...It was raining. But he couldn’t tell if it assaulted him from the sky, or if it was the spray of the sea urged on by the howling wind. Either way, torrents battered his face from all directions as he looked up into the swirling clouds, a writhing mixture of red and black. Wellynd felt his stomach turn. The groan of the wood under his feet made him look downward, and he noticed the ground was moving, tilting as if all of Vel were about to topple over. A splash of frigid water hit his face. He was back on Leofer’s ship. Leveling his sight, he saw Jensen barreling toward a blinded Klent, who was staring at the sky, wiping the rain out of his eyes. Wellynd let out a cry, a shout to disrupt Jensen’s attack, but it was no use. Their tangled bodies disappeared over the handrail as a red fissure tore across the sky, a whirring hum momentarily overtaking the howling wind. Blinking at the sudden flash, Wellynd ran to the edge, brushing his hair out of his face. Peering over the edge, the sea was surprisingly calm, and through the still black water he saw a pair of bloodshot eyes staring up at him. Wellynd gripped the gunwale. Klent’s mouth was agape; a pained look frozen upon his face. He stared for what felt like minutes, his heart rate increasing, hands beginning to cramp and sweat. The ghastly figure swayed loosely in the calm tide. Wellynd shivered. He let go of his grip and wiped his eyes, taking a deep breath. Another flash in the sky momentarily drew his gaze. The rattling hum rose once more. He stared down again and jerked back. Klent’s face was now protruding out of the water, mouth still agape. His bright orange eyes were fixed firmly on Wellynd, and he could hear Klent’s jaw crack as it closed. Wellynd swallowed, and tried to look away but found that he couldn’t. An unfamiliar voice whispered in both of Wellynd’s ears,“Xandu-El is dead.” A wet hand slapped on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Klent’s face was now inches from his own. His rasping breath splashed spittle towards him as he groaned, each word rattling out of his broken lungs. “Torix is here.”

Thrashing at the blankets that were trapping his arms, he threw his pillow to the floor. His breaths were rapid and shallow as he scanned the room. It was still dark as pitch, save for the edge of moonlight flowing through his drapes. He reached, with a shaking hand, for his mug of water at his bedside.

“Who is Torix?” said a hushed voice.

Wellynd cried out as he scrambled for the oil lamp on his bedside table.

It wasn’t there.

“Who’s there?” he shouted.

“Keep it down. It’s me, kid.” chuckled the woman’s voice “ and a little word of advice: you’re sleeping the wrong way on that bed.”

“Oh. Oh…” replied Wellynd, between breaths.

It was Kip.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Just wanted to try it out I guess. And Torix is...I don’t know something I heard today. Was I talking in my sleep? Why are you here? Where have you been all day?”

He began climbing out of bed, feeling around on the ground for his trousers.

“No need to get up, Kid. I already got the stones from your pack. Your payment is on the bench by the door. And to answer your question, I was busy. But I need a favour.”

“I’m done with extra favours. It’s been a long day. Get out of here.”

He squinted, blinking a few more times to get the sleep out of his eyes. He could just barely see the shadowed figure sitting in the corner of his room.

Kip was silent for a few seconds.

“You need to tell the Captain to sell exclusively to us.”

Wellynd hoped she couldn’t see in the dark because he rolled his eyes.

“Not again. You know, you aren’t the first person to make that offer to me today.”

Kip grunted.

“Hmm. I imagine that must have come from one of those degenerates infesting Maruthian’s. Criminal scum.” she spat.

“Maruthians…?”

“Anyway, forget them. They’re using the stones for profit. In fact, they sell half their supply to us at an inflated price. We are fighting for Arta. We need this. I think the Captain must know this.”

Wellynd groaned again “Why do all you people keep telling me this. I’m not the one making decisions here, and I pretty much have no sway over the Captain.”

“We can buy as much as he can give us. Every week. For at least the next year. Tell him. I’m also probably not the first person to tell you that things are about to change. We’re going to need it.”

“What are you using it for?” Wellynd ventured, unsure if he wanted to know.

Kip hummed. “Freeing Arta. You’ll know what that looks like soon enough.”

She shuffled in her seat slightly, switching which leg she had crossed.

“I’ll tell you what I told the Mox: I can’t promise anything, but I’ll make sure the Captain knows” he replied. Maybe this was just a dream as well.

There was a pause between them while the Kipping uncrossed her legs and sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees, arms proffered forward with her hands clasped together.

“Talk to the Captain, please. We need this.” Wellynd heard the chair creak as she stood up, her shadow looming over him in the darkness.

“We’ll continue this conversation next delivery. In a few weeks, I believe? I look forward to hearing from you.”

