Zay looked down at the closed book before licking his lips slightly at a thought of keeping this for himself as it might come in handy down the road.
Renzo watched him warily as Zay's hand reached out and touched the cover.
"Arbiter: Vault," Zay whispered quietly to himself as aura flowed from his fingertips, and the book was engulfed in violet light. It pulsed once... twice... a third time—and vanished.
"…Are you seriously stealing a damn cult book? From this place of all places?" Renzo asked, eyes locked on Zay.
Zay smirked and gave a small nod, refusing to answer with words.
With that, he turned on his heel and made his way toward the stone door that had sealed behind them days ago. Once there, he reached into his coat, pulled out the key Selene had given him, and slid it into the keyhole.
He turned it fully. The stone groaned under its own weight, parting slowly as the heavy doors swung open.
Renzo sighed, letting his thoughts drift. They'd already lied to the ruler—a death sentence in this place, no doubt.
'So what's stealing a book or two on top of that? We're still dead if they find out we lied… most likely.'
He watched Zay disappear through the doorway, then jogged to catch up, slowing once they walked side by side.
He didn't like this. Stealing some ancient, cursed-looking cult book, lying to royalty, and everything else that had happened—it weighed on him. Renzo closed his eyes for a moment and reopened them, unsure what to even think.
The streets of Ruvy were quieter than expected for the hour. The usual buzz of chatter and the rhythmic pulse of merchants advertising their wares had mellowed into a more subdued hum. The sun had fully descended now, casting elongated shadows across the streets. Lanterns strung from building to building flickered to life, casting a warm amber glow that danced across rain-slick stones, reflecting like fractured glass.
Zay continued forward, stepping into the city. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the afternoon sun touch his face before he looked up. His long hair swayed gently around him as he opened his eyes and smiled—not at anyone, but to himself.
Renzo, meanwhile, had chosen his own path.
He walked down a cold, narrow street where no lights burned, the silence pressing against him like fog. Eventually, he arrived at a small, secluded pond. Only three fish swam in its still waters. He sat down slowly at the edge, crossing his legs, and watched them in silence.
The first fish had all white scales, with faint traces of golden light shimmering on its fins.The second fish was covered in deep black scales, its fins tinged with a subtle red glow.The third was a blend of the two—white and black scales intertwined, its fins glowing red and gold, flickering like the final breath of twilight.
They swam together in perfect rhythm, as if caught in an eternal dance. Light chasing dark, and dark chasing light. The third fish moved between them, the bridge—perhaps the balance—keeping the dance from breaking apart. The pond shimmered with hues of red and gold, casting soft ripples of color across Renzo's face.
He should've found peace in the sight. But all he felt was unease.
'Why…?
Why does it keep getting harder to believe in him?
I've tried—gods know I've tried—to silence these thoughts, to trust my brother, to believe in him… But it's tearing me apart. Lying to rulers. Torturing. Stealing. Dragging those two into the ocean, unconscious and unaware. The way he looked while doing it… like he felt nothing at all.'
His stomach twisted violently, a gnawing ache pulsing through his core. He wanted to help Zay. He needed to. That had always been the reason, hadn't it? To support him, protect him, follow him. His younger brother—the one he swore he'd always stand beside.
But now?
Now he felt himself fracturing, piece by piece.
He raised his left hand slowly, staring at it as the cool afternoon wind caught the edge of his black coat. His aura sparked around his fingertips, but it wasn't the same deep red as before. No… this time, it flickered—shifting, uncertain, as if it too was struggling.
As if it too was breaking.
Zay's boots echoed lightly against the stone path as he wandered through the streets. The city was alive, but in a very quiet, elegant way—lamplights flickered in soft hues of aura, and voices murmured behind windowpanes.
He paused as something swayed in the corner of his eye. A wooden sign, creaking gently in the wind above a carved doorway, caught his gaze.
"Nine Tide's Tavern," it read, painted in worn silver with curling waves beneath the name.
Zay raised an eyebrow, then shrugged once. With a push of his hand, he opened the door, the scent of warm spice, firewood, and baked bread washing over him.
He stepped inside, letting the door swing closed behind him with a soft thud. A quick glance behind him—no sign of Renzo. That was fine. He figured his brother needed space, just like he did.
