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Chapter Text

In the beginning, there was only the void and only Inanis the void god, 

but Inanis grew lonely, and so he split his soul into 10 pieces and the Parthenon was born

The Parthenon grew weary of the void and created Anluz. 

Hakbus, God of the sun and light, created the sun to light up the world

Druantia, the goddess of weather, farming, and nature created the Land and Sky

Hoori, God of the wild, animals, and werebeast created animals to walk the lands

Gosoi, Goddess Of The Ocean, filled the space in-between the lands with the ocean and created life in the oceans

Grim, Goddess of life and death, created all the races to breathe new life into Anluz 

Adea, Goddess of lust, desires, and greed gave the races their desires good and bad

Lulreus, God of Knowledge, gave the races the ability to learn and process information 

Ebrius, God of alcohol, Parties, and Douchebaggery gave the races berries of which we make our alcohol

Ether, God of magic, gave Anluz Mana for us to use magic

Muzaos, God of diseases, plagues, and sickness gave Anluz sickness and the herbs used to heal them

Our story begins in the factory capital of the world, Nazamara (Naz-Amara) in the frozen kingdom of Ackermouth. Nazamara is built on a mountain with slums, large mines, and factories at the bottom of the hill. At the top of the hill separated by a wall is where mansions and rich life are. In the slums of Nazamara was born a wood elf by the name of Finvir Duskmire, he had brown hair and amber eyes. Finvir was born to a pair of coal miners who sadly died from smoke inhalation and hypothermia. 

<Finvir POV>

It was a late night in the workhouse. The only noise was the soft snoring of the other workers, the crackling of wood inside the large furnace keeping the workhouse warm, and the wind blowing the snow off the old tin roof. I sat on my bed and sang softly to myself "Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to me” I blew on the cake I had drawn out of the dust on the floor with an 8 in the middle. I wrapped myself in the small thin blanket and laid on the stiff pillow and mattress. 

(Time skip)

It was 7 am when the loud bell from the church rang out. I woke up with a yawn and stretched my arms with a satisfying pop, I looked around the workhouse and saw the other older workers walking to the communal showers while some moved to the large cafeteria. I was the latter after changing into my work clothes which consisted of a pair of overalls with a white button-up, a fur coat for the outside, and boots. I picked up a metal bowl on a tray and filled it with some chicken noodle soup and grabbed my little serving of bread, I sat with the other children who talked about the upcoming day. Just as we finished our meals, the church bells rang again, an indicator that it was time to work. We put our dishes in the large metal trough repurposed for a large sink and then walked out into the snow-filled cobblestone street.

<Narrator POV> 
 
 Most people work in the assembly lines that produce the airships, boats, and armor for the Ackermouth Army or the large coal mines under the city. Finvir on the other hand is too weak to work in either, so he spends his work hours as a mail boy delivering letters for some residents. He ran down the road towards the first of three major slums that makes up the coal district, named Tin town. As he reaches the neighborhood, he opens the box at the end and started delivering the letters to the residents. 

<Finvir POV>

 A pink and yellow sky replaced the blue sky as the sun lowered. All that was left was a letter for a guy named Ciel Zaitsev (Zait-se). Ciel was a regular when it came to letters, he owned a huge estate in Tin Town. A large iron fence enclosed the Zaitsev estate, which was made of orange-red stone with white accents and a copper dome in the middle of the roof.  

After staring at the large home for a minute, I opened the iron door in front of the property. As I walked through the garden, I saw all kinds of stuff. The garden was full of cedar trees, hedges, and flowers. The flowers were a bright blue with an outline of white, they were giving off a faint blue glow, and you could see the frost coming off them. Reaching the front door, I knocked. It was answered by the Man himself. Ciel Zaitsev was a Breton man about 5’6 with black hair and dull brown eyes. He wore a white button-up shirt with a black vest, black suit pants, and black dress shoes. 
 

Ciel Zaitsev 
Smart, Rich, and Kind

“ Hello, their young Finvir!” He spoke with a kind, soft tone, “What brings you to my estate?” 

I responded with my usual monotone, calm voice, “A letter came in for you.”  I reached into my little bag and handed him the letter. He took the letter and read what was written on the letter before he tucked it back into his back pocket. 

He looked down at me, smiled, and said" Say Finvir are you finished for the day?”
I looked up to the man and said back," Yes, sir. I Just finished my rounds.”

< Narrator POV>

Ciel moved to the side of the door and ushered with his arm to the inside of his home and said," Well then would you like to continue are lesson?”.

You see, the reason Ciel is so familiar with Finvir is because when neither of them are working he works as a tutor for Finvir. Finvir looked to the street behind and saw people walking back home after a long day of work, and then he heard the bells of the church indicating the start of the curfew, seeing no other option he sighed and said “Sure.” He moved inside the house, took his boots off, and then Ciel shut the door behind him. 

When Finvir wasn't working, Ciel worked as a tutor.  Ciel was a kind man at the age of 27. Everyone in the industrial district knew he was a man who worked and protested for better working conditions in the factories and mines. He was one of the few rich people who actually cared for the industrial district and its people. 

The inside of the house was just as big as the outside, it had marble floors and oak walls with paintings of past wars and forests. Finvir and Ciel walked down a hall before reaching a large round room with two marble stairs on one wall leading to the bedrooms and smoking room and 3 door frames on the other walls.  They take a left and walked down one of the hallways, passing by the kitchen and the servant quarters before finally reaching the library. 

The library was a medium-sized, two-story room with a sanguine red carpet. The left-most side of the room had three large windows that showed the pink sky outside. The wall on the other side of the room had a large fireplace, and a painting of a middle-aged Nord man with black hair and pitch black eyes wearing a black suit sat on top of the mantel. 

Finvir moved into the room and sat on one of the comfy red chairs that sat in front of the fireplace, looked up at Ceil, and said, "Ready, Mr. Zaitzev."

Chapter Text

Zaitsev Estate, Nazamara, Ackermouth

<Narrator>

Ciel moved to one of the bookshelves, skimming through some of them before pulling out a large book with a blue cover and a silver symbol of a triangle with a line at the bottom and another line going through that line. 

Ciel put the large book on the table and turned to a marked page.  “ Now Finvir, I need you to listen closely, and at the end. Ask me any questions you have at the end. Ok?”  Finvir nodded, moving closer to the book.

____________________________________________________

Everything in Anluz has mana from the smallest ant to the biggest dragon or what remains of them. Magic allows us to manipulate the mana in the environment. For example, you can use a fire spell whenever you want but if you are around a fire source the spell will become stronger. 

There are in total 7 elemental magic types. These are Fire, Earth, water, ice, wind, Electricity, and light. Outside of elements, there are 6 non-elemental. 

Restoration- Spells that heal the body 
Alteration- Spells that manipulate the body
Conjuration- Spells used to summon creatures and weapons
Illusion- Spells that manipulate the mind and senses
Mysticism- Spells that manipulate others magic 
Necromancy- Spells that manipulate the dead. 

_______________________________________________________

Ciel looked up from the book and at finvir. “ Now Finvir can you tell me about Necromancy, how does one raise the dead?” 

Finvir took a moment to think and then said “ one must take a soul to return another one."

Ciel added " yes the goddess grim controls life and death. She would be displeased to find the balance of life and death uneven." Ciel breathed in before moving back to his lesson 

________________________

Everybody can use magic. Yes. However, everybody also has a magic affinity.

Magic affinity is what magic you can learn and use the easiest.

The parent's affinities determine affinity. For example a mother with ice affinity and a father with a fire affinity. Will have a higher chance of a child with fire than ice due to genetics. 

_______________________

" And that brings us to the end of our lesson, do you have any questions?” Ciel said closing the book shut

<Finvir POV>

I look up at Mr.Zaitsev and ask “ The curfew has already started, can I stay over again?” Usually, our lessons would push into the night and the guards would start the curfew so I stayed in his guest room most nights. 

“ Of course my dear boy. I was just having the servants prepare dinner; dinner is always good with guests.” He stood up putting the book back before continuing, “ Come on, my dear boy.” 

I stood up and followed him.

Walking back out into the halls, I followed closely behind Mr.Zaitsev. We reached the dining room and sat down while we waited for the meal. The dining room was a small room with an oak wood floor, a large carpet under the table, the walls had an excellent sanguine red plaster, and a large fireplace, an oak wood table, and in the center of the room were chairs and a table. 

We sat down at the table and waited for the servants to deliver us the meal. I looked up from the table and asked “ What are we eating?”

He responded “ An Ackermouth classic, Solyanka.” he rubbed his stomach as a way to humor me

I chuckled a little and heard my stomach growl. “ What is Solyanka?”

Mr.Zaitsev smiled and responded “  Solyanka is a soup. We are eating the meat version. Made with beef, ham, sausages, and chicken breast together with cucumber pickles, tomatoes, onions, olives, capers, allspice, parsley, and dill are all cut fine and mixed in a pot. The broth is added, and heated for a short time on the stove, without boiling.” He looked out the window before continuing, “ My mom used to make it for me when I was a boy.” He sighed.

Just as he was about to ask something else a khajiit woman with pure black fur with blue eyes opened the door on the back wall that led to the kitchen and said “ Dinner is ready sir.”

Mr.Zaitsev looked at her and replied to her “ Thank you Ja'rasha we were just getting hungry hahaha” 

Ja’rasha nodded, chuckled a bit, and moved back into the kitchen before coming back with two bowls of Solyanka and setting them in front of us. 

We started eating, not talking. We were almost done eating when a Nord man with brown eyes and blonde hair walked through the hallway and said “ Sir Zaitsev, a man in a mask and dark blue clothes request your audience.” 

Mr.Zaitzev looked at the man and said “I’ll be right there” before he looked at me and said, “ Finvir can you find your way to the guest room?” 

I finished eating and said, “yes sir.” I had spent so many nights at the estate I knew where everything was. We both got up and made our way into the hall.

<Narrator POV>

Ciel walked one way presumably to his private study and Finvir walked the other way before he turned around his curiosity got the better of him and so he snuck behind Ciel.

Finvir was always pretty good at tiptoeing. Most days Finvir would spend his day pickpocketing asshole guards who would beat civilians for walking too close to the door to the gold district. The gold district was where all the rich and royalty of Nazamara lived and they were all assholes to the lower working class.

Ciel reached his private study and opened the door. Inside was a man in a dark blue coat, black undershirt, black pants, and black boots. Most strange of all was the mask. It was long with brown straps around the nose piece, the eyepieces were pure white not allowing anything to be seen from the outside, and it was black. 

Ciel didn’t shut the door all the way allowing little Finvir to see inside.

Private Study, Zaitsev Manor

Ciel opened the door to his private study, stepping inside. Finvir, hidden in the shadows, held his breath as the door creaked open just wide enough for him to peek through. Inside, a man in a dark blue coat stood waiting. His mask, long and ominous, obscured his face entirely.

“This had better be important, Oda,” Ciel growled, irritation clear in his voice. “I was in the middle of dinner.”

The masked man knelt, placing a hand over his chest. “Apologies, Grandmaster. I bring urgent news.”

At the word Grandmaster, Finvir’s breath hitched. Grandmaster?

Ciel waved dismissively, settling into a chair. “Speak.”

Oda rose to his feet. “Inanis requires a new conduit. After Skjor’s death, I received word directly from His Coldness. He has chosen you to select the replacement.”

Before Ciel could respond, the door burst open.

“You’re the Grandmaster of the Outsiders?!” Finvir blurted, eyes wide with awe.

Oda reacted instantly, drawing his blade, but Ciel raised a hand, halting him. The Grandmaster’s eyes darkened as he approached the boy.

“Finvir,” Ciel said slowly, voice as cold as winter’s breath, “you’ve stumbled onto a secret that could cost you your life.”

Finvir froze as Ciel drew a strange weapon—a hilt that extended into a gleaming blade with a squeeze.

“Wait!” Finvir stammered. “You need new members, right? Let me join!”

Ciel stared at him, silent, as if weighing the boy’s soul. Finally, he glanced at Oda, who leaned back against the wall and nodded.

The blade retracted with a sharp hiss.

“Raise your hand,” Ciel commanded. “Repeat after me.”

Finvir obeyed, trembling but determined.

And so, with the recitation of an ancient vow, Finvir’s new life began.

Chapter Text

<Narrator>

Finvir quit his life and began his new life in the outsiders. One of the requirements of joining was he had to destroy everything about his old life. The hardest was with fey, Fey was a 7-year-old Nord girl who studied at the college of ackermouth which was a magic school. She said something about her parents not trusting her at the Queensborough school. It turns out a lot of high elves don't like mixed genes. 

You see Fey’s mother is a high elf and her Father is a Nord. High elf culture is very racist and snobby.

Finvir met Fey when he was walking back to the workhouse and she was about to be robbed but finvir helped her get away. So since then, they have protected each other or finvir protected her. The reason Fey was in the lower districts was so she could get away from the as she put it “those arrogant assholes at the college” 

The outsiders are very big on living a new life rule so Finvir had to leave her behind.

Unsurprisingly training to be an outsider was hard. Ciel was a hard on Finvir. When he didn't manage to block a sword swing that was a new scar. 

He learned many things in his 7 years of training. How to use shadows to hide, sword fighting, using his environment to his advantage, fighting dirty, and parkour. 

When he was 15 he was sent with Ciel on a mission for tactical training that he could not simulate at the base. The mission was to kill a pedophile politician in Ackermouth. The mission was a complete success. 

He did this shadowing until he was 20 and then he was sent on his first mission. Kill a political candidate for another candidate. Finvir infiltrated and killed his Target in 5 minutes. 

.

< 25-year-old Finvir POV>

One night after completing a job, he was visited in his dream by inanis. 

Fun facts about gods they can choose any form they want. 

I had just gotten back from a mission and just wanted to fall asleep. Finding my room I opened the door and passed out face first into my bed.

Timeskip

A few hours later I woke up in my bed, Except something was wrong the usual warmth of my room was replaced by a chill. Not freezing but cold enough that I could feel it, I tried to open the door, but it was locked

The cold gnawed at my skin as I turned to take in the endless expanse of gray. The sky above stretched, featureless, with a dim, pale light offering no comfort. Beneath my feet, the ground was an abyssal black, rough and unyielding.

I walked, compelled by an unseen force, until I reached an archway that seemed to hum with power.

“Oh, so young,” a voice murmured, soft yet chilling, followed by another, quieter echo, like a whisper behind the first. “But then again, I rarely pay attention to age.”

“Where am I?” I asked, my voice cracking against the void’s silence.

From the archway, a man emerged—Nord in stature, dressed in an impeccable black suit. His hair matched the void, and his eyes absorbed the faint light, leaving none to escape.

“You are everywhere and nowhere,” he said, his voice a calm tide of authority. “A place between worlds, outside time itself. Welcome to the Void, Finvir.”

He stepped closer, his presence both soothing and terrifying. “I am Inanis, God of this domain. Father of all gods.”

I swallowed hard, my instincts warring between fight and flight, though neither seemed possible. Before I could respond, he raised a hand, silencing me.

“I have seen your future, Finvir. It is... fascinating. And so, I offer you a gift—something only the Outsiders dare wield: Void magic.”

“What’s the catch?” I asked, wary.

He smirked, a chilling expression that left no warmth. “No catch. Only that you live your destiny. So, what do you say?”

I hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment. Finally, I nodded. “I accept.”

His smirk grew. “Good.”

Pain seared the back of my hand, burning from within. I cried out, clutching it as the mark of Inanis—a circle etched with intricate lines and half-moons—seared itself into my skin.

“Wake up,” he said, his voice echoing into nothingness.

