Chapter 3: The Weight of a Gamble

The Hand That Guides

The first thing Elias saw was the quiet.

No gulls. No clanging ship bells. No distant hum of the town.

Just the thick quiet of the fog.

His boots scraped against wet cobblestones as he tracked Selene through the town's cramped streets.

The town, whatever it was that they had ended up in, was untypically silent, its buildings crouched like bent men, shutters clapped shut against the storm that had passed by.

The air was heavy with the smell of brine and decay.

Elias sensed it in his bones.

They were being watched.

He cinched his coat closer, fingers brushing the weight of the amulet hidden under his shirt. It was cold—colder than it had been before.

Selene strode on ahead of him, intent, not even pausing to glance back. "You feel it?" she breathed.

Elias nodded. "Yeah."

"They're close."

"The men who came last night?"

Selene's gaze glanced over at him. "No."

A shiver crept up his spine.

Not the men.

Something worse.

They took a turn, coming out into a broader street, where the mist churned in agitated forms. One lantern glowed outside a short brick building, a tavern, from the weathered sign above the door. The Grey Mare.

Elias came to a halt. "We have to discuss this before we enter there."

Selene sighed but agreed.

Elias breathed deeply. "Tell me the truth. How much time do I have?

Selene eyed him. She didn't try to pretend to be confused.

"The amulet?" she remarked. "It doesn't measure time, Elias. It only takes when it's ready. When the crushing burden of all those deaths is too intense."

Elias shook his hair. "So what? Just one day, I vanish?"

Selene hesitated before answering.

"Not exactly."

He glared at her. "Explain.

Selene let out a breath, changing position. "The longer you keep it, the more it… alters you. It doesn't only protect you, Elias. It keeps you untainted."

Elias furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"

Her voice dropped. "You've had it for years. Tell me, when was the last time you were sick? The last time you bled and didn't heal in nearly an instant?"

Elias began to laugh, then cut it off.

His gut clenched.

She was correct.

He hadn't been sick since he was twenty. He had absorbed hits that would have scarred him, but he never did. Even the knife last night, he pulled up his shirt, tracing with fingers where it ought to have cut him. The skin was intact.

Selene observed his understanding settle.

"It makes you untouchable, Elias," she whispered. "And when it's over, when the burden is too great." She hesitated, voice dropping lower. "You don't just die. You disappear. Like you never lived at all."

A knot developed in his throat.

Elias made a forced smirk. "Hell of a bedtime story."

Selene shook her head. "It's not a story. It's what's waiting for you."

A strained silence hung between them.

Then—

The lantern beyond The Grey Mare wavered.

The air changed.

Elias sensed it first, a cold tingle at the nape of his neck. Selene tensed beside him.

The fog closed in. The hush grew deeper.

Then.

A voice.

Low, full, curling out of the mist like smoke.

"Elias Thorne."

Elias tensed.

Not a cry. Not a command.

A call.

He turned slowly.

At the edge of the street, a figure stood in the mist.

Tall. Thin. Wearing a long black coat. His face was darkened, except for the gleam of something white—skin the color of ivory, as smooth as bone.

Elias couldn't see his eyes.

But he felt them.

Selene's breath caught.

Elias swallowed. "Friend of yours?"

Selene's fingers strayed to her belt. "No."

The man advanced slowly.

"The amulet has passed through many hands," he said, his tone nearly… civil. "And none have possessed it indefinitely."

Elias forced a grin, paying no attention to the way his chest constricted. "Yeah? And who the hell are you?"

The man cocked his head. "A collector."

Something in his tone ran ice through Elias's veins.

Selene took a step back. "Elias," she whispered, "we have to go."

Elias was going to comply.

Then the man raised his hand.

And the street changed.

The fog curled unnaturally, shadows stretching and twisting. The buildings nearby appeared to warp, their edges blurring like images on rippling water.

Elias's pulse thudded.

Then—his chest constricted.

