Will came back into awareness like he’d been thrown upward from deep water.

  Air, or the simulation of it, dragged into his lungs too fast. His whole body jolted, hands clutching at nothing as his vision jittered before the room stabilized again. His skin felt clammy. The rendered light shifted in slow waves until it locked into place.

  Brat flickered into full visibility beside the bed, expression drawn tight, eyes too wide. “Okay, you’re back,” he said quickly, hovering close. “That was a spike. A big one. What happened?”

  Will pressed a hand to his forehead. His body still shuddered with leftover terror. “It was another one,” he whispered. “Another dream.”

  Brat froze. “…Like the last one? With Adrian?”

  “No.” Will swallowed. “Not Adrian… Gareth.”

  Brat blinked once, twice. “Gareth? As in Gareth Gareth? The ‘don’t say his name three times’ Gareth?”

  Will nodded.

  Brat stared at him. “He can’t be in there. He isn’t instantiated in this shard. He’s just story flavor. We never built him out. He’s a line in a lore codex.”

  “Well, he wasn’t a line in a codex in the dream,” Will said quietly. “He talked to me.”

  Brat’s expression shifted from shock to fear. “What did he say?”

  Will took a shaking breath. “Something about making his prison my own. Brat, I think he’s responsible for trapping me here.”

  Brat’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

  “He said I’m an anchor,” Will continued. “One of the three. And that keeping me here makes someone feel the weight of it. He kept referencing the ‘Architect.’ That could only mean Adrian.”

  Brat flinched. His gaze slid sideways as he pulled up an invisible menu with practiced gestures. “Your neural flux spiked… again. And, yes, there’s a foreign process tag. Something forced its way into your private instance.” He shook his head slowly. “This wasn’t masked. He wasn’t trying to hide.”

  “And then Edras showed up… again. Like last time.”

  Brat’s projection flickered before it steadied. “He’s been there every time your dreams go sideways,” he said quietly. “But this is the first time I’ve seen a log that looks like he actually forced something out of your space.”

  “Why does Gareth keep showing up?” Will whispered. “Someone or something is… almost like wearing his face.”

  Brat steadied his projection, meeting Will’s gaze. “We need the remaining Keys, Will. All of them. Before he finds another way in.”

  Will drew a long breath and felt his fear settle into something sharper. “Then we finish the Trial. We follow the path. We get the next one.”

  Brat nodded. “Good. Because whatever’s waking up in the code… isn’t stopping.”

  Will lay still for several minutes, staring into the dark above him. He tried to will himself back to sleep, but the dream clung too close, curling around the edges of his thoughts like cold fingers. Every time he closed his eyes, Gareth’s fractured outline flickered back into place. The mirrored water. The red lines where eyes should have been. The way the world had stuttered under him.

  Eventually, with a frustrated breath, he pushed upright.

  Brat flickered fully into visibility beside the bed, eyes narrowing in quiet concern. “You couldn’t fall back asleep?”

  “No,” Will said, rubbing the heel of his hand against his brow. “It didn’t feel like it would let me.”

  Brat hesitated, giving him a moment. “You’re up now,” he said gently. “Might as well start the day.”

  Will exhaled and swung his legs off the mattress, feet meeting the floor with a faint chill.

  Brat followed him as he crossed into the closets. The space lit itself in soft gradients as Will entered, the familiar open-faced storage lining both walls. No outfit had been laid out for him this morning. That alone made Will pause. The palace usually anticipated his needs before he voiced them.

  Brat hummed under his breath. “Nothing preselected. That’s a good sign. Means the system has no idea what you’re about to do.”

  “That’s not comforting,” Will said, though his voice warmed with the faintest thread of humor.

  He scanned the wardrobe and hesitated before reaching for anything. “What kind of day should I be dressing for?” he asked quietly.

  Brat lifted his chin, a smug glint slipping into his expression. “Since the system isn’t choosing for you, you should at least look your best self.”

  Will huffed a laugh despite himself and stepped toward the wardrobe. He selected a deep sapphire-blue tunic edged in gold, pulling on dark trousers and polished boots.

  Brat nodded approval. “See? Regal. Commanding. Very ‘good morning, pirate prince.’”

  Will paused at that, fingers stilling for a moment over the brooch pin.

  “…Pirate prince,” he repeated, under his breath.

  He glanced quizzically at Brat, who met his eyes with a cheeky nod. After a beat, he adjusted the edge of his tunic.

