Heavy footfalls echoed off the cobblestones, marking Vince's steady progress along the dimly lit streets. His eyes were unfocused, staring blankly into the distance as his mind replayed the brutal fight in the alley. The scene unfolded over and over; the flash of his blade, the spray of hot blood, the gurgling gasps as the man choked on his own life fluid. Vince felt his stomach turn. He'd cut down countless undead earlier without hesitation, yet this felt different. The undead were mindless things, puppets of magic. But the man in the alley had been a breathing, thinking human. And now, because of him, he wasn't.
He shook his head, forcing himself back into the present as the Thieves' Guild base came into view. He couldn't afford to lose focus here.
A man slouched on the street, disguised as a beggar, perked up when he spotted Vince. Recognition flickered in his eyes as he scrambled to his feet, brushing dust from his patched trousers.
"Vince?" the picket said, tilting his head. "You alright, lad?"
Vince glanced down at himself, taking in the blood smeared across his pants and the dried flecks on his arms and face. For a moment, he didn't know how to respond. "Uh… yeah," he finally muttered. "It's… not my blood." He shifted his pack. "I've got a message for Kalahan."
The picket gave him a long, appraising look before nodding. "Alright then." He scanned the street to make sure they were alone; then pressed two fingers to his lips and let out a series of sharp, precise whistles. Moments later, the door across the street creaked open, and another man's head poked out. He waved Vince forward.
"Go on," the picket said with a half-smile, slumping back into his beggar's posture.
Vince returned the gesture with a weak wave and crossed the street. The man at the door ushered him inside, leading him through the dimly lit building and down a set of narrow stairs. The air grew cooler as they descended into a basement packed with casks of ale. Two guards flanked a particularly large cask, their faces unreadable.
"Here we are," Vince's guide said, nodding to the guards.
One of the guards twisted the spigot on the cask three times, and with a creak, the entire front swung open, revealing a hidden passage. Vince followed his guide into the dim corridor, the two guards stepping aside to let them pass. The passage twisted and branched at random, the uneven stone walls illuminated by the occasional flickering torch.
Finally, they emerged into a larger room lit by several oil lamps. The space buzzed with life; a group of men sat at a central table, playing cards and drinking. Vince's guide stopped at the table, addressing the man seated at its head.
"Kalahan, messenger for you," he said before turning on his heel and disappearing back down the passage.
Kalahan lounged at the table, his long blond hair catching the light. His one visible eye, a hazy sky blue, fixed on Vince as he spoke. The other was hidden beneath a black leather patch, giving him an air of menace. Dressed in green linen and a loose brown leather vest bristling with daggers, Kalahan exuded both charm and danger.
"Ah, Vince," he said in his signature melodic tone, a grin tugging at his lips. "It's been a minute. How's life at the Pearl?"
Vince swallowed hard. "Busy," he managed, pulling the sealed scroll from his pack and handing it to Kalahan. "Ran into trouble on the way here. Think it was one of Rorik's men, but I'm not sure. He's dead."
Kalahan let out a low whistle, setting down his cards. "Damn. Gallen's been schooling you good, kiddo. Should've staked a claim on you years ago." He barked at two of his men, "Boris, Klem. Clean it up. Don't want the Watch sniffing around this close to home."
The two grumbled, tossing their cards onto the table before stalking out of the room.
Kalahan's attention shifted to the scroll. His face remained unreadable as he scanned its contents. "Alright, then," he muttered, folding the parchment. "Tell Lira I'm coming. Looks like the party's about to start."
He dropped his feet from the table, pivoting upright in a single fluid motion. His cards remained face-down on the table as he unhooked two daggers from his vest, handing them to Vince.
"For the twins," he said grimly. "Looks like the damn kids are going to need them."
Vince nodded, muttering his thanks as Kalahan gestured to a room in the back. "Go get cleaned up, kid. The twins'll be here soon. They'll help with the rest of your deliveries. Don't want any more trouble coming your way today."
Vince found his old bunk in the familiar room lined with cots and storage chests. He pulled open the chest by his bed, a thin layer of dust coating its lid. It had been ages since he'd last been here. Training with Gallen had consumed his life, leaving little time for anything else. He changed out of his bloody clothes, wrapping himself in an old black cloak before strapping his sword to his hip.
As he slung the pack back over his shoulder, the twins burst into the room, their faces alight with excitement.
"Vince!" they cried in unison.
"Gods above, mate, I heard you hacked down one of Rorik's goons!" Tors exclaimed.