A jagged, crushing agony burst just below his ribs. He staggered, gasping. His fingers scrabbled at his shirt, clenching the amulet as it seared.

Selene swore, seizing his arm. "He's calling the debt."

Elias could hardly hear her.

Pain.

As if something was within him, pushing, pressing, trying to pull him away.

The Collector stepped forward again, unfazed. "It is time, Elias Thorne."

No.

No.

With sheer force of will, Elias pushed himself up. His other hand searched for his knife.

Selene noticed what he was doing and attacked, seizing the blade before he could.

"Don't be stupid!" she growled. "You can't fight him!"

Elias clenched his teeth against the agony. "Then what do you propose?"

Selene's jaw clenched. Then, before he could protest, she yanked his head around and kissed him.

Elias was stunned.

For a moment, reality snapped back.

The mist no longer swirled. The ache in his chest receded.

Selene broke away, gasping for air, eyes blazing. "Run."

Elias had scarce time to make sense of what had occurred.

The Collector… hesitated.

Not in surprise. Not in rage.

But as if he were computing.

Then very slowly he smiled.

"You believe that will alter your destiny?" he whispered.

Selene did not respond. She pulled on Elias's wrist, tugging him.

They ran.

The world whizzed by around them: the skewed street, the churning fog, the sharp wind nipping at their heels.

Behind, the collector did not pursue.

But his voice trailed off after.

Calm. Entertained.

"You may run, Elias Thorne," he shouted, his voice rippling impossibly far.

"But you cannot keep running."

The final word clanged as they turned a corner, disappearing into the maze of the town.

The Cost of Luck

They ran until the town was just a memory, a hazy remnant swallowed by the mist.

They ducked into an abandoned storage house, its walls half-rotten, its windows broken.

Elias fell against the wall, panting. The fire in his chest had died down, but the heaviness of the amulet was still there.

He glanced at Selene.

She was looking at him, her expression impassive.

Elias gulped. "The hell was that?"

Selene paused. Then, voice lowered, she replied:

"A gamble."

Elias blinked. "And what in the world were we wagering on?"

Selene breathed. "That perhaps… perhaps. the amulet had something else to cling to."

Elias's gut clenched.

The Collector hadn't pursued.

The debt hadn't been collected.

And for the first time in years, Elias felt a sense of dread creeping up.

His luck had turned.

But he didn't understand why.

Elias Thorne had awakened in a thousand different locations beneath the tables of taverns, in prison cells, in the warm arms of women whose names he could hardly recall. But this.

This was not like that.

His head pounded as he moved, the air heavy with the smell of smoke, salt, and something acrid—like cold metal and extinguished embers. His muscles felt leaden, his body protesting as if he'd engaged in a battle he couldn't remember.

Then he remembered.

The Collector. The debt. The kiss.

His eyes flashed open.

He wasn't in the alley. He wasn't in the streets. He was somewhere dark, with rough wooden walls and the faint dance of candlelight.

A bed. A room.

And standing in front of him, buttoning a wet shirt up her shoulders, was Selene.

For a moment, the pieces didn't fit.

The last he could recall was the chill tug of the amulet, the burning against his flesh. Then the way Selene had caught him, the whiskey and rain on her mouth, the manner in which time had shattered long enough for them to make a break.

And now they stood.

Half-clothed. Silent. Staring at each other like two wolves poised for the other to make the first move.

Elias took a deep breath, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Okay," he growled, voice harsh. "What in the world happened?"

Selene's eyes were inscrutable. "You almost fainted. I dragged you into the first safe haven I could think of."

Elias raised an eyebrow, taking in the shadowy room. "And this is…?"

"A brothel," she replied matter-of-factly.

He snorted a brief, dry laugh. "Of course it is."

Selene smirked slightly, running fingers through wet hair. "Felt like your style of joint."

Elias rolled over and stood up, his body still tender. His shirt was partly untucked, the material flapping against him. The amulet hung close to his heart, the metal still as icy cold. It seemed to buzz, as though it had lain dormant for years.

