Rayon walked the narrow, winding streets of Veylport with the same casual arrogance that had marked every step of his journey. The city sprawled over jagged cliffs and the misty shoreline, its streets a chaotic maze of cobblestones, alleys, and towering buildings that leaned into each other like weary giants. Lanterns flickered in the fog, casting long shadows that danced along the stone walls.
He had decided to stay for three days—just long enough to observe, gather information, and indulge in whatever mischief the city offered. For Rayon, the length of stay didn't matter; he was a ghost among humans, untouchable and unseen unless he allowed otherwise.
Erethon: Three days. Short enough to not draw attention. Long enough to have fun.
Rayon smirked faintly. "Exactly. Why rush when chaos can wait… or come to me?"
The city had a history as murky as the waters lapping against its docks. Founded over five centuries ago by merchants and exiled warlords, Veylport had grown into a hub of trade, espionage, and criminal networks. Its streets had been paved with gold in its early days, though most of that wealth had long been siphoned into the hands of corrupt guilds, smugglers, and clandestine organizations.
"Veylport," Rayon murmured, hands in pockets, eyes scanning the shadowed buildings. "A city built on greed, corruption, and shadows… my kind of place."
Despite the superficial decay, the city's architecture held remnants of elegance: carved stone facades, gargoyles perched along rooftops, and winding bridges connecting towering structures. But the charm was skin-deep. Beneath the veneer of cobblestones and candlelight, Veylport had always been a city of predators, and Rayon was perfectly suited to navigate its labyrinthine streets.
Rayon found a small, unassuming room above The Black Lantern, the bar owned by Malrick. It had a single window overlooking the narrow alley below, a creaking floor, and a bed that had seen better days. For most, it would feel claustrophobic. For Rayon, it was perfect. A place to sleep, plan, and disappear when he wanted.
Erethon: You're treating this like a vacation.
Rayon's smirk didn't fade. "Every battlefield needs downtime. Even chaos needs a warm bed and a good view."
He spent the first day wandering the streets at night, observing. Shadows shifted around him as if aware, whispering rumors, secrets, and small betrayals. Every dark alley, every flickering lantern, every footstep echoed stories of hidden power, clandestine deals, and lethal intent. Rayon noted it all, silent, calculating, enjoying the subtle tremor of fear his presence inspired.
In the days he stayed, Rayon encountered a few of the city's hidden threads:
A thief guild operating out of an abandoned warehouse, skilled but disorganized, unaware of the Forest Ghost walking among them. A group of minor Forsakens, sent to test his presence at Malrick's request. Rayon toyed with them effortlessly, letting them flee with warnings that left them trembling. Various corrupt officials and merchants, who whispered of "strange shadows and impossible deaths" after a series of accidents Rayon had silently orchestrated—throwing a cart, loosening a balcony beam, or leaving hollow strings to guide chaos naturally.
Erethon: You're leaving a trail of bodies and chaos everywhere you go.
Rayon's smirk widened faintly. "I call it… seasoning."
What fascinated Rayon most was the undercurrent of energy running through the city. Veylport's corruption, its greed, its history of betrayal—it wasn't just metaphorical. There was an almost tangible pulse to the city, a resonance that reacted to power, to fear, to violence. Hollow Strings vibrated faintly as he walked through busy squares or dark alleys, confirming what he already knew: the city itself had a heartbeat that responded to life, death, and chaos.
Vorthalaxis coiled lightly around his arm, sensing Rayon's attention. "Master… the energy… it's old. Dangerous. But… invigorating."
Rayon smirked, glancing at the black markings that pulsed faintly. "Good. I like cities that fight back. Makes hunting… fun."
On the second night, as rain began to drizzle faintly over the city streets, Rayon noticed a figure lingering at the far end of an alley. Cloaked, silent, and watching.
Erethon: You've got company.
Rayon paused, tilting his head, violet eyes glinting under the dim light. "Hmm… I was hoping for someone interesting."
The figure stepped forward slightly, revealing only the faint outline of a hooded face. There was a subtle aura about them—Awakened, powerful, but cautious.
Rayon's smirk widened, hands still in pockets. "You came all the way to see me? How… flattering. Come closer. Let's talk. Or fight. Or both. I don't mind."
The figure didn't move yet, assessing. Rayon's presence was overwhelming, yet calm—like a predator observing a pack of wolves, each waiting for the slightest weakness.
Erethon: Oh, this one's not here to play. Interesting.
Rayon's smirk didn't fade. He didn't need to speak. His aura alone radiated dominance, control, and silent threat. The city seemed to lean in, waiting, almost holding its breath.
The figure finally stepped into the faint streetlight. A subtle shift in the air, a ripple of power, and Rayon's eyes narrowed slightly.
"So… you're the Forest Ghost," the stranger murmured, voice low, dangerous. "I've heard stories. Let's see if they're true."
Rayon smirked faintly, tipping his head. "Stories are always… exaggerated. But I like a good audience. Welcome to Veylport."
Vorthalaxis hissed faintly, black scales gleaming. Erethon's laughter echoed silently in Rayon's mind. "This one… is going to be fun."
And for the first time in days, Rayon's calm, emotionless demeanor flickered just slightly, replaced by a predatory anticipation.