my next task is. Though, I should probably stop in with Narek about that disappearance case.”

“As good a plan as any,” Vivienne said, standing up and stretching her limbs, her movements languid yet deliberate. “Meanwhile, I should probably see about earning some coin. I’m technically homeless and broke at the moment.”

Rava smirked as she tore off another piece of bread. “Can’t have people thinking you’re a mooch, can you?”

“Precisely!” Vivienne proclaimed, her tone mock-grandiose as she spread her arms wide. “You see me for who I truly am—an upstanding citizen with a reputation to maintain.”

“I think I saw plenty of you last night,” Rava teased, her smirk widening as she casually bit into her bread.

Vivienne froze for a split second, her quintet of eyes widening before she buried her face in her claws. “Rava, please.”

Rava arched an eyebrow, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh? Did I just discover how to fluster you? Have the tables turned?”

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Vivienne let out a dramatic groan, her voice muffled behind her claws. “I am never drinking with you again.”

“Your loss,” Rava replied, her voice light and teasing. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep this little discovery in my arsenal for later.”

Letting her claws drop, Vivienne fixed Rava with a glare that held no real malice. “You’re impossible.”

“Now that’s a familiar word,” Rava quipped, her grin widening further.

Vivienne sighed, adopting a tone of mock resignation. “I must be a masochist.”

The two continued their banter as they made their way through the winding corridors of the Serkoth clanhall, the stone walls alive with the muted echoes of voices and footsteps. When they finally reached Narek’s office, Rava knocked firmly on the door and stepped back, crossing her arms as they waited.

After a moment, a tired voice called from within. “Come in.”

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Rava stepped inside with Vivienne trailing behind her. The office was a chaotic mess, its surface nearly buried under scattered parchments, maps, and ink-stained quills. Sitting amidst the chaos was Narek, his dark grey hair tousled and his sharp features marred by deep lines of exhaustion. He looked like he hadn’t seen a bed in days.

His gaze lifted from the clutter, settling first on Rava. “Ravanyr,” he said, his tone plain and heavy with fatigue. His eyes then shifted to Vivienne, his expression tightening with curiosity. “And you.”

“And me!” Vivienne said with a grin, her arms outstretched in a playful flourish as if she were announcing her arrival on stage.

Narek arched a brow, leaning back in his chair. “Charming,” he said dryly. “What are you doing here, Rava? Don’t tell me Mother roped you into this mess, too.”

“What mess?” Rava replied, her tone measured. “I thought I’d check in about the disappearances in the farmlands. Vivienne wanted to tag along.”

“Ah, I already know about that since mother dumped more work on me regarding the fallout there. Good work.” Narek sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There seems to be a thief somewhere in the city.”

“Uncommon, but not unusual,” Rava said, her voice even.

“It would be, if not for the nature of the thefts.” Narek gestured to a pile of reports on his desk. “There’s no rhyme or reason to what’s being taken. A family heirloom—a necklace—was reported missing first. Then, a teacher found several slate pencils and two spare slates gone. A tailor lost spools of thread and a set of needles. Then one of the larger families reported a valuable hairpin. And finally, a seamstress claimed her mannequin was stolen.”

Vivienne blinked. “A mannequin? Someone lugged off a whole mannequin?”

“Yes,” Narek replied, his tone flat and heavy with frustration. “First, they take something valuable. Then it’s cheap, everyday items. After that, another valuable piece, followed by something moderately expensive.” He let out a weary sigh, slumping back in his chair. “It’s like the thief is toying with us.”

Vivienne tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing. “So why not let the guards handle it? Seems like their job.”

“They’ve tried,” Narek said, his voice grim. “But the guard force is stretched thin. Most of them have been reassigned to deal with the war effort. Those who remain are barely keeping up with their regular duties, let alone something as bizarre as this.”

Rava frowned, her arms crossing. “So, you’re stuck dealing with it yourself.”

“Exactly.” Narek’s expression darkened as he gestured to the clutter of reports on his desk. “And unless I find something soon, it’s only a matter of time before more things go missing—or worse, they get away completely.”