I bolted upright in bed, the warmth of my room stark against the memory of the Void. The mark on my hand glowed faintly before fading.

<Narrator> 

Finvir spent the next 3 years learning how to use void magic to its fullest. He had training with the other outsiders. With the power of the void, he could do many things if he trained with his powers enough but as of right now he could only Teleport short distances. He continued his life as an outsider for the next 2 years before he decided to retire from the assassin life. He rented a boat heading towards windshire. 

Chapter Text

<Narrator POV>

    A thing about void magic is that the more you use it the more it drains from the user. Ciel had been very adamant about beating that into Finvir’s head when he got void magic. Ciel said that he has seen outsiders who have become husks of their former selves. Their hair becomes darker and their eyes lose their light. Then their personality, then memories. 

    Luckily however Finvir is only at the eye and hair phase right now. The doctor at the outsider base in Ackermouth said he had a long time before it got to the husk phase. His amber eyes became dark brown and his brown hair became black.     

    Finvir had spent all of his life in Ackermouth. Most of the country was a frozen wasteland. Well except for the southern part of the country, something about Anluz is that the further north you go the colder it gets, and the more south you go the hotter it goes. 

    The point is that finvir is used to the cold so the change in climate will take some time to get used to. Now you might be wondering why Finvir decided to go to Windshire out of everywhere, well there are two reasons. One reason is that windshire is home to the wood elves and another reason is that it was the cheapest boat ticket. 

    The boat was going to a small port town on the northern side of windshire named Reisui (rei-she). The ride was uneventful, to say the least Finvir spent most of the trip reading books and sleeping. The trip itself took 2 weeks. He was wearing a long black cloak with a gold accent. The hood was pulled down and his mask was attached to his hip. He also has black pants and boots. The sound of the metal mask hitting his hip as he walked.

When he finally got to Reisui to say he had culture shock would be an understatement. There were new smells and sounds everywhere, and it wasn't freezing cold. Reishi was a medium-sized town The buildings were made of wood and had sliding doors Finvir ended up on the main street. It was made of dirt and long. (A/n: the buildings look like Edo-period Japan, I'm too lazy to describe it rn)

<Finvir POV>

    I was walking through town when suddenly I felt my stomach rumble. I checked my bag and found 25 golden coins with the symbol of a crown on them. I would have to transfer them into the coins of Windshire, Petals are what they are called. In order for me to get some money that is useful to me, I would have to find a tavern.

<TIME SKIP>

   I eventually found a tavern. Only took a few hours. I thought I found one but it turned out to be a tea shop, wood elves love tea a lot apparently. I entered and heard the sound of music, eating, and talking. A wood elf bard was playing some song in the corner. I ignored them and walked up to the bartender.

  The bartender was an argonian with two large horns going upwards. His scales were a red color with a pink tint to them. "Good evening sir, what would you like?" 

  " I would like for my coins to be transferred into petals please" I handed him my bag, saw him count the coins, and then put it away before giving me a new bag. Opening it I found 25 pink coins with a tree engraved on them.

"Anything else sir?" The argonian asked.

I responded," how much for a room?" I said in my usual monotone voice

" Well usually it would be 10 petals a night, but for a traveler such as yourself, I will lower it to just 5." The way he spoke showed he was proud of his bar

" I will take it." Was my response as I gave him the 5 petals. 

" 4th door on the right." The bartender said

"Send me room service" I nodded and went up to my room. 

The room was small. A single window, a twin-sized bed with brown blankets, a small table sat next to the bed, a chair, and a lamp on top of the table. I sat down at the table and sat the small sack on it. I detached the mask and sat it on the table. I pulled my jacket off and put it on the back of the chair, reviling my black vest and white undershirt. Just as I was getting comfortable, I heard a knock at my door. 

“Come in,” I said

There was the sound of the door opening and in came a short wood elf girl with long blonde hair and green eyes, she looked no older than 16. 

“Hello, sir m.m..y nam..e is Dot…n.a Rosedale, and..d I will be your server.” she wore a blue dress and looked nervous. “ Is there anything you need?” 

I looked over at her and said “just some bread and water, I will pay tomorrow”  

Dotna nodded and closed the door, then a few minutes later she came back with a flagon full of water and a loaf of bread on a tray. I nodded to her and she smiled and then closed the door. Now what to do from here? I ate and by the time I was finished the sun was starting to set. I was about to go to sleep when I heard screaming, high pitch screaming like a little girl. ‘Wait DOTNA’ I mentally screamed and rushed out of my room.   

Chapter Text

<Finvir POV>

 I reached the bottom of the stairs and saw Dotna being held around the waist by a wood elf male with brown eyes and blonde hair. He wore brown leather armor and a golden helmet that looked like an owl's head. Nobody in the bar did anything, they just stared. I walked toward the man and said " hey what do you think you're doing to that young lady?" 

The man looked at me and said with beer in his breath" I'm treating myself to this beautiful young lady right here." 

"Please sir let me go.." Dotna whined out in the man's grasp 

I walked closer to the man and forced him away from Dotna “ How about you keep your hands to yourself” I said 

“Oh you messed up now, buddy,” the feather armor man said “ BOYS GET IN HERE!!” he yelled out, a few minutes later two more men in the same armor came into the Tavern. They were equally drunk if their foot stance was anything to go by

" Come on, boys I just want you to leave the little lady alone," I said in my usual monotone voice

" SHUT UP, I AM A SOLDIER FOR THE GOD LULREUS YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" The so-called soldier yelled out, and the other soldiers smirked as a way to say they agree with his statement.

" Just a retired man, who doesn't like creeps like you." I yawned as I stretched.

The three men all pulled out identical silver longswords and pointed toward me. I looked at the swords before pulling out the hilt of a sword from my waist. 

The men laughed " what the hell is that!" 

I waved the sword hilt " oh this…" I squeezed the handle before flipping it in the air. When I caught the hilt it had transformed into my iron shortsword. “ …is my sword”. The other patrons in the bar backed away.

The first man lunged at me, his sword sweeping from the right in a wide arc. The attack was so telegraphed that even a child could see it coming. I barely moved, raising my own blade just in time to catch his strike. There was a sharp clang as his sword collided with mine, sending a jolt up my arm. He staggered back, his weapon recoiling in his hand, but I didn't let him recover.

"Just stop," I muttered under my breath, my voice as monotone as always.

With a quick step forward, I thrust my palm into his throat. The force sent him sprawling backward, crashing into a nearby table. He didn't rise.

The other two soldiers rushed forward, their swords raised in unison. I saw them coming—one from my left, the other from my right. My hand curled into a fist, and my mark began to glow a bluish-white, the aura humming with energy.

I waited until the last moment.

When I released my fist, I disappeared in a flash, a faint outline of myself left behind. In the blink of an eye, I reappeared behind the two men, my sword in hand. I swung it with precision, knocking the first soldier’s sword from his grip before slamming his head into the second man’s. The impact was brutal. Both soldiers crumpled to the floor, knocked out cold.

The tavern fell silent. I straightened, wiping a drop of blood from my cheek. The patrons stared, some wide-eyed, others murmuring in hushed voices.

"Get these idiots out of here," I said, my voice as calm as ever.

A few of the onlookers began dragging the unconscious soldiers out of the tavern, but the bartender remained, his eyes filled with both awe and fear.

"S-sir, do you know who you just beat up?" he stammered.

I glanced over, shrugging nonchalantly. "No, should I?"

"Those were soldiers under the command of a man named Brown," the bartender replied, voice quivering slightly. "He's a powerful pit fighter who's been destroying villages for months."

I took a sip of my drink, letting the information sink in. "Damn... and why hasn't the government done anything?"

"Some of Brown's soldiers got drunk and told us he’s paying off guards and soldiers to keep quiet," the bartender explained. "The towns he destroyed were just written off as natural disasters."

I raised an eyebrow. "And where can I find this Brown?"

The bartender glanced around, making sure no one was listening. "The only unbiased opinions are from the witch clans, especially the Sunsmiths. They know more about Brown than anyone."

"Sunsmiths?" I repeated, intrigued.

"Yeah, they’re one of the three main witch clans here on Windshire," he said, shrugging. "I don’t know much about them, but they’re powerful mages. If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask them yourself."

I nodded, finishing my drink. "Where can I find them?"

The bartender leaned in closer. "They’re nomadic, but I heard from some caravan workers that the Sunsmiths are camped just a few miles outside of town."

I tossed a coin onto the bar. "I’ll head there tomorrow."

TIMESKIP TO THE NEXT MORNING

I woke up pretty early the next morning. I sat on my bed for a few minutes before getting up, I put on my black trench coat and got up. I walked out of my room and thanked the bartender and of course dotna. I paid for my room and walked out into the early morning sun. 

I walked out of town down the main dirt path that was in the middle of Reisui and left the small fishing village behind. 

Chapter Text

Finvir’s pov

The sun had barely risen when I left, and by the time midday arrived, I found myself walking for what felt like hours. My legs ached, but I kept moving, knowing that I was getting closer.

The village ahead was small, nestled quietly in the landscape. The buildings were unlike anything I had seen before. They appeared to be grown rather than built, as if shaped from the earth itself. Grass and moss grew freely over the structures, giving the entire settlement a living, breathing feel. The village was clearly under the influence of earth magic.

As I ventured deeper into the village, I noticed something unusual. Most of the villagers here weren’t wood elves. They were Argonians.

Strange, I muttered to myself.

I walked further, the sound of my boots crunching over the soft earth, until I was halted by a deep voice.

"Why are you here Mer?" The voice came from an Argonian standing before me. His scales were a deep red, and two horns—resembling the twisting shapes of rams’ horns—curled from his head. His piercing blue eyes fixed on me, the malice clear in his gaze.

I raised both hands in a peaceful gesture, showing no intent to fight. “I heard in town that I might find information about the owl soldiers,” I explained, trying to keep my tone calm and neutral.

The Argonian’s expression softened ever so slightly, his suspicion easing. “Alright. Come with me. I’ll take you to Chief Nelix.”

Without a word, he turned and started walking, and I followed.

We arrived at a large hut situated on a hill, its door crafted from heavy stone. The air around it hummed with quiet energy, likely from earth magic. My guide knocked on the door, and after a moment, an old voice echoed from within.

“Enter.”

We stepped inside.

The hut’s interior was as unremarkable as the outside—stone floors, rough-hewn walls. But the atmosphere was thick with age and secrets. The fire pit in the center of the room crackled, and above it, smoke poured out through a large opening in the roof. A smaller roof covered the hole, keeping rain at bay. Several animal skulls dangled from the ceiling, swinging gently in the warm breeze. Large stone tables held strange, worn trinkets, their purpose unclear. But it was the two stone pillars before the fire that caught my attention—engraved with the image of a great swamp tree and its roots, painted red.

The chief stood near the fire. He was ancient, his once-bright red scales now a dark shade of crimson, his fins sagging like old leather. His eyes were a dull red, glazed over, suggesting he was blind. Despite his age, he exuded a calm, sage-like presence, the kind of power that comes with wisdom—and time.

He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as if searching for something. Then, in a deep voice, he spoke.

“Ahhh… Neposh, my son. You’ve brought a stranger.” He sniffed again. “A Bosmer, no less.”

Neposh, the red-scaled Argonian, knelt and bowed his head. “This Mer claims to be searching for the destroyer known as Brown. He seeks information.”

The elder nodded once, then looked at me directly, his gaze piercing despite his blindness. He sniffed the air once more and spoke again.

“He tells the truth.”

He walked closer, his movement slow but deliberate. “Take a seat by the fire,” he said, gesturing toward the mat before him.

I complied, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor. Neposh joined me, sitting across from the chief. The elder placed his hands on the ground, and a moment later, a crude chair made of hardened earth formed beneath him. He sat, and after a brief pause, began speaking.

“Drunantia, the goddess of nature, is displeased with how Brown treats the earth. He burns and pillages, desecrating the land.”

“But why does he do this?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. “Surely it can’t all be for nothing.”

The elder threw a pinch of salt into the fire, watching as it crackled and popped. “According to survivors from one of Brown’s attacks, he and his owl-masked soldiers are searching for something called the Obelisk.” He paused for a moment, his expression darkening. “The Obelisk is an artifact from a time long past, one that our witch clans have kept secret for generations. We do not know its true power, but Brown is willing to kill for it. Anything—or anyone—that stands in his way.”

I frowned, my mind racing. “And here I thought retirement would be boring.” I looked up at the elder. “Do you have any leads on Brown’s whereabouts?”

Neposh exchanged a glance with the elder, who nodded. Neposh turned to me, his voice now laced with hesitation.

“We have one. Follow me.” He stood and bowed to Nelix before walking toward the door. I rose and followed, eager to get the next part of this over with.

We reached another large hut, where Neposh unfurled a map of Windshire. He pointed to a spot marked with two large trees.

“Brown and his owl-masked soldiers have taken some of our people hostage. They are holding them in a secret base our scouts have discovered,” Neposh explained, his tone serious. “He believes one of them is hiding information about the Obelisk.”

I studied the map, noting the location he pointed to. “And you want me to help free them?”

Nelix’s voice boomed from behind us. “You will. You’ve learned of the Obelisk’s existence, and in doing so, you’ve revealed our secrets. It’s only right that you help us reclaim our kin.”

I looked back at Neposh, who was watching me expectantly.

I chuckled lightly. “Well, I don’t work for free. You’ll need to offer something in return.”

Neposh sneered, clearly not pleased by my response. “Of course. A favor will be enough. Will that satisfy you, Mer?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Of course. When do we begin?”

He hesitated. “In a few hours. When the sun is at its highest.”

I nodded and turned to leave, heading toward one of the nearby cots. I lay down, feeling my back crack and pop as I stretched. With a tired sigh, I mumbled to myself, “Damn, I’m getting old.”

Chapter Text

Finvir pov

A few hours later, I was awoken by a yell " Hey! Old man! Wake up!'' It was the voice of a young girl. I opened my eyes and was met with the sight of a young argonian girl with red scales and two fins on the top of her head. 

Before I could say anything she continued " Neposh is waiting outside for you." and with that, she left. I stood up and popped my back, a very satisfying loud pop came out, then I walked out of the tent to see Neposh standing in front of the camp with a group of 9 argonians and 2 wood elves all wearing the same colorful armor, " looks like the old man got out of bed." he said to one of the older argonians who laughed. 

" Nice to see you too Neposh." I responded in a drowsy tone, I walked over to the group "So the raid is about to start?".

Neposh responded with a little venom " Yes, it is, the camp is about 10 miles so we better get going" he turned around to address the group " MOVE OUT!" and with no other word the soldiers began walking to the camp

<timeskip brought to you by Finvir playing with Neposh's tail>

We sat on a hill overlooking the camp. It was night, Neposh had laid out a map of the camp, formed a small ball of light in his hand, and held it over the map.

“ My people are being held in the section beside the house," he said as he pointed toward it

"mmm, I have a plan," I stated 

"what is it, Mer?" Neposh questioned 

"I can get the guards out of the way of your people, I will signal you when I'm done" Before he could respond, I teleported down the hill, landing quietly in a bush near the camp entrance. The air smelled of pine and dirt, the faint sound of a crackling fire in the distance.

"Okay, four guards—two on top of the wall, two below," I muttered under my breath, counting silently. I tapped the bottom of my metal mask, lost in thought for a moment. "Got it."

I grabbed a nearby rock, tossing it into the thick woods behind the camp. The sound of the rock hitting branches echoed through the trees, and sure enough, both ground guards moved in that direction, their steps heavy on the dirt.

Silently, I moved toward a large tree and teleported to its uppermost branch, my heart pounding in my chest. From this vantage point, I could see everything clearly. The guard at the back had his back turned, oblivious to the silent death approaching.

