Frank, Acadian, and Arsa had been stumbling around the historic district for the whole morning, asking around for a Zander character. Eventually, they met with a school teacher who pointed them to a librarian, who led them to a theater operator, who guided them to a museum—the Gallysis Museum of Magical Artifacts. The great doorway was outlined in polished emerald, grounding the massive six-story marble mansion before the trio. Frank squeezed the navy coat around his forearm, half-hoping the man he had been looking for was not inside.

Arsa fidgeted with the straps of his bag, which emitted a faint, hungry huff. He shifted his weight and muttered to the creature inside, “Zaun, please. Not now.”

Frank reached out his hand to grip the door handle, stalling for a moment. Acadian stepped closer to his side, placing a hand over his shoulder.

“You seem awfully invested in this. You don’t have to be. This ain’t yer burden.”

Frank clenched his jaw, “But it is theirs. And they don’t even know it.”

The inside of the Gallysis was vast and quiet, like a cathedral of curiosities. Warm shafts of light filtered in through large arched windows, casting strange patterns on the latticed wood floors. Artifacts, relics, and dusty tomes filled glass cases and shelves that stretched onward and upward beyond what anyone could possibly visit in a single day.

At the center of the lobby sat a desk, cluttered with paperwork and a large cup of coffee long gone cold. A woman lounged behind it in a leather chair with five wheels at the bottom, her black laced-up boots propped up on the corner. She had lilac-colored skin and dark purple hair that twisted into a lazy braid. From her forehead protruded two beautifully curled horns whose tips were capped in silver adornments. An Impe.

On the breast of her blouse was a golden nameplate that read:

Felina Faith

She was tossing a ball into the air with one hand and catching it in the other, her blinks slow and tired. When the group’s entrance broke the stillness, she lazed her gaze up at them and flashed a polite grin. With a thrust of effort, she swung her feet off the desk and assumed a more professional posture.

“Here for a tour, or are you just looking for a restroom?” she asked, flicking a lock of hair out of her face. Her eyes lingered on Acadian, resonating with his similarly exhausted expression. She quickly shifted her stare to Frank, who was stepping trepidatiously closer to the desk.

He held up the coat, “We’re looking for someone. Zander. Is he here?”

The name. The coat. The bloodstains. Felina’s violet complexion paled as she knocked an inkwell off of the desk. Her gaze was locked on the coat and her fingers gripped tightly at the edge of the table.

“Where did you get that?”

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“The Woodrand’s Growth,” Acadian replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “Somethin’ down there had it. Somethin’…” he paused, “somethin’ wicked.”

Frank reached into the pocket of the coat to retrieve the letter. He held it out to the girl, unfolding it with his thumb. She rose from her chair, clutching at her chest. The chair rolled back, colliding with the shelving behind it with an echoey thud.

“No. That isn’t… It can’t be.” She moved around the desk, reaching for the jacket. She stopped herself from grabbing it, as though touching the cloth might make it real. Her eyes darted between them. “You’re mistaken. There are lots of coats like that. And the letter is… the letter…”

Arsa shifted uncomfortably. He tried to offer Felina a look of concerned remorse, but she wouldn’t accept it. He tightened his grip on the strap of his bag, “You know whose coat this is, don’t you?”

A door at the back hall creaked open.

“Felina, is everything all right?”

A tall figure emerged, blonde and sharp-featured. He wore long cream-colored robes that were tied with shimmering emerald cords. He had a thick tome in one hand, still open from whatever work was being done with it. He adjusted a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The golden nameplate on his robe read “Zander Render-Timult.”

“What happened? I heard-” Zander stopped abruptly when he saw the gathering. His eyes stayed adhered to the coat and the patchwork stains of blood. The leatherbound book slipped from his hands, landing with a heavy slam. “Where did you get that?”

Felina rushed to him, her eyes pleading, “Zander, it might not be-”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and moved her out of the way, stepping closer to the coat. “Where?” he demanded, his voice sharp and suddenly hoarse.

Frank turned squarely to face him, taking in a deep breath.

“South. In the Growth beneath the Dalneau Mountains. Where this letter… where you told Doran to go.” Frank reached into the other pocket and pulled out the silver ring. “He kept this safe from… He kept it safe.”

Zander’s lip quivered and his hands trembled. He took the coat from Frank, his fingers tracing the stitching as if searching for a sign that it belonged to someone else. Anyone else. He took the ring and held it close to his eyes, tilting it in the light. His eyes became glassy.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “This isn’t real. This isn’t… none of this is-” He bumped into the desk as he moved aimlessly backward.

Felina covered her face with her hands, “Zander, I’m so sorry.”

The elf backed away from all of them, like a cornered animal looking to escape a predator. His breathing became ragged, panicked. “No!” he shouted. The whole museum seemed to shudder at the force of his voice. “Doran is alive. He has to be alive. You don’t know him. He wouldn’t just fall to some forest beast.”

Acadian took a single step forward, “It was a dark entity, Zander. We almost fell to it, ourselves. He wouldn’t have stood a chance alone.”

Zander’s eyes became filled with rage. He sneered at Acadian, “Doran is worth ten of you. Ten of each of you. Twenty. He could have taken on an army of whatever-”

Felina grabbed his arm with tears streaming down her face, “Zander, they were just-”

He snatched his arm away, “Don’t.” He pointed his finger at her, choking on whatever else he was about to say. His throat strained, as though he was suppressing nausea. Without another word, he turned toward the back of the hall through which he had entered. “I’ll prove you wrong. I’ll find him. I’ll bring him back.”

Before anyone could stop him, Zander stormed through the rear doors, his footsteps echoing like thunder in an open field.

Silence filled the hall in his absence. Felina dropped to her knees, gathering the book Zander had dropped on the floor. Arsa rushed beside her and placed a cautious hand on her back.

“What’s he going to do?” he asked.

Felina looked tearfully to where Zander had left before wiping her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. She sniffed, “Break the law.”