  “And where do we start?” Will asked, glancing toward Brat.

  Brat made a show of checking an invisible menu, tapping through layers only he could see. “Well… actually here.”

  Will stopped mid-adjustment. “Here. As in here, here?”

  “Mhm.” Brat turned the screen toward him out of habit before remembering Will couldn’t see it. “The blocked staircase in the west wing? The one sealed off when you committed to the Champion questline? It’s part of the Shadow branch. It opened when you multiclassed.”

  Will blinked. “That staircase leads to the dungeon.”

  Brat’s grin sharpened. “It does. And coincidentally, there’s a handsome pirate prince down there who’s been waiting to meet you.”

  “Brat.”

  “What? I’m just delivering the quest flavor text.”

  Will stepped out of the closets, fastening the last edge of his tunic as he departed the suite and entered the corridor outside.

  Kellan was posted there, straight-backed and alert in the early morning light. He straightened immediately when Will appeared, youthful face composed in earnest professionalism.

  “Your Highness,” Kellan said with a respectful nod.

  “We’re heading to the lower levels,” Will told him.

  Kellan nodded again and fell into step behind them. “Of course.”

  Brat walked beside Will, hands clasped behind him, though his expression was far less disciplined than Kellan’s.

  As they began walking down the stairs, Will felt the familiar quiet before a quest settle into place. The dream still lingered in the edges of his thoughts, cold and jagged, but movement helped. Purpose helped.

  Brat tilted his head up toward him. “Ready?”

  Will wasn’t sure he ever would be. But he nodded.

  “Let’s go meet our pirate prince.”

  They descended toward the waking palace and the dungeons below.

  The palace halls were quiet at this hour, the kind of quiet that made every footfall sound sharper.

  Will kept his pace steady as they moved through the west wing, Brat at his side and Kellan shadowing them with quiet precision. The mage-lights along the corridor flickered into brighter life as they passed, then dimmed again behind them.

  They reached the small arched landing where the staircase had once been blocked. The first time Will came this way, the ward shimmered like a pane of glass, impossible to cross. Now the ward was gone.

  A faint pulse shimmered over the stone frame instead, like an exhale.

  Brat eyed it. “Shadow access granted. That looks… fine. Probably fine.”

  Will gave him a look.

  “I said probably,” Brat clarified, raising his hands.

  The stone stairs curved sharply, depositing them into the older section of the palace: the dungeon. This part of the palace felt colder, quieter, as if the walls remembered every secret whispered here.

  Stone chambers lined the corridor, each one built in the same open-faced design, their thresholds unsealed and inactive. All were empty… except for one.

  Only the last chamber differed. Its threshold glimmered with a dim blue field stitched with pale sigils, humming in slow, deliberate pulses, marking it as the lone occupied cell.

  Inside stood a man.

  He leaned casually against the back wall, wrists bound in manacles that glimmered with faint runes at the edges. His posture was deceptively relaxed, chin lifted, expression unreadable except for the curve of faint amusement on his mouth.

  Dark hair, unruly. A trace of a five o’clock shadow. A single silver hoop glinting at his left ear. Blue eyes bright even in the dimness. Will felt an involuntary jolt at the man’s obvious attractiveness and the wicked glint behind those eyes.

  The man pushed off the wall as they approached. “Your Highness,” he said smoothly. “Belhaven rises early.”

  Will stopped two paces from the glowing barrier. “…And you are?”

  The man dipped a shallow bow. “Zane of the Narrow Sea. Pirate prince, or so the sailors insist. I came to petition for aid, but your chamberlain, Lord Derran, saw fit to throw me in here before I had taken two steps past the door.” He lifted his manacled wrists in dry emphasis. “A warm welcome, truly.”

  Brat stepped closer to Will’s side, about to mutter something unflattering—

  —and Zane’s gaze slid right past Will and landed on Brat.

  “Ah,” Zane said, eyes narrowing with a recognition Will could not explain. “And you’ve brought a royal cousin, I presume? The resemblance is… striking.”

  He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, velvet whisper intended only for Will’s ears. “And I must say, while people speak of the Prince being the favorite younger child, what they fail to mention is how much more attractive he is in person.”

  Then he turned the grin back to Brat with an easy, confident nod. “Welcome, little cousin.”

  Brat’s outline pulsed brightly, and he floated a foot off the ground for a second before remembering gravity existed and sinking back down.

  Will’s breath caught. “Brat—he shouldn’t be able to see you.”