I focused through the magnifying lens in my right eye, zeroing in on my target. My crossbow was steady in my hands as I took a deep breath and released the bolt. It flew through the night air, a silver streak in the darkness, embedding itself deep into the guard’s skull before he even had a chance to react. He crumpled to the ground without a sound.

I didn’t waste a moment. I teleported again, landing silently above the second guard, who was now moving to investigate. Without hesitation, I dropped down behind him, my sword in hand. I buried it deep into his neck, a swift and efficient strike. Blood spurted, staining the earth beneath him, but he never made a sound. He slumped forward, lifeless.

The entire encounter lasted no more than a minute. I swiftly moved through the branches, leaping from one to the next, and teleported back into the bush I had hidden in earlier.

I checked my coat; I had five bolts left. This wasn’t ideal, but I’d manage. Teleporting again, i grabbed the edge of the wall and shimmed towards one of the guards on the wall.

I grunted in irritation. “I’m too old for this shit,” I muttered under my breath.

With a quick motion, I reached down and grabbed the foot of the first guard, yanking him off the wall. He screamed in shock as he fell, the sound cut short by the sharp impact of his body hitting the ground below—twenty feet down, too far for survival. The second guard, startled by the fall, barely had time to react. I took aim with my crossbow, and the bolt flew true, burying itself in his throat before he could even lift his weapon in defense. He choked, clutching at his neck as he dropped to his knees, then fell face-first into the dirt.

I pulled my way on top of the wall "ok, they are all asleep, perfect for the forces." I pulled a flare from my coat and lit it with a snap of my fingers. The bright orange light flared into the sky, cutting through the darkness. A few moments later, I heard distant screams, followed by the unmistakable sight of about twenty witch natives charging toward the camp.

"Now, to check out the house." I muttered, already moving. With a single jump, I teleported to a nearby window on the house. I had only two minutes before Neposh’s forces arrived, and I had to move fast.

I pushed open the window, slipping inside. The room was dimly lit by a single candle on a small table. A bed lay to the side, and on the bedside table sat an owl mask. The man sleeping on the bed had the look of a soldier, his body tense even in sleep.

I didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, I crossed the room and slit his throat. His blood pooled across the bed, staining the sheets.

Next, I moved to the adjacent room—a large study with papers scattered across a desk. I glanced over the papers quickly, my eyes scanning for anything useful.

“New shipment of swords.” Not useful.

“Request for more people.” Unimportant.

“Location of the Obelisk?” Now we’re talking.

I read the note, the words making my heart race.

Brown, 

We have made major progress with the natives. One of the newer ones we caught told us it was underneath the emperor's palace.

-Commander Ulfir 

 I heard the door being banged on so I walked over and opened it. Standing there was a mob of argonians, “ Dobro pozhalovat' v moy dom!” (Welcome to my home) I said in the native Ackermouth language as I moved aside and let the mob into the home.

As we walked to the back door I started to explain "The owls already know where the Obelisk is. We’ve got a bigger problem than just freeing your people."

“Fuck.” Neposh cursed under his breath, his face darkening. “At least we got the prisoners.”

We moved toward the back door, but as we stepped outside, a terrible smell hit us. Blood. Everywhere.

The camp was in ruins. Bodies were strewn across the ground, some of them half-decayed, others hanging by their tails as if left to rot. The sight was horrifying, and even the toughest among us flinched. Some of the younger natives couldn’t stomach it and vomited, but there was no time for pity.

A hole in the ground revealed even worse horrors—decaying bodies piled on top of one another, and several of them were missing tails. The cruelty was too much for any of us to bear.

As we moved deeper into the camp, we saw cages—cages filled with malnourished Argonians. Their eyes were wide with fear and hunger, but when they saw us, hope bloomed in their eyes. We broke open the cages, and soon most of the prisoners were freed.

But there was one left, When I asked about it, Neposh said “Leave him, he’s just a Fuun no omamori. (bad luck charm)” 

The so-called bad luck charm was a A young Argonian with pinkish-white scales, pink eyes, and three fins on their head. they looked frail, but there was a fire in their gaze that intrigued me.

I approached the cage, bending down to speak with him. "Why are you still here?" I asked softly “Why does your tribe think you're a bad luck charm?” 

The “bad luck charm” replied to me, his voice filled with a mixture of frustration and resignation. “They fear what they don't understand,” he murmured. "my appearance… they believe it’s a curse. I was the one who got us caught.”

I looked at him, sympathy rising in my chest. “But surely, they must see that you’re just like anyone else,” I said quietly. "We're all just trying to find our place in this shitty world."

The boy blinked in surprise, as though no one had ever spoken to him like that before. Slowly, he stepped out of the cage, stretching his legs stiffly.

"Why are you helping me?" His voice was filled with confusion, but also a flicker of hope.

I gave him a small smile, feeling something I hadn’t in years—compassion. “I don’t know, kid,” I said gruffly. “Maybe I’m just getting sentimental with my old age. Or maybe... because change begins with someone taking a step. And I believe in you.”

The young boy's eyes widened in surprise as I freed him from his confinement. Slowly, he stepped out of the cage, stretching his cramped legs. He looked up at me, gratitude and disbelief etched across his face.

Tears welled in his eyes as he reached out, taking my hand. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

"Don't get too sappy now, kid," I teased, slinging his arm over my shoulder. Together, we moved back toward the camp, ignoring the stares of the tribe.

As we left the camp, a few of the natives set fire to the place. The flames crackled, consuming the remains of the torture camp.

Chapter Text

Finvir POV

As we walked down the road we introduced ourselves. By the time we reached the camp, the early light of the sun had begun to kiss the sky, casting an orange glow across the landscape. The rest of the tribe had already started to celebrate, their voices rising in laughter and song. Lanterns were strung up between trees, glowing softly in hues of red, blue, and green. The air vibrated with the rhythm of drums and flutes, a wild, energetic atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the exhaustion gnawing at my bones.

But I was done with festivities for now. I had a responsibility to the kid.

I walked past the celebrations and ducked into the small tent I had been assigned. Aster was lying on a cot, looking like they'd fallen asleep the second they hit the mattress. I took a moment to assess the kid—their chest rising and falling steadily. They were still a bit too pale, a sign of the shock they had gone through, but they weren't seriously wounded.

“Any wounds I should know about?” I asked, voice low, my eyes scanning him for any signs of injury.

They blinked awake, a slightly confused look in their eyes before their expression shifted to surprise. “Nothing, just a bit tired. But that’s it.”

I nodded and gave him a pat on the shoulder, feeling the stiffness in my own body as I took a seat beside him on the chair.

“Do you have any other connections to this camp?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, just a hint of concern in my tone.

They shook his head, the movement slight but clear. I sighed and leaned back, folding my arms across my chest. “Eh. I don’t do anything for free, so why don’t you repay me by helping me out?”

Aster nodded quickly. “Okay, Master.”

The title caught me off guard, and I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I’m not your master, don’t call me that.”

they looked sheepish, a slight blush creeping up their neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Just stick to my name, alright?” I grumbled, my patience wearing thin, and stood up to exit the tent.

As I stepped outside, the sounds of celebration greeted me again, but I wasn’t interested. My mind was elsewhere, and it didn’t take long for Neposh to find me. His face twisted in a scowl, and he didn’t mince words.

“How dare you bring that Fuun no omamori back here!” Neposh snapped, his voice sharp with anger. He didn’t even try to mask his disgust.

I remained calm, my voice even as I answered, “What was I supposed to do? Leave him to rot in that camp?”

His nostrils flared, his eyes flashing with rage. “Yes! They have brought nothing but pain and suffering to this clan!” He stomped off without another word.

 The celebration continued around me, laughter and music filling the air, but I had no interest in it. I turned back toward my tent, where Aster slept soundly, unaware of the tensions brewing in the camp.

“Sleep well, kid,” I muttered under my breath as I sat down on the chair, closing my eyes for a moment. It wasn’t long before the rhythm of the camp’s sounds lulled me into a light sleep.

<Time Skip to morning>

Aster woke up early the next day, their eyes blinking open to the light of the new morning. they stretched, rubbing at their eyes, and when they saw me sitting in the chair, their face twisted with concern.

“Did you sleep here? Y-you could’ve asked me to move!” they stammered, sitting up quickly, a look of surprise on their face.

I chuckled lightly and cracked my neck. “Eh, wouldn't be the first time I slept in a chair.” I stretched, feeling the familiar aches and pains that came with a night spent on anything but a real bed. “Come on, kid. They don’t want us here anymore.”

Aster tilted their head, clearly confused. “What are we doing then?”

I stood, brushing myself off as I walked toward the exit. “Well, I’ve got some business to take care of—and by extension, so do you.”

They followed me out of the tent, still a bit hesitant. “What’s this business?” they asked, voice tinged with nervous curiosity.

I gave them a sideways glance, my eyes narrowing slightly. “Long story short? Brown and his men are holding the royal family captive, looking for some artifact called the obelisk. We’re going there to rescue them—and hopefully walk away with a nice paycheck.”

Aster’s eyes widened, the concern evident in their voice. “But isn’t that dangerous?”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “Eh, danger’s relative. You want a good life, sometimes you’ve got to take risks.”

“But I’m just a kid!” Aster protested, voice rising slightly. “I have my whole life ahead of me!”

I chuckled at their naiveté. “Kid, you’re with me now. Life’s always going to be dangerous. The real question is, what are you good at?”

They hesitated, glancing away briefly, as if unsure whether they wanted to share. “Uh… I’m pretty good with my magic.”

“Magic, huh?” I raised an eyebrow. “What kind?”

Aster looked like they were about to say something, but they hesitated, their voice barely above a whisper. “Blood.”

I stopped walking and looked at them, " Oh, I've never heard of that kind." I was going to continue but they interrupted me. 

"That's it?! What's your reaction?! You won't claim I'm the spawn of a devil or something?!" 

They was ranting so to make them stop, so I cut them off with a raised hand. “Kid, I don’t care what kind of magic you use or what your past looks like. It’s your business, not mine.” I grinned, my expression softening a little. “Now, tell me how it works.”

They took a deep breath, their hands shaking slightly as he explained. “It’s an alteration-type spell. It lets me manipulate my blood, but only if I have an existing wound.”

I nodded, taking the information in. But before I could respond, a strange sound caught my attention—a voice, low and eerie, like nails on a chalkboard.

“Feed… void… here…”

I froze, eyes scanning the area around us. It didn’t take long to realize where we were: the remnants of a town, its buildings crumbling, a desolate graveyard of ash and decay. Only two structures stood intact, the rest had fallen into ruin, overtaken by moss and weeds.

I snapped back to reality when Aster waved a hand in front of my face. “Finvir? You okay?”

I blinked and shook my head, the voice lingering at the edge of my mind. “Yeah, just… thinking.” I glanced around at the burned-out remnants of the town. “Do you know this place?”

Aster nodded, his face clouding with sadness. “This was the town of Tau, before Brown and his men burned it down. They were a big trading partner with us.”

I stepped into the town, drawn toward the eerie whispering, my mind focused on the strange sensation in the air. The temperature here was different—too cold for the time of year, too unnatural. Aster’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“This place feels wrong,” he muttered. “But it’s still summer, and it should be warm.”

"We're near a void rift." I started and Aster looked at me with a confused look that said something along the lines of 'That explains nothing', " a person built a shrine to Inanis in the town. When the shrine was destroyed, the runes that were engraved into the shrine became unstable and tore a hole into the void." I explained

"You seem to know a lot about this." the kid said calmly before pulling out his notebook and yelling excitedly " Please! You have to tell me more!" 

There was a long silence before I let out a loud bellowing laugh, Aster looked at me with a confused look “Was something I said funny? I’m c-confused.” 

I cleared my throat and looked at him “No nothing was funny, was just surprised I found such an inquisitive mind.”  I continued “I'll tell you all about the void, just as soon as we close the rift.” 

“Why do we need to close it?” the little scholar asked 

“Because if we don’t, it could corrupt the land making everything in a five-mile radius unable to support life” I pushed the door open and walked in, I heard Aster mutter quietly 'Let's get to it'.

We made our way to a large, dilapidated building that had somehow withstood the flames. The cold intensified as we approached. Aster seemed to be struggling more than I was—probably because of his Argonian heritage and the mild climate he was used to.

As I pushed open the door, the temperature dropped even further. Inside, the source of the chill was apparent. Black glass shards jutted out from the floor like jagged teeth, and in the center of the room was a small table, draped with a purple cloth. The symbol of Inanis was embroidered on it, surrounded by candles with black flames that flickered unnaturally. Two large chunks of what appeared to be whalebone sat atop the table, engraved with Inanis’s symbol.

“That’s what’s corrupting the shrine,” I muttered, walking closer. “Normally, the runes are just symbols, but when the town was burned, they got damaged. That disrupted the link between the void and the runes.”

Aster quickly started writing but their hand was shaking slightly " Mr. Finvir…" they finished writing before taking a big breath " Is i-it normal to h-hear voices?" they whispered in a scared tone

" Uh? Oh yeah, it's normal." I stated matter-of-factly 

" Then w-why aren't you r-reacting to i-it?" they asked 

"I was marked by Inanis so I already have a connection to the void, therefore I am used to the whispers of the void."  I responded, "Just sit back and let me get rid of this shrine." 

I approached the altar, my fingers brushing against the runes, and as soon as I made contact, the mark on my hand began to glow. The world around me slowed, turning black and white, and I felt myself float, my vision blurred. A familiar, cold voice echoed through the void.

The world around me slowed to a stop and it all became black and white before I floated the human form of Inanis " Ah Finvir my old friend, it appears you found a shrine of mine. " he said in his usual monotone voice " and with a new apprentice, I wonder if this one will end up like the last. " he walked around the time stopped Aster " oh well only time will tell, I have plenty of it after all." 

he was about to fade away before I said something "You know the rules, I or any other marked to find your runes then we get a new power." 

Inanis looked at me and chuckled " Of course, how forgetful of me." His hand reached out and touched the mark on my palm. As soon as it made contact, time resumed, and the temperature returned to normal.

Aster blinked and rubbed his head, as if coming out of a fog. “What just happened?”

I grinned, letting out a low laugh. “Just fixing the rift.”

I heard a whisper in the back of my mind, “Dark… vision…”

I clenched my fist, concentrating, and said it quietly in my mind, “Dark vision.” Suddenly, I could see a yellow outline around Aster and the shape of his field of view.

“Neat,” I muttered, releasing the spell.

"What did you do..? You closed your eyes for a good few seconds there." the kid asked 

"don't worry, I'll tell you later. Let's go." I walked away from the shrine and out of the town

As we were walking Aster asked "What exactly is the void? I know it's the realm that Inanis has control over and it can be very dangerous for regular people." 

I looked up at the clouds and responded "Well I'm not the most knowledgeable person on this subject but from what I learned, the void is a between of sorts. " I took a deep breath " So you know how every god has a realm that they preside over?" the kid nodded "Well after Inanis made his children they all took a slice of space and made it their own, Inanis took what remained and made the void.” I finished and looked back to Aster who was writing everything down in his journal “That enough for you kid?” 

Aster nodded his head “Yes sir.” 

“good, let's get going, I think there is an inn up ahead.”

Chapter Text

Finvir POV

“They are called Ryokans here,” Aster explained as we walked closer

The exterior of this Ryokan looks like it's been carefully crafted, with a heavy emphasis on natural elements. The walls are of warm bamboo wood, covered in a light coat of polish to give it a lustrous surface. Windows are covered with Shoji paper to allow sunlight to fill the room while maintaining privacy. The courtyard is framed by a bamboo grove, where a natural spring provides the water needed for the guests. Even the roof is made from straw, with special care taken to ensure it withstands the elements. 