"Cut him down right, I heard!" Ren added, grinning ear to ear.
Vince suppressed a shiver at the memory, forcing a smile. "You heard right, boys. Epic fight of honor over my deliveries," he said, puffing his chest in mock bravado.
The twins' eyes sparkled with admiration, but Vince quickly cleared his throat, placing a dagger in each of their hands.
"Presents from Kalahan," he said, his tone sobering.
The twins held the plain steel blades aloft, their excitement palpable. "We've got our own steel now!" they exclaimed, pretending to fight invisible foes.
Vince placed his hands on their heads, forcing them to meet his gaze. "Listen up. If Kalahan's giving you steel, it means trouble's coming. No more playing around. Got it?"
They nodded solemnly, though the glow in their eyes barely dimmed. Vince sighed, ruffling their hair with a laugh. "Good. Kal also said you're helping me with the rest of my deliveries. Grab belts for those daggers and let's go."
Minutes later, three cloaked figures darted through the dark hallways of the guild base. Vince watched the twins laughing and chatting ahead of him as they emerged onto the busy streets. Since the twins had shown up, the memory of the man in the alley had started to fade, if only a little.
The rest of the deliveries went smoothly. Vince handed off messages to Endra, the sharp-eyed owner of a bakery chain that fronted for the city's drug trade; to Reese, the wiry overseer of the bustling river docks; and finally, to Kenith, a towering bruiser who ran the underground fighting rings. Each was an ally to the House of Pearl; key players in the web of power and secrecy that held Maze together.
As the trio made their way back toward the Redlight District, the sun dipped lower, bathing the city in a warm, amber glow. Shadows grew longer, creeping like silent predators through the narrow streets. Vince's mind wandered, but a flicker of movement snapped him back to reality. He slowed, eyes narrowing as something shifted in the corner of his vision.
A shadow moved unnaturally at the mouth of a dark alley. Vince's head swam for a moment, a strange fuzziness clouding his thoughts. He stumbled slightly but caught himself, glancing sharply into the darkness.
"What's wrong?" Tors asked, his voice hushed.
Vince motioned for them to follow, pressing his back against the wall as he peered around the corner. Through the gap in a rain gutter, he spotted figures crouched on the cobblestones. Their movements were practiced and swift, as they scraped and etched into the stone with sharp tools.
"What the hells…" Vince murmured, his heart quickening.
He scanned the alley and spotted a path up the side of the building. Pointing upward, he whispered, "Come on. Quietly."
With practiced ease, Vince began climbing the uneven stones, his fingers finding holds in the cracks of the wall. Tors and Ren followed, their movements a little less graceful but just as determined. Once on the roof, the trio crept noiselessly across the tiles, staying low as they positioned themselves directly above the mysterious figures.
From above, the scene became clearer. Vince squinted, trying to make sense of what they were carving. The lines were jagged, chaotic, and yet they formed a distinct, unnatural symbol that twisted Vince's stomach the longer he looked at it. His head swam again, a faint thrum of energy pressing against his senses.
"You feel that?" Vince whispered, glancing back at the twins.
Tors gave him a blank stare. "Feel what?"
"Only the breeze," Ren chimed in, his expression puzzled.
Vince frowned, shaking his head in frustration. It felt almost like the oppressive energy he'd sensed at the Raven's Nest, Magic.
The boys watched as the figures below pulled out a jar filled with a dark liquid. Carefully, they poured it into the etched symbol. The liquid spread with unnatural precision, filling every crevice until the symbol glistened faintly in the dim light. Once their work was done, the men packed up their tools and disappeared into the shadows of the street.
Exchanging a glance, Vince and the twins nodded in silent agreement and scrambled back down to the alley. The symbol was eerie up close, the lines jagged and uneven, yet forming a design that almost seemed to writhe when Vince looked at it. The air around it felt heavy, pressing against his chest like a weight.
"What do you suppose this is about?" Tors asked, his voice hushed.
"Seems awful weird to me," Ren added, keeping his distance.
Vince didn't answer. He stepped closer, his nose wrinkling as a sharp, metallic smell hit him like a slap. His stomach churned as recognition dawned.
"Blood," he whispered, the word catching in his throat.
Tors recoiled. "What kind of shit is this?" he exclaimed, fear creeping into his voice.
"Aw, gross," Ren muttered, his face pale.
"It's some kind of spell," Vince said, his tone more to himself than to the others.
"A keen observation," came a raspy voice behind them, brittle and cold as winter wind.
