Returning to her room, more awaited Maya than she had bargained for. Right in the centre of their room stood a completely naked man, posing for a painting, holding only a flower to hide his crotch—but not from this angle—while Elena was hidden behind an easel, sketching on a canvas. He was as surprised by her as she was by him, and he quickly stumbled over to cover himself with something.

Maya blinked, her brain struggling to process the unexpected scene. It took a moment for the shock to register, and when it did, her eyes widened, and she let out a strangled noise that was a curious mix between a gasp and a stifled scream, while quickly turning away in embarrassment.

“Did I tell you that you could move, Andersen!?” Elena was furious.

“B—but. You didn’t tell me someone was going to barge right in.” He managed to grab a piece of clothing to hide his private parts, red with embarrassment.

Maya stood frozen in confusion, unsure how to react. Should she leave the room? It was her room. She just wanted to get to her bed and hide from the world. Where should she go now?

“S-sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said, mortified. Maya finally got her brain to loosen up and made her way to the door.

“You’re not intruding. And why are you so shy all of a sudden, Anderson? People are going to see it anyway. Isn’t that the whole point? Unless Beth is just displaying it in her closet,” Elena amused herself.

“Well, I don’t expect her to display it in a museum for the whole nation to see.”

“Relax. It’s just my roommate.”

“I’ll just leave you to it,” Maya was still trying to get out of the room.

“Don’t bother. He has already ruined it. We’ll continue this session another time. I need to redo the whole flower part to make his… ahem… look bigger.”

“HEY!”

“I’m joking. But get dressed and get lost. We’re done for the day.”

Maya stood there with her back turned until the guy had dressed and left. Then she finally turned her attention back to Elena, who was finishing up. “I want you to warn me about things like this before they happen.”

“Don’t be so stiff. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Maya remained silent.

“Oh,” Elena realised what the silence meant. “Then you’re welcome…?” she said, unsure if seeing a naked man would be considered a treat.

“Why is this even a thing I can come home to and walk in on?”

“He’s paying me to paint him a portrait for his girlfriend.”

“I’m sure she’ll be over the moon, knowing that you had to stare at him naked for hours in order to make it.”

“Well, he’s not paying me to be a relationship advisor,” Elena laughed. “Telling him that this is equivalent to sending her an expensive dick-pic wouldn’t work in my favour.”

“And that’s the most important thing,” Maya criticised her.

“So, how was it?” Elena changed the subject.

“I avoided suspicion, for now. I think…”

“Are you a quadripartite or tripartite, in the end?”

“All four.”

“Damn it.”

“I chose all four.”

“Why? Two’s already too many.”

“Because I have to. I’m chosen. I can’t neglect my powers.”

“You talk about them as if they were your children,” Elena said jokingly.

“Very funny,” Maya wasn’t amused. She sat down on her bed, exhausted. “There’s an old conflict between Amanda and Daria. I overheard it. And I think Amanda has a growing distrust of Daria,” Maya only said it because it sounded like it was about Elena. “And I’m pretty sure Amanda labelled you as one of Daria’s mistakes. Overlooking my powers was the other.”

“No surprise there,” Elena snorted. “Man, that woman threw an eternal hate on me.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Don’t you wonder why?”

“I know why. I’m a troublemaker,” Elena said snippily. “I bring disorder to her perfect little utopia. I’m not afraid of her intimidation. There are enough reasons for her to pick and choose as to why she hates me… And blaming it on Daria seems so typical of her.”

Elena looked at her easel with a dissatisfied expression on her face. Painting vanity portraits didn’t seem to be her favourite thing in the world.

“Why do you take commissions? Shouldn’t a real artist paint what they want, and people would buy their art in a gallery?” Maya asked, changing the subject and responding to the look on her face.

“If I painted what I wanted, no one would be interested in my art.”

🜺🜺🜺🜺

In a distant corner of the world, a solitary figure walked through the squalid lanes of a forsaken town. Layers of grime clung to every façade, painting the buildings in hues of gloom and decay. Here, the sun rarely dared to cast its feeble light, and the air itself seemed to mourn the loss of clarity.

