The sun was sinking behind the western ridge, bleeding light through the haze of chimney smoke that hung over the city walls.
Evening draped Blackbarrow in shades of gold and ash.
The watchtowers stood like dark silhouettes against the fading sky, their torches just beginning to burn.
At the south gate, one of the guards leaned against the stone archway, squinting at an adventurer’s ID in his hand.
The parchment gleamed faintly under the dying sunlight, the wax seal of the Adventurer’s Guild catching the glow.
He frowned.
“Mira d’Ark? Seventeen years old? A-class adventurer?” the guard asked slowly, turning the card over again. “You sure this is yours, young lady?”
The blonde girl standing opposite him smiled faintly.
It was polite — warm, even — but there was something anxious behind it, like she was in a hurry.
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“Yes,” she said softly. “That’s me.”
The guard blinked, still staring at the card. “A-class, huh? You don’t… look like one. Seventeen, traveling alone, no escort?”
Mira tilted her head, the faintest hint of amusement touching her lips. “I get that a lot.”
Another guard approached from the post beside the gate, drawn by the sound of conversation.
He was older, broader, and already looked half irritated. “What’s the hold-up?”
The first guard held up the ID. “The ID says she’s an A-class adventurer.”
The older man squinted at the parchment, then at Mira. “You’re joking.”
Mira only smiled again, this time a little wider — though still quiet. “You can have it verified with Blackbarrow’s Guild.”
The younger guard hesitated. “That seal’s authentic. I think she’s telling the truth.”
The older one grunted. “Yeah... I can tell the ID’s real too. Just... unbelievable.”
Mira glanced past them toward the city gates, where smoke from the skyport still drifted faintly against the horizon. Her eyes darkened slightly.
“I’m looking for someone,” she said quietly. “A group that came through earlier today — adventurers, city guards, led by a blonde man with golden eyes.”
The first guard raised a brow. “You’re looking for Prince Lucien?”
Mira’s expression didn’t change, but her tone lowered. “Yes. Do you know where he is?”
Then she added, almost gently, “If you can tell me where they went, I’d really appreciate it.”
The guards exchanged a brief look — a silent argument passing between them — before the younger one finally sighed.
“The city’s under partial lockdown now,” he said, stepping aside. “But I heard the prince is at the skyport. It’s the iron structure in the middle of the city — you can’t miss it.”
The older guard muttered something under his breath but stepped aside to let Mira through.
Mira bowed her head slightly. “Thank you.”
The moment she stepped through the gates, a rush of city air hit her — warm, heavy, metallic.
Blackbarrow was nothing like Mermaid’s Cove.
The streets were paved in dark stone, slick with the residue of steam vents that hissed from beneath the ground.
Narrow alleys wove between tall, soot-streaked buildings of iron and brick, their windows glowing faintly from the forge lights within.
Vendors shouted over one another near the square — selling oil, gears, roasted nuts, and trinkets made of brass and copper.
“So... this is the outside world.”
Mira slowed her pace, taking it all in.
Children darted through the crowds with coal-smudged faces.
Steam wagons clattered over the cobblestones. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled the evening hour.
Her hand brushed over the edge of her cloak as she looked up at the wagons.
“Steam and mana technology?” she murmured to herself. “I read about them in books, but seeing the real thing... it feels unreal.”
A gust of hot air from a passing steam wagon brushed against her cheek, carrying the scent of oil and iron.
It made her heart race — a world so different from the quiet waves of Mermaid’s Cove.
Mira pulled her hood up and started toward the city center — toward the skyport — her boots clicking softly against the stone as the last light of day faded behind her, while she made her way deeper into the city.
The streets grew busier as night crept in. Mana-powered lamps flickered to life along the main road, their orange glow reflecting on puddles of rainwater and metal gutters.
Workers in soot-stained coats shuffled out of foundries, their faces lit faintly by the blue sparks of smelters still burning behind them.
The smell of iron, grease, and roasted chestnuts filled the air.
A small group of children ran past her, chasing a copper toy that whirred across the street on tiny clockwork legs.
One of them nearly bumped into her, laughing before disappearing down an alley.
Mira smiled faintly. So different from home.
As she walked, she noticed the people too — miners, smiths, traders, and mercenaries — rougher than those back home, their eyes sharp with survival rather than warmth.
“Guess I really am far from the sea now…” she murmured.
Her boots carried her past a row of taverns, where adventurers were already gathering after dusk.
Laughter and the clinking of mugs spilled out into the streets.
She caught bits of conversation — talk of monsters in the lower decks, bounties posted by the guild, and rumors about “something strange at the skyport.”
That last one made her slow down.
She turned and saw a small group of adventurers standing outside a noisy tavern, where warm light spilled onto the street.
Their gear was still dusty from travel, and they looked like they’d been on the road all day.
One of them — a tall man with a scar over his brow — leaned on his spear and said, “I heard the whole skyport got sealed off because they found dead bodies.”
Another snorted. “It’s not that simple. It was vampires.”
The third man, a big one with a beard and a mug of ale, burst out laughing. “Vampires? In Blackbarrow? Yeah, sure — and I bet the Demon King’s back too!”
The second man shrugged. “Laugh all you want. My cousin’s on guard duty at the lower docks. He said they found corpses — pale, dry as parchment. No blood left.”
The bearded man grinned, shaking his head. “Sounds like another miner who fell into a steam vent, if you ask me.”
The second man looked toward the glowing skyport in the distance. “I’m not joking,” he muttered. “Even the guards won’t go near the lower decks anymore. Something’s down there.”
Mira’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Vampires?
She quickened her pace, moving past the tavern lights toward the main boulevard.
Steam rose from vents along the path, curling around her as the sound of machinery deepened the closer she got to the city’s heart.
The skyport tower loomed ahead now — a black silhouette of iron bridges and rotating gears, cutting against the starlit haze.
Its upper platforms still glowed faintly, lit by repair lights and guards on patrol.
Mira exhaled softly. “Hang on, guys… I’m coming.”
She pulled her cloak tighter and stepped into the rising fog as the last bell of twilight echoed through Blackbarrow.
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