As she spoke, he could see her hands moving, as if she were stirring something in the air. The moonlight seemed to shy away from the corner of her room, bending around it in an arc. Wellynd tried to see what she was doing but he began to yawn and shook his head before slumping back into his pillows as the world went black.

Wellynd awoke with his head tilted sideways against a pillow. The room was still dark. He groaned, massaging the back of his neck as he tried to recount what had happened.

“Right. Kip.” he sighed, glancing toward the empty chair in the corner.

He scanned the rest of the room. Nothing seemed amiss. After another moment of twisting his neck back and forth, he got up to check his pack.

“Well, at least she’s an honest rebel” he muttered; the rest of the skald was gone and a small, heavy pouch of grell was sitting on the bench. Wellynd picked it up and tossed it into the air before stuffing it in his pack.

Walking over to the window, he pulled the drapes open. The moon still hung in the sky, and the empty, silent streets of the square bathed in its pale glow. He looked at the bed, but felt no lingering sleep behind his eyes.

It was as if he’d slept a full night.

He opened the window and felt the crisp autumn night wash into the room, accompanied by the cyclical lapping of waves against the distant port, heightened by a city that had gone quiet for the evening.

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Maybe it was time for a walk.

Wellynd always enjoyed walking alone at night. It was relaxing. The darkness and solitude offered him respite from the mounting troubles that swirled inhis mind.

He felt like he could project his thoughts onto the darkness; see the problems of the day more clearly.

Heading toward the conveyor, he decided to saunter down the steps toward the docks. Only a few lights dotted the many windows of Revenshore; even the rowdy din of Mermaid’s tavern was absent this night.

The waves, growing louder as he neared the dock, allowed him to sink into himself and wash away the stress that had been knotting in his chest.

He stopped. He almost didn’t notice that he was standing in the spot where that thief from earlier in the day had stolen a barrel from the conveyor.

He looked down the alleyway. The escape route.

He glanced around. There was nothing better to do.

The alleyway went on straight for several minutes before forking off into three different directions. Straight ahead looked to be a dead-end, but right and left looked to continue on.

He opted for the left, noticing that most of the windows here had iron bars in front of them.

Revenshore was a strange place.

It was riddled with pockets of both extreme poverty and extreme luxury. Most of the shop owners lived in these areas, unable to afford homes on the streets they sold their wares on. He was sure many of the men he had seen peddling in Xa Thaleyn square were probably holed up somewhere around here.

He had just turned a corner when a loud crash echoed through the alleyway. He jumped. A cat had pushed a barrel over on one of the wagons cluttering the alleyway. He let out a breath of relief.

“I’ve had enough excitement for today, thanks” he muttered to the cat, who now sat atop the tipped over barrel, licking its paws and staring at him.

He started towards the creature when, a low laugh echoed out from somewhere behind him. He spun to see a figure standing in the center of the alley, the moon cloaking the man’s face in shadow.

“We’re just getting started, kid.” said a gravelly voice.

An icy chill settled deep in Wellynd’s chest. That voice was unmistakable.

“Did you miss me, you little runt?” laughed Klent “ We didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye!”

The shadowed figure wiped his mouth with his sleeve, then stretched out his arms, rotating his shoulders, and cracking his knuckles one at a time while he continued his slow advance toward Wellynd.

“Oh wait. Let me guess. You thought I was dead. Hah!” he yelled, the anger in his voice increasing with each word “Washed up on the shore somewhere like your addle-brain friend. Obviously, you don’t know a thing about Vertan soldiers. Oh, but don’t worry. You’ll be well acquainted with some of our, more old-fashioned, practices soon enough. After I’m done with you, you’ll be begging for me to squeeze the life out of you, just like that muddled geezer.”

He stopped to swipe the cat off the barrel, the poor creature slamming into the wall.

He looked at his hand and laughed again “Oh, man. Before you interrupted, you should have heard that loser begging for help. Even the storm couldn’t drown out his pathetic cries. Nothing a boot didn’t silence. And to be fair, his corpse made a great makeshift raft after I broke his wiry neck.”

Uncertain of what to do, Wellynd held up his hands.

“I’m sorry, Klent. I didn’t know Jensen was going to tackle you off the boat. I swear. I don’t…I didn’t even like the guy.” he pleaded, still moving backward.

“Then why’d you stop my fun. Why’d you burn my eyes? Do you have any idea how painful that was?” roared Klent, picking up his pace. Wellynd noticed the man’s fists start to glow in the dark.

“You were beating him to death! What was I supposed to do?” yelled Wellynd

Klent advanced his pace

Wellynd turned on his heel and started sprinting as hard as he could.

Spotting a junction at the end of the alley, Wellynd surged forward, trying to ignore the cry of anger that rang out in response to his retreat.

