The gaslamps flickered in the damp evening air as Asher and Clarissa stepped onto the cobblestone streets of Menthil City.
The city pulsed with life—horse-drawn carriages clattered past, their wheels rattling against the stones, while the chatter of citizens filled the air, punctuated by the occasional bark of a street vendor.
Asher pulled his coat tighter, feeling the cool mist creep through the fabric.
The remnants of the day's chaos still clung to him, but he forced himself to focus. With Clarissa bouncing beside him, eyes bright with enthusiasm, he felt a strange mix of admiration and frustration.
Why is she so upbeat? Doesn't she understand the gravity of this situation?
"I can't wait to see what we uncover!" Clarissa exclaimed, her excitement cutting through his thoughts.
She pointed to a nearby auction house, its opulent façade adorned with gold trimmings and large glass windows showcasing an array of relics.
"If the Shadewalker is taking items, this might be where we find our leads."
Asher nodded, suppressing his anxiety. It's just an auction house. Nothing I haven't seen before. But despite the bravado, he felt a gnawing unease, aware of how small he seemed against the grandeur of the building.
Clarissa strode ahead, her confidence palpable. "Let me handle the talking."
Asher followed, watching her with cautious admiration.
Inside, the warmth of the room hit them—wood polished to a shine, the scent of leather faint in the air. The hum of conversation was louder here, patrons dressed in finery examining relics with discerning eyes. Asher's instincts pricked. A familiar face in the crowd. Great. Just what I need.
"Excuse me,"
Clarissa's voice rang clear, drawing his attention back. She was speaking with a clerk behind the counter.
"We're investigating some recent thefts—items taken under suspicious circumstances. Have there been any unusual incidents here?"
The clerk raised an eyebrow but seemed intrigued.
"There have been some minor thefts. Nothing too alarming, but a few items have gone missing recently."
Clarissa leaned in, her interest unmistakable.
"Anything particular?"
Asher stayed back, scanning the room, trying to quell the discomfort that gnawed at him. He watched her charm the clerk, navigating the conversation with ease.
She's diving headfirst into this. Does she even realize how dangerous it could get?
When they finished, Clarissa found a quiet corner, and Asher joined her. He cleared his throat.
"What did you find out?"
She beamed, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"There's a rumor about a girl fitting the Shadewalker's description. She's been linked to the theft of several lesser relics—ones with magical properties."
Asher's stomach sank.
"Not just a common thief, then. She's targeting dangerous items."
"Exactly!"
Clarissa's enthusiasm barely faltered.
"The clerk also mentioned sightings near the old warehouse district, usually at night."
Asher rubbed the back of his neck, tension building.
"And now you want to go check it out, at night? When she's at her strongest?"
Clarissa smiled, her optimism unwavering.
"I'll be careful, I promise. You just need to watch my back. We make a great team, don't we?"
He hesitated, the storm of worry churning inside him. This feels reckless. But if she's determined… He sighed.
"Just… don't do anything too bold."
"I won't," she said, her smile softening his doubt. "Trust me."
They finalized their plan, but the weight of the mission settled over Asher like a shroud. What if I can't protect her? His thoughts churned as they stepped back out into the night, the city's shadows pressing in.
With the evening deepening, they made their way toward the narrow alleyways rumored to be the Shadewalker's escape routes. Each step felt heavier than the last. Asher had faced danger before, but with Clarissa's safety on the line, it felt different. The stakes felt higher.
The air grew colder as they entered the warehouse district, the darkness clinging to the old buildings like a second skin. Asher tensed, his senses on high alert. This could go wrong fast.
A sudden sound—sniffing—broke the silence. Asher turned, startled, to see Clarissa with a peculiar expression on her face. Her eyes had taken on a feline gleam, and long ears had sprouted from her head.
Cu-cu—Cute! What the—?
He coughed, averting his gaze quickly to regain composure.
"You… you're a Lycan?"
Clarissa blinked, her expression innocent.
"Oh, right. I guess I never mentioned it."
Asher shook his head, trying to process.
A step 9 Lycan… That explains her abilities. Enhanced strength, speed, heightened senses—everything that makes her a perfect tracker. Lycans were the antithesis of bloodfiends and to a lesser extent mythical vampires. No wonder she was so confident. He reassessed her in a new light. She's more qualified than I thought.
Still, the shadows seemed to press in closer, and Asher couldn't shake the unease curling at the edges of his mind. Let's just hope her confidence isn't blind.