Without a word, he picked a spot near the back—quiet, close enough to the wall to see the whole room if needed. He sat down, leaning slightly back in the chair, letting his violet eyes drift toward the soft clamor of the tavern.
And then she approached.
Her steps were quiet, like a drifting breeze. The glow of the lantern above caught the soft rose-gold shimmer of her skin, casting her in a warm light. Her eyes were silver, calm yet reflective, and her hair flowed like silk in a soft jade hue, catching hints of color as it moved—like liquid light.
"Welcome to Nine Tide's," she said, her voice gentle, like a song hummed through the dusk. "What can I get you?"
Her smile wasn't forced, but practiced—a warmth that didn't burn too bright, just enough to ease tension from the air. A faint scent, like wildflowers after rain, lingered in her aura.
Zay didn't speak right away. He studied her whole form for a moment—not in lust, but in curiosity. Her aura smelled… oddly calm. Unnaturally so.
He blinked once and gave the smallest nod.
"Something warm. And strong."
She chuckled softly, the sound like wind chimes brushing against a breeze.
"Well, let's see…" she began, tilting her head slightly as she leaned her weight to one side. Her jade hair shifted like liquid moonlight as she gently tapped her finger against her lips. "You've got a few good choices."
Her silver eyes flicked down to meet his. "If you want heat and spice, Flameberry Brandy will do the trick. Warms the chest, burns just enough to let you know you're still alive."
She raised a second finger. "Or maybe something steadier—Sunfire Mead. Slow burn, golden, sweet on the tongue but it'll creep up behind your eyes if you're not careful."
Then a third finger, a bit more playful. "But if you want strong in the 'forget where you are for a moment' kind of way… I'd say go with the Stormtide Stout. Locals call it memory's end."
She lowered her hand and gave another soft smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Or I can bring you water and you can just sit here brooding. Whatever works."
Zay cracked a faint smile, more out of amusement. "Stormtide," he said simply.
She nodded as if she'd expected that answer. "One Stormtide it is."
And with that, she turned, leaving behind only the faint shimmer of her scent and the graceful sway of her steps. Her presence lingered for a moment longer than it should've.
'A Liora... working in a tavern?' Zay thought as he shrugged it away.
Five slow minutes passed.
The soft creak of the tavern door, the low murmur of conversations, and the occasional clink of glasses were the only things that stirred the air. Then, with silent steps that barely kissed the wooden floor, the Liora returned.
She placed the drink down in front of him—a dark, stormy glass that seemed to ripple with faint electric threads beneath the surface. The Stormtide Stout.
Her voice was gentle, but carried enough to cut through the hum of the tavern. "Would you like anything to eat with that? We've got—"
Before she could finish, Zay looked up.
His amethyst eyes met hers with quiet finality. He didn't speak. Just a small shake of the head—subtle, but firm.
The words caught in her throat. Her lips parted slightly, then closed again as she gave a faint sigh, more weary than disappointed. "Alright," she murmured, and turned away without another word.
As she moved on to the next table, Zay leaned back slightly, staring into the drink as its surface shimmered like a storm caught in glass.
Zay watched the drink swirl for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he lifted it to his lips and took a sip.
The effect was immediate.
Warmth surged through his chest like a slow and soft explosion, trailing sparks along his veins. The flavor was deep—smoky, with a hint of something sweet beneath. But it was the strength of it that caught him off guard.
His throat burned.
Not painfully—but powerfully. As if the drink carried lightning woven into its brew. He exhaled softly, a faint mist escaping his lips, and blinked once. "Tch…"
Then, out of nowhere, someone abruptly sat down beside him with a casual smile. A man.
He glanced over at Zay. "Stormtide Stout hits hard, doesn't it, stranger?"
Zay looked up at him. The man was dressed in light emerald-green robes, with a forest-green cape draped behind him. His dark brown hair reached just past his shoulders, slightly tousled from the wind.
Zay didn't reply right away. He took another sip of his drink, exhaled slowly, then gave a small nod.
The man chuckled. "Name's Zakariah Fay. How about you, stranger?"
"Zay," he replied simply, taking another sip just as light rain began to fall outside.