Deals

Nyasha stood before the nondescript exterior of The Wayfarer, the bar's golden sign glinting faintly in the dim morning light. A chill traced up her spine as she reached for the door, sensing the boundary she was about to cross. But with a firm inhale, she steeled herself and stepped inside.

At first glance, nothing appeared out of the ordinary—just a few patrons nursing their drinks. But she could feel the weight of eyes on her, calculating, assessing.

She walked straight to the bartender, who offered a practiced smile as he wiped down a glass.

"What can I get for you this fine morning?"

"I need an audience," Nyasha replied.

The bartender's hand froze for a second, but he resumed his task, an amused flicker in his eyes.

"Do you have the payment?"

Without a word, Nyasha placed a heavy gold coin on the bar and slid it toward him.

His lips quirked in a half-smile.

"A coin will get you to the other side sure, but nowhere near enough for an audience."

A bitter smile pulled at Nyasha's mouth.

"He'll want to meet once he knows it's me."

The bartender's brow rose in amusement.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because it's about the High Human he's been protecting all these years."

At her words a heavy silence fell across the room, their force crashed down on Nyasha, pressing into her shoulders like a mountain. Her back bent under the strain, and blood beaded at the corner of her mouth as she gritted her teeth against the pressure. Finally, the bartender raised his hand, and the crushing weight vanished as quickly as it had come.

"Now you know," he said with a cold smile,

"mentioning High Humans is taboo around here… but if what you say is true, I can grant you an audience." He eyed her appraisingly.

"For a price." He added abruptly

"What is it?" she asked, her voice strained.

"Bleed the River."

Nyasha's face paled as her fists clenched.

"That's too high a price to pay."

"Do you want your audience or not?" His tone was dismissive, almost bored.

"And before you protest, if you were truly that important, my lord would've come to you. But he didn't. Now, isn't that telling?"

Resentment flared in her eyes as she whispered,

"Let's get this over with."

The bartender cupped a hand to his ear.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"Let's get this over with," she repeated, louder this time, her voice tight with disdain.

He smirked and set a chalice on the bar, its surface a strange gray, embedded with black and red gemstones. From beneath the bar, he withdrew a dagger, plain and unadorned, yet it sent a chill through her veins.

Nyasha's gaze lingered on the chalice, the cries of countless souls whispering from its depths, their despair a weight pressing into her consciousness. Sweat beaded at her brow as the chalice's aura wrapped around her.

"Chop, chop," the bartender taunted, leaning back with a smirk.

"Time isn't in your favor."

With a defiant glare, Nyasha took the dagger, feeling the hum of her power pulse faster through her veins as she gripped it. She drew in a steadying breath, pressing the blade to her palm. Golden blood, radiant and bright, spilled into the chalice, its light softening the cup's grim gray surface. Her face grew paler with each drop, her aura dimming as her strength waned. When the chalice was finally full, it shimmered with an ethereal glow.

Once the chalice is filled, Charon lifts it, swirling the golden liquid with satisfaction.

"Royal blood and a light attribute, rare indeed. This will make a fine addition to the River."

Nyasha slumps against the bar, her breathing shallow.

"Now, may I see him?" Her voice trembles with fatigue.

The bartender sneered, snapping his fingers.

"The lengths parents will go for their children…" he murmured, watching her disappear in a wisp of shadow.

"They will be their undoing," he muses aloud.

One of the patrons lets out a chuckle at his remark. Charon's eyes turn cold, and with a flicker of contempt, the patron convulses, blood pouring from his body, sinking into the floorboards.

"Who gave you the gall to insult a member of the royal family?" he growls, voice low and deadly.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you—know your place."

The remaining patrons huddle closer to their drinks, eyes averted. Satisfied, Charon tips the chalice into a hidden drain, and the bar itself seems to tremble in response.

"It's good for you," he murmurs to the bar with twisted affection. He resumes wiping glasses as if nothing unusual had happened.

Nyasha reappears in front of two grand wooden doors. From within, a smooth voice with an edge of command calls,

"Enter."

She pushes the doors open and steps inside.

