The first few days in the Free Port of Zahar were a disorienting blend of profound relief and acute vulnerability. The oppressive, magical weight of the containment field was gone, a pressure they hadn't fully realized they were under until it was lifted. For the first time in weeks, the air didn't feel like it was watching them. But with that freedom came a new kind of anxiety. In the Inn, they were untouchable. Here, in the grimy, crowded streets of Zahar, they were just six strange refugees in a city that preyed on the weak.
They spent most of their time huddled in the two cramped, musty rooms at The Groggy Skull. Leo, Master of a cosmic sanctuary, found himself intensely missing his own comfortable bed and self-stocking pantry. He felt strangely naked without the constant, thrumming presence of the Inn's domain at his back. His authority, which had been absolute, now extended only to the four walls of this dingy room.
They ventured out only once, as a group, to procure supplies. It was a tactical disaster. Lyra, even under a heavy traveling cloak, moved with the unmistakable posture of a trained warrior, her hand never straying far from her sword. Elara's ethereal beauty and quiet, regal grace drew stares from every passerby, her presence a silent, luminous song that was utterly out of place in the grimy port city. The group was a magnet for unwanted attention. They quickly retreated back to the relative anonymity of their rooms.
It was Silas who thrived. After a day spent tapping into the city's underbelly of whispers and secrets, he burst back into their room, his face alight with a manic, triumphant energy Leo hadn't seen before.
"You're not going to believe this," he said, unrolling a sea chart on their small, rickety table and using it as a prop. "The network is on fire. It's not just gossip anymore; it's the only story anyone from here to the Imperial City is talking about."
"The story of the Wyvern Hunters' Guild's failure?" Lyra asked, her voice flat.
"Failure?" Silas laughed, a sharp, excited sound. "My dear knight, that's like calling a tsunami a bit of bad weather. They're not saying the Guild failed. They're saying the Guild was humbled. That they were made to look like fools. The Black Arrows, the company that supposedly tracked a ghost through the ethereal plane, spent a week laying siege to an empty house."
He leaned forward, his green eyes gleaming. "No one knows how you did it. The rumors are insane. Some say you teleported the entire building. Some say you folded it into a pocket dimension. My personal favorite is the one that claims the landlord is a trickster god who got bored and simply decided to play a prank on the world's most dangerous mercenaries."
Leo groaned, slumping down in his chair. "A trickster god? I'm a real estate agent."
"The world doesn't know that!" Silas said, his excitement palpable. "They don't have a name for you, so they're making them up. The 'Phantom Landlord.' The 'Master of the Vanishing Inn.' Your reputation isn't just good, landlord. It's mythological. In the space of two weeks, you've gone from a complete unknown to the single greatest mystery in the world."
"That doesn't sound like a good thing," Leo muttered, rubbing his temples. He had wanted a quiet, peaceful retirement. He had accidentally created a global legend about himself.
"It's a dangerous thing," Lyra corrected, her expression grim. "Fame is a beacon, Leo. It doesn't just attract admirers; it attracts challengers. Every arrogant mage who thinks he can solve the puzzle of your Inn, every glory-seeking knight who wants to make a name for himself by besting the man who baffled the Black Arrows… they will all come knocking."
Elara, who had been listening quietly from the corner of the room, spoke up, her voice laced with guilt. "My presence has brought you more than just the attention of my enemies. It has placed you in the center of the world's stage. I am sorry for this burden."
"Don't be," Leo said, looking at her with a reassuring firmness. "We made a deal. And frankly, this is the most exciting business venture I've ever been a part of." He looked at Silas. "But Lyra has a point. What does this new… brand… mean for us, practically?"
Silas's grin was sharp as a razor. "It means everything has changed. Before, we had one enemy: a powerful guild hunting a specific target. Now, it's more complicated. Three factions will be looking for you now."
He held up one finger. "First, the seekers. Those like Borin and Anya, lost souls and fugitives who will now seek out the 'Threshold Inn' as the ultimate sanctuary. Potential clients. That's good for business."
He held up a second finger. "Second, the challengers. As Lyra said, the glory hounds and the intellectually arrogant, like Archmage Valerius. They will see the Inn as the ultimate prize or puzzle. They are dangerous, but manageable."
He held up a third finger, his expression turning serious. "Third, the exploiters. Other powers. Rival kingdoms, guilds of assassins, shadowy conspiracies. They will see the Inn not as a sanctuary or a puzzle, but as a weapon. A tool of unimaginable strategic value. A building that can appear anywhere, that is completely impenetrable… that is a power that could win any war. They won't want to challenge you. They will want to own you."
The weight of his words settled in the cramped room. They had escaped one predator only to find themselves on the radar of a hundred more.
"The good news," Silas concluded, trying to sound upbeat, "is that we are now famous. Legends. The bad news is…" he hesitated. "I've already picked up whispers. Lord Volkov, the Guild's benefactor, has put an astronomical price on any information leading to your whereabouts. But he's not the only one asking. The Mage's Council of the Royal Spire is investigating the 'ontological anomaly.' The spies of the Crimson Empire are trying to learn more about this 'new strategic asset.' Even the Church of the Eternal Sun is concerned about a power that so easily neutralized their holy knights."
He looked around at the small group huddled in the grimy room.
"We have escaped the cage," he said softly. "But now, the whole world is our hunting ground. And we are the most valuable prey in it."