The moon hung high over Blackbarrow, glowing like a pale silver coin above the smoke-choked chimneys.
The streets were nearly silent — just the hiss of steam pipes and the slow clank of machinery echoing through the night.
A stray cat rummaged through a trash bin in a narrow alley.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoddxkjoSzY
Its ears twitched.
A soft thump landed on a nearby rooftop.
The cat froze.
Another thump — lighter, smoother — followed right after.
The cat arched its back, fur standing on end, and bolted down the alley with a panicked yowl.
When the echoes faded, two shapes stepped out of the shadows as if they had always been there.
Veylar and Alwen.
Their cloaks fluttered in the cold wind, moonlight catching the faint silver threads woven into the fabric.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnCx8yjDJpD
They moved with the kind of grace that belonged to predators — quiet, controlled, and slightly annoyed by everything around them.
Veylar sniffed the air and immediately made a face.
“Smells like burnt oil,” he said, waving a hand in front of his nose, “and sadness.”
Alwen walked beside him, his steps silent on the cobblestone.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFFIZx0NeSw
“I think I prefer Mermaid’s Cove, my lord.”
Veylar gave him a sideways look. “You complain too much.”
“I do not,” Alwen replied calmly, stepping over a puddle that twitched for reasons he chose not to question. “I simply make… helpful observations.”
A sudden burst of steam hissed from a pipe overhead.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCTnjgb9424
Startled, Alwen looked up sharply.
Veylar both smiled and shuddered. “I doubt you can be helpful here, my old friend. Modern tech is… very different from the world you remember, before you died.”
“I will try, my lord,” Alwen said — in a tone that implied he absolutely would.
They reached the end of the alley, where the city opened into wider streets filled with fog and flickering lanterns.
Veylar exhaled and straightened his cloak.
“Anyway,” he said, “let’s find the Elmhurst estate. If we’re going to stay in this city, we need a new home.”
Alwen blinked. “But where should we start? This is a big city.”
Veylar answered with full confidence, “Somewhere with fewer… smells.”
A gust of wind swept through the street, carrying a fresh aroma of rust, steam, and despair.
Veylar closed his eyes slowly. “This city hates us.”
Alwen nodded. “It is mutual, my lord.”
Veylar sighed dramatically. “Come, my old friend. And try not to scare the cat this time.”
They moved deeper into Blackbarrow, cloaks trailing behind them — silent shadows gliding through the fog…
Meanwhile, somewhere in the city.
Mira stood at a crossroads, staring left and right at the long streets stretching before her.
Rows of buildings loomed on both sides — tall, narrow, crowded together like iron teeth.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2z0PmSJgY3
Lanterns flickered in the mist, lighting small patches of road while the rest was swallowed in fog.
She took a slow breath.
“…Where do I even start?”
Blackbarrow was nothing like Mermaid’s Cove.
The streets twisted, split, and sloped at strange angles.
Half the buildings looked the same — brick walls, metal frames, chimneys coughing smoke into the night.
And Lucien could be anywhere.
A carriage rattled past, splashing through a puddle near her boots. Mira stepped back, pulling her cloak tighter.
“He left ten minutes ago… but which direction?” she murmured.
Her eyes scanned the roads.
Left led toward the merchant district — bright lights and voices.
Right sloped downward into the old housing blocks — dark and quiet.
Straight ahead rose toward the governor’s district — wide streets and stricter guards.
“That guard said… the main road.”
She stepped forward, boots tapping softly against the iron.
But the deeper she went, the more the city twisted again — alleys splitting off like branches of a dead tree.
Every street looked the same.
She stopped, shoulders lowering a little.
“It’s like a maze…”
She closed her eyes and inhaled the mix of steam, metal, and distant smoke.
Then she opened them — emerald eyes steady.
If the city wouldn’t guide her…
Then she’d find Lucien her own way.
She placed two fingers over her heart.
A faint glow shimmered beneath her cloak.
“…O' spirit of the wind, please carry my sense.”
A soft pulse rippled outward — invisible, but to her it spread like waves across still water.
173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYv3JZSsHhS
Lamps flickered as the air hummed.
Mana washed down alleys…173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuL8hZo6lUd
Across rooftops…173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM6uXO3lOih
Between pipes and steam vents…173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOS9pacv9Db
Into fog-covered streets…
Searching.
“Come on… where are you?”
Her sense brushed the thrum of mana cores, the traces of spellwork from passing mages — too much noise.
Blackbarrow was a storm of mana.
But she pushed further… and further…
Until—
Bang.
Her eyes snapped open.
A faint mana signature lit up in her awareness — warm, gentle, familiar.
Lucien.
Northwest.
Her heartbeat quickened. “Found you.”
Then she froze.
A second signature pulsed in the distance — savage, unstable, dark.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjLxKdG6yIo
It was faint, but she felt it.
“…Demonkin?” she whispered.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9medcbF5gI
But she shook her head.
“Later. Lucien first.”
She sprinted toward the northwestern road, into the mist.
Her boots struck the iron road in quick, light steps — barely a whisper in the fog.
Lanterns streaked past like orange comets.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLvSoZOaZFj
Steam vents hissed beside her as she leapt over pipes and puddles.173Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9eYnkZk8Ki
Shadows warped on the walls as she slipped between narrow alleyways.
Her mana sense tugged at her chest — warm and steady.
Lucien.
A pair of drunken miners lurched out of a tavern.
“Oi—watch where you—”
Mira slipped between them without touching a single thread of their coats.
“What the—? Did a ghost just—?!”
But she was already gone.
She darted up a sloped street, dodging a rattling steam wagon.
“Hey! Careful!” the driver barked. “Are you tryin’ to get yourself killed?”
She didn’t slow.
Lucien’s mana grew stronger — closer.
She vaulted over a railing, landing lightly on the next street.
“Almost…”
The lights of the governor’s district glowed ahead.
Another patrol of guards marched around a corner.
“—check the north road!”
“—mayor wants all districts scanned—!”
They nearly collided with her.
“You there! Stop—!”
Mira moved like wind — one step to the left, a twist of her shoulder, and she flowed past them.
“W-wait?!”
“Did someone—?!”
Gone.
Her breath came steady and focused.
Lucien’s mana pulsed — just beyond the lanternlight.
“Hang on… I’m almost there.”
She sprinted toward the end of the road — toward Lucien.
Toward the reunion she’d been racing for...
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