“Understandable. Is there a common thread between each case?” Rava asked, frowning. “Because you’re right—those items seem completely random.”

Narek nodded. “The only consistency is that the thief has been spotted three times. Witnesses claim it’s a human woman with red hair.”

“Red hair isn’t a common colour. That should make it easier, no?” Rava replied.

“You’d think so,” Narek said, his voice dry, “but every red-haired person we’ve found was either male or had alibis—verifiable ones—at the time of the thefts.”

“Could be a disguise,” Vivienne mused, tapping her clawed fingers against the edge of Narek’s desk. “A wig, maybe?”

“Possible,” Narek admitted. “Or they’re deliberately using the sightings to throw us off.”

Rava crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. “If they’re bold enough to risk being seen, it’s probably intentional. They want to create confusion.”

“Or misdirection,” Vivienne added. “The randomness of the items and the sightings—it’s almost theatrical. Like someone’s weaving a story for you to follow.”

Narek gave her a sharp look. “You think they’re playing a game?”

“Maybe,” Vivienne said with a shrug. “Or maybe they’re just weird. Either way, they seem to be having fun.”

“I don’t care if they’re enjoying themselves,” Narek grumbled, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I just want them caught.”

“Well,” Rava said lightly, leaning back against the wall, “lucky for you, I’m here. And Vivienne has an uncanny knack for sniffing out trouble.”

Vivienne shot her a wry look. “Positively magnetic. Trouble can’t resist me.”

Narek rolled his eyes. “Charming. So, little sister, are you actually going to help? Kavren’s in the city, but he…” He trailed off, waving a hand dismissively.

Rava smirked. “Is about as subtle as a battering ram. That said, I’m not much better when it comes to delicate work. Wouldn’t Daran be a better fit for this?”

Narek chuckled weakly. “And somehow convince him to leave his workshop? You’d have an easier time moving a mountain. He’s obsessed with those blasted night lamps of his right now.”

“And Elrin?” Rava asked.

“Currently in Thalrynn, meeting with their elders about aid for the war,” Narek replied, rubbing his temples.

“Let me guess—Tarric’s still off wandering the steppes on one of his soul-searching quests?”

“Naturally,” Narek said flatly.

Rava shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, then.”

Narek groaned dramatically. “Yes, lucky me. At least you have some brain in that thick skull of yours. Though I don’t know how much your pet will actually contribute.”

Rava’s easygoing demeanour vanished, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Don’t call her that. I owe her my life, and I gave her my word that she’d have proper hospitality under my roof.”

Narek flinched, holding up a hand. “Alright, alright. Sorry.”

“Not to me,” Rava snapped. “To her.”

Narek hesitated, his gaze flicking to Vivienne. He studied her for a long moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he took in her quintet of dark, otherworldly eyes. Finally, he sighed. “Apologies for my conduct.”

Vivienne waved him off casually, a faint smile on her lips. “No harm done. I’ve been called worse things in my short time here. Besides,” she added with a teasing lilt, her thick tail flicking back and forth, “I wouldn’t mind being her pet.”

Rava’s neck flushed a deep crimson as she awkwardly cleared her throat, quickly averting her gaze.

Narek groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly overwhelmed. “Please, for the love of the gods, don’t do this in my office.”

Vivienne let out a soft, musical laugh, an otherworldly sound that lingered in the air like a melody. “Alright, alright. No need to get your tail in a twist, Narek.”

Rava exhaled sharply, trying to regain her composure. “You’re lucky she’s so nice,” she muttered, rolling her eyes before turning back to Narek. “So, what’s our first lead?”

Narek sat up straighter, trying to refocus, but it was clear his patience was wearing thin. “The seamstress I mentioned. She says her mannequin upped and walked away.”

Vivienne raised an eyebrow, her smile returning. “Well that is immediately interesting.”

Rava nodded, her expression growing serious once more. “I guess we start there.”