“Well, it’s definitely beautiful,” I muttered, taking it all in. “But I’m going to let you do the talking for now.” My boots crunched on the gravel path as we walked toward the entrance, passing a small rock garden that had been meticulously arranged to resemble rolling waves. A quiet pond sat in the middle, its surface shimmering like glass, broken only by the occasional ripple from a wandering koi.

We reached the sliding door, and Aster paused to slip off his shoes. “Take your boots off, Mr. Finvir. It’s respectful here.”

I raised an eyebrow but nodded, pulling off my boots with a grunt. The last thing I needed was to upset anyone after all. Inside, there was a small wooden box for shoes, and I dutifully placed mine inside before stepping into the cool, airy space.

The scent of cedar wood and incense filled the air as we made our way to the front desk. Behind it stood an older wood elf, her hair graying at the temples, small spectacles perched on her nose. Her warm, weathered face broke into a wide smile when she saw us.

“Ah! Welcome to the Yoku Nemuru Ryokan!” she called out in universal (a language that's just English), though her words carried a soft, melodic Windshire (Japanese) accent. “My name is Fujikura Fumiko! How may I assist you today?” 

The main room inside the Ryokan was an artistic masterpiece. It was spacious and airy, with large windows allowing plenty of daylight inside. The walls and floors are made from light and durable hinoki wood. A large fire pit is located in the center of the room, perfect for those chilly winter nights. In the corner is a low table, laid out with a tea ceremony and its accompanying accessories. The room was for sure designed to be inviting and calming, a perfect place to relax and enjoy a conversation with friends or to reflect on the day's events in my opinion. 

Aster immediately bowed. “Thank you for having us, oba-san!” he said with a respectful tilt of his head, and I followed suit, mimicking his gesture, though mine was a little less graceful.

“Ahh it warms my old heart to see such respectful youth.” she spoke like a loving grandma seeing her grandson after a long time “How long will you be staying with us?” she asked 

I cleared my throat and straightened up, trying to push back the sense of unease creeping in. “Just for the night, ma’am. How much for the room?”

Fujikura Fumiko tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… well, for a witch and his young friend, I’d say... five petals.”

Aster and I exchanged surprised glances. Five petals? It sounded too good to be true, considering the beauty of the place. Fumiko’s smile deepened as she saw our reaction.

“Ah, you’re surprised? Well, it’s usually much more, but I like to treat my guests now and then. It’s not every day I get to host such fine travelers,” she explained with a wink.

I reached into my pouch and handed her 5 petals “Here you go o-oba-san.” I struggled with the pronunciation of it so it came out a little wrong

Fujikura smiled at me “Second door on the left” 

Aster and I bowed again before heading to our room. The hallways were dim but inviting, lined with wooden beams that creaked gently underfoot. When we arrived at the door, Aster slid it open, and we stepped into the room. The space was minimalist, yet it had an almost sacred tranquility to it. The floor was covered in tatami mats, and there was a small alcove with a delicate scroll hanging from the wall.

Aster and I both removed our outer layers, changing into the light robes provided for us. I fumbled with the yukata for a moment, trying to remember how to properly wear it.

‘what did the kid call these?’ I thought 

“Yukatas,” Aster corrected me, his voice soft as he approached. “They’re called yukatas.”

I raised my eyebrows, surprised. “I didn’t even say anything.”

Aster gave a small laugh. “You had that look on your face. I’ve gotten used to it by now.”

I couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Kid, you've known me for less than a day. Why are you so damn trusting?" I muttered, my fingers struggling to tie the belt around my waist.

Aster's tone grew a little more serious as he moved to help me with the robe. “Because you're the first person who didn’t treat me like a bad luck charm or some cursed child. You didn’t push me away. You’re a good man, Mr. Finvir.”

My hands stilled as I listened to him, and I couldn’t help but feel something heavy settle in my chest. His words were unexpected, but not unwelcome. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to me like that.

“I appreciate that, kid,” I said with a sigh, finally getting the yukata on right. "But I’m not a good person. I’ve done some pretty terrible things in my life." I chuckled softly, though there was no humor behind it. "I’ve killed people. Some who deserved it... others who didn’t. Hell, I was an assassin for thirty years. I wouldn't call myself a good person."

Aster stood there for a moment, eyes wide, and then took a deep breath. “Just because you’ve done bad things doesn’t mean you're a bad person,” he said. His voice was firm and steady, as though he truly believed it. “It sounds naive, I know. But that’s the way I see it. Nobody’s perfect. Life is all about the choices we make, whether they’re good or bad.”

I met his gaze, surprised by the conviction in his words. “First time I’ve heard someone be so supportive after I told them that,” I said with a rueful chuckle.

“Like I said, I’m different,” Aster replied, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

We both collapsed onto our futons not long after, the exhaustion of the day settling over us. The soft, familiar scent of tatami mats and incense filled the room as we fell into a quiet, peaceful sleep.

TIME SKIP TO THE MORNING

By the time I woke up the sun was already pretty high in the sky and Aster was out of bed. I started to pop my bones as I stood up and started to do some simple stretches to wake myself up. 

As I started to change into my regular clothes I thought about what the kid had said last night. It was such a refreshing change from the usual people I had interacted with in the past. I wondered what had made Aster different. Maybe it was their innocence or their genuine curiosity about the world. Whatever it was, it had struck a chord with me. 

As I finished dressing, I made my way downstairs to find Aster sitting at a table, writing in a journal. Presumably the information about void rifts, they must have heard my footsteps because he looked up and smiled "Good morning! Did you sleep well?" Aster asked, putting the book down. 

I nodded and joined them at the table. "Yeah. I did.” I said with some tiredness still in my voice “Thanks for asking. You seem to be energized this morning."

Aster chuckled and nodded. "I always find solace in writing down my thoughts and discoveries. It helps me clear my mind and prepare for a new day," they explained, their eyes bright with enthusiasm.

"I've tried journaling before, but I always struggled to stick with it." I chuckled 

Aster smiled warmly as they started to rant. "It's not about sticking to a strict routine or feeling obligated to write every day. It's more about allowing yourself the space to reflect and express your thoughts whenever you feel the need to. It can be incredibly liberating and therapeutic."

I looked up at them with a deadpan look. " Way too early for a rant.” I lightheartedly laughed at him

They blushed in embarrassment “S-sorry I was just excited…”

“It's fine kid.” I was about to say something else but I was interrupted by Fumiko bringing in a large tray of food 

“Here you go gentlemen, usually the meals would be a lot bigger but due to all the ruckus the owl soldiers are doing, we are a little short on food.” She put down a bowl of rice, Miso soup, and some grilled fish. I once again apologize for the shortage of food.” she bowed and we said thanks then she left us to our own devices

“So what's the plan boss?” Aster asked taking the chopsticks and eating 

“Well breakfast, I plan on getting a quest from the guild.” I struggled to use my chopsticks as I slowly started to eat “Have you applied at the Jl llAdventures guild before?” I asked

“Uhh n-no sir, my tribe never really let me leave the camp very often,” Aster replied shyly with a small blush as he kept eating 

“Then the first order of business is to get you applied at the guild,” I said 

“Are you an adventurer Mr. Finvir?” the kid asked with stars in their eyes 

“Indeed I am.” I kept eating as I pulled a card from my coat pocket and handed it to the kid 

Name: Finvir Duskmire

Alias: “silent blade” 

Rank: A-1

Sex: M 

Height: 6’0

Wgt: 176lbs 

Hair: black 

Eye: brown

“ A-1? What's that about?” Aster asked 

“ Adventures are ranked from F to S, and in each of those ranks are 3 grades. To rank up you first have to move up to 1st grade and then the guild will give you a special quest to complete and when you do that, they rank you up.” I explained as I finished up my meal 

“ What happens when you get to S-1?” the kid asked again still writing in his journal 

“ you can't rank up anymore, you do get a bunch of special perks from what I heard.” I shrugged 

Just as Aster finished their food, Fumiko walked up and started to collect the dishes “Did I hear you boys talking about the guild?” we nodded “The main guild hall is in a village just a mile or two from here, and before you boys ask the reason it isn't in the capital is because the one in the city mysteriously burned down in the middle of the night.” she finished getting all the dishes and walked away “apparently an owl soldier was seen a day beforehand…” she mumbles as she walks away

“I don't know about you but that sounds suspicious. The largest organization in the world's main hall burns down, and then this brown guy and his owl men show up a few days later.” I explained “ that's most likely not a coincidence.” 

“I agree, it is suspicious.” Aster said “ we can look into it some more once we are at the guild.” 

“ Let's get going then.” I stood up and popped my back loudly before letting out a quiet groan 

As we stood up Fumiko came over and said “ I hope you enjoyed your stay.” we bowed respecfully, got our shoes back on, then got back on the road 

Chapter Text

Finvir pov

 We walked for about four hours before we saw the wooden walls of the village named Kawa which meant pond in Windshire. Aster and I were stopped at the gate but all I had to do was flash my adventure ID and we were allowed inside. 

“That thing is pretty beneficial huh?” Aster asked as we walked down the street

“It certainly has its perks.” I chuckle before we stand in front of the adventurer's guild, the guildhall is an imposing sight to behold. The traditional Windshire architecture is on full display, with the vermilion roof and colorful paper lanterns adding to its grandeur. The large wooden sign hanging in front and the seal of the guild painted upon it further stress the building's importance. 

“Wow…” the kid muttered as they stared at the building in awe 

“Yeah, that was my reaction to seeing a guild building for the first time, they are always so grand in design. They are different in every country.” I patted them on the shoulder as we walked in. 

The interior of the guildhall is open, with a vast space for gatherings and celebrations. The enormous garden, which is filled with cherry blossom trees, small ponds, and various plants and flowers occupies the center of the room. Along the wooden walls are smaller rooms and offices set aside for guild members. The main desk, at the center of the room, held a large wooden desk with several clerks in red uniforms behind it. While the edges of the room are lined with more traditional Windshire furniture, such as low tables and cushions. 

The ceiling is decorated with a large mural depicting various scenes of grand adventures, battles, and triumphs throughout historical times. The painted ceiling is painted with an array of vibrant colors and swirls, making it incredibly beautiful and almost hypnotic to look at. Additionally, the ceiling is also lit by a few lanterns, providing a soft, warm light that bounces off the mural, adding to its beauty. 

The clerks at the main desk were all very professional and polite, greeting us with a polite smile and a light bow once I showed his ID.
" Good afternoon, master. How may we assist you today?" One of the clerks asked.

" I would like to get the kid here an adventurer ID," I said as I put my hands on his shoulder and began to relieve some of his obvious stress.

" Ah yes, of course. Please follow me." The clerk gestured towards a smaller office off to the side

The kid looked at me nervously, I chuckled and replied, “You will do great, kid! Do your best and while you do that I will find a low-level job for you.” He nodded before stepping into the room. 

Aster’s pov

 The guild lady walked over to a cabinet before pulling out a few pieces of paper and laying them on the table. “Just some basic level stuff to start us off.” 
I nod and start writing 

Name: Aster Chi
Alias “_____”
Rank “_____”
Sex: neither 
Height: 5’8
Wgt: 120lbs

Hair: fins

Eye: pink

“ Great, you'll get your alias once you reach rank D-3. We shall print this on a card for you later.” The lady explained she put another piece of paper on the desk. “This is a paper for the guild's eyes only, it will be copied and shipped to all the other guild halls so we can identify you at any location.” 

Elemental magic: Non-practicing 
Non-elemental magic: Alteration 
Medical conditions and/or allergies: albinism
Birth Country: Windshire 

“Alright, and while I get your card printed out, Mr.Seldom here shall bring you out to the yard so we can get you a starting rank.” The guild lady said as she picked up the papers and left

“ Come on kid! I ain't got all day!” Seldom made a follow-me motion and walked away. 

Seldom was a redguard man who stood at 6 feet tall, with a muscular build probably honed through years of combat training. His skin is a rich, deep brown, and his face is marked by sharp features: a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and piercing dark eyes. His hair is tightly curled and kept short for practicality, with a thin beard framing his jaw. He bears a few scars across his arms and chest. He wore a loose white shirt showing off his scar-covered chest, pants, and boots. 

We made our way to a large open grass field behind the hall. The training field behind the guild building was a large and open space, with a mix of dirt, grass, and stone creating the ground. There are a few basic targets set up for archery, as well as a few obstacles and poles set up for agility training. In the center of the field are a few swords and other melee weapons set up for training and practice, alongside a few shield sets.

There are also a few benches and chairs set up around the edge of the field, which are likely used by people wanting to take a rest or simply watch the training activities. 
“ Now all you have to do is fight me and depending on how well you do, I'll give you a starting rank.” Mr.Seldom said, I tried to say something but I guess I had a look on my face because he interrupted me “ Don’t worry about me kid, I’m an S rank.” He said with pride as he flexed his arms
“ o-ok..” I said nervously as I drew my sword and poured my mana into my skin and blood, before I could ask when we could start, Mr.Seldom was running towards me with his fist raised “ No starting point in a real fight!” 

I swiftly rolled out of the way as his fist came crashing down, shattering the stone ground upon impact. "Nice dodge!" he grunted, following up with another powerful punch. In response, I deftly sliced my arm with my sword, allowing the blood to flow for a moment before concentrating my mana to encase it, creating a hardened barrier. Just as Mr. Seldom was preparing to strike with another punch, my defensive maneuver was ready. 

I formed my blood into an arrow and let loose, it curved around his fist and into his arm enough to where it wouldn't cause more than a wound, this caused him to recoil from the pain as I took my sword and slashed at his chest. 

Mr. Seldom looked at his wounded arm, my blood arrow dissolved leaving only the wound and splotch of blood “ Wow kid, nice magic.” he chuckled as a white aura surrounded him “ Let you show you mine! This is an alteration spell called muscle enhancement!” Just as he finished talking, his muscles bulged up causing his shirt to constrict around him. 

As he charged toward me, his speed seemed to have increased significantly from the previous encounter. I managed to evade the initial straight punch, but I was caught off guard by his swift right hook. I barely had time to react, and as I attempted to raise my arm to shield my head, his fist made contact with my arm with such force that it felt like slamming into a solid brick wall. Despite successfully protecting my head, the impact of his blow pushed me forcefully to the ground.

From my already existing wound, I fired another blood arrow at his leg in hopes of stopping him but it did little more than prick him because he still slammed his fist into the ground next to me breaking it into pieces, I closed my eyes in anticipation. 

“Good job!” Seldom said as he took deep breaths and took his fist from the ground 

“ w-what?” I muttered as I opened my eyes

“ I can see you going far in the guild, kid.” He gave me his hand to take so I took it and he lifted me with zero issues “ I’ll say you would be an E-2 because that magic of yours is impressive!” 

I straightened my clothes and walked towards the guild building with him. As soon as we entered, I saw Mr. Finvir sitting on a mat with two other young-looking adventurers. I went to the desk and Seldom said something to the receptionist. She stamped my papers and handed me a card. "Here you go, sir. This card will mark you as an adventurer and use magic to update your status with you."

“Thank you.” I bowed before walking over to Mr.Finvir

He looked up at me as soon as I was in front of me “ Hey kid, see ya passed the test.”   

“I did! And I start at rank E2!” Aster shook his hands in excitement as I waved my card around in excitement 

Finvir POV

I took the card from their hand and looked at it, I chuckled and patted their head “ Good job kid!” They looked up with a bright smile, I couldn't help but smile back. 
“ Mind explaining who these people are, master?” Aster asked 

I smiled and turned towards the two young wood elf adventurers. "Allow me to introduce Denrron Forestblossom and Selnia Forestblossom," I announced. "They are both E1 adventurers." Both of them were clad in traditional Windshire samurai armor with a flower symbol on some of the armor plates and a black sheath to their katanas on their waist.

