The sound of the Adventurer’s Guild faded behind Mira.
Lanterns were being lit one by one along the road, their orange glow cutting through the mist that rolled in from the factories.
The air was thick with smoke and the hum of gears turning somewhere above.
She passed rows of shops closing for the night — blacksmiths locking up, taverns drawing their curtains, the faint clang of metal echoing down the alleys.
A group of tired workers crossed her path, their hands blackened with soot. None of them looked up.
Mira kept her hood low, her steps light.
As she moved closer to the city’s center, the streets widened, and the sound of machinery grew louder.
Ahead, she could see the skyport — a massive structure of iron and brass, rising high into the smoky sky.
Its upper platforms glowed faintly with blue mana-lights, like fireflies trapped in glass.
Steam hissed from the vents along the bridge that led to the main gate. Guards stood posted at the entrance, their silhouettes blurred by fog.
Mira stopped for a moment to take it in. The size of it all — the steel towers, the cranes, the cables stretching across the skyline — it felt alive. Loud, harsh, and beautiful in its own way.
“This place is massive,” she whispered.
A wagon rolled past, carrying crates stamped with the guild’s insignia. Mira stepped aside, brushing ash from her cloak.
Her eyes followed the path up toward the main lift that reached the upper deck. If Lucien and his group were anywhere in Blackbarrow, they’d be there.
But something about the air felt strange — heavier than before. Like the city itself was holding its breath.
She frowned slightly, tightening her grip on her rapiers.
“The Crows should still be in the dark,” she murmured. “Otherwise, the city wouldn’t be this quiet.”
The wind shifted, carrying the faint echo of a bell from the skyport above — deep and distant, ringing into the night.
Mira kept walking, her cloak brushing lightly against the damp street.
The glow from the lanterns flickered across her boots as the wind shifted again, carrying the scent of roasted nuts and smoke.
A voice called out from a nearby stall.153Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG19z45ZZy6
“Hey there, miss! You lookin’ for something sweet to keep you warm?”
Mira slowed as an older woman stepped out from behind a cart piled with pastries and steaming cups of cider.
Her face was round and kind, creased by years of work and city dust.
“Fresh honeybread! Just baked it this evening,” the vendor said, waving a cloth over the tray. “Half price for travelers.”
Mira smiled faintly and shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
The woman squinted at her through the mist. “Hurry, huh? At this hour?”
“I need to reach the skyport,” Mira replied softly.
The vendor frowned. “The skyport? You’d better think twice before goin’ there. It’s not safe after dark — especially not for a young girl on her own.”
Mira paused, her expression calm but polite. “I’ll be fine, ma’am. Thank you for the warning.”
The vendor sighed and waved her off. “Suit yourself, dear. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Mira gave a small nod, then continued down the road.
The warmth of the stall faded behind her, replaced once more by the sound of gears turning and the echo of distant footsteps.
The air grew colder. The city quieter.
The street curved upward toward the skyport gates, the mist growing thicker with every step.
And ahead, the skyport towered above her — vast and silent beneath the smoke-stained sky.
Two guards stood at the entrance, halberds crossed before the gate. Their armor gleamed faintly beneath the lanterns, reflecting the blue light that pulsed from the mana conduits running along the platform’s edge.
“Halt!” one of them called. “Skyport’s closed. No civilians allowed past this point.”
Mira stopped just a few paces away. She pulled her hood down. Her voice was calm and clear.153Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4H1G4bWY3n
“Closed?” she said. “But I’m looking for someone — Prince Lucien and his men. They should be here.”
The guards exchanged a glance. The older of the two frowned.153Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJr2Q8OyS9q
“You’re a little late for that, missy. The prince and his men left about ten minutes ago.”
Mira’s eyes widened slightly. “Where did they go?”
“To find a place to stay, I think,” the younger guard replied, resting his weapon against his shoulder.153Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS8GYvwokeK
“They looked like they’d come out of a warzone. Dirty, bleeding… you wouldn’t believe what they dragged up from the lower decks.”
Mira’s gaze flicked past them toward the dark freight shafts at the far end of the platform. Her voice lowered.153Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUDi6IewKXc
“They were involved in a battle?”
The older guard studied her carefully. “You with them?”
“…Something like that,” Mira said softly.
He hesitated, then sighed. “If you hurry, you might still catch them near the main road. But keep your head down, yeah? The city’s on edge after what happened down there.”
Mira nodded once. “Thank you.”
She turned and began walking again, her boots clicking softly against the iron walkway.
The fog thickened behind her, swallowing the faint blue glow of the mana-lights.
Meanwhile, at an inn somewhere in the city.
Lucien stood at the edge of a balcony overlooking the industrial district.
From here, Blackbarrow stretched endlessly — a maze of rooftops, chimneys, and faint flickers of orange light.
Kael and Grey were speaking with the innkeeper downstairs, arranging rooms for the night.
Rook sat slumped over a table, half-asleep, while Leila cleaned her crossbow by the window.
Cassian leaned against the wall nearby, still pale, his chest wrapped in bandages.
Lucien’s eyes lingered on the horizon — on the direction of the skyport. Even from this distance, he could see faint steam rising from its towers.
The memory of the Arachne’s shriek echoed in his mind — the fall, the silence after.
He exhaled slowly, resting his gloved hand on the railing.
Kael’s voice broke through the quiet. “The rooms are ready, my prince.”
Lucien didn’t turn. He stood by the window, watching the fog drift over the factory rooftops.
The orange glow of the streetlamps below looked dim and distant — like dying embers.
“Good,” he said at last. “You and I will take first watch. Cassian should rest for the night.”
Kael leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “And you don’t?”
Lucien finally looked over. “I’ll manage.”
Grey sat near the table, sharpening one of his daggers. “You’re still thinking about her — the creature, aren’t you?”
Lucien’s jaw tightened. “Yes. Something about her doesn’t add up.”
Leila glanced up from where she was cleaning her crossbow. “Such as?”
Rook groaned from the corner, still half-slumped over a crate. “Maybe she was just hungry and found a new hunting ground? And we’re overthinking it?”
Cassian coughed weakly before adding, “I really wish it was that simple.”
The room fell silent. Outside, the factory bells began to toll the late hour — deep and hollow.
And somewhere far below, beneath the layers of smoke and steam — a faint echo stirred.
Something moving. Breathing.
And in the dark, two greenish eyes flickered open...
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