Vince whipped around, a shiver running up his spine. A hooded figure stepped from the shadows, seeming to materialize out of the darkness itself. His black robes billowed faintly; and a single bony hand, bleach-white and skeletal, gripped a crooked staff. Dark purple crystals embedded at its tip pulsed with a sickly light.
"It seems a few little mice have stumbled upon my work," the man said, his voice the sound of dry leaves crumbling. "No matter. Just a few more children for my collection."
"RUN!" Vince shouted, grabbing the twins by their arms and shoving them forward. The three bolted, leaping over the blood-filled symbol in one swift motion.
As they raced toward the end of the alley, shadows began to coil and writhe along the walls. Tendrils of darkness reached for them, weaving into a web that threatened to block their escape. Vince's heart thundered in his chest as he saw the gap narrowing.
"Come on!" he growled, pushing himself harder.
The tendrils reached for him, twisting like writhing snakes. Vince clenched his teeth, shouting No! in his mind. For a moment, everything blurred. His head throbbed painfully, like a hammer striking his skull; but somehow, he burst through the narrowing gap and stumbled into the open street. Tors and Ren followed close behind: panting and wild-eyed.
Vince dared to glance back. The hooded figure stood at the alley's mouth, his eerie presence almost glowing in the shadows. He didn't pursue, but instead watched them, his hood tilting slightly.
"Well, well now, how unexpected" the man said in his rasping tone. "No matter. I've no time for games. I'll see you again someday… little spark."
With that, the figure turned back toward the symbol, the shadows sealing the alley behind him like a door.
Vince and the twins leaned against the rough stone wall of a side street, their breaths ragged and uneven. The pounding in Vince's head had dulled slightly, but his body still felt heavy: his muscles trembling with exertion.
"Bloody hell," Tors muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "Who was that?"
Ren slumped against the wall beside him, his face pale. "I don't care who he was. I just want to forget him."
Vince forced himself to stand straight, trying to shake off the oppressive feeling lingering in his chest. "We're not safe yet," he said, his voice firm despite the pounding of his heart. "Let's…"
The sound of heavy footsteps and muffled voices stopped him mid-sentence. Vince froze, his instincts screaming danger. The twins exchanged a nervous glance, their faces mirroring his unease.
"Spread out!" a gruff voice barked nearby. "They couldn't have gotten far."
Vince's blood turned cold. The men form the alley he thought
The voices grew louder, closer, echoing off the narrow streets. Vince motioned silently for the twins to follow him, pressing a finger to his lips. They nodded, their earlier fear replaced with focus. Moving as quietly as possible, they retreated deeper into the city.
"Split up and search!" another voice snarled, the clink of weapons accompanying the command. "If you find them, shout."
Vince's mind raced. The streets were too tight, too full of dead ends to keep running blindly. He needed a plan. The faint smell of brackish water reached his nose, and an idea formed. He motioned toward a narrow path leading downhill.
"The canal," he whispered. "This way."
The twins followed without hesitation, their movements hushed despite their obvious anxiety. They wove through the twisting alleys; the sound of pursuing footsteps growing louder behind them. Vince pushed himself harder; the faint glimmer of water ahead offering the only hope of escape.
"There!" a voice bellowed behind them.
Vince whipped around to see three figures rounding the corner, weapons gleaming in the faint light. One of the men, a burly thug with a scar running across his cheek, pointed a thick finger at them.
"Stop them!" he shouted, and the three broke into a sprint.
"Go!" Vince hissed, shoving the twins forward. The three of them darted down the last stretch of the alley, the sound of their pursuers' boots pounding in their ears.
The canal finally came into view, its dark waters rippling faintly under the dim light of a distant lantern. Vince skidded to a halt at the edge, glancing around for a way to escape. The stone walls lining the canal were slick and steep, the water several feet below.
"No way," Tors said, staring at the murky water. "We're not jumping in that!"
"We don't have a choice!" Vince snapped, grabbing his arm. "They're almost here!"
Before Tors could argue, Vince pulled him forward and leapt, dragging him into the water. Ren followed immediately, his face twisted in disgust as they hit the cold, filthy canal. The water swallowed them with a loud splash; its chill stealing the breath from their lungs.
"After them!" one of the men shouted from above.
Vince surfaced, gasping for air as he grabbed the twins and motioned for them to swim. The water was freezing and reeked of oil and sewage, but there was no time to hesitate.
"Damn it!" one of the pursuers growled from the edge. "They'll be halfway down the canal before we're in!"
"They'll drown in that muck anyway," another man said with a sneer. "Let the rats go. We've got more important things to do than chase some kids."
