Chapter 8: Shadows in the Dark
The tavern creaked with age, its wooden beams groaning under the weight of countless stories whispered and shouted within its walls. The Broken Lantern was far from reputable, a haunt for those who had little use for rules. The low ceiling trapped the heat and smell of too many bodies, creating a stifling atmosphere that clung to the skin like a damp cloak.
Kairos and Erynn slipped inside, their eyes adjusting to the dim light. A haze of smoke from a dozen different pipes curled lazily under flickering lanterns, casting eerie shadows across the walls. The murmur of voices rose and fell, a rhythm of secrets being bartered, fortunes being made, and lives being wagered away.
Kairos led the way to a corner table, his hand brushing the hilt of his practice sword—a habit, more for show than readiness. Erynn followed, her keen eyes scanning the room with quiet suspicion.
"Subtle," she murmured as they sat. "Try not to look like you're hunting someone."
"I'm not hunting," Kairos whispered back, a grin tugging at his lips. "I'm just waiting for trouble to find me."
Erynn sighed, resting her elbows on the table. "It usually does."
A barmaid approached, her expression tired but wary. Her eyes flicked between them as she placed two mugs of frothy ale on the table. She didn't linger.
Kairos lifted his mug, sniffed the contents, and grimaced. "Do people drink this willingly?"
"Desperation makes a lot of things taste better," Erynn replied, taking a cautious sip.
They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of dice clattering and coins clinking blending with the distant strum of a lute. At a nearby table, a bearded man with a crooked nose laughed loudly, slapping his companion on the back. In a far corner, a cloaked figure hunched over a solitary drink, the hood casting deep shadows over his face.
Kairos noticed him immediately. The stranger hadn't moved since they entered, but there was a weight to his presence—a stillness that felt out of place amid the chaotic energy of the room.
"Don't stare," Erynn warned without looking.
Kairos smirked. "Too late."
"I mean it," she hissed. "This place is crawling with dangerous people. You don't want to stand out."
"We already do." He tilted his head subtly toward the barmaid, who was casting furtive glances in their direction. "She hasn't stopped watching us since we sat down."
"Then we need to be quick," Erynn whispered. "Listen carefully. There's been talk about the ruins. People have gone missing. They say something's waking up."
Kairos frowned. "What kind of something?"
She hesitated. "They call it the shadow hunger. A force that drains life. Some believe it's tied to the old wars, magic that should've stayed buried."
He leaned back, considering her words. "And you think the disappearances are connected?"
"I know they are," she said firmly. "The council wouldn't post warnings if it was just superstition."
Kairos took another sip of the ale, forcing it down. "So what's your plan? Charge into the ruins and ask nicely for the shadows to go away?"
Erynn gave him a flat look. "No. We gather information. We find someone who's seen it and lived."
Kairos arched a brow. "And how many of those do you think are left?"
She didn't answer.
The door to the tavern creaked open, a gust of cold air sweeping in as a new figure entered. He was tall and lean, with sharp eyes that gleamed like a predator's. His cloak was frayed at the edges, the dark fabric clinging to him as if woven from shadows themselves.
Kairos felt a chill crawl up his spine. The newcomer moved with a predator's grace, weaving through the room without disturbing so much as a breath of air. He took a seat near the hooded man in the corner, his movements fluid and deliberate.
Erynn followed his gaze. "That one's dangerous."
"More than the others?"
"Much more."
They watched in silence as the newcomer leaned close to the hooded man, their heads almost touching. A few words were exchanged—too quiet to hear—but the tension between them was palpable.
Kairos strained to catch a glimpse of their expressions, but the shadows obscured their faces. Then, without warning, the hooded man rose to his feet. His movements were sudden, startling. He turned his head slightly, just enough for Kairos to see a glimpse of glowing eyes—red as embers, burning with an unnatural light.
"Did you see that?" Kairos whispered.
"I saw," Erynn replied, her hand resting on the dagger at her hip.
The hooded man didn't look back as he made his way to the door. The other figure followed a heartbeat later, slipping into the night without a sound.
Kairos stood, his pulse quickening.
"What are you doing?" Erynn grabbed his arm.
"Following them."
"Are you insane?"
He grinned. "Probably."
She groaned but didn't let go. "We don't even know who they are."
"All the more reason to find out."
Erynn released his arm reluctantly. "Fine. But if we die, it's your fault."
Kairos chuckled. "It usually is."
They moved quickly, slipping out of the tavern into the cold night. The street was dark, the only light coming from a distant lantern swaying in the wind. The hooded figures were already disappearing around a corner.
Kairos and Erynn followed, their footsteps silent on the cobblestones.