The plaza hummed with its usual evening din, merchants calling out over bright stalls, lanterns spilling golden light across cobblestones, the slow rumble of carts winding their way toward the canals. Thorne sat at the edge of a marble fountain, cloak draped lazily over his shoulders, watching the water ripple. Beside him, Fen balanced on the stone lip like a cat too wiry for its own good, a half-melted ice cream dripping down his wrist.

The boy licked it quickly, scowling when it ran over his knuckles, only to laugh again when Thorne flicked his wand. Wick answered the call, a thin strand of water rising from the fountain and twisting into the air like a silver ribbon.

Fen chuckled, eyes bright. "That's cheating," he said around a mouthful of cream.

"Cheating?" Thorne's lips curved faintly. The ribbon split, spiraling into two streams that wove around each other, forming a looping braid above their heads. "This is called efficiency."

The boy tipped his head back, watching the strands glitter in the lantern light. For once, he didn't look like a half-starved street rat. His hair was still a greasy mess, but his tunic was whole, his boots even had both soles intact. It wasn't much but compared to the first time Thorne had laid eyes on him, it was a world apart.

Fen snorted as Thorne let the braid collapse in a spray of cool droplets. "Bet you can't make it spell my name."

"I could," Thorne said, flicking the last bead of water back into the fountain. "But I'd rather keep my dignity."

The boy grinned, wiping sticky fingers on his trousers. "You don't have any of that, lordling."

Thorne's smirk widened. Maybe not, he thought. But here, in the noise and light of Evermist, sitting at a fountain with a sharp-eyed brat who'd somehow attached himself to his orbit, dignity wasn't the point.

Thorne let the last droplet fall back into the fountain and leaned back on his palms, glancing at the boy. "So, what's the word on the street, Fen? Any juicy whispers that'll keep me entertained while you ruin another pair of trousers with melted sugar?"

Fen gave him a flat look and licked his ice cream exaggeratedly slow, letting it drip on purpose. "You act like I'm some gossip auntie with nothing better to do."

"Considering you've got ears in more places than half the merchants in this city?" Thorne arched a brow. "Yes."

The boy kicked his legs idly against the fountain stone. "Humus is doing well. Too well. Opened another store down near the Jadeflow Canal, real fancy one, glass walls, glowing wards on the door. Everyone's talking about it."

Thorne hummed, filing that away. Booming business while Brennak flounders. Noted.

Fen continued, rattling off a string of smaller rumors, some bar fight involving a couple of drunk beastkin, a sailor swearing he'd seen a sky-serpent over the harbor, the usual Evermist noise. Thorne let most of it wash past until he caught the boy's hesitation, the way his tongue worried the inside of his cheek before he spoke again.

"And Brennak?" Thorne asked casually.

"Oh, the dwarf?" Fen scrunched his nose. "He's been quiet. Real quiet. Ever since someone blew his market to pieces." His eyes flicked to Thorne, quick and sharp.

Thorne kept his expression bland. "Tragic."

"Lost a lot of customers. Some of his sellers won't go back, say the place feels cursed now. He's bleeding coin." Fen hesitated again, fingers tightening on the cone.

"There's more," Thorne said, voice mild but edged.

Fen swallowed, nodding. "Some of Brennak's people been recruiting. Even brought in adventurers from the guild. But…" He lowered his voice, like the fountain's splash wasn't already covering them. "They all went missing. Every last one. No one knows where they went."

That made Thorne still. Not me. I only took care of the panthers. His eyes narrowed, thoughts circling sharp and fast. So who's cleaning up Brennak's mess?

He tapped a finger against the stone lip of the fountain, lips quirking in the faintest of smiles. "Interesting," he murmured.

Fen tilted his head. "That's it? I give you grade-A whispers, and all I get is 'interesting'?"

"You want applause?" Thorne asked. "Fine. Congratulations, Fen. You've earned yourself another ice cream tomorrow."

The boy's grin split wide despite himself.

Thorne leaned closer, voice dropping just enough to sharpen Fen's attention. "Suppose I wanted to know more about Humus. Where would I start?"

