As the door clicked shut behind Uncle, Ben remained rooted to the spot, his face pale and eyes wide with lingering fear. Thorne stepped forward, placing a steady hand on Ben’s shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. “Hey, Ben, it’s okay. He’s gone now.”
Ben blinked a few times, coming back to himself slowly, a series of low grunts escaping his throat as his hands moved in a hurried attempt to communicate. Thorne watched, trying to follow the gestures, but the frustration grew as Ben’s motions grew more frantic. Thorne clenched his jaw, trying to focus, but whatever Ben was trying to say was completely lost on him.
“Ben,” Thorne asked, keeping his voice steady as he watched his friend scratch his head, pointing first at the door and then back at himself, a flushed look of urgency on his round face. Thorne stared, genuinely at a loss. “What is it, Ben?”
Ben let out a short huff, his cheeks flushed, and with a wave of his hand, he dismissed Thorne’s question, his gaze darting around the attic as if he’d just remembered something vital. He lunged to the corner where their stash was hidden, yanking away the blanket that covered it, and dug out the boar tusks and the last two bones they had saved from their haul. With hurried, determined movements, he took Thorne’s arm in a vice grip, practically yanking him toward the door.
“Where are we going?” Thorne asked, a faint note of irritation in his voice as Ben dragged him forward. But Ben only let out another grunt in response, his grip firm and unyielding, as if he couldn’t spare the time for explanations.
They made their way through the crowded city streets, moving quickly through narrow alleys and weaving between bustling market stalls. Thorne’s mind raced with questions as Ben guided them, one thought rising above the rest—Why the rush? Ben was usually cautious, and this sudden urgency was unlike him. Whatever it was, Thorne could tell it was important, and he kept quiet, letting Ben lead the way.
But as they crossed half the city, a prickling, uneasy feeling crept up Thorne’s spine, a sense of eyes on him. His gaze darted over his shoulder every few steps, half-expecting to catch someone tailing them. But each time he looked, there was nothing—only the usual city chaos, vendors shouting over their goods, beggars huddling in shadows, townsfolk carrying on with their day. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but he couldn’t shake the nagging sense that they weren’t alone. Even the noise of the crowd seemed to fade to a distant hum, heightening the tension in his chest.
They neared the inner city, the sights around them changing as the damage from the recent battle became more evident. Charred timber and crumbling facades lined the streets, but here and there, new structures were already being built to replace the ruins. The sharp, chemical smell of fresh paint clashed with the lingering scent of smoke and ash, creating a jarring reminder that for every sign of progress, the scars of conflict ran deep. Thorne wrinkled his nose, the contrast unsettling, as if the city itself couldn’t decide whether to start over or mourn what was lost.
They finally slipped into a narrow alley where Jonah waited, pacing restlessly. At the sight of them, Jonah’s face split into a relieved grin. “You brought them!” he said, his eyes lighting up as he saw the tusks and bones clutched in Ben’s hands.
Thorne’s brows knit together, his mind still trying to piece together what he was missing. “What’s going on?” he asked, his gaze flicking between Jonah and Ben.
Jonah’s grin widened, a gleam of excitement in his eyes as he held up a large, bulging pouch. “I found a new merchant—a guy who deals in alchemical ingredients,” he explained, voice practically vibrating with enthusiasm. He held up the pouch, and Thorne heard the satisfying clink of heavy coins inside. “We’ve struck gold, Thorne. I told him we could bring more, and he’s willing to set up a regular deal with us. He gave me six times what that other fool was paying!”
Thorne’s eyes widened as he took in the pouch of coins, a thrill of surprise running through him. This was more than they’d ever managed to pull in before. “That’s incredible, Jonah. Six times?” he echoed, but caution quickly dampened his excitement. “But… isn’t it risky? Getting all the way here with the guards patrolling everywhere?”
Jonah’s excitement dimmed, and he nodded, casting a wary glance down the alley. “It is. House Durnell’s men are everywhere lately. Practically on every corner.”