They both bowed at Aster “ Kon'nichiwa, we have agreed to join you on this quest as our father was the one who requested it from the guild.”  
Aster bowed back “ Kon'nichiwa, what the quest Mr. Finvir?” 

I looked back at them from my drink “ We are going to retrieve the legendary sword of Clan Forestblosson “Tsubaki” from more owl soldiers.” 

Chapter Text

<Narrator POV>

Clan Forestbloom, a noble family that has lasted for more than 100 years, is famous for the sword style of the same name. They have served the royal family of Windshire for all those years. The head of the family, a wood elf by the name of Chikara Forestbloom, recently had his arm twisted to help the owl soldiers get close to the palace so they could get to the obelisk; the family sword was taken by the soldiers and kept in an old, abandoned mansion somewhere.

 Finvir, Aster, and the Forestbloom twins walked through the winding roads of Kawa until they reached the edge of town. Finvir asked the twins, “ So where is this sword?” 

Derron looked back at the two “My sister and I have discovered that it is being held inside an old abandoned noble home just a few miles away.” He pointed towards the woods “We should get there around noon if we are fast enough.” Salena nodded in agreement

“Alrighty kids! Field trippppppp!” Finvir called in a happy-go-lucky tone and started walking towards where Derron pointed, they walked for a few hours, and by the time they reached the old mansion, the sun was high in the sky. 

The once-majestic building shows signs of age and neglect, with its wooden beams weathered and darkened by time. Moss and ivy scale the walls, wrapping around the wooden lattice of the shōji doors, some of which are torn or hanging askew. The roof's curved, black tiles are chipped and cracked, with patches missing, exposing the wooden understructure.

The mansion's sliding doors and windows are partly open, creaking softly in the wind. Sometimes, they sway in synchronization, creating an off-putting harmony, if you can call it that. Fallen leaves blanket the stone path leading to the entrance, framed by a broken torii gate partially hidden by overgrown bushes. The garden, once carefully maintained, has become wild and unruly, with tall grasses and bamboo shoots encroaching on the pathways.

All four of them crouched down and hid behind a tree as they watched the owl soldiers walk around the abandoned estate. 

“So how do we want to do this?” Aster asked as he counted how many there were outside

Finvir put his finger in a thinking motion and smiled as he started to explain his plan “So we will have the twins and you assault the front to distract them while I use my blink to get to the second floor.” he looked at Salena “That is where you said the spies found it right?” She nodded and Finvir continued “So they will be too focused on you three to notice me slip in, get the sword, and slip out.”

They all nodded at his plan while Finvir smiled and pushed them out of their hiding spot as he climbed into the tree “See you all after this.” with that he jumped from the tree and into another towards the dilapidated estate 

Aster took a deep breath and joined Salena and Derron as they walked towards the building. Derron yelled out getting all the owl soldiers' attention “MY NAME IS DERRON FORESTBLOOM, AND I AM HERE TO RECLAIM MY FAMILIES SWORD!”  

The Soldiers looked at each other and laughed loudly, one of the men walked towards him and laughed “Look kid, we don’t give a rat's ass if you were the emperor's son so why don't you run off and go play with traitor papa~” The man put his hand on Derron’s head and push, but instead of getting the desired effects. The man screams out as his hand flies off and lands below him on the ground. 

The owl soldier stared in shock at his severed hand, blood spurting onto the overgrown path. Derron didn’t hesitate—he spun, katana flashing, and sliced the man’s throat. Around them, the other soldiers froze, their jeers dying as their comrade crumpled.

“Now!” Salena barked.

Aster’s fingers trembled as they drew a dagger across their palm. Blood welled, shimmering crimson before hardening into jagged spikes. With a flick of their wrist, the projectiles tore into two soldiers’ legs, sending them sprawling.

Chaos erupted. Derron and Salena moved in tandem, blades whirling like storm winds, parrying strikes and carving through armor. Aster ducked behind a moss-crusted statue, their breath ragged. Focus. Like Finvir taught you. They pressed a bloody hand to the earth, and tendrils of scarlet snaked across the ground, tripping a charging soldier.

From the rooftop, Finvir watched the skirmish below, a faint smirk tugging his lips. Kid’s got grit. He turned to the shattered window, its paper panes fluttering like ghostly wings. The void mark on his hand pulsed as he blinked inside, landing soundlessly in a corridor choked with dust.

The mansion’s interior reeked of mildew and iron. Faded tapestries depicting cherry blossoms hung in tatters, and the floorboards groaned underfoot. He crept forward, ears straining. Muffled voices echoed ahead—two guards, arguing.

“—stupid sword’s cursed, I tell ya. Saw it glowing last night.”

“Shut it. Brown’ll skin us alive if we lose it.”

Finvir peered around the corner. The guards stood before a rusted iron door, their owl masks tilted in agitation. He squeezed his sword hilt, the blade extending with a whisper.

A flicker of movement. One guard gasped as Finvir materialized behind him, sword plunging into his ribs. The second fumbled for his weapon, but Finvir’s dagger found his throat before a scream could escape.

He rifled through their keys, unlocked the door, and froze.

The room was a shrine—candles dripping black wax, walls scrawled with void runes. At the center, on a pedestal of bone, lay Tsubaki. The blade gleamed unnaturally, its steel veined with obsidian threads. A low hum filled the air, vibrating in Finvir’s teeth.

“Well, ain’t you a pretty little trouble,” he muttered, reaching for the hilt.

The moment his fingers closed around it, the runes flared. Shadows lashed like serpents, slamming him into the wall. His vision blurred, and a voice—cold, ancient—rasped in his mind:

“ Mine. ”

(Outside)

Aster ducked as a sword whistled overhead. They countered with a blood-whip, slicing the attacker’s cheek, but more soldiers surged forward. Derron and Salena fought back-to-back, their katanas a blur, but fatigue dulled their strikes.

“Where’s Finvir?!” Salena shouted, parrying a blow.

A scream tore from the mansion’s upper floor. The ground trembled, and cracks splintered the walls. Black tendrils erupted through the roof, writhing against the sky.

Aster’s blood ran cold. “Oh gods—he triggered a ward!”

The twins exchanged grim looks. “Go!” Derron ordered. “We’ll hold them off!”

Aster sprinted for the mansion, dread clawing their throat. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.

Finvir’s POV

I writhed, the void’s grip crushing his ribs. The sword’s hum crescendoed, and the shadows coalesced into a figure—a specter with hollow eyes and a crown of thorns.

“ Thief, ” it hissed.

“Not… stealing…” I choked out. “Borrowing!”

I focused on the mark, feeling the void’s chill surge through me. With a roar,   I pushed. The shadows recoiled, and for a heartbeat, the pressure eased. I lunged, seizing Tsubaki and smashing it against the pedestal.

The blade shrieked. The specter dissolved into smoke, and the runes dimmed.

Panting, I staggered to my feet. The sword’s obsidian veins had faded, but its edge still gleamed wickedly. “Note to self,” I wheezed, “ask more questions before grabbing cursed antiques.”

Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Aster burst in, eyes wide. “You’re alive!”

“Disappointed?” I tossed them the sword. “Wrap that thing up. We’re leaving.”

Below, the twins dispatched the last soldier. Derron glanced up, nodding as Aster and me descended.

“Did you—?” Salena began.

“Yep. And it’s a chatty one,” I grumbled, rubbing my bruised neck. “Let’s cash in before it decides to redecorate my insides.”

As we retreated, Aster glanced back. The mansion’s shadows twitched, as if something watched.

Narrator’s POV

(A hour later at the Kawa the adventurer's guild)

The guild hall buzzed with its usual clamor—adventurers swapping tales over steaming teacups, clerks stamping quest permits, and the faint clatter of practice blades from the training yard. But as Finvir shouldered open the heavy oak doors, the room fell silent. All eyes snapped to the blood-splattered quartet, their clothes torn and singed, and the sword in Aster’s trembling hands.

Tsubaki pulsed faintly in the sunlight filtering through the paper lanterns, its obsidian veins glinting like cracks in reality.

“By the gods,” whispered a grizzled Nord at the bar, ale sloshing over his tankard. “That’s the Forestblossom blade.”

Derron and Salena strode ahead, chins high, but Finvir lingered in the doorway. His void mark burned icy-hot beneath his glove—a warning. Aster hovered close, their pink eyes darting between the staring crowd and the sword.

Chikara Forestblossom emerged from the back office, his silk robes sweeping across the tatami. The clan patriarch’s stern face faltered as he saw Tsubaki. “You… retrieved it.”

“Not without drama,” Finvir grunted, nudging Aster forward. “Kid did most of the heavy lifting.”

Aster flushed but placed the sword into Chikara’s outstretched hands. The moment the patriarch gripped the hilt, the guild’s lanterns flickered. A low groan echoed through the rafters, and the mural above—a battle between dragons and samurai—rippled as if alive.

Chikara staggered, his knuckles whitening. “The curse… it’s still tethered to something.”

Finvir’s jaw tightened. Of course it is.

Before he could speak, Seldom shouldered through the crowd, his hulking frame parting adventurers like wheat. “Let’s see that blade, old friend.” He snatched Tsubaki and squinted at its edge. “Yep. Void-touched. Smells like Inanis’s cheap cologne.” He tossed it back to Chikara. “Stick it in a sanctified vault.”

Chikara nodded stiffly, but his gaze lingered on Finvir. “You’ve drawn unwanted attention, outsider. The owl soldiers will come for you now.”

“They were already coming,” Finvir shrugged. “Might as well give ’em a good show.”

Aster tugged his sleeve. “The reward…?”

Aster’s POV

The guild clerk slid a jingling pouch across the counter, her smile strained. “Fifty petals, as promised. And…” She stamped my adventurer card with a flourish. “Congratulations, E-1!”

I beamed, tracing the freshly inked rank. E-1! I'd jumped a grade in hours. But my triumph faded as they glanced at Finvir.

He leaned against a pillar, face ashen, absently massaging his gloved hand. The void mark’s corruption had spread—thin black tendrils now peeked above his collar, creeping toward his jawline.

“Master?” I approached, voice small. “Your… neck.”

Finvir jerked away. “It’s nothing.”

“Liar.” Seldom loomed behind them, arms crossed. “That’s void rot. You’ve got maybe a year before it eats your brain.”

“Thanks for the optimism,” Finvir snarled, but Seldom grabbed his wrist, yanking the glove off. The mark seethed like a living bruise, its edges clawing up his veins.

Seldom whistled. “You’re leaking chaos, mate. Better fix that before you go brain dead.”

“How?!” I blurted.

Seldom grinned. “Find the source. That Obelisk Brown’s after? Rumor says it’s a void anchor—could stabilize his mark. Or kill him faster.” He winked. “Fun gamble, eh?”

Finvir snatched his glove back. “We’re done here.”

(Later, at the Guild Stables)

Derron and Salena bowed deeply as Finvir tightened his horse’s saddle. “Our clan is in your debt,” Derron said. “If you seek the Obelisk, we’ll aid you.”

Finvir waved them off. “Save the heroics. Just keep Brown off our backs.”

As the twins departed, I fidgeted with my new E-1 badge. “So… to the capital?”

Finvir stared northwest, where storm clouds gathered over the Emperor’s palace. “Yep. Time to crash a royal coup.”

I opened their journal, scribbling furiously. Void anchors. Obelisks. Leaking chaos. “Will it hurt? Stabilizing your mark, I mean.”

Finvir mounted his horse. “Everything hurts, kid. You just get used to it.”

Narrator POV

As they rode into the dusk, neither noticed the owl perched atop the guild’s torii gate. It cocked its head, eyes glowing void-black, and took flight—straight toward Brown’s camp.

Chapter Text

Narrator POV
The road to Shisaki unfolded like a painted scroll, revealing terraced hillsides cloaked in mist and rivers that glittered like spilled mercury under the midday sun. Finvir reined his horse to a halt at the crest of the final hill, his eyes narrowing as the capital sprawled before him. Aster gasped beside him, their journal slipping from their hands into the dirt.

“Gods… it’s like a dream,” Aster breathed.

And it was.

Shisaki rose in seven concentric terraces, each tier carved into the mountainside like steps to heaven. Timber-framed palaces with sweeping pagoda roofs dominated the upper levels, their gold-leafed eaves piercing the clouds. Below, the city cascaded in waves of slate-tiled homes, threaded by canals where flat-bottomed boats drifted lazily. Bridges arched like cats’ spines over the waterways, their railings adorned with lanterns shaped like crescent moons. The air hummed with distant temple bells and the faint melody of a biwa lute.

But it was the rivers that stole the breath. They flowed not just through Shisaki but into it—veins of liquid crystal that pooled in ceremonial basins before tumbling down aqueducts to the lower districts. Waterfalls spilled from terrace to terrace, their mist painting rainbows over markets and teahouses. Everywhere, cherry blossoms swirled on the breeze, their petals catching in the hair of passersby like living confetti.

“Stay sharp,” Finvir muttered, nudging his horse forward. “Pretty cities hide ugly secrets.”

The main gate was a marvel of ancient engineering—a towering torii of crimson wood, its crossbeam inscribed with Windshire’s creed: “By Grace of the Ten, We Rise.” Guards in lacquered armor bearing the emperor’s chrysanthemum sigil stood sentry, their spears tipped with silver.

“Papers,” one barked.

Finvir slid their Adventure Guild cards. The guard squinted “Purpose of visit?”

“Pilgrimage,” Finvir lied smoothly. “To pay respects at the Temple of Grym.”

The guard’s stern face softened. “May the Lady of Thresholds guide you.” He stamped their papers, and the gates swung open.

Inside, Shisaki unfolded in layers of sound and scent. The first terrace buzzed with artisans’ workshops, their open fronts spilling color into the streets. Potters shaped clay into celadon vases, their hands spinning wheels as fluid as the rivers outside. Weavers threaded silk into kimonos dyed with indigo and safflower, while blacksmiths hammered tamahagane steel into katana blades that sang with every strike.

Aster darted to a calligrapher’s stall, mesmerized by a scroll depicting the Ten Gods. Inanis, the Void Father, loomed at the center, his form bleeding ink into the margins.
“Don’t wander,” Finvir growled, yanking them back. His eyes flicked to a cloaked figure across the street—a man pretending to haggle over tea bowls, his posture too rigid, his gaze lingering too long on Aster’s journal.

Owl spy. Third one since the gate.

Acceding to the second terrace, they followed a canal lined with willow trees, their branches trailing in the water like green hair. Tea houses floated on barges, their paper lanterns casting dappled light on couples sharing saké and skewers of yakitori. A geisha glided past, her face a porcelain mask, her obi embroidered with cranes in flight.

“Look!” Aster pointed to a shrine wedged between a sake brewery and a tofu shop. A priestess in white robes shook a gohei wand over a sobbing merchant, scattering purifying salt. “She’s cleansing his shop of akuma spirits!”

Finvir grunted. “Bet he just needs to clean his drains.”

But even he paused at the Temple of Lulreus. Scholars crowded its steps, offering scrolls to the God of Knowledge’s stone effigy. A young acolyte chanted from the Tome of Infinite Questions, his voice blending with the rustle of prayer strips tied to cedar branches.

By the fourth terrace, the crowds thickened. Merchants hawked pickled plums and grilled eel, their cries punctuated by the clatter of wooden geta sandals. A puppeteer danced a bunraku samurai on strings, children squealing as it “slew” a silk dragon.

