The air was thick with dampness, the scent of old wood, wet stone, and distant smoke lingering as Zay, Lily, and Renzo began to push deeper into the twisting wilderness of Quivarem. The towering trees, their bark blackened with age and twisted into unnatural shapes, loomed over. Their gnarled roots broke through the earth, cracking the narrow path beneath their feet.
Jagged mountain peaks rose in the distance, their snow-capped tips hidden beneath thick, swirling clouds. The terrain was treacherous, sharp ridges and steep slopes threatening to send an unsteady traveler tumbling into the unseen depths below.
After navigating a series of tight squeezes between rock formations, they finally emerged onto a narrow cliffside path. Below them, a roaring river surged through the canyon, its dark waters crashing against jagged stones as it carved its way through the land.
As they moved forward, the sound of wooden wheels creaking and the rhythmic clopping of hooves echoed from the bend ahead. A large caravan came into view, making its way down the treacherous path.
The caravan was old, its wooden frame worn from the harsh climate, yet still sturdy enough to endure the unforgiving roads of the mountain. Several figures sat atop it, cloaked in dark fabrics, their faces hidden beneath hoods. The swaying lanterns attached to its frame cast flickering shadows against the cliffside, illuminating the faint outlines of weapons resting against their hips.
From within the covered portion of the caravan, low voices murmured:
"…I'm telling you, this place isn't safe anymore."
"Hah. Was it ever safe?" another scoffed.
"We'll drop off the goods and move out before sundown. Just keep your damn head down."
"You saw them last night too, right?" the first voice whispered, barely audible over the wind. "The watchers?"
Silence followed. Then, a third voice muttered, almost as if to dismiss the thought, "Enough. Keep moving."
Zay watched the caravan pass, his expression unreadable.
Then, without hesitation, he turned left—away from the caravan's path—going in the opposite direction. His hands slid behind his back, his posture calm but his movements decisive.
Lily blinked, glancing between him and the departing caravan before quickly following. "Shouldn't we follow them?" she asked, her voice edged with uncertainty.
Zay didn't stop walking. His tone, for the first time, was cold. "It's the best option, most likely… but I have reasons for coming here. I need to do this first."
The sharpness in his words was enough to make Lily hesitate, her usual curiosity met with something she hadn't seen from him before.
Renzo gulped, stopping in place for a moment as his stomach twisted.
'I've never heard him… speak like that. This must be serious.'
Without another word, he followed behind Lily, the wind howling as loose rocks tumbled from the path, falling into the raging river below.
Lily and Renzo followed Zay for hours, their boots pressing into the damp, uneven ground as they approached the shattered gates of Hollowshade Spires. The once-grand entrance had long since crumbled into a fractured mess of iron and stone, jagged edges rising like broken teeth against the dark sky. Rusted chains dangled from what remained of the archway, swaying faintly in the breeze. Beyond the gates, the city loomed—twisting alleys, shadowed streets, and buildings packed so tightly together that they seemed to lean inward, suffocating the pathways below.
From the moment they stepped inside, an overwhelming sensation settled over them—they were being watched.
Dozens of unseen eyes followed their every movement. Figures cloaked in ragged hoods lurked in doorways, barely visible in the flickering glow of oil lanterns. Low whispers drifted through the air.
"New faces…"
"Outsiders."
"Wonder how long they'll last."
Despite the city's eerie stillness, Hollowshade was alive—a breathing entity of crime and secrets, its pulse beating beneath the cobbled streets.
Zay ignored the stares, taking them down a narrow alley where the walls closed in tight. The smell of damp stone, rot, and something acrid filled the space. Suddenly, a blur of movement—a man lunged from the shadows, throwing a punch straight at Zay's chest.
The impact landed with a dullthud.
Zay didn't move. Didn't flinch. He simply looked down at the trembling man who had just realized his mistake.
The attacker turned to flee but it was too late.
Zay's hand shot forward, catching him by the throat and hoisting him effortlessly into the air. A violet glow pulsed from his fingertips as aura flickered around his grip. Without hesitation, he hurled the man backward.
The body slammed into the outer wall of a bar, the wooden planks and stone giving way with a sickening crunch as the man crashed through. Dust and splinters filling the air.
Zay stepped inside.
The thick scent of cheap liquor, damp wood, and stale smoke hit him like a wave. The place was dimly lit, the only sources of illumination being old lanterns hanging from rusted chains and a few flickering candles scattered across wooden tables. The walls were constructed of dark, weathered planks, stained with age and the aftermath of brawls.
A long, battered bar counter stretched across the back of the room, its surface scarred with knife marks and cigarette burns. Behind it, shelves lined with dusty bottles of questionable liquor stood tall, some half-empty, others coated in grime.
