I return to the hotel after finishing my business in Market Port.
I sit at the table in the lobby, watching guests pass by. Some enter to reserve rooms, others check out. The lobby is loud with voices, but to me it feels quiet. Footsteps echo against the polished floor. The scent of polished wood and faint perfume drifts in the air.
Some guests sit next to me, starting a conversation. I join in. We laugh at each other's stories, but none of it matters—I keep this feeling of loneliness to myself, like a shadow pressed against my ribs.
Time passes. The sun dips lower, casting long, muted stripes across the floor. The light turns golden, then fades to gray, but Ashlynn hasn't returned.
I feel worried, but I know her. She's resourceful. She can protect herself from trouble. Strong and smart enough to take care of herself.
I decide to say goodbye to the guests I've been chatting with and leave them to their evening. Their voices fade behind me as I take the elevator to my floor.
Back in my room, the faint glow from the city filters through the curtains. I sit at my desk, the edges of the wood warm from the fading light, waiting.
The only sound is the distant murmur of the street, the ticking of the clock, and the quiet hum of the hotel.
My head falls onto the desk. Slowly, I close my eyes. The sounds around me begin to fade, my body growing light. My thoughts blur, and I drift into sleep.
I dream of Ashlynn.
Her smile. Her scent. Her amber eyes. Even the mole beneath her left eye.
I dream of what could have been—us owning a small farm far from Tauran City. A simpler life. A life of peace and love.
But it's just a dream.
Good Thursday.
No.
More like—
Bad Thursday.
I wake at my desk. I lift my head and turn slowly. The room is so quiet that even my breathing feels loud. Not loud—just noticeable.
I rise and head straight to the bathroom. I take a bath. Use her floral soap. Let her familiar scent cover me.
This is the second time.
No.
The third time I've used her soap.
I dress properly, wearing an ornated dark coat and dark fedora she bought. They settle tight and fit.
Then, I leave my room and go down to the lobby then approach the receptionist.
"Has Ashlynn returned?" I ask.
"Im sorry, Monsieur but there has been no signs of Madam Ashlynn returning since Monday," she answers.
"Are you sure? Was she alone when she left?"
"I am sure. And yes she was alone, she left when early in the morning. She was crying when she left. Why didn't you go after her?"
I exhale a loud breath. "That time I—" a pause. "Nevermind," I continue. "Let me know if you see her."
I leave the hotel after and go to my work. Sit by my desk working as a clerk even though I'm already an agent.
I provide help to those who come here in exchange for their phens.
Hours later, Gary approaches my desk with a woman following behind him.
"Good Thursday, Len."
"Good Thursday, Gary."
"Woah, Len, you smell floral. Is there something special going on?"
"No, it's just…" I sigh. "Ashlynn hasn't returned."
"Oh. That's rough. Anyways, this is a new clerk under your supervision. I want you to show her how it's done."
"Good Thursday, Len," they both say at the same time.
"I am Miriam," the woman introduces herself. She has a pretty face and looks petite in her uniform. Blue eyes like the sky. Blonde hair. A faint scent of citrus.
Gary leans closer, taps my shoulder, and whispers, "She's a nullie, but try not to break her like Margaret."
I turn to him and nod.
He leans back and clears his throat.
"Len, you should show her how we help the local community first," he adds. "Maybe someone will have a clue where Ashlynn went."
Then Gary leaves.
I turn my attention to Miriam.
"First of all, you need to smile."
"Like this?" she stretches her lips, forcing a smile.
"Almost good."
She stretches them even more.
"Perfect," I say.
"Do I have to smile all the time?" she asks.
"Only when you're addressing a client. Just do it like the other clerks."
"Understood."
I rise and step away from the desk. "Follow me."
I take her outside. Houses line the plaza surrounding the Hearthlight building. She follows me to the first house.
"Miriam, pay attention," I say.
She nods.
Knock. Knock.
A woman opens the door.
"Good Thursday, Madam Serah," I greet her with a bright smile.
