First night in Catyra

The market was bursting with noise, dust, and dirt. Thousands of Catyrans milled about, either trying to sell their goods or looking for something to steal.

Vin stood under a dilapidated shed, wide-eyed. He had never been in the midst of a crowd this large before.

The place reeked of ale, which made sense, given the broken barrels and rusted mugs lying around. He scrunched his nose in disgust and muttered something about how dirty Catyrans were.

He looked down at his skinny hand—now hidden beneath the long sleeve of his disguise—and at his legs, too. Covered. He was under a masking spell, cloaked to look like an ordinary creature.

Currently, he was disguised as a dark fae. He picked up his bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder. It was time to get something done.

To start searching.

He walked carefully on his new feet and realized how much he liked them. They were smaller, more balanced—not like his usual oversized ones that made him wobble like a newborn deer.

His head turned left and right, his curious eyes hungrily taking in the sights—the architecture, the commotion, the chaos.

"This is really nothing like I’ve seen before..." he murmured.

The Dreamchasers' facility wasn’t exactly elegant or elaborate, so this—this wild, filthy, living place—was a surprise.

As he walked, he began to think. The prophecy had said nothing about the savior’s gender or identity. So how was he supposed to find them?

Master Liam’s last words echoed in his head:

"Remember, do not assume, do not judge. For truth and light are always found when least expected. And learn to trust your instincts, lad."

He understood what his master was trying to say. Master Liam knew exactly the kind of person Vin was. A scientist. Someone who clung to data and statistics.

Trusting instincts? That was off-script. That was unethical.

But what choice did he have?

He almost bumped into a haggard-looking elf, his red eyes barely open.

“He’s drunk,” Vin noted inwardly, bowing slightly before continuing on.

But then a hand grabbed his shirt from behind.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. Trouble.

He’d completely forgotten he was under a disguise. A dark fae, of all things. And dark fae and elves? Arch enemies.

The elf—still in his human form—sneered and glared at him.

Vin cursed again. Something he rarely did.

He was in deep trouble.

A crowd quickly gathered, drawn by the rising tension. Some were already cheering. They wanted a show.

“This is so not good,” Vin muttered under his breath, his mind racing for a way out. But there was nothing. He couldn’t even cast a spell—magic use was banned here.

“You think you walk scot-free?” the elf growled, yanking Vin up by his shirt, making him gasp for air. “Would’ve let it slide—if you weren’t one of them.”

Catyrans were known for being corrupt and ill-mannered. They thrived on violence and drank themselves into stupors—even in daylight.

Vin tried to explain. Really, he did. But the elf didn’t give him a chance.

A punch landed square on his jaw before he could even process it.

Another hit his chin. Pain exploded in his face.

He turned away, only for another fist to crash into his temple.

The crowd cheered, jeered, thrilled by the violence.

“Let me go! Let me go, you coward! Let’s fight like real men!” Vin shouted, just loud enough for the entire crowd to hear.

“Let him go!”

“Yeah, let him go!”

“Fight like men! Hooo!”

They chanted in unison, and Vin exhaled in relief. At least they were on his side now.

The elf, however, looked furious.

Vin swallowed. He knew he couldn’t beat the elf. Fighting wasn’t exactly part of the Dreamchasers’ curriculum. Science was. Physics and chemistry.

But a little cheating couldn’t hurt. It was self-defense, after all.

He'd only use a tiny bit of magic.

The crowd circled them as the tension thickened. Vin raised his fists and muttered under his breath.

Then, with a sudden burst of movement, he lunged forward, striking the elf’s chin and slipping a flicker of fire magic into the blow.

The elf groaned and recoiled, clearly stunned.

Great!

But now he was angry.

He came charging—Vin darted to the side, a quick spell aiding his movement.

The elf missed entirely, lost control, and crashed face-first into the dirt.

Pheww.

The crowd roared with laughter and applause. Vin grinned, basking in the moment.

Until everything shifted.

Suddenly, people began screaming and scattering. Running. Shouting.

Vin stood frozen, confused.

What just happened?

Even the elf had scrambled up and disappeared into the crowd.

“These people are weird,” he muttered, brushing himself off and walking away, trying to act like he hadn’t just broken a serious law.

He bumped into something again—or someone.

Hard.

“Ouch! Another trouble made successfully,” he grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “Great.”

He looked up, prepared for another fight.

And froze.

Three Stonegyoles stared down at him, their towering bodies like boulders stacked with rage. Their red eyes glowed, watching him like prey.

Stonegyoles—Lord Ruler’s final creations. Living stone beasts used for high-level security.

These were elite. Spikes jutted from their heads, and a sharp, jagged blade ran from the back of their skulls down to their tails.

“Hiii…” Vin waved nervously and tried to smile.

It wasn’t working.

The one in front growled something guttural, unintelligible. The other two nodded.

Vin noticed their satchels—officials.

The Dreamchasers had studied these creatures. They weren’t heavenly-made. The Lord Ruler had crafted them with his own hand.

The two at the sides moved in. Each grabbed one of Vin’s arms.

“No, no, wait!” he yelled, panicking. “Where are you taking me?!”

He screamed loud enough for the market to hear.

And they did.

But no one came to help.

Instead, they all hid—silent. Terrified.

These Stonegyoles were feared. Greatly.

Vin screamed again. And again. Until his throat hurt. Until there was nothing left to scream.

Eventually, he shut up.

And gave in.

---

Vin shivered in the cold, dark room they’d tossed him into. It had been a day since he’d arrived in what he assumed was a holding cell.

“What did I even do wrong?” he whispered for the hundredth time.

He felt hopeless. Alone. The silence was crushing.

He couldn’t see. The darkness was absolute. He curled into one corner and sank into despair. The heavy hand of failure pressed down on his shoulder.

He had disappointed everyone who believed in him.

Arrested—on his first day in Catyra.

Maree’s smiling face floated into his thoughts. Her eyes sparkled as she told him how much she admired his bravery. His patriotism.

“I’m nothing but a failure,” he muttered.

He looked around for a way out. Anything. But the window was too high. The only sign of it was the drifting grey ash falling silently into the room.

Ashes. Floating down like snow.

He’d never seen anything like it.

Even that felt like a mystery the Dreamchasers couldn’t explain.

He sighed again. He was completely done for.

He shouldn’t have gone in as a dark fae. Maybe then the elf fight could have been avoided. Maybe everything could’ve gone differently.

He remembered the night before he left.

Master Liam had cast the spell. Vin had objected, of course. Dark fae were seen as evil, soulless, corrupted.

But Master Liam had brushed him off.

"I told you not to judge. Do you know that one of the greatest Council members was a dark fae? Their story alone debunks the entire prejudice. So..."

So he had gone through with it. The ritual. The transformation.

But now… he wondered.

Was there a deeper reason he was made to look like a dark fae?

He tried to find answers, but his thoughts kept spiraling.

And in the end, they all circled back to one thing:

How much of a failure he was.

Vin stared at the grey, soft ash still falling through the air.

And he wondered...

How did things end up like this?