Selene felt like throwing up. Her head leaned back against the wall, and she tried to steady her breathing. Her boots dug into the sand, and the potato sack dress was all she had… well, not everything. In her pocket, hidden away, was the Feather of the Thunderwolf. It wasn’t as if she was proud of what she had done. She had done worse for less, but she was trying to convince herself she didn’t need to overthink this.
The feather was just… it was just sitting in the chest. Poca wasn’t using it, wouldn’t even notice it was gone, right? Selene’s mind was grasping at anything to justify her actions. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She just needed to get somewhere safe. That would be the challenge. She had no bounty on her head, but the RazorHare incident had shown her the limits of her current strength. The void punch, though, was a revelation. She understood now how it worked, using her mana to strike through the void. It had been an accidental discovery, but it could be her saving grace.
Her breaths came heavy and fast. Poca had been so good to her. To think about it, Selene wasn't even sure how she had managed to get here so quickly. She was at the southern part of the wall, knowing this area was less guarded, especially at night. She looked up into the night sky, stars twinkling above, and the boats with their massive masts catching the wind and sailing through the sky. Lanterns hung off the edges, creating a mesmerizing sight.
Selene knew of one safe house that wasn’t far. If she could make it there within the hour, she’d be fine. Gathering her resolve, she approached the wall. She hopped it with practiced ease, landing on the other side with a loud thud. She paused, listening for any signs of alarm. Nothing.
The southernmost part of Valarian was old, seemingly built lifetimes ago. It showed signs of neglect, still needing attention but never receiving the care it needed. The buildings loomed over her, casting long shadows in the moonlight. She moved swiftly through the narrow streets, her senses on high alert.
Every sound made her flinch. The creak of an old sign, the rustle of a stray cat in the alley, even the distant murmur of voices—all made her heart race. She kept a tight grip on the feather, her fingers trembling slightly. It was the only thing that gave her a sense of purpose right now, despite the guilt gnawing at her.
She turned a corner and saw the familiar, dilapidated building that served as her safe house. The windows were boarded up, and the door hung on its hinges, but it was a sanctuary in this part of the city. She hurried to the door, pushing it open with a creak. The inside was dark and musty, but it was safe.
Selene leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor. She pulled the feather out, holding it up to the faint light that filtered through the cracks in the boards. It shimmered with an iridescent glow, beautiful and powerful. She knew its value, knew what it could do for her. But the weight of her betrayal to Poca pressed heavily on her chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the empty room, the words echoing in the silence. “I’m so sorry.”
The reality of what she had done hit her hard. Poca had been nothing but kind, and she had repaid that kindness with theft. Selene’s stomach churned, and she doubled over, fighting the urge to retch. She had to focus on her immediate survival. There would be time for remorse later.
As the night wore on, Selene remained alert, listening for any signs of pursuit. The safe house was well-hidden, and few knew of its existence. She hoped that would be enough to keep her hidden until she could figure out her next move.
She clenched the feather tightly, feeling its power thrumming through her. It was a reminder of the choices she had made, and the consequences she would have to face. But for now, it was her lifeline. She closed her eyes, trying to find some semblance of peace in the midst of her turmoil.
The night passed slowly, each minute feeling like an hour. Selene’s thoughts drifted back to Poca and the peaceful life she had briefly known. It was a life she could have had, if not for her own actions. She sighed, the weight of regret heavy on her shoulders. It was close to midnight, and she knew she would have to find a new place to hide soon.
Selene had managed to change into her combat gear, which allowed her to slip back into her old persona. She wore her combat pants and boots, and a half-cut hoodie. A headscarf covered everything but her amethyst eyes, providing her with anonymity. Her mind wandered to Thrix. If he survived whatever the hell was going on back there fighting with Ovochos… why was he there? Fighting with those women? He wouldn't have been there for her… would he? She knew him, but did he know her? Was he plotting against her?
No. He was fighting… was he fighting for her? He must've been. That stupid spider. She thought of his fancy mustache and scared little self fighting. Then again, she only knew the side of him that was always, and very obviously, scared of being in the slums. The southernmost part of Valarian was also the lowest in the city. Thrix was always hammering into her head, shit rolls downhill. And she learned that the hard way. Thrix had his claws in everything, and she meant everything. His eight arms could manage eight different businesses, all without being seen. Fortunately, she considered herself one of his friends. And maybe… she was one of his?
