The "Rusty Anchor Tavern" was alive with its usual chaos when Kael returned late that afternoon. Patrons filled the common room, their voices blending into a cacophony of laughter, arguments, and drunken songs. Mira darted between tables, balancing trays laden with tankards of ale and plates of questionable stew. Her movements were sharp, efficient, but there was an underlying tension in her posture—a weariness that even her sarcasm couldn't mask.
Kael avoided her gaze as he slipped through the crowd, heading straight for the storage room to deposit the crates of supplies he'd been hauling all morning. His hands were raw from the rough wood, his back aching from the weight, but none of it compared to the gnawing guilt twisting in his gut. He had spent the previous night testing his newfound abilities—and now, he carried something far heavier than any crate: two gold coins.
---
It had happened just hours earlier, during one of his nocturnal walks through Arathis's darker corners. He'd been wandering near the docks, where flickering lamplight cast long shadows across narrow alleys, when he heard it—the unmistakable sound of desperation. A low-tier merchant, his face pale and streaked with sweat, pleaded with a group of thugs who loomed over him like predators circling prey.
"Please," the man stammered, clutching a small pouch tightly to his chest. "It's all I have."
One of the thugs snatched the pouch before the merchant could react, spilling its contents onto the ground. Coins clinked against the cobblestones, glinting faintly in the dim light. Gold—two pieces, each worth more than most people in the lower districts earned in a month. The sight of them made Kael's stomach churn. Lower-tier Seekers often resorted to using gold as currency, since they lacked the knowledge or connections to trade secrets like their higher-class counterparts. For someone like this merchant, losing even a fraction of that amount could mean ruin.
Kael hesitated, hidden in the shadows of a nearby alley. Part of him wanted to walk away—to leave the man to his fate and pretend he hadn't seen anything. But another part, louder and more insistent, urged him to act. This was a chance to test his abilities in a real-world scenario, to see if the whispers and shadows he commanded could truly make a difference.
Slipping deeper into the darkness, Kael closed his eyes and focused. He thought of the void, the tendrils of fear coiling within him, and let them swell until they threatened to consume him whole. When he opened his eyes again, the air around him felt charged, heavy with an unnatural energy. Shadows stretched unnaturally along the walls, twisting into jagged forms that resembled clawed hands reaching toward the thugs. The lamplight flickered violently, casting erratic beams that danced across the ground like living flames. A low, guttural growl echoed through the street, bouncing off buildings in a way that defied logic.
One of the thugs froze, his laughter dying abruptly. "Did you hear that?" he whispered, gripping his blade tighter.
Another scoffed, though his voice wavered. "Hear what? Stop being a coward."
But the growl came again, louder this time—and closer. The mist thickened, swirling erratically as if stirred by an invisible force. Shapes began to form within the haze, indistinct but menacing: glowing eyes, elongated limbs, gaping maws filled with rows of teeth. None of it was real, of course—not physically—but to the terrified minds of the thugs, it might as well have been.
"What the hell is that?!" one of them shrieked, stumbling backward. His companions followed suit, panic spreading like wildfire. Within moments, they were running, their shouts fading into the distance as they fled into the night.
When the last echoes of their footsteps disappeared, Kael stepped forward cautiously, approaching the merchant. The man sat trembling on the ground, clutching the pouch tightly to his chest. He looked up at Kael with wide, frightened eyes, muttering thanks before scrambling to his feet and disappearing into the fog.
Kael didn't follow. Instead, he bent down and picked up two stray coins that had rolled away in the chaos. They felt heavier than they should have, not just in weight but in significance. This was power—not the kind wielded by elite Seekers crafting magical artifacts or uncovering ancient truths, but the raw, visceral kind that came from controlling fear itself. And yet, as intoxicating as it felt, it left him uneasy. Was this who he was becoming? Someone who used terror to manipulate others?
---
Back at the tavern, Kael waited until the evening rush died down before seeking out Mira. She was wiping down a table near the hearth, her expression softening slightly when she saw him approach. "You look like death warmed over," she said, though her tone carried a hint of concern beneath the teasing. "What's wrong?"
He held out the two gold coins without a word, watching her reaction closely. Her eyes widened in shock, and she glanced around quickly to ensure no one else was listening. "Where did you get these?" she demanded, lowering her voice. "Did you steal them? Did you do some dirty work for them?"
"No," Kael replied, though his hesitation gave him away. "I… helped someone. That's all."
Mira studied him for a long moment, her brow furrowed. "You're lying," she said finally, though her voice lacked accusation. More curiosity than anger. "But fine. Keep your secrets. Just don't bring trouble here, alright?"
Kael nodded, slipping the coins into his pocket. Trouble was exactly what he feared he was inviting, but he couldn't bring himself to care—not when he finally had something tangible to show for his efforts. Something that proved he wasn't worthless after all.
---
Later that night, as the tavern grew quiet and the last patrons stumbled home, Kael lay awake in his attic room, staring at the ceiling. The two gold coins sat on the edge of his desk, gleaming faintly in the moonlight streaming through the cracked window. They represented more than just wealth—they were proof that he could affect change, however small, in a world that had always dismissed him.
But the cost lingered, too. The whispers in the void, the shadows that obeyed his will—they weren't free. Each use left him feeling hollow, as though pieces of himself were being carved away. And the questions remained: how far was he willing to go? How much of himself was he willing to lose?
For now, though, he pushed those thoughts aside. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and with it, new challenges—and new opportunities to test the limits of his power.