Fall had been unusually long and warm, but was now finally coming to a close. A fresh breeze started diving off the cliffs in the early hours of the morning, and the ice-blue water of the bay was as cold as the white marble rocks on its shores. A few deciduous trees were looking like soaring flames with their cloaks of golden and red leaves, flickering with the last warmth of the year before winter would snuff it out. Unimpressed by that, the evergreen stone pines would only ever show some drops of morning dew that would sparkle like diamonds as the sun rose above the horizon.

Kaelen tightened the collar of his robe as he rode down the winding path that led away from the Great Library. The peninsula it was located on was encased by steep cliffs and splashing waves, which made for panoramic scenery but complicated travel to and from. Pilgrims from distant lands on their way to the Great Library would journey on foot or horseback, as carts struggled with the rough terrain. Of course, that was exactly what the architects of the Great Library had liked about this spot. It posed a significant military advantage over the surrounding area, and the rocky cliffs made it nearly impossible to attack the complex from the open water. Meanwhile, advances by land would be confined to a narrow landing devoid of cover or protection, and eventually be matched by tall walls and Fateweavers armed with bow and arrow stationed in one of the three guard towers.

Elara was riding a few feet behind Kaelen, her face halfway covered by a white linen scarf. Their matching orange robes were glowing in the morning sun and could easily be seen from a mile away. It was still early in the day, and only a few people crossed their path. Most of them were Fateweavers coming back from errands in the surrounding villages, others were farmers securing the last of their harvest before winter rolled in.

They chose to stay silent for most of their ride.

Kaelen was deep in thought, trying to anticipate what they would find at their destination. Occasionally, he would glance over his shoulder to check on Elara. She seemed uncomfortable, not just because of the cold, and her gaze was wandering aimlessly through the bushy undergrowth and ancient olive groves that were flanking the gravel path they were on. Soon, though, the vegetation changed, and the soothing sound of ocean waves filled the air.

After a sharp turn atop a jagged cliff that only a few haggard stone pines called home, Tavira came into view.

The village looked like someone had dropped a bucket of paint on the marble cliff face. Pastel houses were spread all across the flank of the mountain, condensing near the waterfront, where a picturesque harbor with only a dozen small ships was situated. The sharp rocks around it were the foundation for some of Tavira's tallest houses. Kaelen could see from afar that, though once colorful, salty seawater had licked the paint off their walls up to astonishing heights.

The smell of burnt pine wood grew stronger as they approached the village, and soon mixed with the pungent odor of fish. Following a narrow and steep alley canopied with washing lines, they reached the central square down by the harbor. It was buzzing with vendors and their customers, and filled with loud voices and strong scents. Some stands were already closing down as noon was approaching, others were still crowded by people of all ages trying to bargain for good prices.

Kaelen looked at Elara, who was covering her nose with her hands.

"I guess this is it," he said.

Although what exactly it was, he didn't even know himself.

Elara said nothing until they had gotten off their horses and secured them in front of a little church that overlooked the square.

"I know this was my idea," she murmured and looked around, "but what are we doing here?"

Kaelen didn't respond right away. His eyes scanned bypassing pedestrians, not knowing what to look for. After all, he hadn't even seen the thief's face.

"I guess we will have to ask around," he said after a few moments, and started loosening his staff from its saddle attachment.

"Ask around?" Elara echoed. "Ask what exactly? Whether they know a thief who broke into the Great Library?" She scoffed at the thought. "I'm pretty sure people are not even allowed to know of the theft. In their minds, the Great Library is untouchable. Something tells me we are not supposed to shake that belief."

She had a point.

"Maybe instead we ask whether they have heard of any Fateless coming through or living here?" Kaelen proposed innocently.

"After what Master Zerath told us about the Fateless, that sounds like a terrible idea." She looked around, already worried that the wrong ears could hear them.

People were indeed starting to notice them, and their bright orange robes did little to help with that. But since Fateweavers came through Tavira quite often, the interest of any passersby quickly subsided.

"I don't like it either," Kaelen hissed. He, too, had lowered his voice. "But I also don't have a better idea. Do you?"

Elara looked torn. It seemed like she was thinking hard, but couldn't come up with anything. After a moment, she sighed and shook her head.

"It will be fine," Kaelen said, half to himself.