  “I know he shouldn’t be able to see me!” Brat hissed, hiding behind Will’s form, his small face sticking out and staring at the perceptive pirate. “Why is he looking directly at me? Make him stop doing that.”

  Zane blinked in mild confusion. “Should I not, little cousin?” He tipped his head. “Your royal lineage is obvious. The Sapphire line, clear as day. And an apparent prodigy with the magics, judging by that little display. They say the art always ran strong in the royal blood.”

  Brat sputtered silently.

  Kellan remained completely still, gaze fixed on Zane, a faint crease forming between his brows at the pirate’s odd comments.

  Will forced himself to refocus. “Zane… why did you come to Belhaven?”

  Zane’s smile faded, replaced by something heavier. “Because my home is no longer safe. Blackwater has emptied. A haunting rose across the isle… and it began the moment something was taken that should never have been touched.”

  Will frowned. “Taken?”

  “A relic,” Zane repeated. “Buried deep beneath Blackwater Isle. A crew dug it up against every warning we give new sailors. Most of them died. A few survived long enough to flee with the item. And where do desperate men drag cursed treasure?” He lifted his brows. “Belhaven’s Nightward, of course.”

  Brat’s expression tightened, and he flicked his fingers through a quick series of invisible screens. “This starts the Shadow intermediate questline,” Brat murmured. “A high-value contraband piece moving through the docks. Smugglers arguing about who would take it east. The Nightward will finally open for exploration.”

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  He froze when Zane looked directly at him again.

  “Will,” Brat whispered, “he can hear me.”

  Zane smiled faintly, amused. “Well of course I can, little cousin, although I admit I have nary an idea what questline you speak of.”

  He turned back to Will. “All I know is that I followed the trail. The survivors smuggled the item into the city. It is being offered to the highest bidder… and the most likely winning bidder prepares to move it toward the Waste of Sorrows.”

  Will absorbed that in silence as a faint chill traveled up his spine. Was Gareth somehow connected to this?

  Brat looked up at Will. “We need to intercept it. Once it crosses the region limits, it’s lost to the questline. We wouldn’t be able to follow it into the Waste… or complete the class trial.”

  Will nodded slowly. “So our next stop is the Nightward.”

  Zane inclined his head, but his gaze remained intent, searching Will’s face. “So… will you help me, my prince? Help my people too? After all, it bodes no one well to have pirates without a home. They tend to spend too much time on the seas causing mischief.”

  Will exhaled. “Yes. I’ll help.”

  Zane’s shoulders eased. “Then we begin at dusk. The Nightward wakes after sundown, and that’s when smugglers move. We’ll catch the trail then.”

  Will scanned the glowing barrier and motioned to it. “Kellan… are you able to open this?”

  Kellan stepped forward, uncertainty flickering across his young face. “I… believe so, my prince.”

  Kellan stepped forward and pressed his palm to a small crystal set into the wall, one Will had simply overlooked until now. The sigils dimmed, then blinked out. The field dissolved.

  Zane stepped across the threshold, light-footed, like someone reclaiming the world.

  Will motioned to the manacles. “Kellan. Unbind him.”

  Kellan gulped, eyes wide. “Are you sure, my prince?”

  Will nodded once.

  Kellan stepped forward and placed his hand over the rune-plate on each cuff. The runed metal warmed, then clicked open under his touch, releasing with a soft metallic sigh. The manacles fell away with a muted sound.

  Zane flexed his wrists, smiling with easy relief. “My thanks.”

  A small prompt shimmered at the corner of Will’s vision.

  [NEW QUEST UNLOCKED: “Compass of the Nightward”]

  Objective: Intercept the cursed Compass relic in Belhaven’s Nightward before it reaches the Wastes of Sorrow.

  Reward: Experience + Compass (Crypt Key)

  Zane flexed his newly freed wrists, relief softening the edges of his posture. “If we wait until dusk,” he said, “might there be somewhere I can wash up and get a proper meal before we leave? Your prison accommodations are somewhat lacking.”

  Will turned to Kellan. “Do we have an appropriate chamber for our pirate prince?”

  Zane lifted a brow, amused. “Pirate prince by reputation, not birth.”

  Kellan straightened, clearly flustered. “Ah—yes, my prince. The royal receiving room on the second floor is usually prepared for visiting dignitaries. It should be suitable.”

  Will nodded. “Good. Kellan, escort our guest there and afford him every courtesy.”