Finvir’s hand drifted to his dagger.

There. A woman selling fans—her fingers bore the calluses of a sword grip, not a paintbrush. There. A “beggar” with boots too fine for his rags. The Owl Soldiers hid in plain sight, their masks replaced by the anonymity of the crowd.

Aster stiffened. “Do you feel that?”

The air prickled—a static charge, like the moment before lightning. Finvir followed their gaze to a narrow alley, where a stray dog gnawed a bone. No, not a bone—a finger, still clad in a gold ring etched with an owl’s eye.

“Keep moving,” Finvir muttered.

At the city’s heart, the Temple of Grym loomed—a mountain unto itself. Twin staircases of moon-white marble spiraled upward, flanked by statues of the goddess’s dual aspects: a maiden cradling a newborn, her face serene; and a crone clutching a scythe, her mouth twisted in a scream.

Pilgrims crawled the steps on bloodied knees, whispering prayers for the dead. Incense coiled from bronze censers, the smoke forming ephemeral faces that wept and vanished.

Aster touched the temple’s blackwood doors, then recoiled. “It’s… warm.”

“Life and death,” Finvir said flatly. “Two sides of the same coin.”

But his mark throbbed in agreement.

Elsewhere in the city

Brown watched the city through a stained-glass window. His Nordic-carved armor gleamed dully, the dragon motifs snarling across his chestplate. On his back hung an ebony greatsword, its blade etched with glowing runes that pulsed like embers.

A spy knelt behind him, trembling. “The outsiders have entered Shisaki. The Bosmer and the… albino.”

Brown’s laughter rumbled deep, a sound like boulders grinding. “Good. Let them scurry toward the Obelisk. They’ll save me the trouble of digging it up.”
He traced a rune on his sword. It ignited, flames licking the steel without consuming it. “Ready the Talons. When the void-touched fool takes the bait, we’ll carve the truth from his bones.”

Finvir rented a room in the Floating District, where teahouses perched on stilts above the canals. Aster leaned over the balcony, watching lanterns drift downstream like fireflies.

“It’s beautiful,” they whispered.

“It’s a trap,” Finvir said, sharpening his blade. “Every pretty thing here’s got teeth.”

But even he paused as night fell. The temples lit their braziers, painting Shisaki in gold and shadow. Somewhere, a samurai’s ghost wailed for honor. Somewhere, the Obelisk waited.

And somewhere, Brown’s sword hungered.

Chapter Text

Narrator POV

The Floating District - Nightfall

The lanterns of Shisaki shimmered like drowned stars in the canals below, their reflections fracturing as a lone fish broke the surface tension with barely a ripple. Finvir leaned against the balcony rail of their modest teahouse room, his gloved fingers tightening around a cup of sake that had grown warm and bitter with neglect. The drink did nothing to dull the persistent ache radiating from his void mark—if anything, the supernatural pulse had grown sharper and more insistent since they'd entered the capital, like a hook tugging relentlessly at his ribs.

Behind him, Aster sat cross-legged on a tatami mat, scribbling feverishly in their journal by the dim amber light of a paper lantern. The pages rustled like restless spirits as they sketched the intricate symbols they had observed at Grym's temple—life and death, eternally entwined in patterns that seemed to writhe when viewed peripherally.

"You're staring at that cup like it owes you coin," Aster observed without looking up from their detailed notations.

Finvir grunted in response. "It's quieter than you are."

Aster's quill paused mid-stroke, ink gleaming wetly on parchment. "The Obelisk's close, isn't it? I can feel something... pressing against the edges of my consciousness."

The void mark seared in immediate reply, sending tendrils of cold fire up Finvir's arm. He set the cup down hard enough to slosh sake over the rim, the liquid spreading across the low table like spilled blood. "Close enough to be a persistent nuisance."

Later that night

Shisaki's nights were never truly silent. The canals whispered constantly with the gentle dip of oars and the hushed murmur of late-night barges ferrying lovers seeking privacy or thieves conducting business best hidden from daylight scrutiny. Lantern light bled into the dark water below, staining it in shades of amber and crimson, while the mingled scents of jasmine and brine clung to the humid air like invisible silk.

Somewhere in the distance, a shamisen played a mournful melody, its strings plucked by unseen hands that understood the particular melancholy that came with urban solitude and unspoken desires.

Finvir's enhanced senses suddenly sharpened as his eyes narrowed with professional alertness. Across the canal, a shadow detached itself from the eaves of a neighboring teahouse with movements too deliberate for casual passage. The figure was too tall for a local resident, too unnaturally still for someone influenced by alcohol.

Owl Soldier.

"Kid," he said softly, his voice carrying the kind of controlled urgency that demanded immediate obedience, "blow out the lantern. Now."

Aster froze mid-sentence, their quill hovering above parchment. "What's wr—"

" Now. "

Without further hesitation, Aster extinguished the light, plunging their room into the protective embrace of darkness. The sudden absence of illumination would make them invisible to watchers while allowing Finvir's void-enhanced vision to function at maximum effectiveness.

Footsteps echoed on the wooden walkway below—the distinctive sound of military boots rather than the soft padding of traditional sandals. Finvir's hand drifted instinctively to his blade's hilt, feeling the retractable mechanism hum faintly as he thumbed the release catch. Beside him, Aster crouched with barely controlled breathing.

"How many?" they whispered, their voice barely audible even in the sudden quiet.

"Two on the dock. One positioning himself on the roof above us." Finvir's void-touched eyes pierced the gloom with supernatural clarity, tracing the heat signatures of human bodies like smudges of luminous ash against charcoal darkness. "Stay here and don't move unless I call for you."

"But—"

" Stay. "

Without waiting for further argument, Finvir secured his metal mask and vaulted over the balcony railing, landing soundlessly on the canal path twenty feet below. Years of assassination training had taught him to move like flowing water—inevitable, silent, and deadly when it reached its destination.

The nearest Owl Soldier spun at some subliminal awareness of danger, his hand flying toward the dagger at his waist in a motion that spoke of combat experience. He was fast, but not fast enough. Finvir's blade punched through his throat before the man could produce so much as a gurgle of warning. The body crumpled into the dark water with nothing more than a muted splash that could have been mistaken for a fish jumping.

The second soldier lunged from concealment among the support pillars, his sword raised in a overhead strike designed to split Finvir's skull. But assassination work had taught Finvir to expect such obvious tactics—he sidestepped with fluid grace, allowing the blade to graze harmlessly off his reinforced cloak before slamming his elbow into his attacker's temple with bone-crushing force.

The distinctive crack of a fractured skull echoed softly off the canal walls. As the soldier staggered, his eyes already glazing with the peculiar vacant look that preceded unconsciousness, Finvir wrenched his head back and opened his throat in a single efficient motion.

Too easy, his professional instincts warned. Real threats don't announce themselves with such obvious positioning.

The third combatant dropped from the roof above like a hunting cat, landing with perfect balance and immediately assuming a combat stance that spoke of training far superior to common soldiers. But this figure didn't wear the crude armor and owl mask that marked Brown's followers. Instead, he was garbed in the distinctive dark blue clothing that Finvir recognized with cold dread—the uniform of the Outsiders.

The man's mask was the emotionless white porcelain that the organization's operatives wore during assassination missions, its blank features designed to rob victims of any human connection to their killer.

"Grandmaster sends his regards," the assassin hissed through the mask's mouth slit, lunging forward with his sword in a strike pattern that Finvir recognized from his own training decades earlier.

Finvir parried the attack, steel ringing against steel in a sound that carried clearly across the water. "Ciel's developed a shit sense of humor in his old age," he replied grimly, already adjusting his stance to accommodate the superior skill level this opponent represented.

The masked Outsider's blade flickered with inhuman speed, its edge grazing Finvir's cheek and drawing a thin line of blood that was hot and sharp against the night air. Despite the wound, Finvir couldn't suppress a grin that was invisible behind his own mask but audible in his voice.

"Let's see what quality of operative the organization is producing these days," he taunted, settling into the combat rhythm that had kept him alive through countless such encounters.

The assassin moved like liquid shadow given form, his blade becoming a silver serpent that struck from angles that seemed to violate basic geometry. Finvir parried again, the force of the clash reverberating up his arm and reminding him that his opponent possessed strength to match his supernatural speed.

"The Grandmaster warned us you'd lost your edge," the Outsider said mockingly, feinting left before slashing upward in a move designed to open Finvir's throat. "But I didn't expect you to have grown quite so slow and predictable."

Finvir leaned back just far enough to let the blade graze the tip of his nose without doing serious damage. The void mark pulsed with cold energy, sending jagged spikes of ice through his nervous system in response to the supernatural tension of facing a fellow practitioner of the shadowed arts.

"Ciel always did love his obedient lap dogs," he replied through gritted teeth, calling upon his void magic to level the playing field.

Finvir POV

I squeezed my marked hand and felt the familiar chill as power flowed through the connection to spaces beyond normal reality. The mark flashed beneath my glove with cold fire, and I blinked through the void to materialize directly behind my opponent.

My blade swept toward his exposed back in a strike that should have ended the fight immediately, but the Outsider twisted his body with inhuman agility and flexibility that spoke of modifications beyond normal training. He managed to intercept my attack with his own sword, sending a shower of sparks across the canal path.

I followed up with a quick kick aimed at his center of gravity, but he blocked it with both arms, absorbing the impact with professional competence.

"Nice moves, old man! But try this!" The assassin reached inside his coat and produced something that made my blood run cold—a flintlock pistol, its brass fittings gleaming in the reflected lantern light.

Black powder weapons?! But those are expensive and loud... My tactical mind raced as I tried to process this development. Ciel trained all Outsiders with crossbows for stealth purposes. Why would he authorize firearms that announce your position to every guard within a mile?

I threw myself sideways, but the confined space of the canal path limited my options for evasion. The pistol discharged with a thunderous roar that shattered the district's peaceful atmosphere, the lead ball striking my metal mask with enough force to snap my head back and send stars exploding across my vision.

Fortunately, the mask's construction proved adequate to stop the projectile, though the impact damaged the magnifying lenses built into the eye pieces and left me with a ringing headache that would persist for hours.

While my opponent was momentarily surprised by my survival, I closed the distance and swept both his sword and pistol into the canal with a perfectly timed disarming technique. But before I could follow up with a killing strike, something impossible happened.

The man's own mark of Inanis flared with void energy, and a sword materialized in his empty hands as if conjured from nothingness itself. The weapon was unlike anything I had encountered—jagged and crystalline, appearing to have been carved directly from obsidian by forces that understood neither conventional metallurgy nor the limitations of physical matter.

The blade looked fragile enough to shatter at the first impact, but I knew from experience that appearances could be fatally deceptive when dealing with void-forged weapons. The sword's edges glowed with faint white energy, while its construction revealed itself to consist of three chunks of some impossible black material that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The pieces floated independently in space, held together by supernatural forces, while a fourth chunk in the assassin's grip served as the handle.

"Like what you see?" he boasted as the weapon hummed with what could only be described as the sound of silence —a paradoxical auditory phenomenon that hurt to hear. "It's the power that was bestowed upon me when I received my mark from Inanis himself!"

He swung the impossible sword at me, and the floating chunks flowed together to form a coherent blade. I managed to block the strike, but the sheer force of the impact sent me sliding backward across the wet stones despite my braced stance.

"Come on, old man! Show me why Ciel spoke of you with such fondness!" the assassin taunted, pressing his advantage.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself upright, bringing my conventional blade up in preparation for another exchange. When I rushed forward with what appeared to be a straightforward attack, he moved to block as expected—but I modified my approach at the last instant, driving my knee into his groin with enough force to lift him slightly off the ground.

"Y-you bastard..." he wheezed, doubling over in pain. "Try this variation!"

The assassin swung his void sword again, but this time the chunks didn't coalesce into a blade. Instead, they expanded and linked together to form a flexible whip whose jagged segments promised to tear through armor and flesh with equal ease.

I was only able to partially deflect the weapon with my arm, accepting a painful cut that tore through the sleeve of my jacket and opened a shallow wound on my forearm rather than allow the whip to reach my neck or torso where it could inflict mortal damage.

The void-forged whip coiled around my injured arm like a serpent of living darkness, its jagged edges biting deep enough to draw blood that appeared almost black in the lantern light. The weapon hissed with a sound like shattering glass, and I could feel the void energy corrupting the wound even as it was inflicted.

"Still standing?" The assassin laughed, yanking the whip back with vicious satisfaction. The obsidian shards flowed back together to form a conventional blade, but now it dripped with my own blood. "The Grandmaster said you were impossibly stubborn. But even you can't outrun the void's corruption forever."

I flexed my wounded arm experimentally, noting how the mark beneath my glove throbbed in sympathetic rhythm with the enemy's supernatural weapon. Ciel's new equipment is certainly getting more creative, I thought grimly.

"You talk too much for a dead man," I growled, preparing to end this encounter before it could drag on long enough to attract unwanted attention.

The Outsider lunged forward with renewed aggression, his sword splitting mid-swing into three jagged projectiles that flew toward me like guided missiles. I blinked sideways through the void, feeling the shards embed themselves in the teahouse wall behind where I had been standing. Splinters of wood rained down as the assassin recalled the fragments through some application of will, the blade re-forming seamlessly in his grasp.

"Predictable!" he sneered, his confidence growing. "The Grandmaster taught us all your standard techniques, old man. You've got nothing left that can surprise us."

My lips curled behind my mask in what might have been a smile. "Did he teach you this?"

I feinted left as if preparing another void teleportation, then blinked behind the Outsider—not once, but twice in rapid succession, creating multiple afterimages that flickered in the shifting lantern light. The assassin spun desperately, disoriented by the unexpected complexity of the maneuver, and I struck while he was still trying to locate my actual position.

My blade sheared through his thigh, biting deep into muscle and drawing a scream of pain that he tried to muffle behind his mask. The void sword flickered and became unstable as his concentration broke under the sudden agony.

"You—!" he began, but I silenced him with an elbow strike to the throat that cracked his porcelain mask and revealed the pale, snarling face of a young Breton beneath.

"Ciel's scraping the bottom of the recruitment barrel if he's sending inexperienced pups like you after me," I said with disgust, pressing my blade to the man's jugular while he struggled to breathe through his damaged windpipe. "Why are the Owl Soldiers and the Outsiders working together? What's Ciel's angle in all this?"

The young assassin gritted his teeth, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Why should I tell you anything? I'm loyal to the organization until the end, no matter what it costs me personally."

Before I could apply additional pressure to encourage his cooperation, he produced a large spherical bomb from inside his coat, its fuse already sparkling with lit powder. The device was clearly designed to kill everyone within a significant radius, including its wielder.

"May the void take me to whatever lies beyond!" he declared with fanatic devotion.

I jerked my blade away and kicked him toward the canal as hard as I could, then threw myself flat against the stone walkway and covered my head with both arms.

The explosion that followed tore through the Floating District like a fallen star striking the earth.

Narrator POV

The explosion ripped through the Floating District like a star falling to earth, painting the water in shades of crimson and gold as debris rained down from the shattered buildings above. Finvir's ears rang with a persistent tone that suggested temporary hearing damage, his body pinned beneath splintered wood from the teahouse balcony that had collapsed in the blast. Blood trickled from a gash above his brow, mingling with the stagnant canal water that now soaked his clothes.

"FINVIR!" Aster's voice cut through the ringing in his ears, carrying a tone of desperate concern that spoke of genuine fear for his safety.

Slowly, painfully, Finvir pushed the debris off his bruised body and released a loud sigh that expressed both relief and exhaustion. "I'm fine, kid!" he called back, his voice hoarse from smoke inhalation. "Just a bit dinged up, nothing that won't heal!"