Vince risked a glance back, his heart hammering in his chest. The men stood at the canal's edge, glaring down at them but making no move to follow. One of them cursed loudly, spitting into the water before they turned and disappeared back into the alleys while the boys were swept along with the current.
"They're not following," Vince said, his voice shaking with both relief and exhaustion. "Keep moving. Just in case."
The trio swam awkwardly down the canal, the current pulling them further from the scene. The cold, filthy water clawed at their limbs, numbing their fingers and toes. Vince's arms burned with exhaustion, but he pushed on, the faint glimmer of light ahead guiding him. Finally, as they rounded a bend, the familiar silhouette of the Pearl came into view, its elegant façade reflecting faintly in the murky water.
Relief surged through Vince as they reached the stone platform adjacent to the building. Gritting his teeth, he hauled himself up onto the slick stones, collapsing onto his back. Tors and Ren followed, both panting and groaning as they sprawled beside him.
"Never… again," Tors wheezed, his soaked clothes clinging to his wiry frame.
"Agreed," Ren muttered, swiping at the grime on his face. "I think I swallowed something. If I die, bury me somewhere clean."
"Not funny. I think I drank half the river," Vince managed, sitting up and shaking water from his arms.
A sharp, melodic voice broke through their exhaustion. "Well, well, look what the canal spit out. Did someone push you in, or is evening swims the thing now?"
Vince looked up, startled. A fiery-haired girl stood a few paces away, hands on her hips, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. She appeared to be their age, though she carried herself with a confidence that made her seem older. Her vibrant red hair, pulled back in a loose braid, glowed in the faint light.
"Who are you?" Vince asked, his voice wary as he rose to his feet, dripping water onto the stone.
The girl raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "The person looking at three drowned rats?" She tilted her head, eyeing Vince with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Well, it's nice to meet you, moist boy."
Vince's face flushed. "I'm Vince," he muttered, wringing out his shirt. "And we're just…uh…passing through."
"Passing through the canal?" the girl laughed, her smirk widening. "Creative."
Before Vince could respond, the back door of the Pearl creaked open, and Mira stepped out. She froze for a moment, taking in the scene before bursting into laughter.
"Oh, this is too good," Mira said, her hands on her hips. "Vince, what did you do?"
"Not now, Mira," Vince grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Mira's eyes danced as she turned to the girl. "Lisa, your father's looking for you. Something about not wandering off when important guests are arriving?"
Lisa straightened slightly, brushing invisible dust from her sleeves. "I wasn't wandering. I was… just taking in some air." She flashed a cheeky smile at Vince. "I came across something interesting though."
Mira shook her head, chuckling, before focusing on the boys again. "As for you three, get inside. Guests are already arriving for the meeting, and you can't stand out here dripping like that."
"Fine," Vince muttered, motioning for Tors and Ren to follow. Lisa watched with obvious amusement as the trio shuffled past her.
"See you around, moist boy," Lisa called, her voice teasing.
Vince groaned under his breath as they stepped into the Pearl's back corridors. Mira ushered them along briskly to the bathhouse section. "Clothes. Now," she said, gesturing toward a small changing area. "And be quick about it. You know how Gallen gets when things aren't running smoothly."
The boys wasted no time stripping off their sodden clothes and grabbing dry ones from a stack nearby. Vince scrubbed his face and arms in the washbasin, grimacing at the persistent smell of the canal. Tors and Ren muttered under their breaths as they did the same, both still visibly shaken from their earlier encounter.
Once they were dressed, Vince led the way back into the main hall. As they passed the kitchen, a familiar scent stopped him in his tracks. The Pearl's cook, Jessa, stood by the hearth, her sleeves rolled up as she stirred a pot.
"Well, if it isn't V and the newest canal adventurers!" Jessa called, her voice warm and teasing. "No idea why you guys would want to swim at this hour."
"We felt adventurous," Vince replied with a faint smile, his spirits lifting slightly in the warmth of the kitchen.
Jessa smirked, setting down her ladle and crossing her arms. "Gallen's waiting for you, but don't think you'll get past me next time without explaining yourselves."
"Yes, Jessa," Vince said bowing with mock obedience, earning a laugh from the cook.
"Go on, then," she said, waving them off. "And tell Gallen the food is almost ready."
Vince nodded his thanks and turned back toward the main corridor, his steps quickening. His head still throbbed faintly, and the memory of the hooded man sent a shiver through him, but he pushed it aside. He needed to tell Gallen everything.