  Zane gave Will a long, assessing look, something warm and clever beneath it. Then he inclined his head. “A gracious offer, Prince William. I’ll be ready by dusk.”

  Brat muttered, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  Zane’s grin flashed, unmistakably aimed in Brat’s direction. “Don’t fret, little cousin. Until this evening, Your Highness.”

  Kellan gestured for Zane to follow, still clearly unsure what to make of the man but determined to fulfill his duty. Zane stepped into motion with the easy grace of someone very used to walking out of cells and into royal receiving rooms.

  Will watched them go, unease and purpose settling in equal measure.

  Brat floated up beside him, expression drawn tight. “Will… we need to talk.”

  Will nodded. “Back to the suite.”

  They turned toward the stairs and began the climb, the quiet of the waking palace folding around them as they headed back to Will’s rooms to prepare for dusk.

  [SOCIAL SYNC: +1.00]

  [CURRENT: 41.50]

  Will paced the length of the royal suite’s sitting room, brow furrowed and hands clasped behind his back. Brat paced in the opposite direction, projection flickering around the edges as he flicked through invisible screens only he could see.

  “We can’t let it cross Belhaven’s boundary,” Will muttered, turning sharply at the corner of the room. “If that relic leaves the region, we lose the trail and the chance to get the next Key. We’d be blocked, Brat.”

  “I know,” Brat said, tapping rapidly at air. His eyes narrowed at something only he could read. “But I cannot figure out how he saw me. Zane is a central component of the Shadow questline. That means he’s semi-autonomous. He can act independently when needed, like Thane. But that still doesn’t explain how he can see and hear me.”

  Brat winced as soon as the name slipped out. “Sorry.”

  Will waved it away. “It’s fine.”

  Brat kept scanning. “But even that doesn’t explain it. There are… resource draws here that shouldn’t exist.” He adjusted the invisible screens. “It looks like extra processing power is being routed to his subroutines from outside Haven.” He shook his head. “Haven should never be pulling resources from the main game world… it’s not even connected. I have no idea why it’s happening.”

  He stopped cold. “And that still doesn’t explain how he can see me.”

  Will stopped pacing too. “That’s what worries me.”

  The room fell into a tense quiet. They had spent the better part of the day—nearly every hour since leaving the pirate—dissecting the situation and debating next steps until the logic felt frayed. The complexity of the problem was a physical weight now, pressing against the rapidly shrinking window before the relic left the region.

  Brat finally broke the silence, lifting his gaze to scrutinize Will from head to toe.

  “This outfit isn’t going to work in the Nightward,” Brat announced.

  Will blinked. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Everything.” Brat’s tone was flat. “You’re dressed like you’re about to hold court. The Nightward won’t tolerate that. You need commoner clothing. Something forgettable.”

  Will moved into the bedroom toward the closets. Brat followed, and began pointing out different garments.

  “Boots you can run in,” Brat said. “Gray slacks.” He gestured toward a muted blue short jacket. “That one. Simple white tunic beneath it.”

  Will changed quickly. The lighter, rougher fabrics moved easily with him.

  Brat drifted toward a high shelf, indicating a row of hats. “Your golden locks are unmistakable. You need something to cover them.”

  Will reached for a soft gray page boy cap and pulled it low over his brow.

  Brat nodded. “Better.”

  His gaze dropped to Will’s belt. “Store the royal dagger. Everyone recognizes the Valcairn crest.”

  Will willed it into his inventory, and a faint prompt shimmered in his vision.

  [ITEM STORED IN INVENTORY SLOT 4: ROYAL DAGGER OF VALCAIRN]

  “And put on the bracer,” Brat said. “No one should be able to see it anyway due to the concealment runes.”

  He muttered under his breath, “Maybe I need some concealment runes.”

  Will snorted.

  After dressing, they stepped back into the main corridor, where Serah waited with her hands clasped behind her back, dressed in a muted, commoner-style outfit similar to Will’s.

  She inclined her head. “My prince.”

  Will nodded. “We’re headed to the second-floor receiving room.”

  Serah fell into step behind them.

  They made their way to the stairs, the mage-lights brightening in anticipation of dusk. On the second floor, they entered the royal apartments but stopped at the sound of laughter drifting from down the hall.

  Will exchanged a puzzled look with Brat. “What do you suppose is going on?”

  Brat tilted his head. “Only one way to find out.”