Fen licked his thumb clean, eyes flicking left and right, then shrugged with studied casualness. "There's a woman down near the Cinderglow Market. Sells charms, trinkets, stupid baubles to tourists. But in the back? She brews things. Things the guild doesn't like, potions that bend the rules, change your luck, make you stronger for a price. Folks say if you want real information, you pay her, and she whispers what you need while stirring her cauldron."

Thorne's lips curved. "A witch hiding behind a storefront. Fitting." He stood, brushing water from his gloves. "Take me to her."

Fen hopped down from the fountain's edge, already excited to lead the way. "Don't say I never do anything for you."

They wove through Evermist's crowded arteries, past lantern-lit alleys and balconies sagging with blooms. Thorne let Fen chatter about shortcuts and backstreets, but his own thoughts had drifted elsewhere, back to the words of the hooded man in the Primordial Forest. A leader. Of the Elderborn. Protector. God. The memory clawed at him like a hook lodged deep in his chest.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the stranger had lit a fire under him. For the first time, Thorne forced himself to think beyond the next scheme, the next blade in the dark. He had to plan his future, not merely survive it.

And what better way than here?

Evermist was a jewel of the continent, a hub of trade and power. Beneath its polished surface ran an underbelly of vice, greed, and shadows. Brennak had ruled that underworld as a petty tyrant, controlling smuggling routes, fences, and black markets. But Brennak was faltering, his market burned, his people vanishing, his coin purse bleeding.

Perfect timing.

If Thorne moved carefully, he could dismantle Brennak piece by piece, destabilize him further, and then, when the dwarf's empire was at the edge of ruin, offer salvation. A hand extended, a partnership forged not from trust, but from necessity.

Control half the underworld, and the rest will fall into line. From there? Information. Influence. The kind of roots I'll need if I'm ever to face what's coming, whether it's Purifiers, the Empire, or Elderborn calling me their leader.

Thorne exhaled slowly, watching Fen dart ahead to clear a path through a knot of drunken sailors. He smirked faintly. "Step one: take Brennak's empire. Step two… everything else."

The shop sat on the corner of a crooked lane in the Cinderglow Market, its sign painted with a dozen fading charms, black cats, crescent moons, protective runes. A line of tourists dawdled outside, buying trinkets that glowed faintly when shaken. The scent of herbs and incense wafted from the doorway, sweet enough to cover the tang of something sharper beneath.

Fen nudged Thorne. "That's her. Don't let the lace curtains fool you."

Inside, the air was thick with candle smoke. Shelves sagged under jars of pickled eyes, bundles of dried herbs, and phials filled with glittering dust. At the counter sat a woman draped in scarves, her skin a shade too pale for the sunlit islands, her lips painted the color of bruises. Her eyes flicked to Thorne immediately, weighing him like coin.

"Customer," she said, voice soft, almost sing-song. "Or seeker?"

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Thorne stepped forward, mask of deceit sliding into place with ease. He gave her a half smile, easy and disarming. "Depends. Which pays better?"

Her smile widened by a fraction. With a lazy wave of her hand, the curtains at the back swayed aside on their own, revealing a narrow passage lit by lanterns of bottled flame. "Seeker, then. Come."

Fen made a motion as if to follow, but the woman's eyes snapped to him, sharp as knives. "Not the boy."

Thorne laid a hand on Fen's shoulder before he could bristle. "Wait here." He didn't have to add and don't steal anything, though Fen's smirk said he'd heard it anyway.

The back room was nothing like the shop. The air was cooler, humming faintly with contained magic. A cauldron of black iron simmered without flame, its surface rippling with colors that weren't liquid. Shelves lined with bone, crystal, and feathers gave the space a skeletal, otherworldly feel.

The witch moved behind the cauldron, her scarves shifting like snakes as she poured powder into the brew. "What do you seek," she said, not asking.

Thorne kept his smile. "Information about Humus."

She stirred, and the brew hissed like a snake. "His business blooms. His rivals rot. He feeds on opportunity, and this city provides it in abundance." Her eyes, suddenly sharp, found his. "But you know this already. So tell me, young lord, why do you truly seek Humus?"

Thorne tilted his head, studying her as if she were another puzzle piece sliding into place. "Because opportunity works both ways."