They walked past a couple of fish stands, hesitant to actually approach anyone. They saw another Fateweaver running errands, and they politely nodded at each other in passing. Weaving through the busy crowd, Kaelen caught glimpses of smoked fish racks and grilled mackerels. He became painfully aware of how little he ate for breakfast, and his stomach was starting to growl louder with every whiff of warm food he caught.

They reached a slightly less populated part of the market when Kaelen stepped over to one of the smaller stands. Elara didn't even notice at first and kept walking, then swung around and gave him a startled look.

"Greetings," Kaelen said cheerfully to a tall man in dirty clothes — most likely a local fisherman, judging by the strong tan and scars on his forearms.

"And to you," the man responded with a smile that spread wrinkles across his entire face.

"The name is Althor. What can I do for you on this fine day?"

"Nice to meet you, Althor. My name is Kaelen." He could hear Elara inhale sharply next to him. He figured she would disapprove of him using his real name.

"How much for this piece of smoked sea bass?"

"Are you serious?" Elara hissed next to him.

Althor laughed loudly, "Easy there, m'lady. A man's gotta eat."

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He fixed up the fish Kaelen had pointed at with a few slices of lemon and reached across the display of produce to give it to him. It was still warm, and the brown piece of paper did little to contain the grease. Handing his staff to Elara, Kaelen paid the fisher with his unoccupied hand, but didn't leave right away.

Althor kept eyeing him with interest.

"Anything else I can do for ya?" he asked while cleaning his hands with a piece of filthy fabric.

Kaelen took a first bite of fish and closed his eyes to fully enjoy the sensation. This was the best fish he'd eaten in a while — but maybe he was just more hungry than usual.

"We were wondering," Kaelen said without fully clearing his mouth, "if you could help us with a personal matter."

Althor raised his bushy eyebrows. Kaelen took it as a prompt and continued.

"You see, we are students at the Great Library."

"Aye, that much is clear". Althor chuckled as he looked down at their orange robes.

Always good to seem a little naive, Kaelen thought.

"We are working on a research project where we try to add more detail to our historical chronicles."

Althor's eyes seemed to narrow ever so slightly, but his encouraging smile held strong.

Elara gave Kaelen a surprised look that said, "That's actually a decent angle."

Kaelen took another bite of fish before he continued. He didn't purposefully try to seem casual, he was just hungry.

"Roughly sixty years ago, a group of people called the Fateless lived in Tavira." He watched Althor carefully when he dropped the name, looking for any sign of emotional involvement. But the fisherman looked more confused than concerned.

"They had a run-in with our order, but most of the details surrounding this event got lost in a fire. That's why we are here: to gather as much knowledge as possible to fill our archives."

He was walking a slippery slope. On the one hand, it was beneficial to suggest that the order had forgotten about this encounter more than half a century ago. On the other hand, he was weaving more and more lies into his narrative — lies that could easily be uncovered.

Althor considered what Kaelen had said for a moment. Then he laughed.

"You lot spend too much time with your books." He smiled and turned to put more merchandise in his depleting display. "What's more, you give these books of yours too much credit. History is meant to be lived, not read about in books."

When he looked at Kaelen and Elara again and saw their unsatisfied faces, he sighed.

"Look, I'm a fine fisher, but I ain't got much in the way of brains — and I'm the first to admit it. If you wanna talk history, I suggest you seek out Luriel. That grumpy hag is as old as time itself, and what she lacks in manners, she makes up for by knowing things. If there was something going on some odd sixty years ago, she probably remembers every minute of it. Heck, she might even be one of these Fateless you seek." He laughed again and poured some more cold seawater over his merchandise.

Elara and Kaelen exchanged glances.

"Can you tell us where to find this Luriel?" Elara asked.

It was the first thing she'd said in a while, and it made Althor stop what he was doing and look at her with his bright blue eyes.

"Why of course, m'lady," he said with a cheerful smile, and began to explain the path they had to take to reach Luriel's house.

A few minutes later, they found themselves in a tight alley in the oldest part of town. Most buildings here looked rather fragile, and many of them had to be secured with wooden beams across the alley to stop them from leaning into one another. They could still hear the commotion from the market, but it was only a faint background noise at this point.