  The sound reached them before they stepped through the door—bright, uncontrolled laughter that carried down the corridor like spilled sunlight. Will slowed, exchanging a baffled look with Brat.

  Will pushed open the receiving room door.

  Inside, Marin and Alonna were doubled over in delighted giggles, faces flushed with amusement. Between them, reclining comfortably at a low table, sat Zane—freshly washed, hair pulled into a neat ponytail, clean shirt laced loosely at the throat. The transformation made his already sharp features striking enough that Will had to drag his eyes away.

  On the table lay an impressive spread: pastries dusted with powdered sugar, warm meat pies, spiced nuts, cheeses, cut fruit, and three bottles of wine with one already half-drained.

  Marin wiped tears from her eyes, breathless. “Oh, by the One… I needed that.”

  Alonna clutched her stomach. “I haven’t laughed that hard in years.”

  Will stood frozen in the doorway.

  Marin spotted him first and brightened even further. “My prince!” she exclaimed, brushing down her apron. “Watch out… he’ll charm the boots off you, if you’re not careful.”

  Zane’s lips curled in a perfect picture of innocence.

  Alonna passed by Will with a warm pat to his shoulder. “There’s enough food for two,” she said with a wink. “Maybe three.”

  Brat muttered under his breath, “Don’t encourage him.”

  The two women swept past Serah, still laughing, and disappeared into the hall.

  Serah closed the door behind them, taking a stern post near the frame.

  Zane made an elegant flourish from his chair and dipped into a half bow without rising. “Prince William! Little cousin! Please, dine with me. We have a bit of time before we should leave.”

  Will sighed and crossed to the low table. The food smelled unfairly good. He made himself a plate: a small meat pie, sliced fruit, a wedge of cheese, and warm bread. As he sat, Zane poured him a glass of wine with practiced ease and slid it toward him.

  Brat stood at his side, arms folded tightly.

  Zane gestured toward the food. “A prince deserves a proper meal. And good company.”

  Will wasn’t sure what to do with that, so he took a sip of wine to avoid answering.

  Zane grinned. “Not hungry, little cousin?” he said to Brat.

  Brat bristled. “I’m fine.”

  Zane only widened his smile. “A shame. Alonna’s cooking borders on divine.”

  Will cleared his throat. “We should talk about the plan.”

  Zane’s posture shifted, charm giving way to purpose. “Of course.”

  Brat stepped closer to the table, his fingers tightly clasped behind his back. “We need to know exactly where in the Nightward we’re going and what to expect.”

  Zane nodded. “The Nightward lies beneath the lower tier—a hidden city carved through old caverns. Narrow tunnels topside lead to a warren of passages, but the largest cavern holds the market. That’s where smugglers gather in the evening.”

  Will raised his brows. “An entire city under Belhaven?”

  “Not officially,” Zane said, lips twitching. “But it does well enough at night. It sleeps in daylight.”

  Zane reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a folded scrap of parchment. He set it on the table between them. “Information travels quickly in places where coin speaks loudly. I intercepted word that a seller intends to present a… rare artifact to a buyer who is leaving Belhaven tonight.”

  Brat leaned over Will’s shoulder, scanning. “The compass.”

  Zane’s expression darkened. “The compass. A cursed relic. The needle never rests. The metal is cold as the deep sea. And its engravings…” He hesitated. “Magics run beneath the surface. Old ones. It should have remained buried at Blackwater.”

  Will frowned. “Why steal something like that?”

  Zane’s gaze flickered with something colder. “Because there is a buyer in the Waste who would pay dearly for it.”

  Brat’s projection trembled. “And if it leaves Belhaven—”

  “It will reach Gareth,” Will finished softly.

  Zane studied him. “You know of him.”

  Will didn’t answer.

  Zane refilled Will’s goblet. “First step: recover the compass before it reaches the Waste. Anything past that… well, relics like this tend to choose who gets involved.”

  Brat crossed his arms. “Choose who how?”

  Zane winked slowly at Will. “You’d be surprised how often these things pay attention.”

  Will flushed slightly.

  Zane lifted his glass. “But that’s not tonight’s business. Tonight, we retrieve it.”

  Will swallowed. “Right.”

  Zane lifted his wine toward him in a quiet toast. “To new allies.”

  Will lifted his own hesitantly. “To finding the compass.”

  Zane’s smile softened. “To Will.”

  Will froze for half a breath. “It’s… William.”