He’d noticed the guards too, the stallion emblem of House Durnell emblazoned on their armor. Their numbers had grown since the skirmishes, especially in the inner city. It was as if they were waiting for something to happen, anticipating another battle before the dust had even settled.
Thorne and Ben handed their loot over to Jonah, who let out a grunt as he took the weight of it. “It’s also dangerous coming this deep into the city with all the disappearances,” Thorne said, his voice low.
For a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossed Jonah’s face, and his eyes darted to the shadows surrounding them. Then he shook the heavy pouch of coins with a defiant grin. “I know, Thorne. But look at this!” he said, voice fierce with excitement. “We can’t just pass this up. We need the coin, and Ben’s out of herbs for his alchemy. Sometimes, you have to take risks to survive.”
Thorne’s frown deepened. “It’s not just about the coin, Jonah. We’ve lost so many cousins already. What if something happens to you?”
For a brief second, Jonah’s expression softened, but it quickly shifted, replaced by a look of raw determination and greed. “We’ll be careful, alright? Besides, this new merchant values what we bring in. He’s willing to pay a lot more than the last one ever did. We can’t let fear keep us from making a living, not when we’re this close.”
Thorne held Jonah’s gaze, knowing there was no point arguing when Jonah’s mind was on profit. The boy was stubborn, and once he set his sights on something, nothing short of a tidal wave could move him. “Just… promise me you’ll be extra careful.”
Jonah gave him a sharp nod, his face suddenly serious. “I promise. In and out, quick as a fox. No risks.”
Thorne and Ben watched as Jonah slipped back into the bustling streets of the inner city, swallowed by the crowd within seconds. Despite Jonah’s promises, Thorne couldn’t shake the gnawing tension in his gut, the feeling that something was off. He found himself scanning the shadows more often, half-expecting a figure to appear from nowhere. He couldn’t shake the prickling feeling that eyes were on them, that any moment they might be ambushed.
To distract himself, Thorne studied the buildings nearby. The inner city was rebuilding itself, but the scars of battle still showed in the charred walls and crumbling foundations that lined the streets. Every now and then, he’d catch a hint of fresh paint mingling with the smoky, burnt smell lingering in the air. New structures stood side by side with broken remnants, a strange mix of renewal and ruin.
Ben nudged him, snapping him out of his thoughts. The boy gave him a thumbs-up, his face breaking into a wide, relieved smile.
Thorne forced a smile back, though the uneasy feeling hadn’t left him. “Let’s hope this deal goes as smooth as Jonah thinks,” he muttered.
They didn’t have to wait long. Soon, Jonah reappeared, practically bouncing down the alley with a triumphant grin on his face. A second pouch, twice the size of the first, jangled from his belt as he approached. Without a word, Jonah broke into a ridiculous jig, shaking his hips to make the coins jingle.
“Look at this!” Jonah crowed, exaggerating each step. “We hit the jackpot, lads!”
Ben and Thorne burst out laughing at Jonah’s antics. Jonah spun around, mimicking the haughty expression of a noble, holding his coin pouches as if they were bags of royal treasure. Adopting a fake upper-class accent, he sauntered toward them, nose in the air.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here? A pair of peasants, eh?” he sniffed, sounding for all the world like some wealthy baron.
“Your Lordship, spare us some coins!” Thorne played along, bowing low in mock reverence.
Ben clapped his hands and did his best to imitate Jonah’s ridiculous dance moves, grinning from ear to ear. Together, they all laughed until they had to clutch their sides, collapsing onto the rough alleyway to catch their breath.
After the laughter faded, they settled down to count their haul, and Thorne’s eyes widened as he took his share of the coins, feeling their solid weight in his palm. “Am I dreaming?” he asked, looking at Jonah with wide-eyed wonder. “This can’t be real.”
Jonah puffed out his chest, grinning. “Real as it gets, Thorne. I told you I’d find us a better deal.”