They stopped in front of a skinny house with faded red paint. It only had a few tiny windows on the upper floors, and some of its terracotta shingles had fallen down recently and covered the cobblestone with red and orange shards. The door that was facing the alley was made from dark wood, or had darkened over time, and showed a sizable iron door knocker in the shape of a wolf.

Kaelen and Elara approached the door cautiously.

"I don't know how I feel about this," Elara said, skeptically eyeing the door knocker.

"I don't like it either, but right now this Luriel is our only lead." He gave his sister an encouraging look. "Besides, I think we can handle an old lady if need be."

Elara smiled half-heartedly, and Kaelen grabbed the door knocker. It was cold and heavy, and the sound it made when he banged it against the door echoed through the alley.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then another moment passed. Kaelen was beginning to wonder whether Luriel was even home.

Then, he noticed movement in his peripheral vision. Two young men had come around a corner to his right, a couple of feet down the street. They were caught in conversation and didn't seem to pay the two orange-robed strangers much attention.

Kaelen knocked again to no avail.

As the two men were coming closer, he realized that another pair of fishermen was coming up the alley the same way they had. They did not talk, but instead stared at Kaelen and Elara with grim eyes.

Something wasn't right.

Kaelen looked at Elara, and he could see panic rising in her eyes.

Then, without warning, all four men stopped about two meters away from them on both sides of the narrow alley. The two younger men had abruptly ended their conversation, and now also looked at them with ill intent.

Then, heeding some inaudible cue, they pulled out rusty daggers from their coats.

Kaelen fastened the grip on his staff. He had always wondered why librarians were trained in the martial arts. Now he knew.

Moving into a combat stance, he saw that Elara was following suit next to him. From the depths of her robes, she had pulled out two short wooden sticks and menacingly held them in front of her at different angles. Whatever anxiety they were feeling gave way to an emotionless routine that had been drilled into them for years.

The surrounding men started laughing, as the tallest of them pulled out a long knife from behind his back and said: "Look, kids — we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"What do you want from us?" Kaelen hissed at him without expecting an answer.

The tall man showed his yellow teeth. "I think you will find out soon enough." His compatriots chuckled.

"We don't want any trouble," Elara said, "we only want to talk to Luriel."

"Luriel, hm?" He laughed. "That crone has been dead for years. And good riddance." Then, looking insidiously at his knife, he added: "But maybe we can still arrange a meeting, heh?"

And with that, he lunged at Kaelen with his blade up high, only for his face to meet the end of Kaelen's whirling staff. The knife continued its path without its wielder and dashed past Kaelen's ear, while the tall man who had been holding it sank to the floor with a pitiful groan.

Surprised and enraged, the other men entered the fight.

Elara spun around, and her short poles met two kneecaps. Shouts of pain filled the alley as the scuffle got more hectic. Kaelen was landing blow after blow, but the men they were fighting against were tough and had moves of their own. What's more, Kaelen could hear the hurried steps of more attackers closing in on them.

After taking out another assailant, he looked at Elara. She was holding her ground, with two opponents lying motionless at her feet, but blood was running down her rosy cheeks. He couldn't tell whether it was her own, and he didn't have time to ask, as another group of three angry-looking men rushed towards them. He flung his staff around and hit one of them in the chest. Kaelen could feel the air being pressed out of the young man's lungs as he coughed and stumbled backwards. Without stopping, he hurled his staff around and hit the shoulder of his compatriot. The contact was hard but not effective enough, as it allowed his opponent to land a solid blow with his hardened fist, right in Kaelen's stomach area. Pain shot through his body, and he could taste the fish from earlier at the back of his throat, as he tried hard not to vomit.

Regaining his composure, he performed a quick undercut move and could feel the vibration of his staff as it jammed into the attacker's shin. The man howled and sank to the floor, grabbing his leg with both hands.

Kaelen looked around and saw Elara surrounded by enemies. Her moves were swift and nimble, landing blows with ruthless precision, but there were just too many of them. He watched her for a split second before noticing that someone was sneaking up behind him. He flung around, putting all this momentum in his next attack, when a firm hand grabbed his staff mid-air and brought it to a sudden halt. Kaelen stared at the hand in disbelief, then at its owner, and his gaze met blue eyes amidst a wrinkled face.

"Sorry, kid," Althor said, "It's nothing personal."

And with that, his other hand jammed into Kaelen's jaw — and the world around him turned dark.

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