And yet, there was something else wrong.

He stared at Selene again and actually saw her.

She was disturbed. Not on the surface, not in the manner most would be. But he saw the way her fingers shook slightly as she draped her coat around her shoulders. The way her breathing was a fraction too even, too deliberate.

Elias rested back against the headboard. "You kissed me."

Selene didn't flinch. "I did."

"That was a hell of a way to stall."

Her smirk came back, but it didn't quite make it to her eyes. "I needed to snap the amulet's hold. Break the pull on you." She moved closer, voice deepening. "Did it?"

Elias looked down at the tainted metal pressing against his chest.

The response was clear. It was still there. He was still alive.

"Appears so."

Selene cocked her head. "Then don't whine."

Elias smiled softly, running a hand over his face. "Wouldn't dream of it."

The Sins That Follow

A knock at the door interrupted the moment.

Selene tensed, her hand reaching for the dagger sheathed at her thigh.

Elias moved out of bed easily, his body aching but functional. He shrugged on his coat over his shoulders, hiding the bulk of the amulet before moving toward the door.

He opened it a crack.

A woman stood in the doorway, curvy and dark-skinned, with kohl-rimmed eyes and a knowing smile. She leaned against the doorframe, spinning a coin on her fingers.

"Your friend paid well," she whispered. "But if you two are going to fight in my rooms, I'm charging extra."

Elias smiled. "We weren't fighting."

The woman's glance flashed over to Selene. "Shame. Thought maybe she had you on your knees, begging for mercy."

Selene breathed out through her nose. "We're leaving.

The woman clicked her tongue. "Suit yourself." She tossed the coin into the air and caught it effortlessly. "But you might want to watch your step on the way out."

Elias's forehead creased. "Why?"

The woman leaned in. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Because someone's searching for you."

A Game of Death

The town streets were abuzz even at the late hour. Roasted meat blended with the odor of wet earth and spilled ale. Lanterns provided a warm light, causing the cobblestone streets to glint.

But Elias wasn't buying the lie.

He felt the burden of being watched.

Selene moved alongside him, her steps too crisp, too vigilant. She sensed it too.

They stepped into a quieter alley, the din of the main street fading.

Then.

A movement out of the darkness.

Elias hardly had time to move when a figure charged from the shadows, a knife flashing through the air.

He sidestepped, reaction taking over, his body seemingly driven by something he could not see. The knife flashed by inches from his throat.

Selene was already in motion.

Another attacker emerged from the shadows: muscular, tall, eyes with a hungry sheen. He swung a club at her, but she dodged, hitting her knee into his ribs and slashing her dagger across his arm.

Elias spun to his own attacker, a thin man with a wicked smile. The bastard attacked again, the blade meant for Elias's belly.

The amulet surged.

Elias moved. Not of his own will but as if something was drawing him.

The knife sailed past. Again.

The lanky man's smile wilted. "What the f*ck?"

Elias didn't let him catch his breath.

He punched him in the face.

Cracks of splintering bone rang through the alley. The man reeled backward, blood flowing from his nose.

Selene had done her part. The burly man whimpered on the ground, holding his leg, a huge gash seeping into the dirt.

Elias breathed, cracking his knuckles.

"You okay?" Selene asked.

Elias grinned. "I'm beginning to believe I really am the luckiest bastard in the world."

Selene didn't smile.

Instead, she knelt next to the man she had knocked out, his collar held by her, her dagger biting into his neck.

"Who hired you?" she spat.

The man spit blood. "You already know."

Selene's fingers dug harder into the man's collar. "Tell me."

The man grinned. "The Collector is coming."

The words ran ice through Elias's veins.

Selene took a sharp breath. Then, without pause, she slammed the man's head to the ground, rendering him unconscious.

Elias looked at her. "Subtle."

She rose, eyes black. "We have to go."

Elias nodded. The battle had made it certain.

The Collector wasn't merely observing.

He was closing in.