The walls of Ebonreach rose like a jagged scar against the horizon. Even from a distance, the city looked imposing—its towering spires wrapped in shadow, and its gates reinforced with blackened iron. The late afternoon sun bathed the surrounding plains in gold, but the city itself seemed untouched by the light, its stone dark and weathered as if it absorbed the world's gloom.
Lyra walked ahead of me, her pace steady despite the exhaustion etched into her face. The events in the valley had left us both shaken, though she hid it better than I did. My body still ached from the sprint, and the hum of the pendant against my chest hadn't stopped, as if it was warning me that we weren't safe yet.
"That's Ebonreach?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"It is," Lyra said without looking back. Her voice was flat, lacking the usual edge of sarcasm or humor.
"It doesn't look very welcoming."
"It's not."
I frowned, glancing at her. "Why are we going here again?"
Lyra sighed, finally slowing her pace. "Because if we're going to find any real answers, we'll find them here. Ebonreach is a city of scholars, magicians, and people who trade in secrets. If anyone knows about the Vanguard or the watchers, it'll be someone in this place."
Her explanation didn't make the city feel any less foreboding, but it did give me a thread to hold onto. I nodded, gripping the hilt of my sword as we continued toward the gates.
The city gates loomed high above us, their iron surface etched with faint runes that glimmered faintly in the fading light. Two guards stood at the entrance, their armor a patchwork of steel and leather. Their faces were obscured by helmets, but their eyes followed us warily as we approached.
"State your business," one of them said, his voice gruff.
"Travelers," Lyra replied. "We're here to find work and shelter."
The guard's gaze lingered on her for a moment before shifting to me. I felt the weight of his scrutiny, as if he could sense the power I carried—or the trouble that followed me.
"No weapons drawn inside the gates," the guard said finally. "And no magic unless you've got the papers to back it up."
"Understood," Lyra said.
The gates creaked open just wide enough to let us through, and we stepped into the shadowed streets of Ebonreach.
The city was alive with activity, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air. The streets were narrow, lined with tall buildings that seemed to lean inward, their dark windows watching us like unblinking eyes. Merchants hawked their wares from stalls packed close together, their voices loud and sharp as they called out to passersby.
But it wasn't the noise or the crowds that unsettled me—it was the way people moved. They walked with purpose, their heads down and their eyes darting nervously to the shadows. Even the merchants seemed more focused on their surroundings than their sales, as if they were bracing for something unseen.
"This place feels... wrong," I said quietly.
"Welcome to Ebonreach," Lyra said, her voice dry. "You'll get used to it. Or you won't."
We made our way deeper into the city, the streets growing narrower and darker with every turn. Lyra seemed to know where she was going, her steps sure and deliberate despite the maze of alleys and side streets.
"Where are we headed?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.
"To someone who can help," she said.
"That's vague."
"Good," she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.
We stopped outside a nondescript building wedged between two larger ones. Its door was plain, the wood worn and cracked, with no sign or marking to indicate what lay inside. Lyra knocked once, sharply, then stepped back.
The door creaked open, revealing a tall woman with sharp features and piercing green eyes. She wore simple robes, but the air around her seemed to hum faintly with magic. Her gaze flicked to me, then back to Lyra.
"Lyra," the woman said, her voice smooth but edged with curiosity. "You're back sooner than I expected."
"Things changed," Lyra said. "We need information."
The woman's eyes lingered on me again, narrowing slightly. "And who's this?"
"A traveler," Lyra said quickly. "He's with me."
The woman's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "You've brought me something interesting, haven't you?"
Lyra didn't respond, but her posture stiffened.
"Come in," the woman said, stepping aside.
The interior of the building was cluttered but organized, with shelves crammed full of books, scrolls, and artifacts that glimmered faintly in the dim light. The air smelled of parchment and something metallic, sharp and unfamiliar.
The woman gestured for us to sit at a small table near the center of the room. "I'm Myra," she said, settling into a chair across from us. "And I assume you're here for more than pleasantries."
"We need to know about the Vanguard," Lyra said bluntly.
Myra arched an eyebrow, her gaze sharpening. "That's a dangerous subject."
"Danger's not new to us," I said, meeting her eyes.
Her smile widened slightly, though it still lacked warmth. "Interesting. Most people would avoid the Vanguard like a curse. And yet here you are."
"Do you know anything or not?" Lyra pressed.
Myra leaned back in her chair, studying us for a moment before nodding. "I know pieces. Stories, fragments of history. But if you're looking for the truth, you'll have to pay for it. Nothing comes free in Ebonreach."
"What do you want?" Lyra asked, her voice tense.
"That depends," Myra said, her gaze shifting to me. "What are you willing to give?"
The weight of her question hung in the air, and the faint hum of the pendant against my chest grew stronger.