The morning sun hadn’t fully crested over the horizon when a sharp knock rattled my apartment door. The relentless tapping thudded in my skull, dragging me from the last threads of sleep. I groaned, rolling over and pulling the thick blanket over my head, willing the noise away. But it came again—persistent and insistent.

"Fine, fine," I muttered, my voice rough with fatigue. I rubbed my eyes and sat up, squinting at the dimly lit room. From the window the sun was barely in the sky but to be honest the brightness of the large ball of fire easily equaled the light of earth's sun even this early.

The knocking continued, punctuated by a muffled voice. “Crowly! Open up, we don’t have all day.” It was Ember.

I still didn't know her name. Which bugged me off. Since she already knew mine but I didn't know her's which made me feel she had an advantage on me.

Slowly I shuffled out of bed, feet dragging across the cold floor as I made my way to the door. My hair was a disheveled mess, and I was still in the clothes I’d passed out in the suit. I hated them, too restrictive.

I pulled the door open, and there they were. Orvox looks as composed as ever, while Ember leaned against the doorframe, her face had a slight scar on the neck.

Now that she wasn't wearing any armour I could say that her arms were rough. Signaling that she was a very physical type of person.

Her dress sense wasn't really one I could call native to Musspell or Earth yet they were familiar I just couldn't remember right now.

“You look like death,” Orvox said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Good morning to you too,” I shot back, stepping aside to let them in. They moved past me without another word, Ember’s boots echoing against the hardwood floor as she made her way to the small dining table that doubled as my workspace.

I shut the door and took a deep breath. This was it—the start of whatever plan they had in mind. I hoped it was worth the sleep deprivation.

“Coffee?” I offered, already heading toward the kitchen nook. I needed something to jolt me awake, and I’d bet my last talisman that they’d been up for hours.

Orvox nodded curtly, eyes scanning the scattered maps and notes that littered the table from my late-night brainstorming session. Ember just grunted in what I assumed was an affirmative. I set the kettle on the stove and leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

“So,” I said, trying to sound more awake than I felt, “what’s the plan? You show up at the crack of dawn, so I assume you’ve got something important.”

Orvox glanced up from the notes, his face impassive. “The mafia boss who helped you last month? He’s gone. Vanished without a trace.”

I didn’t react immediately, just let the words hang in the air as I pushed away the building wave of fatigue. It wasn’t unexpected. The moment the deal had soured, and the boss decided to sell me out, I knew his days were numbered.

“Not surprised?” Ember tilted her head, the roughened skin around her eyes narrowing as she studied me. Her tone carried a note of curiosity, but I could tell she was gauging my reaction.

I exhaled, eyes fixed on the dark liquid boiling in the kettle. “No. When you betray people who play dirtier than you, disappearing isn’t just an option—it’s the inevitable conclusion.”

Orvox placed a hand on the table, leaning forward slightly. “And yet, this disappearance isn’t quite so simple. Since the place we visited last time was littered with bodies of his lackeys."

I nodded slowly, processing Orvox’s words. The idea of a crime scene littered with corpses didn’t shock me anymore. It was just part of Musspell’s brutal landscape, a place where power shifted with the tides of blood and betrayal.

Orvox reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask, unscrewing the cap and pouring its contents into the coffee I’d just handed him. I raised an eyebrow as he casually dropped an ice cube into the dark, steaming liquid. The cold hissed as it met the heat, a strange quirk I hadn’t expected from the stoic priest.

“Since we’re working together, I suppose it’s about time we discussed our capabilities,” I said, breaking the tense silence. My words were deliberate, my gaze shifting between Orvox and Ember. This wasn’t just about survival anymore; it was about knowing what cards we each had to play. “I’ll start. I’m an Apprentice-level Arcanist. The beginner’s rank for any mage worth their salt.”

Ember’s eyebrows shot up, but she said nothing, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair. The dim light caught the scar on her neck, making it appear like a jagged mark of some forgotten battle.

