The faint light of dawn filtered through the cracks in the shutters, casting uneven streaks across the room's dusty floorboards. Caden stirred awake, the sounds of Aramore already rising outside—the murmur of voices, the creak of carts on cobblestones, and the clang of metal from distant forges.
He sat up slowly, the ache in his muscles a dull reminder of the sanctuary's trials. The shard pulsed faintly in his pocket, a rhythm that felt almost in tune with the city's chaotic energy. Across the room, Garrick stood by the window, his gaze scanning the alley below.
"Time to move," Garrick said without turning. "The longer we sit still, the more likely someone takes notice."
Caden swung his legs over the bed, rubbing his eyes. "Where do we start?"
"With a lead," Garrick replied, stepping away from the window. "Lyra mentioned someone in the Rust Quarter—a man named Veyrin. Deals in information. If fragments are being traded here, he'll know."
The mention of fragments sent a shiver through Caden. He couldn't shake the unease that followed him since entering the city. The streets felt alive, like they were watching, waiting. He nodded, forcing himself to push the fear aside.
The pair descended to the common room, where Lyra stood behind the counter, her sharp eyes flicking toward them as they approached. "Heading out already?" she asked, her tone neutral.
"We'll be back," Garrick said. "Anything else we should know about this Veyrin?"
Lyra shrugged, polishing a tarnished mug. "He's paranoid and greedy. Likes to think he's smarter than everyone else. Don't let him push you around."
With that, they stepped out into the streets of Aramore. The morning air was cool, but the energy of the city was anything but. Merchants shouted over each other as they set up their stalls, children darted between carts, and cloaked figures lingered in the shadows, their eyes sharp and watchful.
The further they ventured into the Rust Quarter, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and oil, and the buildings seemed to huddle closer together, their soot-streaked walls looming like silent sentinels.
"Why would someone like Veyrin stay in a place like this?" Caden asked, glancing at a crumbling building where a forge belched thick black smoke.
"Because no one looks for him here," Garrick replied. "The Rust Quarter hides the kind of people who don't want to be found."
They reached a squat, unmarked building near the foundry, its windows dark and its walls streaked with grime. Garrick knocked twice on the door, waited, then knocked three more times. A tense silence followed before the door creaked open, revealing a gaunt man with hollow cheeks and sharp, darting eyes.
"Who sent you?" the man demanded, his voice thin and rasping.
"No one," Garrick said evenly. "We're looking for information about fragments."
The man's eyes narrowed, and he studied them for a long moment. "Veyrin," he said finally, stepping aside to let them in. "And you?"
"Travelers," Garrick said simply. "And new to Aramore."
The room was cramped and dimly lit, cluttered with piles of parchment, strange trinkets, and mechanical devices that clicked and whirred faintly. The air was heavy with the smell of oil and mildew.
Veyrin sank into a rickety chair, motioning for them to speak. "Fragments," he said, his lips curling into a sly smile. "Always a dangerous subject. And one that comes at a cost."
Garrick crossed his arms. "We're paying for information, not games. What do you know?"
Veyrin's sharp eyes flicked to Caden, lingering on him for a moment before returning to Garrick. "You're bold for someone new here. But I'll bite. There's been chatter—fragments surfacing in unexpected places, attracting attention. The kind you don't want."
"Reclaimers?" Garrick asked.
Veyrin nodded, his expression darkening. "They're restless. Rumors say they're gathering near the eastern docks, but no one knows why. And they're not the only ones. Bounty hunters are crawling through the city, looking for easy marks."
Caden tensed at the mention of bounty hunters. "Why would anyone hire bounty hunters for fragments?"
"Because fragments mean power," Veyrin said, his tone matter-of-fact. "And power always draws predators. If you're carrying one…" His gaze shifted to Caden again, and his voice dropped to a low murmur. "You'd best keep it hidden."
Garrick's expression remained unreadable, but his grip on his staff tightened. "What about the underground markets? Any leads there?"
Veyrin smirked. "The Rust Quarter's full of whispers, but most of them lead to dead ends—or traps. If you're desperate, you can try the old tunnels beneath the foundry. They say fragments change hands there, but don't expect a warm welcome."
Garrick tossed a small pouch of coins onto the table. Veyrin snatched it up with quick, practiced movements, weighing it in his palm before pocketing it.
"One last thing," Garrick said. "What's your stake in all this?"
Veyrin's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Information is my trade, stranger. The less you know about me, the better for both of us."
They left the building in silence, the oppressive air of the Rust Quarter pressing in around them. The fragment pulsed faintly in Caden's pocket, and he felt its energy coiling like a restless serpent.
"Do you trust him?" Caden asked as they wove through the narrow alleys.
"No," Garrick said without hesitation. "But his information matches what I've heard before. We'll have to tread carefully."
Caden nodded, though unease gnawed at his chest. The Reclaimers were out there, and the fragment he carried felt heavier than ever.
As they neared the edge of the Rust Quarter, Caden couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. He glanced over his shoulder, catching a flicker of movement in the shadows—a figure disappearing around a corner.
"Garrick," he whispered, his voice tight. "I think we're being followed."
Garrick's expression hardened, and he quickened his pace. "Eyes forward. Don't let them see you hesitate."
Caden obeyed, but his heart pounded in his chest. The streets of Aramore were alive with danger, and the fragment he carried was like a beacon. Whatever came next, he knew they wouldn't escape the city's shadows unscathed.