Guilt gnawed at her more. If he was truly fighting against Ovochos back there for her, then he was getting himself into trouble. She swallowed, thinking what he had been up to since she last saw him. Since the fucking falling stars started coming, nothing had been going her way. These things were truly the herald of chaos. She grumbled, now that she was back to herself, she'd just need her weapon, but that was probably with Ovochos. She figured she'd head on down to The Leviathan's Tail.
The Leviathan's Tail was a reflection of the city’s underbelly. Rough wooden tables were scattered haphazardly around the room, surrounded by mismatched chairs and benches that had seen better days. The walls, dark and weathered, were adorned with relics of the sea. The bar, a long, scarred piece of driftwood, was maintained by Raven, a Lupirian with black fur and a scarred face. Raven was someone Selene trusted, although he didn't work at the bar often, so it was a surprise to see him.
She didn't go say hi yet, as she simply sat in the corner for now, listening, observing, doing her best to distract herself. From the loss of the arm to betraying Poca, her mind was a whirlwind from what it was a couple of weeks ago. She had sat in this very spot, intending to find a fallen star, but digging like she had turned out so bad.
The bar was alive with conversations, some loud and boisterous, others hushed and secretive. Selene's pointed ears perked up as she overheard a group talking about a star that had landed in the sea out by the old lighthouse
"You hear about that star near the old lighthouse?" a grizzled man said, his voice rough from years of smoke and drink.
"Aye," another replied. "Lost three good men last week. The sea's crawling with creatures. Not worth it."
A third man, younger and eager, leaned in. "But the reward, though. If you could get your hands on it…"
The grizzled man snorted. "If you live to tell the tale. Better off sticking to safer bets, like the one in the Miridians."
Selene's heart raced as she listened. She glanced at her mithralite arm, a gift from Poca. Her mind was a mess, and she couldn't help but notice there were far more falling stars being talked about publicly, as if there were plenty to go around.
"Did you hear about the one in the Miridians?" someone else chimed in. "Whole squad went in, only one came out. Said it was like the stars themselves were alive, protecting their prize."
Selene's head throbbed as she realized she might have been far luckier getting away with her life than she originally thought. The bar was a cacophony of voices, each telling tales of danger and riches, each reminding her of the peril she had narrowly escaped.
Raven approached her table, his lupine features softening slightly as he recognized her. "Selene," he said in his gravelly voice, "it's been a while."
"Hey, Raven," she replied, her voice low. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Just filling in for a friend. You look… troubled."
"Troubled doesn't even begin to cover it," she said with a bitter laugh.
"Want to talk about it?"
Selene shook her head. "Not really. Just need a place to think."
Raven nodded. "You know where to find me if you change your mind."
As Raven walked away, Selene's thoughts drifted back to the conversations she had overheard. The stars, the dangers, the rewards. It was all too much. She felt the weight of the feather in her pocket, a constant reminder of her betrayal and the potential it held. She couldn't stay hidden forever. Eventually, she would have to face the consequences of her actions. But for now, she would gather her strength, plan her next move, and try to find some semblance of peace in the chaotic world she inhabited.
The night wore on, and the bar grew quieter as patrons filtered out, one by one. Selene remained in her corner, her mind racing with thoughts of the past, present, and uncertain future. She had survived thus far, but the real challenge was just beginning.
She glanced at the door, half-expecting someone to burst in, searching for her. But it remained closed. For now, she was safe. But how long that would last, she couldn't say.
Selene sat alone for a couple more hours, letting the night grow quieter. The patrons of The Leviathan's Tail trickled out until only a few remained. She finally stood up, her legs stiff, and moved to the bar to speak with Raven.
Raven was a Lupirian, a member of a race with humanoid forms and wolf-like features. His black fur glistened under the dim light of the bar, and his scarred face was a testament to many battles. His eyes were sharp, one a deep red and the other a dim grey from an old wound. He had a powerful build, with sharp claws and elongated canines. Despite his intimidating appearance, Raven had a low but smooth, slightly raspy voice that carried a surprising gentleness.
“Raven,” Selene greeted him, her voice soft.
“Selene,” he replied, his voice like gravel sliding over silk. “It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, it has. I didn’t expect to see you here. You’re never here anymore.”
He chuckled softly, a sound more like a growl. "Filling in for Larry. He’s off on some grand adventure, or so he claims."
Selene smirked. "Larry on an adventure? Hard to picture that. I thought he'd sworn off anything that involved moving more than a few feet from this bar." She chuckled.
Raven’s laughter joined hers, a deep, rumbling sound. “An adventure might be overstating it. He just needed the night off.”
They shared a smile, the ice broken. “And you,” Selene said, raising an eyebrow. “Here instead of your job at the Shield Guild?”