Thorne shook his head in disbelief. “How did you manage this?”
Jonah shrugged, trying to look casual. “Just a little smooth talking, knowing when to keep a card or two hidden.” His grin returned, pride flashing in his eyes. “See? You just have to trust me.”
As their excitement faded, Thorne’s expression turned serious. “Jonah, I need your help with something else.”
Jonah’s eyebrow shot up. “With what?”
Thorne took a deep breath, then explained the situation with the cousins—the disappearances, the plan to hide out in the sewers, the risks they’d be taking. As he spoke, Jonah’s face fell, the gleam of excitement replaced by a look of dismay.
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“You’re planning to spend all your coin on them?” Jonah asked, looking at Thorne like he’d gone mad.
Thorne nodded, resolute. “They need it more than I do.”
Jonah’s jaw dropped, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re crazy, Thorne. Don’t expect me to do the same.”
Thorne smirked, nudging him playfully. “Not everyone’s cut out to be a knight in shining armor, Jonah.”
Jonah sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fine, fine. I’ll get the supplies. But don’t think I’m doing this out of some grand, noble spirit. I expect a cut for my efforts.” He winked, tossing a coin in the air and catching it with a grin.
Thorne chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”
Jonah rose, patting his pouches like he was already spending their contents. “I’ll meet you at the meeting spot. Just don’t get impatient—it’ll take a while to gather everything we need without getting robbed blind.”
With that, Jonah disappeared into the crowd. Thorne felt Ben’s gaze on him, the mute boy’s eyes shining with an admiration that felt a little too earnest. Thorne shifted uncomfortably, caught off guard by the look. Ben gave him a slight, grateful nod, his expression saying everything he couldn’t speak.
Thorne clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder, feeling strangely awkward. “It’s nothing, really,” he muttered. “Let’s just hope this helps keep everyone safe.”
Ben nodded again, his eyes still filled with gratitude. Thorne felt a flicker of pride—a rare feeling. It had been so long since he’d had anyone to care about, to look out for, and despite the risks, it felt right.
They spent the rest of the afternoon near the fish market. The clamor and busy energy of the market buzzed around them, offering a break from the tension. Vendors shouted out their prices for the day’s catch, trying to draw in customers with promises of the best fish and lowest prices. The salty tang of the sea mixed with the scent of freshly grilled fish, filling the air with a sharp, briny smell that made his stomach rumble.
Ben, always good at lifting spirits in the smallest ways, pointed to a pie stall with a grin, pulling a coin from his pocket. Moments later, they sat perched on a low stone wall, splitting a blueberry pie. The sweetness was a welcome relief, and they ate in silence, savoring each bite.
But even as he laughed with Ben, Thorne couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on him. Every so often, he scanned the crowd, looking for anyone watching too closely or moving a bit too carefully through the press of people. Nothing seemed amiss, but the feeling of being followed lingered. He kept his posture relaxed, tried to act clueless, but the tension clung to him, hard to ignore.
As the sky darkened, they made their way toward the meeting point. Six cousins were already there, gathered in a tight, nervous huddle, their faces ghostly in the moonlight. Shadows stretched long across the ground, darkening the hollowed eyes and anxious expressions on each face. Thorne and Ben approached, and the cousins greeted them with quiet, tentative smiles. Thorne could feel their fear, an undercurrent in the cold night air.
Thorne had saved Jonah’s surprise for last, hoping it would lift their spirits. He leaned in, hands casually in his pockets, trying to keep their minds off the worry hanging over them. “So, how’s everyone holding up?” he asked, his voice light but steady as he looked around the group.
One of the boys, a tall, gangly kid named Peter, shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. “Just trying to stay out of trouble. It’s scary out there,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting something to jump from the shadows.
Lily, a girl with thick, curly hair that fell messily over her face, nodded grimly. “We heard about Timur and the others.” Her voice shook slightly. “It’s just… it’s not safe anywhere.”