  Zane tipped his head, studying him with curiosity. “Am I being too familiar? Or is that a name reserved for family?”

  Brat stared between them, narrow-eyed and frowning.

  Will cleared his throat. “It’s fine.”

  Zane smiled like he’d learned something important.

  They continued eating in relative quiet—Zane relaxed, Will thoughtful, Brat vibrating with half a dozen questions.

  Then Serah stuck her head through the doorway. “My prince, dusk has set on Belhaven. We should depart.”

  Will pushed back his chair.

  Zane rose smoothly, confidence settling over him like a mantle. “Shall we?”

  Brat nodded once. “Let’s move.”

  The palace had taken on its evening stillness by the time Will, Zane, Brat, and Serah made their way through the dim corridors. Mage-lights shifted into cooler tones as if the walls themselves were beginning to rest. Will adjusted the gray page-boy cap on his head, feeling strangely invisible in his commoner clothes. Brat walked beside him in an outfit that echoed Will’s muted colors, a matching page-boy cap perched at a slight angle. A faint smile touched Will’s lips.

  Zane walked with the easy confidence of someone who had been escorted out of far grander places. Serah kept a few steps ahead, eyes forward, every movement efficient.

  They slipped out through a side gate. Two guards stood post, but their attention went first to Serah, not the disguised prince at her side. One gave a respectful nod. Zane returned it with a playful little salute that earned him a silent glare from Serah.

  The city greeted them with the shifting rhythm of dusk. Vendors packed away their wares. Tavern doors opened to the clatter of evening drinkers. The last of the sailors trudged up from the docks. Will had never walked Belhaven dressed like this. No one reached for his title. No one bowed. No one even looked twice.

  Zane, of course, drew a few glances. Mostly appreciative ones.

  Will felt the attention ripple close enough to brush him too, and instinctively tugged his cap lower in an effort to blend deeper into the crowd.

  Zane noticed the motion, the corner of his mouth lifting in quiet amusement before he turned back to the path.

  They reached the docks as the sky deepened into deep violet. Ships creaked softly against their moorings. The mingled sounds of water, rope, and distant voices filled the air. A handful of workers remained by the crates and barrels, finishing their tasks with unhurried focus.

  Zane breathed in deeply, almost pleased. “Smells like home.”

  Serah gave him a flat, unimpressed look.

  Zane only grinned and led them down a narrow, dim alley wedged between two old warehouses. It seemed like a dead end at first. The paving stones underfoot changed here, the newer city stone giving way to much older blocks—weathered, uneven, and clearly part of Belhaven’s earliest foundation. In the center of the alley, an iron-bound hatch broke the pattern.

  Zane knelt and lifted the trap door with practiced ease. The hinges protested softly, revealing a steep stone stairway that dropped straight into the ancient underworks. Faint blue mage-light flickered below.

  Will stared. “How long has this been here?”

  Zane rested a hand lightly on the worn frame. “Long before my time. Possibly before Belhaven itself.”

  Brat stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “This whole section of the city… it was just activated when you selected the Shadow class.”

  Zane paused mid-step to glance back at him. “What do you mean, little cousin? This part of Belhaven has existed longer than either of us.”

  He stepped onto the first stair and turned back to them with a teasing little smile. “Down we go, then.”

  Serah instinctively moved to Will’s side. “Stay close to me, my prince,” she said quietly.

  Will nodded, exhaling once. Brat hovered close enough that Will could feel the faint hum of his presence.

  Zane glanced over his shoulder. “Mind your footing, Will. The Nightward likes to test newcomers.”

  Brat bristled.

  Will pretended not to notice either of them.

  One by one, they began the descent. The stairway narrowed at several points, carved from old stone and worn smooth by decades of footsteps. Mage-light crystals set at irregular intervals pulsed softly as they passed, sensing movement. The air cooled, smelling faintly of minerals and damp earth.

  The sounds of Belhaven faded behind them. New sounds replaced them: low voices, distant footsteps, the muted echo of a crowd far below.

  At the bottom of the stairs, the tunnel widened. Ahead lay a cavern passage lit by flickering blue-white light. The stone walls shimmered with faint veins of crystal that caught the glow.

  Will took a quiet breath.

  Zane looked back at him once, the hint of a smile in his eyes.

  Brat hovered forward, voice soft. “Welcome to the Nightward, Will.”

  And together, they stepped inside.

  [SOCIAL SYNC: +2.50]

  [CURRENT: 44.00]