“Yeah, can you believe it?” Raven said with a grin. “They actually let me out for a night.”
Selene shook her head, smiling. “I’m surprised they don’t have you chained to the place.”
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Raven shrugged. “Someone else can run guard duty for a night. Besides, I missed this place. It has a certain charm, doesn’t it?”
Selene looked around the bar, its rough tables and mismatched chairs, the dark walls adorned with relics of the sea. “Charm is one word for it.”
Raven’s expression softened slightly, his eyes flicking to her mithralite hand holding the drink. "What really happened, Selene?"
She made a face, trying to brush it off with humor. "Oh, you know, the usual. Got into a fight with a particularly nasty rabbit. You should have seen it—vicious little thing."
He raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "Sounds like quite the ordeal."
"Yeah, you could say that," she muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. “What’s been going on in my absence?”
Raven leaned on the bar, controlling the conversation smoothly. “Valarian’s been hit by a meteor shower of falling stars. It’s been chaos. Even the Seracian Sands province got hit. More people dying, and the Nobles and others are making bold moves. Failed assassination attempts are being retold as accidents in the papers.”
Selene’s eyes widened. “I had no idea. I’ve been… out of touch.”
Raven looked into the distance, his eyes reflecting a far-off place. “Sometimes, I think it’s a curse, being born into a generation that gets to witness this firsthand.”
Selene understood the weight of his words. The wars, the famine, all the stories spoke of the aftermath of the falling stars. The silence that followed was heavy.
“Last time I was here, I met with Nathor. Any rumors on that damned Aetherian?”
Raven’s expression darkened slightly. “Word is Nathor’s been taking things into his own hands lately. It’s odd, even for him.”
Selene noted the information. “What about Thrix? Heard anything?”
Raven shook his head. “Thrix caused Ovochos’ men to storm the slums like some sort of undead parade. After that, he went into hiding. Either that or he poked his head out for too long and someone finally took it off.”
Selene felt a pang of sickness but didn’t show it. Ovochos had taken her arm when she escaped his farm, and now it seemed Thrix had been trying to rescue her. The guilt was a void around her, closing in. The mug in her mithralite arm began to splinter before she calmed herself.
Raven noticed but didn’t comment. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice dropping. “I’ve been thinking about moving out west, to Windmere, in Tarnstead.”
Selene welcomed the change of topic. “The coastal province? Really?”
Raven nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got some things to handle, loose ends to tie up. But I’ve been thinking about taking my family and going.”
Selene shook her head, smiling. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You’re a true Valarian to heart if I’ve ever met one.”
They both laughed, but Raven’s expression remained earnest. “It’s the truth. This city… it’s been eating itself to stay alive for a long time.”
There was a long silence, both of them lost in their thoughts. Morning had crept upon them, the first light filtering through the cracks in the walls.
“I should get going,” Selene said finally, tightening her headscarf. “I’ve got to head to the Shadow’s Corner, the Thieves' Guild.”
Raven nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “Take care of yourself, Selene. It’s a jungle out there.”
“You too, Raven,” she replied, offering a small smile. “And good luck with Windmere. I hope you make it.”
He chuckled. “We’ll see. Safe travels.”
With a peaceful goodbye, Selene left the bar. She stepped out into the slums of Valarian, the city waking up around her. Her mind was a mess of thoughts, but she knew she had to keep moving. There was no turning back now.
As she walked through the winding streets, she kept her eyes sharp and her senses alert. She was headed to the Shadow’s Corner, where more answers—and more danger—awaited her.
***
The River Lurkers trudged along the winding sandstone road, their eyes fixed on the awe-inspiring sight ahead. Massive ribs of a long-dead leviathan arched high into the sky, casting shadows over the sprawling city of Valarian. This was their first visit to the so-called capital of this land, and the towering bones created an eerie yet magnificent umbrella over the bustling metropolis below. The skeletal remains served as a constant reminder of the world's ancient past, intertwining the history of the land with the present day.
As the brothers walked, the road beneath them was smooth but dotted with occasional tufts of grass and the odd resilient flower, a stark contrast to the barren dunes they had traveled through. The air was thick with the scent of blooming wildflowers and the distant murmur of Valarian’s bustling streets. Raphael, his red scales glinting under the sun, couldn't contain his growing anxiety any longer.
"Leo," Raphael began, his voice gruff, "what's the plan? Donnie asked earlier, but you just silenced him. We need to know what we're doing here."
Leonardo, walking a few steps ahead, his blue scales reflecting the sunlight, turned slightly but kept his pace. "Raph, we haven’t done anything wrong. We're just going to talk."
