The world is changing

Deep beneath the citadel, in a cavernous room where the air hung heavy with dampness and the faint hum of ancient magic, Ithri awoke. His body was slick with sweat, his breathing shallow and ragged. 

Above him, Zahin stood, gripping the dreamcatcher tightly in both hands. Delicate threads shimmered across it, alive with an otherworldly glow

"You are awake," Zahin said, his tone a mix of relief and something unspoken, something darker. 

Ithri sat up slowly, rubbing his temples to ease the throbbing in his head. "Can I have it now?" 

Zahin hesitated, his fingers tightening around the artifact for a moment before tossing it toward Ithri with a faint smile. "Sure. But I hope you didn't forget our deal. Payment's due." 

Reaching into his pouch, Ithri pulled out ten gleaming golden coins and held them up. Zahin's eyes glinted as he snatched them from Ithri's hand, inspecting each one with care before slipping them into his bag. 

Ithri turned his attention to the dreamcatcher, cradling it in his hands. Its threads pulsed softly, almost as if it were breathing, and a faint energy coursed through him.

Zahin pointed to a narrow, dimly lit passage leading upwards. "Let's get you out of here. Time to go back to the streets."

Together, they drifted into dark tunnels, their steps faintly resounding against the damp stone. The silence that lay between them was heavy, only the frequent falling of water from the ceiling pierced it.

Coming out into the city, they saw the moon just lingering at high in the sky and palely irradiating the moving throngs below.

Zahin stopped at the edge of an alley that seemed dark enough and faced Ithri again. "May the Goddess be with you," he said, quieter now, almost distant.

Ithri smirked, tucking the dreamcatcher securely into his pouch. "You too," he replied with a little sarcasm. 

Without another word, Zahin slipped back into the alley to immediately disappear amidst labyrinths.

Left alone under the moonlight, Ithri took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs. Adjusting his coat, he stepped into the streets, his mind already racing with thoughts of what he'd do next. 

'Home,' he thought. For now, that was enough. 

--- 

After nearly an hour of navigating the winding streets of New Atlantis, Ithri finally reached his modest home. The faint scent of salt from the nearby sea lingered in the air as he unlocked the creaky door and stepped inside.

Hunger chewed his stomach. Reaching for a piece of fruit on the small wooden table, he bit into it mechanically, his mind already wandering to the dreamcatcher safe in his pouch.

With deliberate care, he retrieved the artifact and hung it by the window. Its shimmering threads swayed faintly in the cool night breeze, catching the pale moonlight and casting intricate patterns on the walls.

Satisfied, Ithri turned in for the night. Stretching out on the worn mattress, he sank into the pillow with a weary sigh. His focus returned to the dreamcatcher, his thoughts willing it to weave its magic and pull him into another realm.

Minutes stretched into an hour. Frustration gnawed at him as sleep remained elusive.

'I've tried everything even counting sheep ' he thought bitterly, his restless mind refusing to quiet.

A sharp crash shattered the stillness.

The sound of breaking glass jolted Ithri upright. He blinked, disoriented, as a rock came to rest on the floor amid shards of his shattered window.

Heart pounding, he swung his legs off the bed and scanned the room. The rock, dark and rough, lay ominously in the moonlight, wrapped with a piece of stained paper tied in twine.

'What now?'

Cautiously, he crossed the room, the crunch of broken glass underfoot punctuating his steps. He untied the note with unsteady fingers, unfolding it to reveal a chilling message:

"You need Enigma."

Above the words was a crude drawing of a masked figure, its face obscured by an unnervingly intricate mask. At the center of the mask, a single, unblinking eye was etched, its gaze almost alive, staring back at him with an unsettling intensity.

For a moment, Ithri froze. His breath hitched, and his mind raced with possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last.

'Enigma?' The name echoed in his thoughts like a whisper in a cavern.

A sudden chill swept over him. Before he could move, a wave of paralysis seized his body. His muscles locked as if turned to stone, and he crumpled to the floor with a dull thud, immobile and helpless.

He tried to scream, but no sound escaped. His wide eyes darted frantically, landing on the small mirror hanging near the dreamcatcher.

The mirror's surface rippled unnaturally, like disturbed water. A shadow formed within it, dark and shapeless at first, but gradually coalescing.

A figure emerged as though stepping through a doorway, its movements deliberate and unnervingly smooth.

The masked figure from the note now stood before him, its form draped in shadow. Unlike the crude and unsettling drawing, the mask radiated a completely different aura a balance of mystery and intent. It was not fear that the mask inspired, but something more complex, as though it carried a presence that demanded understanding.

The single eye from the drawing now glowed like a sigil, its light steady and unyielding, fixed unerringly on Ithri.

Paralyzed, Ithri could do nothing but watch as the figure loomed closer, each step deliberate, as if testing the very air around him.

"This isn't the way I wanted to meet you, but this is what we have," the figure said. Its voice was low and resonant, carrying an unnatural echo. "Ithri."

The sound of his name sent a chill down his spine.

The ring... it's under the bed, Ithri thought, cursing himself for leaving it out of reach. Desperation clawed at him as he struggled to stay calm.

If he wanted to kill me, he would've done it already, he reasoned, though his pounding heart offered little comfort.

"But should I call you Ithri?" the masked man mused, his tone sharp and deliberate. "Or should I say... the Savage Hunter?"

The words struck Ithri like a thunderclap.

Savage Hunter? That's my name on the black market... but I always used a mask. Does he want the book? Or something else? His mind raced.

"Don't worry. You're a valuable figure," the figure said smoothly. "We need you."

The name Savage Hunter hung in the air like a curse.

"Soon, not later."

He gestured with a hand toward the wall. "Behind that drawing, there's an address. Come find me there."

"And what makes you so sure I'll come?" Ithri's voice wavered despite himself.

The figure tilted its head. "Because I'll guarantee it with an artifact."

Ithri's pulse quickened, a mix of fear and curiosity twisting inside him.

"The world is changing, Savage Hunter. These last days are different. You'll feel it soon enough."

The figure straightened, its presence filling the room with a suffocating weight.

"And here's an advance," it added, the words dripping with dark amusement. "Ask yourself: why have the old Akinaian been jobless for more than a month?"

The figure's gloved hand reached out, touching Ithri's forehead. "This is a gift."

A wave of darkness swept over him, his thoughts dissolving as he was pulled into unconsciousness.

Our hero has fallen asleep.