A figure waits within, shadowed by the dim light, his aura filling the room with a dark, inescapable presence. Shadows tremble around him, as though sensing his displeasure, and the air thickens with an invisible weight.

He inclines his head slightly.

"Nyasha, my old friend. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Friend?" she scoffs, holding up her still-bloody hand.

"Look what I had to endure just to meet you."

"Charon has his rules," he replies, an amused glint in his eye.

"Had you joined our organization, you'd have other means of reaching me."

"You know I can't join Twilight."

"And yet, had you accepted, no one royal or otherwise would dare harm you. Isn't that right?"

Nyasha glares at him, the answer unspoken.

"Then tell me," he continues, his gaze sharp.

"Why are you here? Your husband has his own ways of contacting me, so why send you?"

"Because I'm here to make a deal," she responds, her voice steady.

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity flickering across his face.

"He could make a deal, too, without bleeding the River. What's so important that you've come alone?"

She takes a breath.

"I need your protection for my daughter."

He raises an eyebrow, smiling faintly.

"Interesting. And what do you offer me in exchange?"

She lifts her chin.

"A star map."

His interest sharpens.

"A star map for decades of protection? Surely you're not serious."

"This isn't just any star map. It shows a story that was erased from history."

Silence stretches between them. He studies her, intrigued.

"That's impossible. All events are recorded in the stars—unless…"

"Close," she replies,

"But not quite, it's hidden, only visible here, on this realm."

His eyes gleam.

"And why should I believe you hold such a thing?"

"I wouldn't have come here otherwise," she replies, unblinking.

He smiles, the weight of his gaze pressing down.

"Very well."

With the slightest thought, a slip of parchment drifts toward her from the bookshelves, blank at first, then filling with words as it floats.

"Read it, and tell me what you think."

Nyasha catches the paper, glancing over the terms.

"This works, but there's one thing. Why does it say Twilight will protect her, instead of you?"

He lifts a brow.

"You trust me over an entire organization?"

She narrows her eyes.

"I asked you, not Twilight."

He sighs, feigning reluctance.

"Very well. But I can't always be near her. I'll place someone close."

"Who?"

"My son," he replies smoothly, with a hint of dark satisfaction.

"My pride and joy for your daughter. A fair trade, wouldn't you say?"

Nyasha's eyes narrow, but after a moment's hesitation, she nods.

"Fine, but don't try anything underhanded."

He chuckles.

"The Nihelson family never defaults on a contract."

With another subtle thought, he alters the parchment's text, finalizing it.

"Is everything in order?"

"It is."

They each sign, and the parchment splits in two, with the original dissolving into golden dust.

"May the Creator's rules be ever binding," he intones, to which Nyasha responds automatically,

"Bless the Creator."

"Now," he says, his gaze unyielding.

"The star map for your end of the bargain?"

Nyasha moves toward a celestial globe on his desk.

"I'll need darkness."

"With pleasure."

With a mere thought, the room falls into deep shadow, leaving only the soft glow of the globe. Nyasha places her hands on it, channeling her light, and the stars begin to fill the ceiling, a story unfurling in their dance.

When the last of the stars fades, he brings the light back to the room.

"A worthwhile trade, indeed."

Nyasha, weakened, barely manages,

"The map's stored in the globe, should you wish to see it again."

He nods, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"I think it's time for you to rest."

Before she could finish, he snapped his fingers, and she was gone, appearing in her own home mid-sentence.

"–your son make contact…"

Frustrated, she muttered,

"Damn you, Alaric." Her vision swam with exhaustion.

With a sigh, she turned and climbed the stairs, her strength nearly depleted.

"Shit, I spent too much energy almost dropped a… realm…"

Her voice faded as she finally collapses on the crouch to rest.

Back In the Room

The smile that was on his face dissipates, damn this changes everything, those High Humans just had to put in safety protocols

"Shadow" he said to the empty room

With a black flash, a man in a black coat kneels beside him

"What can I do for you milord?"

"I need you to get the Crucible ready, Theo is going to have to get stronger, and much faster"

"Understood", with that they vanish

Alaric turns the room dark again and watches the star map again and again to find if there is a way to bypass what he just saw.