Raphael scoffed, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "You really think the guards will just let us waltz in? Look around, Leo. We're River Lurkers. Every land dweller we've met has treated us like enemies."
Donatello, his purple scales shimmering, took the opportunity to jump in, his voice laden with concern. "Leo, he's right. We can't just walk in there expecting a warm welcome. We've got to be smarter than that."
Leo's eyes narrowed, a growl escaping his throat. "I understand the risks, Donnie. But what choice do we have? We need answers, and Valarian is the place to start."
Raphael wasn't satisfied. "The guards will see us as threats. You have to consider that. The history between us and humans, or any land dwellers for that matter, is nothing but conflict."
Donatello nodded in agreement. "Exactly. What makes you think now will be any different? Especially with the Gods of the Skies sending those cursed items, or 'fallen stars' as others call them. Everyone's on edge. The slightest provocation could set off a fight."
Michelangelo, always the light-hearted one despite the tension, chimed in with a joke. "Well, maybe if we bring them some Fireleaf Flatbread, they'll let us in. Who can say no to a good slice, right?" He grinned and licked his chops but his attempt at humor fell flat.
Donatello shot him a glare. "Mike, this is serious."
Michelangelo shrugged, his orange scales catching the light. "Just trying to lighten the mood, bro."
The southern wall of Valarian loomed closer with each step. The city was a marvel of engineering and natural beauty, with three-masted ships and other flying vessels darting in and out of its airspace. The layered sandstone and stone buildings blended seamlessly with patches of greenery, where trees and grass thrived in the sandy dunes, creating a vibrant contrast. The Miridian Mountains rose majestically to the east and stretched northward, their peaks touching the sky. From the southernmost point, Valarian expanded, a testament to human ingenuity and persistence.
As they neared the city, Leonardo finally broke the tense silence. "We will talk to them. We go in peacefully and ask our questions."
Raphael shook his head in disbelief. "And if they don't want to talk? What then, Leo? You can't be so naive to think they'll welcome us with open arms."
Leonardo stopped abruptly, turning to face his brothers. His eyes, usually calm and composed, were filled with determination. "We don’t have another option, Raph. We’re here for answers about Master Splinter’s death. If we have to fight, we will. But we start with peace."
Donatello looked defeated, his shoulders slumping. "I hope you're right, Leo. I really do."
Michelangelo, ever the optimist, shrugged and offered another joke. "Maybe we can impress them with our dance moves instead. You know, show them we're to bust some moves, not some skulls."
Donatello's glare returned, sharper this time. "Mike, seriously. Now's not the time."
The conversation fell into an uneasy silence as they approached the southern wall. The city beyond was a hive of activity, with people going about their daily lives, seemingly oblivious to the impending arrival of the River Lurkers. The ships flying overhead cast fleeting shadows on the ground, adding to the sense of movement and life within Valarian.
The brothers could see the guards patrolling the wall, their armor glinting in the sunlight. Each step closer heightened their senses, the tension thick between them. The sprawling city, with its blend of nature and architecture, seemed almost too peaceful to be the setting for the confrontation they anticipated.
Raphael couldn't hold back any longer. "Leo, you have to understand. The guards might see us and attack on sight. We've never had a peaceful interaction with any land dweller. Ever. Why do you think this time will be different?"
Leonardo's jaw tightened. "I don't know if it will be different, Raph. But we can't go in expecting a fight. That will only make things worse. We need to at least try to communicate."
Donatello nodded reluctantly. "Leo’s right. We can’t go in with our weapons drawn. But we need to be ready. The moment things go south, we have to be prepared to defend ourselves."
Michelangelo, trying once more to lighten the mood, added, "Maybe we should just smile and wave. Charm them with our good looks."
Raphael shot him a look. "Mike, enough. This is serious. We need to be on high alert."
The brothers continued their approach, the tension between them as thick as the summer air. The looming city wall was now just a short distance away, its massive gates guarded by soldiers who eyed their surroundings warily. The River Lurkers knew the importance of this moment. Their actions in the next few minutes could determine the success or failure of their mission.
Leonardo took a deep breath, his resolve unwavering. "We stick together. We stay calm. We get the answers we need."
Raphael muttered under his breath, still skeptical. "I hope you're right, Leo. For all our sakes."
The towering city of Valarian awaited, its secrets and dangers hidden behind the sandstone walls. The River Lurkers steeled themselves for whatever lay ahead, knowing that their journey had only just begun. As they closed the final distance to the southern wall, the enormity of their task weighed heavily on their shoulders, but their determination to find justice for Master Splinter drove them forward.
