Chapter Text
Ketterdam smelled wrong today. Even for the Barrel; a place that reeked of wet stone, spilled liquor, and the kind of rot that never quite died - the air felt off. Too sharp, too cold, like a storm pushing low above the rooftops. Baya’s boots slapped against the uneven cobbles as she hurried down East Stave, the neon signs buzzing overhead in colors that made her eyes ache.
She’d been here a thousand times before.
But never like this.
Not with her heart jammed up in her throat.
Not with a week’s worth of silence clawing at her ribs.
Not with Liri’s note folded in her pocket like a death sentence.
If you’re reading this, I have been taken.
Baya swallowed hard and kept walking.
She could feel eyes on her as she pushed through the crowd: sailors off Ravkan ships, drunk merchants slumming it, pickpockets with hands too quick to see. Normally she’d nod, smile, play the part of the Barrel girl everyone thought she was.
Tonight she didn’t even bother. Panic leaked through her stride, her posture, her too-tight grip on the strap of her satchel.She passed the corner where she bought ink supplies. Passed the alley where her favorite baker kept the pastries warm. Passed the lamp-post with the rust stain shaped like a gull she used as a landmark when she first arrived in Ketterdam years ago.
All of it blurred.
The only thing in focus was the black silhouette rising above the street:
The Crow Club.
Laughter spilled out the front doors. Cards snapped. Glasses clinked. A piano trilled somewhere deep in the building, threaded with cheers from the upper floor. It was too bright. Too loud. Too confident in its own power. Baya hesitated only a moment before walking in.
The warmth hit her first: heat from too many bodies packed into too small a space. Then the smell of whiskey and cigar smoke. Baya’s head swam. She wasn’t used to drinking halls this crowded; she worked back-alley tattoo rooms, quiet corners, places where she could keep an eye on the door.
Here, she felt swallowed.
A bouncer at the staircase leading up caught her eye. Big. Broad. Bored. Exactly the sort who’d been told a hundred times to keep “nobodies” downstairs.
Baya steeled herself and marched toward him. “I need to speak with—”
“No,” the enforcer said, without even looking at her. “Try again.”
“It’s urgent.”
“I’m sure you think so.”
Frustration clawed up her spine. “It’s about my sister.”
“So send her a postcard.”
“She’s missing.”
“And now she’s someone else’s problem.”
Baya’s hands balled into fists. Her pulse pounded in her ears. “Please,” she tried again. “She works for the government-”
That actually earned her a derisive snort. “Everyone in Kerch works for the government one way or another. That won’t get you upstairs.”
“I don’t have money,” she said, voice cracking. “But I-I just need-”
“Then you’re wasting my time.”
Her throat burned. She felt completely, utterly helpless.
A quiet voice behind her cut in. “Hey. You’re gonna make a scene if you keep at it like that.”
Baya turned.Milla leaned against a nearby column, arms crossed, expression a blend of curiosity and mild annoyance. Her Dregs tattoo peeked from beneath the sleeve of her jacket. Not quite top-tier, but definitely someone with more authority than the wall of muscle blocking the stairs.
Milla tilted her head. “Come on. Before Kaz hears you whining from across the room and tosses you into the harbor himself.”
Baya blinked, startled. “You’re… with them?”
“Unfortunately.” A pause. “Come sit. Tell me why you’re losing your mind in the middle of a club full of people who don’t care.”
She led Baya to a small table near the back. Not private, but shadowed enough for a conversation that didn’t need an audience. Baya sat. Her legs trembled beneath the chair.
Milla didn’t waste time. “Now talk.”
“It’s my sister,” Baya began. “L-Lirien. She hasn’t contacted me in a week.”
“And?”
“She never goes silent.” Baya twisted the strap of her satchel anxiously. “She left me a note. It said that if she goes missing, she’s been taken. Those exact words.”
Milla’s expression didn’t change. “Do you know who would take her?” she asked.
“No,” Baya admitted. “She works for…for the government. I thought it was paperwork. Offices. Something dull but respectable.”
Milla snorted softly. “Government work in Kerch usually means indenture.”
Baya’s stomach dropped. “Indenture? No. She would have told me-”
“People lie,” Milla said flatly. “Even to the ones they love.”
Baya swallowed, but her voice came out unsteady. “Please. I need help. The Crows…they’re known for doing impossible things. I don’t have kruge. I don’t have anything. Just-just the truth that she’s gone, and I don’t know who to turn to.”
Milla leaned back in her chair. “That’s not a case,” she said. “That’s a tragedy waiting to happen. The Crows don’t do charity, and Kaz Brekker doesn’t take pity on strangers.”
Baya felt the panic rising again. Her breath hitched.
She reached for the water glass in front of her: untouched, still, clear.
Her hand hovered above it.
“I didn’t want to do this,” she whispered.
Milla frowned. “Do wha-”
Baya touched one finger to the rim of the glass, barely grazing it, then slowly traced a circle in the air above it. Inside the glass, the water stirred. Then spiraled. Then swirled smoothly in a perfect, impossible rotation without her ever touching it. The candle beside them flickered. The air thickened with a subtle pressure.
Milla went utterly, dangerously still.
Her eyes snapped from the glass to Baya’s face. “You,” she said softly, “are a fool to show that in Ketterdam.”
“I’m desperate,” Baya breathed.
A heartbeat.
Another.
Then Milla stood abruptly. “I need to get someone,” she said. “Don’t move. Don’t speak. And for the love of Ghezen, don’t do that again where anyone can see.”
Baya stared at the swirling water as it slowly settled. Her hands shook. Liri was out there somewhere. And now the Crows would hear her name.