Thorne gave her a nod of understanding. “I know. But we’ve got a plan to keep everyone safe.”
A scoff sounded from the edge of the group, where Rafe stood, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “Yeah, right,” he sneered. “And what’s your brilliant plan this time, princeling?”
Thorne shot him a look, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Oh, you know, Rafe, I thought we’d all hold hands and sing songs until the bad guys run away. Or—hear me out—we actually do something useful, like hiding in the sewers.”
Rafe rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the slight smirk tugging at his lips. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”
“Smarter than you,” Thorne shot back with a grin. A few of the other kids snickered, and Rafe’s scowl deepened, though his expression was more amused than angry.
Before Rafe could respond, a tall, older boy named Darius stepped forward, and Thorne noticed the younger kids immediately straightened up. Darius had always looked out for the younger cousins, known for his steady presence and quiet strength. In times like these, his calm mattered more than ever. He looked between Thorne and Rafe with a patient but firm expression.
“Enough, both of you,” Darius said, his voice low but firm, the hint of a smile taking the edge off his words. “We’re here for a reason, and it’s not to bicker.”
“Darius,” Thorne greeted him with a nod. “Glad you could make it.”
Darius returned the nod with a warm smile, his presence steadying. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he replied, his voice calm and reassuring.
“We’re waiting on Jonah,” Thorne added, glancing at the others. “He’s got something that’ll help.”
Darius looked around at the anxious faces of the cousins, their eyes darting nervously to every shadow. “Whatever it is, we could sure use it.”
Just then, Jonah appeared, followed closely by another cousin, both of them lugging bags stuffed full. Jonah’s face split into a wide grin as he reached the group. With a dramatic flourish, he set the bags down on the ground, as though presenting treasure.
“Look what we’ve got!” he announced proudly. “Enough food for everyone!”
The children’s eyes widened, hands reaching out as they peeked into the bags. Inside were loaves of bread, hearty chunks of cheese, and several blueberry pies that instantly filled the air with a sweet, comforting aroma. The sight of food brought a wave of relief over the group; hunger, their constant companion, was finally silenced, if only for the night.
Thorne grinned, watching their faces light up as they passed around the loaves and slices of pie. “There’s more coming tomorrow, thanks to Jonah here,” he said, nodding toward his friend.
Jonah puffed up with pride, practically glowing under the attention. “Yep! We’ve got a good thing going. So no more going hungry.”
The children cheered, their voices echoing off the alley walls. Thorne raised a hand, shooing them playfully. “Alright, alright, settle down. We’ve got work to do. Let’s get moving.”
The group filed into the sewers, the entrance a dim and narrow passage that immediately gave way to the familiar damp smell of mildew and decay. Each step echoed off the stone walls, the soft shuffle of feet merging with the steady drip of water from above. Though the darkness pressed in, Thorne led the way confidently, feeling each familiar twist and turn beneath his boots. The others followed close behind, steps hesitant at first, but growing bolder as they moved deeper into the tunnels.
Rafe couldn’t resist a sarcastic jab as they walked. “Nice place you’ve picked out, Thorne. Real cozy.”
Thorne smirked, shooting back, “Yeah, Rafe, I thought luxurious accommodations might be a bit much for you. Figured you’d be more comfortable here.”
Rafe snorted. “Funny. Just make sure this ‘plan’ of yours doesn’t get us all killed.”
Darius, walking beside Thorne, gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “You’re doing good, Thorne. We trust you.”
Thorne glanced sideways, catching Darius’s steady gaze, and managed a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
After what felt like ages wandering the dark, damp corridors, they found an old maintenance chamber tucked off the main path. The room was large enough for all of them to spread out, with a few rusted metal pipes running along the walls and enough floor space for everyone to set up their meager belongings. The cousins immediately set to work, laying out blankets and arranging their things, the room filling with quiet conversations and the sound of belongings being shifted into place.