Aster vaulted over the damaged balcony railing and landed with the same fluid grace Finvir had demonstrated earlier. They rushed to him immediately and pulled him into a tight embrace that spoke of overwhelming relief mixed with lingering fear.

"I was so worried!" they stammered, their words tumbling over each other in their haste to express their emotions. "I heard the fighting and then suddenly that massive explosion went off, and I didn't know what had happened to you, and I thought—"

Finvir cut off their verbal flood by patting their back with the kind of awkward gentleness that spoke of someone unaccustomed to physical comfort. Despite everything he had experienced, he was still fundamentally a trained assassin, and for him, physical contact usually meant imminent danger. He genuinely didn't know how to respond when the kid held onto him like this.

"Hey, I'm here, aren't I?" he said with gruff reassurance. "I'm not going anywhere, so you don't need to worry about—AAAHHH!"

Suddenly, he dropped to his knees and clutched his head as supernatural agony lanced through his skull. A voice like nails scraping across a chalkboard echoed inside his mind, carrying words that seemed to bypass his ears entirely:

"Outsider... Palace... Marked one... Jade Palace..."

He remained in that position for several minutes, completely oblivious to Aster's increasingly frantic attempts to determine what was wrong with him. The psychic communication felt like ice picks being driven directly into his brain, carrying information that his conscious mind could barely process.

Eventually, the supernatural assault subsided enough for him to sit up and look around with eyes that were slightly unfocused but functional. "I'm... I'm fine," he managed to say, though his voice carried none of its usual conviction. "Let's get out of here before reinforcements show up to investigate the explosion."

Aster quickly positioned themselves to provide physical support, slipping their arm around Finvir's waist to help him move into a nearby alley where he could catch his breath and recover his equilibrium. After a few minutes of rest, he straightened his clothes and indicated that he was ready to continue moving.

They made their way through the maze of alleyways and side streets that characterized the Floating District, using the cover of darkness and confusion following the explosion to avoid the patrols of Owl Soldiers that were converging on the area. At one point, Finvir pulled them both behind what appeared to be a random building to hide from a squad of Brown's men who ran past with the kind of urgent purpose that suggested they were responding to reports of the disturbance.

"Do we have to worry about any more assassins showing up?" Aster asked once they had caught their breath and the immediate danger had passed.

Finvir waited several moments before responding, his enhanced hearing cataloging the sounds of the district around them for signs of additional threats. "No, Outsiders always work alone on assassination missions. They never deploy more than one operative to avoid compromising the organization's security if things go badly."

Aster sighed with relief, but their sense of safety evaporated as they became aware of their current surroundings. Their face took on a bright pink blush that was highly visible against their pale scales. "Oh. Oh no... this is... This is the red light district..."

The Pleasure Quarter

The Red Light District sprawled before them like a jeweled serpent coiled in the city's shadowed heart, its presence both alluring and dangerous in the way that only forbidden pleasures could be. Paper lanterns of scarlet silk hung from every eave and archway, casting pools of ruby light across cobblestones that had been worn smooth by centuries of footfall from visitors seeking services that daylight commerce couldn't provide.

The air hung thick with sandalwood incense and the cloying sweetness of jasmine oil, scents that mingled with the distant sound of stringed instruments drifting from behind latticed windows where private entertainments were conducted away from public scrutiny.

Narrow streets wound between three-story establishments constructed from dark timber and decorated with painted screens, their facades adorned with carved dragons whose ruby eyes seemed to follow passersby through the amber gloom. Women in elaborate silk robes moved like phantoms across elevated walkways that connected the buildings, their faces painted white as winter snow while their lips had been colored crimson as fresh blood. Beneath their wooden sandals, the walkways creaked with soft warnings of secrets kept and coins exchanged for pleasures both simple and complex.

The main thoroughfare bustled with merchants hawking silk flowers and rice wine, their voices weaving through the labyrinth of desire alongside the gentle plucking of shamisen strings that provided musical accompaniment to negotiations conducted in whispers. Steam rose from small tea houses tucked between larger establishments, where patrons sat in shadow-draped alcoves and discussed arrangements with the careful precision of diplomats arranging international treaties.

Finvir maintained a perfectly neutral expression despite their surroundings, releasing only a quiet sigh. "Of course this place has a pleasure district too. Every major city does."

Aster looked at him with surprise, still blushing furiously. "There was something similar to this back in your homeland?"

"Yeah, but the people back home didn't sugarcoat it with euphemistic names like 'Red Light District,'" Finvir replied with characteristic bluntness. "Usually the common folk just called them whorehouses, though the nobles preferred terms like 'pleasure district' for the same establishments. Ackermouth is a cold place, so sex work is fairly popular there. People need warmth however they can find it."

As Aster blushed even deeper over the matter-of-fact way he had delivered this information, Finvir scanned the crowds and buildings with professional interest until he identified what they needed. At the end of the street stood a massive five-story building that rose like an elaborate pagoda toward the star-scattered sky. Through its painted screens, he could observe what were clearly the most skilled courtesans holding court behind artwork depicting impossible gardens, their laughter carrying on the night wind like silver bells celebrating beauty and desire.

A passing merchant spoke to his companion in tones loud enough to be overheard: "The House of Golden Chrysanthemums—that's where the premium entertainers work. Most expensive establishment in the district, but they say the quality is worth every coin."

"Take this to heart, kid," Finvir said, gesturing toward the lantern-lit streets around them. "If you want to understand the real character of any city, there are three types of people who know its true face: beggars, sex workers, and barkeepers."

"Why those three specifically?" Aster asked, trying not to look directly at the elegantly dressed women who glided past them while offering flirtatious smiles and meaningful glances.

"Because they're the ones who see people when all the masks come off," Finvir explained, his weathered hands illustrating his points as he spoke. "A beggar sees who throws a coin in charity and who spits in contempt. They know which merchants show kindness and which nobles are cruel when no one important is watching their behavior."

Aster's eyes darted nervously as a woman in emerald silk paused to offer them a particularly inviting smile before gliding past, her wooden sandals clicking rhythmically against the stone pathway.

"Sex workers see men at their most vulnerable," he continued, lowering his voice to ensure their conversation remained private. "When the payment's on the table and the door's closed, all pretense falls away completely. They know who weeps for loneliness, who rages from impotence, who treats them as fellow human beings, and who sees only flesh to be used. There's no lying to someone you're naked with, kid."

A group of merchants stumbled past them, already deep in their cups despite the relatively early hour, their raucous laughter echoing off the narrow alley walls as they made their way toward a sake house draped in red banners.

"And barkeepers?" Aster asked, observing the drunken party weave unsteadily toward their destination.

"Wine loosens tongues more effectively than any torturer's implement," Finvir replied with the certainty of someone who had witnessed this phenomenon countless times. "They hear confessions that would make priests blush, secrets that could topple kingdoms, and truths that men spend fortunes trying to hide from the world. A good barkeeper knows more about a city's real politics than most government officials."

He placed a firm hand on Aster's shoulder, his expression serious. "Remember this lesson—if you want to understand a city's soul, don't ask the lords in their towers or the officials in their bureaus. Ask the people who catch those same lords and officials when they fall from grace."

Aster nodded thoughtfully and took a deep breath to compose themselves. Finvir straightened and pointed toward their destination. "We're going to that House of Golden Ch-chrysa-santhemums, whatever it's called." He fumbled slightly with the pronunciation of the Windshire term.

"Chrysanthemums," Aster corrected gently as they fell into step behind Finvir.

"Right, that. Considering how close this establishment is to the palace and the noble residential areas, the workers there probably overhear a great deal about palace affairs and these Owl Soldiers who've been causing so much trouble. Stay close and follow my lead—we're going to buy some information along with whatever other services might be necessary to maintain our cover."

As they approached the House of Golden Chrysanthemums, neither of them noticed the small owl perched on a nearby rooftop, its void-black eyes tracking their movements with supernatural intelligence before it spread its wings and disappeared into the night to carry word of their location to masters who waited in shadows for exactly such intelligence.

The hunt was intensifying, and the prey had no idea how close the predators had come.

Chapter Text

Narrator’s POV

The House of Golden Chrysanthemums - Evening

Finvir led Aster through the ever-growing crowd of the Red Light District, expertly dodging and weaving between revelers, merchants, and pleasure-seekers with the fluid grace of someone who had spent decades moving unseen through hostile territory. The press of bodies provided perfect cover for activities that required both skill and moral flexibility—activities that Aster was only beginning to understand as they observed their mentor's hands working with professional efficiency.

Each contact appeared entirely innocent: a casual brush against a shoulder here, a steadying hand during an apparent stumble there, a momentary touch while navigating through particularly dense clusters of intoxicated patrons. But Finvir's movements possessed the kind of calculated precision that spoke of countless hours of practice, and with each seemingly accidental interaction, coin purses disappeared from their original owners into hidden pockets within his coat.

The technique was flawless—so smooth that the transfers seemed like natural gestures rather than calculated theft. Distracted patrons who were too intoxicated, too enamored with the district's sensual offerings, or simply too overwhelmed by the chaos around them never noticed their diminishing wealth until long after the transaction had been completed.

"What are you doing?!" Aster hissed in a panicked whisper when they finally found temporary respite in a narrow alley that provided some privacy from the main thoroughfare's constant surveillance.

"Making sure we can afford our way into the House of Golden Chrysanthemums," Finvir explained with the kind of matter-of-fact tone that suggested this was simply another tool in his professional arsenal. He leaned against the alley wall with one foot braced against the building, his posture radiating complete nonchalance despite having just committed multiple felonies.

"If these establishments are anything like the ones back in Ackermouth, then you have to pay both an entry fee and for a worker's time and attention. Any place with 'golden' in the name charges premium rates for their services." He gestured toward the bustling street beyond their hideout. "So just follow my lead and try to look like you belong here."

"But that's... you can't just..." Aster struggled to find words adequate to express their moral discomfort with what they had witnessed.

Finvir interrupted with a stern look and a weary sigh that carried the weight of someone who had been forced to make similar compromises countless times throughout his life. "Look, kid, I understand your objections. Really, I do. But you need to learn that survival isn't always about distinguishing between right and wrong—sometimes it's about doing whatever it takes to accomplish your mission and live to see another day."

His voice carried accumulated scars from decades of dangerous work and moral compromises that had shaped him into someone capable of functioning in worlds where conventional ethics were luxuries few could afford.

"We're not stealing from people who can't afford the loss," he continued, his tone becoming slightly defensive. "Look around you—everyone here is spending freely on luxuries and pleasures. They're not going to starve because they lost a few coins to a pickpocket. These are merchants, nobles, and wealthy travelers who treat money like water."

Aster looked deeply uncomfortable with the ethical implications but eventually nodded with reluctant understanding. "I... I understand the necessity, even if I don't like it."

"Good," Finvir replied, pushing himself off the wall and checking to ensure his newly acquired wealth was properly concealed. "Now let's go buy ourselves some information before those Owl Soldiers figure out where we've gone."

The Golden Chrysanthemum

They emerged from the alley and approached the House of Golden Chrysanthemums, whose five-story structure dominated the district's skyline like a temple dedicated to earthly pleasures rather than divine worship. The building's exterior was a masterpiece of architectural seduction—carved wooden panels painted in gold leaf caught and reflected every source of light, creating an almost hypnotic shimmer that drew the eye and held it captive.

Red silk banners hung between elaborately carved support columns, their surfaces decorated with calligraphy promising discretion, excellence, and satisfaction beyond mere physical gratification. Paper lanterns in shades of amber, crimson, and gold created pools of warm light that made everyone within their glow appear more attractive, more mysterious, more worthy of desire.

The main entrance was guarded by two impressive men whose muscular builds and alert expressions suggested they served as both doormen and security. Their clothing was elegant enough to fit the establishment's upscale atmosphere while remaining practical enough for physical intervention if circumstances required it.

As Finvir and Aster approached, one of the guards stepped forward with professional courtesy. "Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to the House of Golden Chrysanthemums. Are you here for entertainment this evening?"

"Indeed we are," Finvir replied smoothly, producing a handful of stolen coins with casual confidence. "My young friend and I are travelers seeking the finest hospitality your establishment can provide."

The guard's demeanor shifted noticeably upon seeing the quality and quantity of currency Finvir displayed. "Excellent, sir. The entry fee for gentlemen of discerning taste is ten silver petals each, which includes access to our main salon and complimentary refreshments."

Finvir handed over the money without hesitation, mentally noting the establishment's pricing structure for future reference. As they were escorted inside, he felt the familiar tension that came from entering potentially hostile territory while maintaining a civilian disguise. Every instinct trained into him by years of assassination work remained alert for threats, escape routes, and tactical advantages, even as he forced himself to appear relaxed and pleasure-seeking.

The interior proved even more impressive than the exterior had suggested. The main salon was a masterpiece of atmospheric design—soft lighting from countless candles and oil lamps created intimate pools of illumination throughout the space, while screens painted with erotic artwork provided both decoration and privacy for patrons scattered throughout the room.

Low tables surrounded by silk cushions offered comfortable seating arrangements where guests could enjoy refreshments while engaging in conversation with the house's entertainers. The air was thick with incense carrying hints of sandalwood, jasmine, and other exotic scents designed to promote relaxation and lower inhibitions.

Musicians provided live accompaniment from a raised platform in one corner—a shamisen player and a flute artist whose melodies wove together to create an auditory backdrop that enhanced rather than overwhelmed conversation. The music was sophisticated enough to appeal to educated patrons while remaining sensual enough to maintain the establishment's erotic atmosphere.

Beautiful women in elaborate silk robes moved gracefully between tables, engaging patrons in conversation that ranged from philosophical discussions to playful flirtation, depending on individual preferences and the level of service being purchased. Their makeup and clothing represented the pinnacle of the courtesan's art—each woman was a living work of aesthetic perfection designed to embody specific fantasies and desires.

Aster and Finvir took seats at a table closest to the main exit, with Aster's back to the door while Finvir positioned himself to observe all potential escape routes. The tactical positioning was automatic—a habit so ingrained that he didn't even consciously think about it anymore.

A beautiful wood elf in a silk kimono approached their table and set down a bottle of sake along with delicate ceramic cups. "Complimentary drinks for two handsome gentlemen," she said with a melodious voice that carried just enough suggestion to be alluring without being crude.

Aster blushed furiously when she winked at him before gliding away to attend to other guests. Finvir poured himself a glass of sake with practiced ease while taking mental inventory of the room's occupants, exits, and potential threats.

"I'm going to combust from all this blushing," Aster whispered as he accepted the cup Finvir poured for him. The moment he took a sip, he started coughing violently. "F-fuck... Now I remember why I don't drink... Any normal person would be blushing in a place like this. Why aren't you? Do you just not find them attractive?"

Finvir downed his cup with practiced ease and set it down gently. "No, they're quite attractive. I just don't have any sexual attraction to them."

Aster looked up with wide eyes, his academic curiosity overcoming his embarrassment. "Oh! Are you... what's the term? I read about it in a book... Asexual?"

Finvir nodded while sipping more sake. "Mm-hmm. Don't get me wrong—I find people aesthetically pleasing and I'm not repulsed by the concept of sex. But it's just not something I particularly care about or seek out."

He flagged down a wood elf woman in a red and black kimono that clung to her curves and showcased her elegant form. Her long black hair was arranged in an elaborate bun secured with decorative pins that caught the lamplight. "Hold down the table while I gather that information we came for."

The woman approached with hips swaying in a manner that was both natural and calculated to draw attention. She settled beside their table with fluid grace and offered a warm, inviting smile that spoke of professional expertise in making patrons feel special and desired.