“I haven’t been able to manifest my Soul yet,” I continued, my tone careful. Admitting this weakness left a bitter taste, but there was no point hiding it. “Failed to do so during my exams and haven’t had any success since.”

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Orvox placed his mug down, eyes settling on me with a look that was part sympathy, part calculation. “A Soul manifestation is no small feat,” he said, his deep voice carrying the gravity of his priestly training. “But knowledge alone can carry you far.” He straightened, his robes shifting around him like shadowy waves. “As for me, I’m a priest of Gringol. I’ve received His boon.”

A faint tremor ran down my spine. Divine blessings were rare and powerful, bestowed only on those with unwavering dedication to their deity. I’d read once that while arcane magic allowed for versatility, a divine blessing could reshape reality in ways even seasoned Arcanists envied.

“A divine blessing,” I echoed, letting the words linger in the room. Ember’s gaze sharpened as she studied my reaction, a flicker of recognition crossing her features.

“Your turn, Ember,” I said, tilting my head toward her. “Since we’re laying our cards on the table, I’d say it’s fair you share as well.”

She shifted, arms unfolding as she placed her palms flat on the table. The strength in them was clear, veins like cords beneath scarred skin. “I’m a Knight of Reed. You should already know that I am faster than most cars and stronger than most people."

A thick silence settled over the room, the only sound the faint bubbling of the kettle as it reached a low boil. Ember's words hung in the air like an unspoken challenge, their weight pressing down on the small space. Orvox sipped his spiked coffee with an unreadable expression, but his eyes shifted to me, waiting to see what I’d do next.

I leaned back against the counter, my arms still crossed, feeling the prickling irritation rise again. The fatigue did nothing to blunt the edge of my frustration; it only sharpened it, fueling the need to tear through the ambiguity that had wrapped itself around this uneasy partnership.

I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath before speaking. “Alright, this has been bugging me for too long,” I said, my voice breaking the silence like a crack of thunder. My eyes found Ember’s, sharp and unyielding. “We’re all sharing here, laying it out so we know what we’re working with. So, I think it’s only fair that I know your name. You know mine, and I’m tired of dancing around that.”

Ember’s gaze hardened, the faintest twitch in her jawline giving away her initial reaction. For a second, the air seemed to grow colder, as if the room itself braced for impact. Orvox’s eyes flicked between us, a curious glint in their depths, but he didn’t intervene. He wouldn’t, since he was a neutral person.

Silence stretched before Ember’s posture shifted. She uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, palms still pressed against the table, her lips turned upwards into a mocking smile.

“Names are powerful,” she said, her voice low but clear, carrying an edge that felt as sharp as the blades she surely wielded. “They can give others leverage, especially to people like you even if you are an arguably bad Arcanist."

I didn’t flinch, matching her stare with my own. “And yet, here we are, you already know mine yet I don't know yours so you already have leverage over me. I can't trust someone like you then."

Ember’s eyes narrowed, the smirk slipping as seriousness replaced it. She tilted her head slightly, studying me as if weighing something unseen. Finally, she pushed off the table and straightened, a hand brushing back a loose strand of red hair.

“Fine,” she said, the word dropping like a stone in water. “You want to know? It’s Antras. Ember is my title, not my name. Call me Antras if it’ll help you sleep at night, Crowley.”

The tension in the room eased slightly, but only just. The truth sat between us, raw and exposed. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Orvox’s lips curled into a half-smile, as though amused by the exchange.

“Thank you,” I said, the edge in my voice softening but not disappearing entirely. I pushed away from the counter and poured myself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma already working to lift the haze of fatigue.

Ember—no, Antras—watched me, her expression unreadable now, as though weighing whether or not she’d made the right choice.

Orvox’s half-smile widened as he tilted his head, a note of genuine amusement playing in his usually stoic eyes. “Not going to ask me my true name, Crowley? Seems like fair play if we’re being transparent.”