There was a stack of wooden pallets and other garbage blocking the right path.

No exit that way.

Turning left, he caught a glimpse of Klent rushing after him.

Damn he was fast.

There was another junction up ahead — probably back to the main street.

“There’s nowhere to go, kid!” teased Klent’s voice from closely behind him, each word breathy and punctuated by his steps.

Wellynd slipped as he skirted around the corner, but he caught himself, barely losing momentum as he pushed off the ground with his hands, scrambling forward. He was heading west now, one more turn south and he should see the main conveyor strip ahead.

Almost there.

A corner loomed up ahead.

There it is.

He slowed himself just enough to round the corner, his fingers dragging against the stone before he came to an abrupt stop.

He blanched.

Five paces in front of him stood a dead-end. The back of some shop, its door closed, a few metal barrels stacked beside its entryway.

Wellynd ran to the door and tried the handle.

It was locked.

The damn thing wouldn’t even jostle at his frantic attempt to open it.

There was a sharp crack of glass breaking behind him. He saw Klent pull something from under his jacket, a flash of metal glinting in the moonlight as he resumed his slow strides toward Wellynd.

“You know, I’m kinda doing you a favour” Klent pondered, waving his blade back and forth in the air casually, “If I told my commanding officer that you attacked a Vertan soldier. Phew. Would you be in for a world of pain...” he paused for a moment, “Hmm. Maybe I’ll paralyse you and bring you in anyway. I’ll tell you what — it’s your call.” the moon reflected off his teeth as he smiled a wide and awful grin.

“Why don’t we just let it go. I’m really sorry. Please. I’ve got some money…I can give you that” urged Wellynd, his back now almost completely against the door.

“Yeah, sure. Just hand it over and I’ll be on my merry way.” laughed Klent.

“Right. Listen. Klent, my uncle. He can get you anything you want.”

“Sure. Maybe I’ll have a talk with him. You’re from the island right? Maybe me and a couple of my buddies will go down there and search him out.” Klent chuckled “It may take a bit of coercing, but we’ll find him. Oh! I know! We’ll ask that pretty friend of yours at the inn.”He took a final step so he stood one pace away from Wellynd, the scent of liquor and tobacco wafting off of him.

Wellynd clenched his jaw, his teeth squeaking.

Without thinking, he burst forward, dipping and grabbing a handful of pebbles off the ground, and throwing it directly at Klent’s face. He dashed to the side in two quick steps, bolting around the menacing figure.

Klent cried out and slashed wildly with his makeshift knife.

A hot line of fire traced along Wellynd’s ribs and into his shoulder. Stumbling, he lost his feet and his bloodied arm gave out as he tried to catch himself.

Ignoring the pain, he scrambled away on all fours, his feet slipping on the sandy stone.

Something sharp cut into his hand as he crawled toward the head of the alley. The glass Klent had broken, he thought between quickened breaths. He grasped it, blood running from his shoulder and pooling around his hand. He let out a surprised grunt as he was tugged backward, Klent’s grip an iron vice around his ankle.

He tried to kick, but Klent got hold of his other ankle. The world abruptly spun as Klent swung him into the stone wall. All air escaped his lungs in a violent rush, the edges of his vision turning black as he crashed against the ground. He heard the sound of his only weapon, the shard of glass, crunch under Klent’s boot.

So this was it.

There was no Jensen to save him now. The entire city was asleep.

Surprisingly, Wellynd felt an odd sense of calm wash over him. The cold air swirling in the alley danced around him, buffeting the dead-end as if it would defy the city itself and carve a path through the building. His blood felt hot against his skin in the night air, as he lay there, barely able to see Klent towering over him.

He heard the man mutter something as he wound up for a kick. Wellynd felt his body shake at the impact. The pain was distant, and his vision grew darker still.

He felt his mind continue to expand, feeling the weight of the ground beneath his body. He felt the depth of the earth and the stone under the street.

Another kick rocked his body, but he felt nothing. His vision was now entirely dark, so he closed his eyes, and, somewhere, somehow, he felt grounded to something deep beneath the city. Something shimmered far below. A faint hope, a sliver of light at the edge of his mind.

Each kick seemed to come more slowly than the last as the world descended into darkness around him. A heat resonated from deep within his core. In a final haze of confusion and pain, he tugged on that sliver of light, grasped at it.

Immediately, awareness ripped into Wellynd’s body, as the weight of Klent’s blows suddenly stopped and the ground around him shook.

A horrified and strangely muted scream tore through the silence of the alleyway.

Seizing his chance, Wellynd jolted upright, and, before he even took a full breath, was running as fast as he could back down the alley.

His journey back to Crest’s was a blur, and, when he arrived, without taking off his cloak, he collapsed in the bed and passed out.