Even though there should still be some daylight left, it was unable to penetrate the thick shroud of pollution that draped the air, leaving the streets below stuck in perpetual twilight of ambient light. The air was so laden with filth that even the feeble glow of street lamps failed to stave off the encroaching shadows.

Any passenger would only appear as a featureless shadowy form that flickers into existence and is quickly erased, merging back seamlessly with the oppressive darkness. All while the feeling of desolation continues to press down on your soul, and the musty and heavy air smothers your every breath.

And there came such a figure in the man’s path. One brazen enough to let its unsteady outline fully form, and its lips sneering at his presence. The creature had the form of a man and had deemed him an unwanted visitor. Such creatures don’t hesitate to spill blood.

Neither does he.

Steel sang swiftly, and another layer of visceral liquid spilt on the filthy stone pavement, being slowly washed away by the equally disgusting condensate of the ever-present mist. The man wiped his sword on a cloth, returning it to his hip before he continued down his path.

At one point he stopped in front of one of the rundown habitats of the slums, built with such disregard for the building code it was a miracle to still be standing. Buildings here take up any available space. It wasn’t like much else could take their space but each other. Even moss refused to grow here.

Pausing to read the barely discernible letters on a wooden plate, he concluded this was the right place.

As he entered the small, scanty shop, a man behind a clutter-overtaken counter met him with a lazy look, still chewing on the gummy unappetizing dinner in front of him.

Neither spoke.

The man behind the counter took his time, slowly finishing the leftovers in his mouth while staring at the young man who had just entered his shop.

“Aren’t you a rare sight,” he said cleaning his yellow teeth with his tongue. “How can I help you?”

The young man placed an attestation claiming certain stock was in this store’s possession. It could’ve been dismissed as a ridiculous prank, but the owner, the man behind the counter himself, had written and signed it.

“You claimed to have a page, unprocessed, and outside of mainstream circulation,” he tapped at the worn-out piece of paper that still clearly showed the text.

The shop owner lazily tossed an eye at the document presented, then looked back at the young man’s face.

“Are you one of the cultists?”

“Aren’t you the cultist one here?”

The owner chuckled. “Maybe I have it, maybe I don’t. What’s it to you?”

“I will purchase it.”

“Ha! Purchase? Shouldn’t someone like you have a different business here? Your duties were long overdue. Filth on these streets has grown roots. So much so that I’ll trust them over a man like you.”

The old man scorned him. The young man stayed silent.

“But I know you will just toss Tetras at me and flee if I authorize this transaction.”

The young man stared for long with an impassive gaze, a faint flicker of discontent hidden behind his eyes, before slowly speaking out, “I can also not ask nicely.”

“And what? You’ll clean me up like you did that fiend outside?” the old man wasn’t swayed. “Do you think a local like me is easily intimidated? Well, if you get rid of me you still won’t be able to find what you are searching for.”

“Just name your price,” the young man’s languid gaze pierced the shop owner with his pale grey eyes.

“Listen here, lad. There isn’t a shop here willing to serve your kind. I know you lost a lot, but we out here were always on our own and forsaken by you. In here you’re just an exotic beast. And we got a lot of those.”

His dark eyebrows furrowed. “What can I do to win your trust? I’m quite capable.”

“Ha! Stop kidding around and scram. One look at you, one glint of your steel, and someone will be tempted to stab a knife into your spine, and not just the bloodsuckers. Doing business with you paints a target on my back. Don’t you realize that you have already stepped on some toes, just walking here? Out here even those fiends have their use. They are a domestic species. You shouldn’t walk around these streets with such a twitchy sword hand.”

“I told you already; I am capable.”

“No one is capable in their sleep.”

The young lad looked away. One glance at the bag under his eyes, which stained an otherwise handsome face, and you could tell sleep wasn’t something he practised sufficiently enough.

“Tell me, why are you so insistent on this? The page isn’t going to bring your brethren back. Although it is forbidden magic, no one has succeeded in even grazing the content of the page.”

“I am not interested in the spell.”

“Then why would you come all the way here?”

“I need it to complete a picture.”

“Complete a picture? What picture?”

“I’ll know when I complete it.”

The older man laughed. “Hoh… I like you. But I don’t want to deal with your corpse. Leave, boy, before I chase you out with a broom.”