I met his gaze, feeling the heat of the coffee cup seeping into my palm. The bitter liquid sloshed as I took a sip, savoring its sharpness. “No need,” I replied evenly, letting the quiet confidence of my words hang between us. “You told the truth.”

Orvox raised an eyebrow, intrigue lighting his dark eyes. “And how, pray tell, do you know that?”

I shrugged, a touch more nonchalant than I felt. “I have my ways.”

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken meaning, but Orvox’s amusement deepened, turning into a low chuckle that resonated in the quiet room. Antras glanced between us, eyes narrowing slightly, her gaze searching my face for any sign of deception. I kept my expression neutral, meeting her scrutiny without flinching.

Inwardly, I considered the subtle flicker of power I had felt earlier when Orvox spoke. The Soul Sight was an asset every Arcanist possessed. It allowed me to see the outer layer of someone’s soul—a luminous, shifting veil that mirrored their emotions. While it didn’t grant the ability to read thoughts or pierce to the core of a person, it was enough to tell when someone was lying or when their words held true conviction. Orvox’s soul had been steady, a rippling calm that betrayed no deceit.

Antras, on the other hand, were harder to read. Her soul was really weird, a Soul always looked like one paint or colour or at least looked like a being but her soul was just writhing mass of colours. But in that moment when she revealed her true name, the storm had stilled, if only briefly, confirming her sincerity.

I leaned back against the kitchen counter, the caffeine finally coursing through my veins, chasing away the fog of exhaustion. I set my mug down, meeting Orvox’s unwavering gaze before glancing at Antras. They were watching me, waiting for more. It was time to lay out why I had a personal stake in this tangled mess.

“I’m here because of Cedric,” I began, my voice steadying as the weight of my own words sank in. “He was supposed to be an easy mark, just another small-time trafficker who bit off more than he could chew. The bounty on him was decent, nothing that would make waves but enough to give my career a much-needed jump start to it."

Orvox’s eyes shifted, that calculating glint I was growing familiar with sharpening. “And you didn’t know about his recent... acquisitions?” he asked, a note of curiosity threading through his deep voice.

I shook my head. “Not until recently, no. From what I had researched about him, he isn't someone that could have accomplished this much with his own mediocre skills that he had. Other then that not much is actually known about him."

Orvox’s lips tightened into a thin smile, his eyes drifting to the window, where the morning light had started to seep into the room. “The Church heard the same whispers,” he said. “Cedric was beneath our notice, just another rat scuttling in the shadows. But things changed when he stole a relic of considerable power."

"To be honest I don't even know where to begin really, this is literally my first job with this much stakes." I said.

“I’ve barely been on Musspell for ten days,” I admitted, a note of frustration bleeding into my voice. The room seemed to close in on me as I glanced around, seeking some anchor in this whirlwind. “Finding reliable information on this place has been impossible. Half the people I asked didn’t trust an outsider, and the other half just whispered cryptic nonsense. I didn’t even know about the quakes or this Festival

Orvox leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening as he crossed his arms. “Musspell isn’t an easy place for newcomers, Crowley. To be honest most citizens don't really have a good relationship with otherworlders and our history doesn't show it too. So yeah I can believe that."

He glanced at Antras, who remained silent, the set of her jaw unchanging as she listened. Then he began.

“The Festival of Gringol is very important festival for the people that happens every year for us. It’s the one time in the year when the three major powers—the Church of Gringol, the King’s Court, and the Outer Guards—come together under a fragile truce. For a month, people celebrate and sing praises to our God."

I frowned, trying to piece together how this connected to the recent upheaval. “And the quakes?” I asked.

Orvox’s expression darkened. “They are natural and have been here since anyone can remember."

Antras shifted, the leather of her coat creaking as she adjusted her stance. “And with the Festival so close, anyone in the position of power is worried that this might affect the relationship between the three powers leading to war in what is already very shaky relationships at best."

“So, what does he want? Cedric I mean he shouldn't really have anything to do with this place right?" I asked.

"Now that is the question and what we are here to discuss." Orvox replies.