[Shadows In The Fire]

I woke to the sound of voices.

Low murmurs, distant but sharp. My body tensed before my mind caught up.

Where—?

The tavern. The Broken Dagger.

My eyes snapped open. The wooden ceiling above me was cracked and stained with age. I was lying on a rough bed, barely softer than stone. The air smelled of old ale and damp wood.

For a second, I didn't move. I listened.

The voices were coming from downstairs. I couldn't hear the words, but I could tell who they belonged to.

Guards.

I sat up too fast. Pain flared through my side. I gritted my teeth, pressing a hand to my bandaged wound. The bleeding had stopped, but the injury was still fresh.

I didn't have time to rest.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, pushing myself up. My clothes were still damp with blood, but at least I wasn't leaving a trail anymore. I pulled my hood over my head and moved toward the door.

Then I heard Lyra's voice.

"Never seen him before."

A pause. Then the guard spoke again, voice rough.

"You sure?"

"If I was hiding someone, do you think I'd still be here drinking?"

The guard hesitated. I could almost hear his doubt.

Lyra let out an annoyed sigh. "Look, I run into all kinds of people, but I don't ask questions. If you want, you can search the place, but you're wasting your time."

Another pause. Then—

"Forget it. Let's go."

The door slammed shut. Footsteps faded into the distance.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

She had covered for me.

I wasn't sure why, but I wasn't about to waste the chance.

A few minutes later, I made my way downstairs.

The tavern was quieter now, only a few people scattered at tables. Lyra sat at the bar, idly spinning a dagger between her fingers. She didn't look up as I approached.

"You're lucky," she said. "They almost searched the place."

I slid onto the stool beside her, still keeping my hood low. "Why didn't you turn me in?"

She smirked. "Didn't feel like it."

That wasn't an answer.

I studied her. She was hard to read, but I could tell one thing—she wasn't afraid of the Holy Order. That was rare.

"Thanks," I said.

She shrugged. "I didn't do it for free. You owe me."

I figured as much. "What do you want?"

She finally turned to look at me. Her sharp green eyes flicked over my face, as if she was sizing me up.

"You're on the run," she said. "That means you need a way out of the city."

I tensed. She wasn't wrong. The Holy Order wouldn't stop hunting me. I couldn't stay in Elaris.

"I know someone," she continued. "A smuggler. He gets people in and out of places they shouldn't be."

I narrowed my eyes. "And what do you get?"

She leaned in slightly, voice lowering. "I want to know what you are."

My breath caught.

She didn't say who I was. She said what.

She had noticed. Maybe she didn't know about my bloodline, but she knew I wasn't normal.

I could lie. I could tell her I was just a runaway. But something told me she wouldn't believe it.

I exhaled slowly. "I don't know."

She tilted her head. "That so?"

I met her gaze. "Yeah. But I intend to find out."

For a moment, she studied me again. Then, to my surprise, she grinned.

"Good answer," she said. "Alright, Just Kai. Let's get you out of here."

The Smuggler

An hour later, I followed Lyra through the dark streets of Elaris. The city was quieter now, the night swallowing most of the noise.

We took back alleys, avoiding the main roads. Lanterns flickered overhead, casting long shadows against the stone walls.

At one point, I tested my Abyss Step—but nothing happened.

Figures. I had used it instinctively before, but now that I needed it, the ability refused to work.

I clenched my fists. I had to figure out how to control it.

Soon, we reached a run-down building near the edge of the district. Lyra knocked twice on the wooden door.

A slot in the door slid open. "What?"

"Need a way out," Lyra said. "Got someone willing to pay."

A pause. Then the door creaked open.

The man on the other side was huge—broad shoulders, thick arms, and a face covered in scars. His dark eyes landed on me.

"Who's the kid?"

Lyra smirked. "A paying customer."

The smuggler grunted. "Depends. What's he running from?"

I hesitated.

Lyra answered for me. "The Holy Order."

The smuggler froze.

For a long moment, he just stared at me. Then he muttered a curse under his breath. "You're insane."

"Probably," Lyra said. "So, can you do it or not?"

The smuggler didn't answer right away. He looked at me again, eyes narrowing slightly.

Then, to my surprise, he sighed. "Fine. But it won't be cheap."

I reached into my pocket, fingers brushing against the only thing of value I had—a silver ring I had found in the tomb when I first woke up.

I didn't know what it was worth, but right now, it didn't matter.

I placed it on the table. "This should cover it."

The smuggler picked it up, examining it. His expression shifted slightly.

He recognized it.

I clenched my jaw. What was that ring?

Finally, he tossed it in the air once before catching it. "Alright, kid. You've got yourself a deal."

Lyra shot me a glance. "Looks like you're leaving after all."

I nodded. But deep down, something told me—

This wasn't over.

Not even close.