The Copper Bell Inn was alive with the clatter of plates and the murmur of a dozen conversations, but Astraeus barely noticed. He sat at a small table in the corner, nursing a mug of ale he didn't really want, his mind replaying his conversation with Marcus Thorne. The guild instructor had been friendly, sympathetic even, but Astraeus couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, evaluated. Every word he said, every gesture he made, was being filed away and analyzed.
Of course you're being watched, Kha'Zul said, his mental voice laced with amusement. You're an unknown quantity. A supposed student from a distant academy who survived a catastrophe that should have killed him. You walk into a new city alone, with no money and no connections. You are, by definition, suspicious.
"So what do I do?" Astraeus murmured into his mug.
You play the part. You go to the guild tomorrow, you act like a grateful, traumatized survivor. You take whatever menial tasks they offer you, and you use the opportunity to learn. Learn about the guild, about the city, about the people in power. Knowledge is a weapon, boy. And right now, you are unarmed.
Astraeus finished his ale and returned to his room. The bed was soft, the blankets clean, and for the first time in days, he felt safe enough to truly relax. He pulled up his system interface, checking his status and the quest reward he'd received.
[INVENTORY]
•Basic Survival Kit (NEW)
Contents: Flint and steel, rope (50 feet), waterskin, dried rations (3 days), basic first aid supplies, small knife
Useful items, the kind that would have made his journey from the ruins much easier. But he'd survived without them, which meant he'd grown stronger in the process.
[QUEST PROGRESS: ESTABLISH YOURSELF IN THORNHAVEN]
•Find lodging: COMPLETE
•Acquire supplies: PENDING
•Register with Mage Guild: PENDING
Two out of three. He'd handle the rest tomorrow.
Morning came with sunlight streaming through the window and the smell of breakfast drifting up from the common room. Astraeus woke feeling more rested than he had in days. His essence pool was full, his stamina recovered, and his mind clear.
He washed, changed into the cleanest version of his torn robes he could manage, and went downstairs. The innkeeper had breakfast waiting—eggs, bacon, fresh bread, and strong tea. He ate quickly, aware that he needed to visit the guild before too much time passed.
The morning streets of Thornhaven were busy with commerce. Merchants called out their wares, carts rumbled over cobblestones, and the general hum of urban life filled the air. Astraeus followed the directions the guard had given him, navigating through the merchant district until he saw it: a large building of white stone with a blue tower rising from its center. The Mage Guild.
He pushed open the heavy doors and stepped into a vast, circular hall. The ceiling was a dome of enchanted glass that showed the sky above, and the floor was a mosaic of a coiled dragon. Mages of all ages and ranks moved about with quiet purpose, their robes a rainbow of colors indicating their specialties. The air hummed with a low, constant thrum of magical energy.
A young woman at a large, circular desk looked up as he approached. "Can I help you?"
"I'm here to see Marcus Thorne," Astraeus said. "He told me to ask for him."
"One moment." She spoke a single word into a small, glowing crystal on her desk, then looked back at Astraeus. "He'll be right down. You can wait over there."
Astraeus moved to the designated waiting area, feeling a dozen pairs of eyes on him. His torn robes and disheveled appearance marked him as an outsider. He ignored them, focusing on maintaining the persona Kha'Zul had advised: weary, traumatized, but resilient.
Marcus Thorne appeared a few minutes later, a warm smile on his face. "Astraeus. I'm glad you came. Did you rest well?"
"Better than I have in weeks," Astraeus admitted.
"Good. Come with me." Marcus led him through the bustling hall to a quieter corridor lined with offices. He opened a door marked with his name and gestured for Astraeus to enter. The office was small but comfortable, with a desk, two chairs, and shelves overflowing with books and scrolls.
"First things first," Marcus said, sitting behind his desk. "We need to officially register you with the guild and send word to Valdris. It's just a formality." He produced a form and a quill. "Name, age, rank, and a brief summary of the incident."
Astraeus repeated the story he'd told the night before, and Marcus dutifully wrote it down. "Alright. We'll send this via magical courier. We should have a response from Valdris within a few days."
The clock is ticking, Kha'Zul noted.
"Now," Marcus said, setting the form aside. "You mentioned needing work. As it happens, a task came in this morning that might be perfect for you. It's a simple investigation, but it requires a mage's senses. The pay is ten silver, which should be enough to cover your expenses for a week or two."
"I'll take it," Astraeus said without hesitation.
"Excellent." Marcus handed him a small, bronze token. "Go to the warehouse district, down by the river. Find the supervisor's office and show him this. He'll give you the details. It's a simple matter of identifying the source of an essence disturbance in one of the warehouses. Nothing dangerous, just some strange occurrences that have the workers spooked.
"Famous last words, Kha'Zul muttered.
Astraeus took the token. "Thank you, Instructor Thorne."
"Marcus is fine. And you've earned it. Now go. The sooner you finish, the sooner you get paid."
Astraeus left the guild hall, the bronze token warm in his hand. Ten silver. It was a small fortune to him. Enough to buy new clothes, proper supplies, and a few days of peace and security.
All he had to do was figure out what was causing a few strange occurrences in a dusty old warehouse. It sounded simple enough.
He had a bad feeling it wouldn't be.
He made his way to the warehouse district, a grimy, bustling area down by the river. The air smelled of fish and damp stone, and the sound of seagulls was a constant, mournful cry. He found the supervisor's office, a small, cluttered room at the end of a long pier, and showed the bronze token to a harried-looking man with a clipboard.
"Ah, the mage," the supervisor said, his eyes lighting up with relief. "Thank the gods. It's warehouse seven. The men are refusing to go in. Say it's haunted."
"Haunted?" Astraeus asked.
"Things moving on their own, strange noises, a cold spot that'll freeze the marrow in your bones. I don't know what it is, but it's costing me money. Just… figure it out. And try not to break anything."
The supervisor handed him a key, and Astraeus made his way to warehouse seven. It was a large, windowless building at the end of the pier, its wooden doors sealed with a heavy iron lock.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside, the darkness swallowing him whole. The air was cold and still, and the only sound was the gentle lapping of the river against the pier outside.
He took a deep breath, reached out with his senses, and felt it immediately. A cold, alien presence, a knot of twisted, corrupted essence, lurking in the shadows at the far end of the warehouse.
It wasn't a ghost. It was something far, far worse.