Thorne scanned the room, feeling a blend of relief and resolve. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. For tonight, at least, they were safe—hidden from prying eyes and the dangers lurking in the streets above.
Jonah and Rafe moved among the group, distributing the food with surprising care, making sure each cousin had enough. The children ate hungrily, some of them closing their eyes as they bit into the soft bread, savoring every crumb. Thorne watched, feeling a quiet pride settle in his chest as he saw their shoulders relax, fear replaced with the brief contentment of full bellies and familiar company.
Sinking onto an old crate in the corner, Thorne kept watch over the group, taking in the rare sense of calm that had fallen over them. Ben sidled up beside him, nudging him with an approving grin, eyes shining with gratitude. Thorne smirked, nudging him back, a flicker of hope sparking inside him. Despite everything, they’d carved out a small corner of safety for themselves. For tonight, at least, they were together.
A comfortable silence settled over them, broken only by quiet voices and the gentle rustling of blankets as everyone settled down for the night. In the dim glow of a single candle, shadows played over their faces, softening the hard edges the streets had carved into them. Thorne felt himself relax, the tension of the day finally slipping from his shoulders.
Darius approached him, his voice soft as he lowered himself onto the crate beside Thorne. “Hey, Thorne,” he murmured, glancing at the others. “Just wanted to thank you. For all of this.”
Thorne shook his head, brushing off the gratitude. “You don’t need to thank me.”
But Darius smiled, his expression warm. “Still, it means a lot. You’re doing more than most would. And… we all see it.”
Thorne looked away, a hint of color rising to his cheeks.
Thorne felt a spike of guilt coil in his chest. In the back of his mind, a voice whispered that all this—the disappearances, the fear gripping the cousins, the violence sweeping the slums—was his fault. If he hadn’t delivered that letter, the Gravediggers might never have been involved, and nobody would have had to die. He shoved the thought down, but it lingered, gnawing at him like a splinter he couldn’t remove.
Eventually, he left the group, casting a last glance over his shoulder. Pride and worry warred inside him as he looked back at the children settling into their makeshift home. Jonah and Ben waved him off, their faces lit with cautious smiles as they rejoined the others. Thorne returned the wave, then turned away, trying to focus on the relief he’d brought them, hoping it would drown out the guilt.
The streets stretched before him, eerie in their silence. Every step he took seemed too loud, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls. The usual clamor of the slums was absent, replaced by an unnerving quiet that made every shadow feel darker, every movement in the corner of his eye a threat.
Thorne’s senses sharpened, his heart hammering faster with every passing moment. He was sure he could hear someone behind him, the faint scuff of a footstep too close for comfort. He quickened his pace, hands clenching at his sides as he resisted the urge to break into a full sprint.
Just a little further, he told himself, his eyes fixed on the alley that would lead him to his attic. The chill in the night air prickled against his skin, amplifying the feeling that he was being watched. He stole a glance over his shoulder, but saw nothing—just shadows stretching down the empty street, the wind whistling through cracks in the buildings. He forced himself to breathe, though the prickling at the back of his neck didn’t let up.
When he finally saw the familiar shape of his attic door up ahead, relief flooded him. He hurried forward, reaching out to open it, eager for the sanctuary inside.
But before he could touch the handle, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, yanking him back with a force that stole his breath. Thorne gasped, his body whipping around, fear giving way to a surge of adrenaline. A scream tore from his throat, echoing down the deserted street. He braced himself, fists raised, ready to strike at whatever threat had found him in the night.
“Sid!” he choked out as his vision cleared, his heart still slamming in his chest. Sid’s face came into focus, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched Thorne, eyes gleaming with dark amusement.
“If that scared you,” Sid said, his voice a low drawl, “then you’re in for a rough night, boy.”
Thorne exhaled shakily, lowering his fists but still tense, his heart pounding even as relief washed over him. “You scared me half to death!”
Sid chuckled, crossing his arms, the smirk deepening.