As the River Lurkers drew closer to the southern gate of Valarian, they could see the signs of neglect that marred this part of the wall. Despite the wear and tear, the structure remained formidable, its towering height and thick stone construction clearly capable of withstanding any siege. Vines and moss clung to the ancient stones, giving the gate an almost forgotten air. Yet, it still exuded a sense of strength and endurance, a testament to the city's resilience.
The brothers marched forward, fully aware that they would be noticed at any moment. Above them, guards moved lazily along the parapets, chatting amongst themselves and showing no signs of expecting trouble. Their armor clinked softly as they strolled, their weapons sheathed and their stances relaxed.
“Be ready,” Raphael whispered, his voice tense with anticipation.
Just then, one of the archers in the tower above the gate seemed to take notice of them. The archer's eyes widened, and Leo's heart sank as he heard the guard's alarmed shout.
"Enemies!" the guard yelled, his voice echoing across the wall.
In an instant, a red smoke arrow shot into the sky and arched toward them, its trail marking the River Lurkers' position and alerting the entire wall to their presence.
“Leo,” Raphael hissed, his voice urgent, “still sure about this?”
Before Leonardo could respond, a guard patrol came rushing out with surprising speed. Among them, an adventurer stood out, his attire a striking contrast to the standard-issue uniforms. He wore black leather armor beneath a ridiculously colorful robe, twin daggers visible within the folds, but his primary weapon was clearly the wand he held ready.
The captain of the guard, a burly man clad in Valarian armor with a metal chest plate embossed with ribs protecting a heart, led the charge. Blue and black feathers adorned his helmet, marking his rank. Behind him, several guards followed, their weapons drawn and their expressions set in determination.
The guards slowed as they approached, confusion flickering across their faces when Leonardo raised his hands above his head in a gesture of peace. The other Lurkers followed suit, mirroring their leader’s actions. The guards and the mage exchanged bewildered glances, unsure of how to proceed.
Finally, they reached a distance where they felt both cautious and ready to strike if necessary. A tense silence fell over the group, the air thick with uncertainty. The captain's eyes darted between the Lurkers and his own men, trying to assess the situation.
It was Leonardo who broke the silence, his voice steady but firm. “We come in peace,” he announced, pausing briefly, “mostly. Our master was killed in cold blood, and we seek justice.”
One of the guards muttered under his breath, “What the fuck, they can talk?”
The rest of the guards exchanged nervous glances, clearly unsettled by the unexpected conversation. It was unheard of for them to speak with River Lurkers, let alone have a civil discussion.
The mage, finally breaking out of his stunned state, stammered, “W-what the hell are you talking about?”
Leonardo took a step forward, maintaining his calm demeanor. “I am Leonardo, and these are my brothers. We only wish to find the one known as Thrix Yas'tavot.”
The guards looked at each other, uncertainty etched on their faces. The mage's expression grew even more bewildered. The captain, his brow furrowed in concentration, asked, “What business do you have with him?”
Leonardo replied, “He has information about the two who killed our master. We only wish to speak with him.”
The guards hesitated, their eyes flicking between the Lurkers and their captain. Finally, the mage spoke up again, his voice more controlled. “I am Alastor, a mage of Valarian. Do you truly come in peace?”
Leonardo nodded, his hands still raised. “We do. We have no intention of causing harm unless provoked.”
The guards and the mage exchanged another round of glances before the captain, seeking to avoid unnecessary violence, nodded slowly. “I don’t want any more bloodshed,” he said, his voice resolute.
Leonardo echoed his sentiment. “Neither do we.”
With that, the guards cautiously escorted the Lurkers toward the gate. Both parties remained on high alert, each watching for any sudden moves from the other. It was a delicate dance of trust and wariness, each step laden with the potential for conflict.
The captain and Leonardo led the way, a silent understanding forming between them. Both sought peace, driven by the hope that this interaction could be resolved without violence. As they neared the gate, the captain turned to Leonardo, his tone more formal. “Do you mind waiting here while we, uh, speak to our higher-ups? We need to get word around.”
Leonardo nodded. “We don’t mind waiting.”
As they stood outside the gate, a heavy silence fell over the group. The tension was palpable, each side keenly aware of the other's presence. Michelangelo, never one to let an awkward moment pass, finally cracked a joke. “If you have some fireleaf flatbread, we won't mind waiting a bit longer. No rush or anything."
The silence persisted, but then, unexpectedly, one of the guards let out a small chuckle. It was a brief, almost reluctant sound, but it broke the ice ever so slightly.