The witch's laugh was low and knowing, like dry leaves stirred by wind. "Then perhaps we can help each other."

The witch's ladle traced a slow circle through the cauldron, steam curling like snakes around her veined fingers. "So. Humus. You are not the first to ask."

Thorne leaned an elbow against a shelf lined with dried wings and talons, casual on the surface, though his eyes didn't leave hers. "And what do you tell the others?"

"Whatever they can afford."

He flicked a coin from his pouch, let it spin across his knuckles, then set it down on the edge of her worktable. "Consider me wealthy in curiosity."

Her lips curved, thin and cruel, but she reached out, took the coin, and tucked it into a pouch. Then her voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. "Humus has a new partner. That is why his coffers swell while others starve. This partner gave him something… rare. A product no other market in Evermist dares offer."

Thorne straightened, interest sharpening his gaze. "And this partner is…?"

The witch's hand stilled on the ladle. Her eyes gleamed like glass under the lantern light. "That, seeker, is not information I am willing to sell."

"Why not?"

She laughed softly, a sound like dried reeds snapping. "Because I like my head where it is. And speaking that name aloud would make certain it is severed from my body by dawn."

Thorne's jaw flexed. So someone powerful enough to silence even the city's informants. He folded his arms, voice cool. "So, Humus climbs, while Brennak falls into ruin."

The witch's laugh sharpened into a cackle. "Falls? Who told you that? The boy outside?" She shook her head, scarves swaying. "Yes, the dwarf has suffered… misfortunes. But dwarves know the weight of stone, young lord. They know how to crawl out from under it."

Thorne frowned. "Then what is he planning?"

The witch stopped stirring. Slowly, deliberately, she extended her open palm. The cauldron's bubbling reflected in her skin. "Coins first."

Thorne's teeth clenched, but he pulled three gold disks from his pouch and dropped them into her waiting hand. She bit one, nodded, and let the sound of them clink into her belt pouch before speaking.

"Brennak will be very, very rich soon," she crooned, her voice thick with smoke. "If the council doesn't kill him first."

The witch leaned forward, voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "That crafty dwarf has found a way to breach the protections of the walls. You know them, yes? The wards only the council holds the keys to? And yet Brennak… he has found a way."

Thorne stilled. His mind flashed back to the pyramid of alien metal he'd stolen from Archmage Vatheon's tower, the one Brennak had demanded. So that's what he wanted it for.

"He is creating groups of hunters," the witch continued, eyes glittering. "Sending them beyond the wards. So far, no luck. But when he finds the right people? Oh, he will be rich. Rich beyond any of his rivals."

Thorne frowned, tilting his head. "Why? What makes the forest so important? He might find some herbs, maybe a rare stone or two, but how does that make him a fortune?"

The woman looked at him as if he had just sprouted donkey ears. "Young lord… what you can find outside the walls of Evermist, you can only find in a handful of places in the entire world. Beasts steeped in aether, their bodies thrumming with power. Plants that drink it like wine, metals forged in it, steeped for centuries. Every inch of the Primordial Forest is alive with it."

Her hand drifted over the simmering cauldron. "One vial of true forest blood, one sprig of living ironroot, and I could make miracles. We wouldn't have to wait for the next shipment of withered scraps and rotting parts, half-dead ingredients from merchants' caravans. Forest-grown materials are worth ten times as much, and ten times as potent."

Thorne's expression flattened. So I gave him the key to a fortune. Isn't that ironic.

"Does Humus know?" he asked, his tone edged.

The witch shrugged, scarves shifting with the motion. "He might. He might not. But if he does, he'll want his share. And Humus is not a man who shares kindly."

Thorne narrowed his eyes. "Then why hasn't the council intervened? If they know, they should have stopped Brennak by now."

The woman gave a throaty laugh. "That, I do not know. But imagine it, young lord. This is Evermist. Grease the right palms, line the right coffers… a few coins, a mysterious artifact, a favor or two and the council will turn a blind eye."

Thorne hummed, his gaze distant. "Interesting."

Thorne leaned back, arms folded. "One last question. Suppose I wanted to meet Humus. How would I go about it?"