"Good Thursday, Len," she answers.
"Hearthlight Order is here to help. What kind of problem do you have?"
"My brother—husband has stopped barking for a while now. It was the hospital's fault for making him think he's a dog."
"That's great news."
"But now he thinks magic is real."
My eyes narrow. My voice slows. "That's… not really a problem."
"Yeah, except he keeps throwing axes at the Orders' building, saying the government isn't real."
"Calm down, Madam. This is a normal phase in marriage. Husbands do that all the time. As long as your brother—husband never targets the Hearthlight Order, then he's doing the right thing," I assure her.
"You're right. This is perfectly normal. People attack the government all the time."
She reaches into her purse and hands me a rock. "Thank you for helping me, Len."
I pocket the rock.
"Have you seen a young woman with blonde hair, amber eyes?"
"Hmmm…" She places a hand on her chin, thinking.
A beat.
"The only woman that matches that description is someone who's a friend of Monsieur Xandar's fiancée. Her name was… I forgot."
"Tanya?"
"Yes, Tanya Belmont."
We exchange a bit more small talk. Then she closes the door.
When we return to the Hearthlight building, a blonde, skin-and-bone woman is on her way out.
I move toward her.
"Hey, Tanya," I call as I get closer.
"Len?"
"Have you seen Ashlynn?"
"N-no. What happened?" Her voice is calm.
Yet from that small exchange, something in the way she speaks feels off.
"Nothing," I say.
"If anything happens, you can talk to me," she replies, her eyes drifting to Miriam behind me.
"I'm just worried about Ashlynn—"
Before I can finish, she steps past me and reaches for Miriam's hand.
"You look beautiful, sweetie. We should be friends."
My chest tightens. The way Tanya smiles—the same way she speaks to Ashlynn.
At that very moment, I know I have to do something.
I focus my left eye.
The Abyssal Eye awakens.
I tap her shoulder once. She turns to me, and our gaze meets.
I mark her.
A faint pulse answers from beneath her skin.
After that, we continue with small talk. Then she leaves.
When my job for the day is over, I immediately return to my hotel room. I lock it from the inside.
The room is silent. No one can bother me here.
I lie down on the bed and close my eyes.
Then I sleep.
—
I am in the darkness of my abyss, standing on a vast body of water.
Time passes.
Then she appears—trembling, terrified—her reflection rippling beneath my feet.
I bend and tap the surface, and the water swallows me whole before spilling me at her side.
"Who—"
I move quickly, reaching her neck before she can finish.
"Where's Ashlynn?" I ask, leaning close to her face.
"P-p-please don't kill me," she begs.
I release her. She collapses to her knees, coughing.
"My fiancé introduced her to a friend," she says, her voice cracking.
"Friend?"
She swallows and looks down, avoiding my gaze.
"Stand up."
She rises slowly, eyes glassy.
"Please," she whispers.
"Tell me everything."
"My fiancé's friend is a client," she sniffles. "He will meet Ashlynn again… to inspect her."
My chest tightens.
At that moment, I understand what she means.
"When and where?"
"Sunday night. At his house. My fiancé only invites his friends and rich people from his neighborhood. He won't even speak to anyone unless he's impressed."
"How do I impress him?"
"He likes exotic things. Perfume. Art. Jewelry. Anything from the mainland—the continent."
"How about tea?"
"Tea?" She hesitates. "If you bring that… he'll notice."
I fall silent, studying her. The tremor in her shoulders. The way her fingers twist together. The tears she's trying to hold back.
"Tanya."
"Y-yes?"
"On the night of the masquerade, there will be a man named Thadeo Owright. He will intrigue you. You will introduce him to Xandar."
"Understood."
"You saw nothing. You will remember nothing."
She nods as my instructions carve themselves into her mind.
The cold water beneath her ripples.
Tendrils rise from the abyss, coiling around her limbs. She struggles, trying to break free—but the more she moves, the tighter they become.
Then they drag her down, pulling her into the darkness.
The surface smooths.
She is gone.
—