"Can I help you gentlemen this evening?" she asked, her voice carrying the perfect balance of availability and discretion.

"Yes, my dear," Finvir replied, his entire demeanor shifting into what Aster recognized as a carefully constructed persona. "I would love to spend some private time with you. A beautiful woman like yourself deserves better company than those decrepit old fools over there."

He gestured subtly toward a table occupied by aging merchants whose sagging skin and obvious wealth made them perfect examples of the kind of clientele that frequented such establishments but provided little in the way of stimulating conversation.

"I could show you an absolutely amazing time if you'd allow me the privilege," he whispered into her ear with just the right amount of seductive confidence.

The woman giggled and covered her face with an ornate fan in a gesture that was both coquettish and genuinely charmed. "My, oh my, you're certainly a bold one. But..." She ran her fingers up his arm with practiced sensuality, "I must say, you look like someone who could deliver on such promises."

"That and so much more, darling," Finvir murmured into her ear as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to the intimate register that suggested secrets and possibilities. "Shall we proceed somewhere more private?"

"Mm, I'm Sakura, by the way," she said with another musical giggle as she leaned into him with the kind of casual intimacy that professional entertainers mastered as part of their craft. "May I know your name, handsome stranger?"

He wrapped his arm around her waist with confident familiarity. "Finvir, and it's a genuine pleasure to meet you, dear." He looked over at Aster and offered an encouraging smile. "Hold down the fort—I'll be back in a bit."

The pair walked away while maintaining their flirtatious banter, leaving Aster alone at the table to process what he had just witnessed. Finvir followed Sakura up an elegant staircase to the second floor and into a private room whose décor suggested it was designed for intimate conversations as much as physical encounters.

He gently guided her toward the bed, then whispered close to her ear: "You know why I'm really here."

He pulled back and sat beside her on the silk-covered mattress, his entire demeanor shifting from seductive client to serious professional. "You noticed the way I tapped my cup twice during the introductions."

Sakura's expression immediately changed from playful courtesan to alert intelligence operative. The giggling facade dropped away to reveal someone whose beauty was matched by sharp intellect and careful training.

"Two taps, followed by the gesture toward the older men, followed by the specific phrasing about 'amazing time,'" she confirmed in a voice that had lost all trace of performative sweetness. "You're using the recognition codes from the northern intelligence networks. I haven't heard those signals in over two years."

She studied his face with the kind of analytical attention that suggested she was mentally comparing his features to descriptions she had memorized. "Finvir Duskmire, formerly of the Outsiders organization, currently operating as an independent agent. The question is: what brings the legendary 'Silent Blade' to my establishment?"

"Information," he replied simply, appreciating her professionalism and directness. "Specifically, anything you might have overheard about Owl Soldiers, palace security changes, or unusual activities involving someone called Brown and an artifact known as the Obelisk."

Sakura's expression grew more serious. "That's dangerous information to be seeking. The kind that gets people disappeared in the middle of the night." She paused, clearly weighing risks against potential benefits. "But I suppose that's why they send people like you to ask about it."

She moved to a small table where tea service had been arranged and began preparing drinks with movements that spoke of ritual and habit rather than mere hospitality. "The Owl Soldiers have been regular customers for the past month. They pay well and tip generously, but they're not here for the usual services."

"What are they here for?"

"Information gathering, same as you. They've been systematically interviewing our girls about palace routines, guard rotations, servant schedules, and anything else that might be useful for someone planning an infiltration." Her hands worked efficiently with the tea implements as she spoke. "But they've also been asking about specific individuals—members of the royal family, trusted advisors, anyone who might have knowledge about historical artifacts stored in the palace vaults."

Finvir felt a chill that had nothing to do with the evening air. "They're not planning a simple theft. They're planning a complete takeover."

"That's my assessment as well," Sakura agreed, pouring tea into delicate cups with practiced precision. "But there's more. Three nights ago, one of their operatives got drunk enough to start bragging about their ultimate objective. He mentioned something called 'the Void Anchor' hidden beneath the palace foundations—an artifact that supposedly predates the current dynasty by centuries."

"The Obelisk," Finvir breathed, feeling his void mark pulse with sudden intensity.

"Presumably. He also mentioned that their leader—this Brown person you asked about—has some kind of personal connection to void magic. Apparently, he's been searching for this artifact for years because it's supposed to grant power over dimensional forces."

She handed him a cup of tea, her expression growing even more grave. "But here's the truly disturbing part: they're not working alone. Two weeks ago, representatives from a northern organization arrived to coordinate with the Owl Soldiers. They wore masks and dark clothing, and our security staff recognized them as professional assassins."

"The Outsiders," Finvir said grimly, though he had already suspected as much after his encounter earlier that evening.

"That would be my guess. Whatever they're planning, it's significant enough to require cooperation between multiple criminal organizations." Sakura sipped her tea thoughtfully. "The palace has been quietly increasing security, but I don't think they understand the true scope of the threat they're facing."

"Any idea about timing? When they plan to make their move?"

"Soon. Within the next few days, based on the urgency of their recent visits. They've been mapping out escape routes and contingency plans, which suggests they're in the final stages of preparation."

Finvir drank his tea while processing this information. The situation was worse than he had feared—not only were Brown's forces more organized and better connected than anticipated, but they were also operating on a timeline that left little room for careful planning or preparation.

"Is there anything else I should know?"

Sakura considered the question carefully. "The royal family is aware that something is wrong, but they're not taking adequate precautions. Pride and tradition are making them resistant to suggestions that might compromise their public image or daily routines. They're vulnerable in ways they don't fully understand."

"And the Obelisk itself? Any details about its location or defenses?"

"Only rumors and speculation. The palace has extensive underground chambers that predate the current structure—some say they go back to the original settlement that existed here before Shisaki was built. If this artifact has been hidden for centuries, it's probably somewhere in those deeper levels."

She finished her tea and set the cup aside with deliberate precision. "That's everything I can tell you without compromising my own safety and that of the other girls who work here. I hope it's enough to help you stop whatever they're planning."

"It's more than enough," Finvir assured her, rising from the bed and preparing to leave. "Thank you for the information—and for maintaining the old protocols. There aren't many of us left who remember how intelligence networks used to operate."

"Survive long enough, and you'll see everything come full circle," she replied with a sad smile. "Be careful, Finvir. The game you're playing has stakes that go far beyond personal survival."

He nodded and made his way back toward the door, pausing only to ensure that their conversation had appeared appropriately intimate to any observers. "One more thing—if things go badly in the next few days, you and your colleagues should consider leaving the city until the situation stabilizes."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sakura said, already beginning to reassemble her courtesan persona for the return journey to the main salon.

As Finvir made his way back downstairs, his mind was already working through the implications of what he had learned. The conspiracy was larger, more dangerous, and more urgent than he had realized. And somewhere beneath the palace, an ancient artifact waited to either save his soul or destroy everything he had fought to protect.

The next few days would determine not only his own fate, but potentially the fate of the entire kingdom.

Time was running out, and the real battle was about to begin.

Chapter Text

Narrator’s POV

Darkened Alley - Late Evening

Finvir and Aster made their way out of the Golden Chrysanthemum with the careful nonchalance of patrons who had received exactly the services they had paid for. They navigated back through the entertainment district's maze of pleasure-seekers and merchants, avoiding the main thoroughfares where Owl Soldiers might be conducting surveillance sweeps in response to the earlier explosion.

Eventually, they ducked into a narrow alleyway that was far enough from the crowds to ensure privacy but still positioned to provide clear sight lines to both entrances. The location offered the perfect balance between security and tactical awareness—close enough to civilization for quick escape if necessary, but isolated enough for sensitive conversations.

Finvir activated his void-enhanced dark vision, his eyes scanning the rooftops and elevated positions that surrounded their temporary refuge. The supernatural ability revealed heat signatures and movement patterns that normal sight would miss, confirming that no watchers were positioned to eavesdrop on their discussion. After conducting a thorough survey of potential threats, he nodded to Aster to indicate that they could speak freely.

Aster leaned against the alley's brick wall, their pink eyes reflecting the distant glow of paper lanterns as they processed everything they had witnessed in the pleasure house. The evening's revelations had clearly shaken them, though whether from the moral complexity of their information-gathering methods or the disturbing implications of what they were discovering remained unclear.

"So," they said quietly, their voice carrying the careful control of someone trying to appear more composed than they actually felt, "what did you learn from your... consultation?"

Finvir checked the alley's entrances one final time before settling into a position that allowed him to watch both approaches while speaking in lowered tones. His tactical positioning was automatic—decades of dangerous work had made such precautions as natural as breathing.

"More than I hoped for, and all of it bad news," he replied grimly. "The situation is significantly worse than we initially assessed."

He paused to organize the intelligence he had gathered, mentally categorizing the information by importance and immediate relevance. "First, the Owl Soldiers aren't just conducting reconnaissance—they've been systematically mapping out the entire palace infrastructure. Guard rotations, servant schedules, security protocols, and architectural weaknesses. They're not planning a theft; they're planning a complete takeover of the imperial compound."

Aster's expression grew increasingly troubled as they absorbed this information. "But surely the palace guard would be able to repel any assault, wouldn't they? This is the seat of imperial power—it has to be heavily defended."

"Under normal circumstances, yes. But these aren't normal circumstances." Finvir's voice carried the weight of someone who understood how even the strongest defenses could be compromised by inside information and careful planning. "They've been gathering intelligence for over a month, which means they know exactly where every guard will be at any given time, which routes are least monitored, and how to neutralize key defensive positions."

He shifted position slightly to maintain visual contact with both alley entrances while continuing his briefing. "Second, and more disturbing, is that the Owl Soldiers aren't working alone. The Outsiders have established formal cooperation with Brown's forces. That's not just additional manpower—that's the most elite assassination organization in the known world providing tactical support for whatever they're planning."

"The same organization you used to belong to," Aster observed, their academic mind immediately grasping the personal implications. "They know your methods, your capabilities, your weaknesses."

"Exactly. Which means that every advantage I might have had through training and experience has been neutralized. They've probably briefed their operatives on my specific techniques and developed countermeasures for anything I might attempt." Finvir's jaw tightened as he considered the tactical ramifications. "Ciel isn't just hunting me—he's ensuring that when we finally confront each other, he'll have every possible advantage."

"But why?" Aster asked, their confusion evident. "Why would your former mentor want to capture or kill you? What could he possibly gain from such betrayal?"

Finvir was quiet for several moments, his mind working through possibilities and motivations that made his stomach churn with their implications. "I'm beginning to suspect that Ciel's interest in me has less to do with personal vendetta and more to do with my connection to void magic. The mark Inanis gave me isn't just a blessing—it's also a potential key to controlling or accessing the Obelisk."

The void mark on his hand pulsed with cold energy, as if responding to being discussed. "Think about it: an ancient artifact that supposedly grants power over dimensional forces, and someone who carries the personal mark of the Void God himself. That's not a coincidence—that's cosmic design."

"You think Inanis planned for this?" Aster's voice carried a mixture of awe and fear at the implications.

"I think gods play games with mortals that span centuries, and we're just beginning to understand what pieces we represent on their board." Finvir rubbed his temples, feeling the beginning of a headache that might have been stress or might have been supernatural pressure from the Obelisk's proximity. "But that's speculation. What matters right now is the immediate threat."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Third piece of intelligence: they're planning to move within the next few days. This isn't some long-term operation they're still preparing for—it's an immediate crisis that's about to unfold."

"How immediate?"

"Based on the activity patterns my contact observed, probably within the next forty-eight hours. Maybe less." Finvir's expression was grim. "They've been finalizing escape routes and contingency plans, which suggests they're in the final stages of preparation."

Aster absorbed this timeline with visible alarm. "That doesn't give us much time to warn the palace or organize any kind of effective response."

"It gets worse. The royal family knows something is wrong, but they're not taking adequate precautions. Pride and protocol are making them resistant to security suggestions that might disrupt their public image or daily routines. They're vulnerable in ways they don't fully comprehend."

"So we're looking at a scenario where highly trained infiltrators with inside information are preparing to assault a target that's inadequately defended and unwilling to accept help." Aster's voice carried the flat tone of someone stating facts that were too disturbing to process emotionally. "That's... that's not just a recipe for disaster. That's a guaranteed catastrophe."

"That's my assessment as well." Finvir stood and began pacing within the confines of the alley, his restless energy seeking some outlet for the frustration and urgency building within him. "But there's one more piece of information that changes everything."

He stopped pacing and fixed Aster with a direct stare. "The Obelisk isn't just hidden somewhere in the palace—it's specifically located in underground chambers that predate the current structure. Chambers that apparently extend deep into the mountain itself, possibly connecting to natural cave systems that could provide unmonitored access routes."

"Which means they might not need to assault the palace directly," Aster realized, their quick mind immediately grasping the tactical implications. "They could bypass most of the surface defenses entirely by approaching from below."

"Exactly. And if they can reach the Obelisk without triggering a general alarm, they'll have time to extract it and escape before anyone realizes what's been stolen." Finvir resumed his pacing, his mind working through contingencies and possibilities. "Worse, if Brown really does have some kind of personal connection to void magic, he might be able to activate the artifact immediately rather than simply stealing it for later use."

"What would that mean? If he successfully activates an artifact that controls dimensional forces?"

Finvir's void mark pulsed with sudden intensity, sending cold fire up his arm in a warning that felt like divine terror. "I don't know, and that's what scares me. Power over dimensional forces could mean anything from opening permanent gateways between realms to fundamentally altering the nature of reality itself in this region."

He stopped pacing and leaned against the alley wall, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders like a physical burden. "What I do know is that we can't let that happen. Whatever Brown is planning, whatever power he hopes to gain, we have to stop him."

"But how?" Aster's voice carried the plaintive tone of someone overwhelmed by the scope of the challenge they faced. "It's just the two of us against multiple criminal organizations, and we don't even know exactly where they plan to strike or when they'll make their move."

"We do what we've always done," Finvir replied, his voice gaining strength and determination as he focused on immediate objectives rather than abstract fears. "We adapt, we improvise, and we use every advantage we can find or create."

He pushed himself off the wall and faced Aster directly. "First, we need to get closer to the palace and conduct our own reconnaissance. If they're planning to approach from underground, we need to identify the most likely access points and try to intercept them."

"And if we can't intercept them before they reach the Obelisk?"

"Then we follow them into whatever underground maze they're using and stop them there." Finvir's expression was grim but resolute. "It's not ideal—fighting in confined spaces against superior numbers is a losing proposition under normal circumstances. But these aren't normal circumstances, and we're not normal opponents."

He gestured toward the void mark on his hand, which was now pulsing with a steady rhythm that matched his heartbeat. "I have abilities that they can't fully predict or counter, and you have blood magic that's completely outside their tactical experience. More importantly, we have motivation that goes beyond simple orders or financial gain."

"What do you mean?"

"They're fighting for power, wealth, or whatever rewards Brown has promised them. We're fighting to prevent a catastrophe that could destroy everything we care about." Finvir's voice carried the conviction of someone who had found purpose beyond mere survival. "That kind of motivation makes people capable of things they never thought possible."

Aster straightened, drawing strength from Finvir's determination despite their obvious fear. "So what's our next move?"

"We find somewhere to rest for a few hours and plan our approach to the palace compound. Then, tomorrow evening, we begin our own infiltration operation." Finvir's tactical mind was already working through the logistics and timing. "If we're lucky, we'll be able to intercept them before they reach the Obelisk. If we're not lucky..."

"If we're not lucky?"

"Then we improvise, and we hope that whatever divine forces brought us this far have one more miracle left in reserve." Finvir managed a grim smile. "Either way, kid, tomorrow is going to be a very interesting day.