Patrons sat hunched over their drinks, silent. Watching. Some rested their hands near their weapons, others exchanged amused glances, waiting to see how things would play out.
Behind the counter, the bartender—a heavyset man with a deep scar running down his cheek—barely reacted. He let out a slow, tired exhale as he polished a glass with a rag that looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks.
"A room for three. Now." Zay demanded as he looked at the bartender.
The bartender finally glanced up, his eyes dull and unimpressed. He set the glass down, then, without a word, his fingers flicked something beneath the counter.
A small knife flashed through the air, spinning toward Zay's throat.
Crack.
The blade shattered against his skin like fragile glass. A faint ripple of violet aura flickered before fading entirely.
Zay narrowed his eyes. 'These bastards.'
"If you don't have aura, you can't even see or sense it…" he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Lily and Renzo to hear.
They nodded slightly.
The bartender sighed, tossing a small golden key over to him.
Zay caught it without looking, then turned, heading for the stairs.
Behind them, the bartender leaned over the counter, glaring at the groaning man in the rubble.
"FIX THE DAMN WALL!" he shouted.
Zay ignored him, leading Lily and Renzo up a creaking wooden staircase, the steps groaning beneath their weight. At the top, they reached a long, barely lit hallway lined with warped doors, their numbers barely legible from peeling paint and deep scratches.
He found their room and unlocked it with a firmclick of the key.
The moment they stepped inside, the stale scent of dust, mildew, and old parchment filled their lungs. The space was cramped, barely enough for three people to move comfortably, yet still large enough to avoid feeling suffocating.
The wooden floorboards were old and uneven, some warped from years of exposure to damp air. A thick layer of dust clung to the floor, disturbed only by the faint footprints of the last occupants. Scuff marks and dark stains marred the wood, hinting at past struggles—maybe fights, maybe worse.
A single window stretched across the far wall, its glass cracked at the edges, creating distorted reflections of the rain-slicked streets below. The frame was made of dark, aged wood, the paint long since peeled away. A set of heavy curtains, once deep red but now faded and riddled with moth holes, hung limply at the sides.
Three beds were crammed into the space, each with thin, sagging mattresses that barely clung to their rusted metal frames. The sheets were faded and patched, smelling faintly of damp linen and something metallic. The pillows looked as if they had been beaten into shape rather than fluffed.
Against one wall stood an old wooden bookshelf, its frame crooked, as if one leg had given out. The shelves were stuffed with dust-covered tomes, their spines cracked and titles faded into obscurity. Some books lay scattered on the floor, their pages yellowed and torn.
Beside the bookshelf sat a small, round table, its surface covered in melted candle wax and deep knife marks. A single candle, barely standing on what remained of its holder, flickered weakly.
Zay shut the door behind them with a firm thud, locking it before tossing the key onto the grimy bookshelf.
His amethyst gaze darkened as he turned to face them.
"We stay here for the next three days and two nights. On the third night, we move. There's something important I refuse to miss."
Lily wrinkled her nose as her emerald eyes scanned the room, a look of pure disgust settling on her face.
"This place is a dump," she muttered, kicking at the dusty floorboards with the tip of her boot. A small cloud of dust rose into the air, making her grimace.
She turned toward the beds, eyeing the thin, sagging mattresses with distaste. The sheets were barely holding together, patches of fabric sewn over old tears. She reached out and pressed a hand against one of them, only for the mattress to sink inward like a dried-up sponge.
"I don't even think these things should be called beds."
She took a step toward the bookshelf, but the moment her fingers brushed against its wooden frame, the entire thing wobbled, as if it might collapse at any second. Several books tumbled from the shelves, landing with dull thuds on the floor. A thick layer of dust puffed up from the impact, making her cough.
"Great." She rubbed her arms as if trying to shake off the filth. "This is where we're staying?"
Renzo flopped down onto one of the beds without a care, resting his hands behind his head.
"Could be worse." He smirked, shifting to get comfortable before frowning. He lifted himself slightly and yanked something out from under the mattress—an old rusted knife, its blade dulled from years of neglect. He held it up with an unimpressed look before tossing it onto the nearby table.
"Okay. Maybe not by much."
Lily shot him an incredulous glare before looking to Zay, who remained unfazed, standing near the cracked window, staring out at the dimly lit city below.
"We're really staying here for three days?" she asked, her voice flat.
Zay didn't turn around. His amethyst eyes reflected the distant lantern lights of Hollowshade's winding streets.
"Just a bit of time and then we leave."
Lily exhaled sharply, crossing her arms as she leaned against the edge of the table.
"Fine. But if I wake up with bugs crawling on me, I'm burning this damn place down."