The witch's lips curled, sharp as a knife. "You don't find Humus. Humus finds you. Perhaps leave an offering at the docks. Or whisper his name into the smoke of burning myrrh. Or maybe, just wait for him to send his jackals." She cackled, the sound brittle and insincere.

Thorne studied her for a long moment, weighing the evasions, the way her eyes avoided his. She's told me all she intends to sell tonight. He sighed softly through his nose. "Fair enough."

He turned as if to go, but then paused, reaching into his pouch. "Consider this… a sweetener."

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed something small and dark toward her. The woman's hand shot out with startling precision, catching it before it could hit the floor. She opened her palm and froze.

A minor beast core, faintly luminescent, pulsed like captured moonlight.

Her voice was hushed, reverent. "Where did you get this?"

Thorne ignored the question, already halfway to the door. "There's more where that came from. Tell Humus I'm ready to negotiate."

He didn't wait for a reply, stepping back into the dim glow of the front shop.

Behind him, he heard the woman whisper to herself, awe bleeding through her tone: "You are full of surprises, young lord…"

Thorne smiled faintly, speaking just loud enough for himself. "You have no idea."

And with that, he slipped out.

Fen was waiting just outside the witch's shop, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed though the quick shift of his eyes gave him away.

"Come on," Thorne said, brushing past him toward the main road. "Walk with me."

They wove back through the market, heading toward the blazing pillar of the Staircase of Light. Thorne's voice dropped low as the crowd thinned. "I need something from you."

Fen straightened instantly, puffing his chest, trying to look older than the scrawny boy he was. "Yeah? What is it?"

"It's not easy," Thorne said. "But I'm sure you'll manage. I was about your age when I was given the same task."

For a moment, his words cut deeper than intended. The memory struck hard, unbidden: Uncle's voice, low and oily, giving orders that had never felt like choices. The endless little tests, the errands dressed up as lessons, each one shaping him into something sharp and useful. He remembered the hollow pride of being trusted with a task and the dawning horror, years later, of realizing it had all been manipulation.

Now here he was, repeating the same pattern. A boy, poor and hungry, eager for scraps of approval. And Thorne, dangling tasks and coins like bait on a hook.

The recognition stabbed him, a jagged shard of self-loathing twisting in his chest. He hated it. Hated how easy it was. How natural.

For a heartbeat, he wanted to call it off, to tell Fen to forget it, to walk away and leave the boy untouched. But the thought withered under the weight of necessity. He couldn't afford sentiment. Not here. Not now.

So he forced it down, buried the guilt beneath his mask of easy charm. He would use Fen, yes. But he would not abandon him, not like Uncle had abandoned all of them. If he was playing the same role, then he'd make sure the ending was different.

Fen's eyes gleamed with eagerness. "Tell me."

Thorne gave him a strained smile. "I need to know where Brennak gets his shipments. Where the smugglers bring his goods into Evermist."

Fen blinked, the bravado faltering, but only for a heartbeat. Then he smirked, masking his nerves. "Leave it up to me."

Thorne reached into his pouch, flicked out two coins, and pressed them into the boy's hand. "Take these. You might need help, hire someone to guard your back if you think it wise."

Fen hesitated, then tucked them under his tunic like they were treasure.

Thorne crouched in front of him, lowering his voice until it was just a whisper between them. "Listen to me. You'll be careful. At the first sign of trouble, you run. I don't care if you think you're being brave, smart beats brave every time. You hear me?"

He pressed a small vial into Fen's hand. The boy turned it over curiously.

"Powder," Thorne said. "Throw it in someone's eyes, it'll blind and burn long enough for you to escape. I meant to use it for a prank on Elias, but it'll serve you better."

Fen's grin flickered, replaced by something far more serious. He nodded.

"And don't go alone. Take a couple of your friends. They don't need to fight, just watch for danger. If you don't find anything, that's fine. Just… be careful."

Another nod. Firmer this time.

Thorne rose, dusted off his cloak, and turned toward the tower where the Staircase of Light spiraled up to Aetherhold. "Two days," he said. "I'll see you then."

Fen stood silent, wide-eyed, watching as Thorne's figure climbed the glowing steps, the light swallowing him whole until he vanished into the floating mountain above.

The boy let out a slow breath, clutching the vial tight.

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