Morning came reluctantly to Ebonreach. The faint light filtering through the grime-streaked window barely reached the corners of the small room. I stretched, my body aching from the tension of the fight the night before. Lyra was already awake, sitting by the window with her sword resting across her lap, her gaze fixed on the street below.
"Anything?" I asked, my voice groggy.
"Just people going about their day," she said, though the edge in her tone told me she hadn't relaxed. "But I don't trust this city to stay quiet for long."
I nodded, pulling on my boots. The events of the previous night weighed heavily on me—the ambush, the attackers melting into the shadows, and Lyra's warning that it was only the beginning. Ebonreach was a city of secrets, and it felt like every one of them was watching us.
"We need to make a plan," I said, standing. "The Scholars' Quarter isn't going to let us waltz in, and I doubt Myra gave us the full story."
Lyra smirked, though it didn't reach her eyes. "She never does."
"Then where do we start?"
Lyra stood, adjusting the strap of her pack. "We find someone who can get us inside. Someone with connections. And in this city, that means we'll be making deals."
The way she said it made my stomach twist. "You don't sound thrilled about that."
"I'm not," she admitted. "But we don't have a choice. If we want answers, we'll have to play the game."
The streets were already alive with activity by the time we stepped outside. Merchants shouted over each other from crowded stalls, their voices mixing with the clatter of carts and the murmur of conversations. The air was thick with the smell of roasted meat and damp stone, a combination that turned my stomach.
Lyra led the way, weaving through the narrow streets with the confidence of someone who had done this before. I stayed close, my hand never straying far from the hilt of my sword. The city felt more dangerous in the daylight, its shadows less visible but no less present.
"Where are we going?" I asked after a while.
"To find someone who owes me a favor," Lyra said without looking back.
"You have favors here?"
Her lips twitched in something like amusement. "You don't survive in Ebonreach without making deals. The trick is knowing which ones to call in."
We turned down a side street, the noise of the main thoroughfare fading behind us. The buildings here were older, their stone walls weathered and cracked. Lyra stopped outside a small shop with a faded sign that read Velren's Curiosities.
"This is the place?" I asked, glancing at the peeling paint and broken shutters.
"Don't let the look fool you," she said, pushing the door open.
The shop's interior was cluttered with shelves overflowing with trinkets, books, and jars filled with substances I didn't recognize. The air was thick with the scent of dust and something acrid that made my nose sting.
Behind the counter stood an older man with a wiry frame and sharp eyes. He looked up as we entered, his gaze narrowing as it landed on Lyra.
"Well, well," he said, his voice raspy. "If it isn't the wandering swordswoman. Didn't expect to see you back here."
"Good to see you too, Velren," Lyra said dryly. "We need your help."
Velren snorted, leaning against the counter. "Of course you do. No one comes to me unless they're desperate." His eyes flicked to me. "And who's this?"
"A traveler," Lyra said quickly. "He's with me."
Velren's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he shrugged. "What do you need?"
"Access to the Scholars' Quarter," Lyra said.
Velren let out a low whistle. "Ambitious. What makes you think I can get you in?"
"You have contacts," Lyra said. "And you owe me."
Velren frowned, his fingers drumming against the counter. "That was a long time ago, Lyra. And this? This is big. Dangerous. Why should I risk my neck for you?"
"Because I'm not giving you a choice," Lyra said, her tone icy.
The two stared at each other for a long moment, the tension thick enough to cut. Finally, Velren sighed and shook his head. "Fine. But this is going to cost you."
"What do you want?" Lyra asked, crossing her arms.
"Not much," Velren said, his tone turning sly. "Just a small delivery. Something that needs to get into the Quarter but can't go through official channels."
Lyra's eyes narrowed. "What kind of delivery?"
Velren reached under the counter, pulling out a small, locked box. It was plain and unassuming, but the way he handled it—like it was made of glass—set me on edge.
"Nothing dangerous," he said, though the smirk on his face made it hard to believe. "Just a package for one of my clients. You take this to them, and I'll make the arrangements to get you inside."
Lyra hesitated, her gaze flicking to me.
"What's the catch?" I asked.
Velren's smirk widened. "No catch. Just don't open the box. And don't let anyone else take it from you. Simple, right?"
We left the shop with the box in Lyra's pack and a sour taste in my mouth. The streets felt even more oppressive now, the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on us.
"This feels like a mistake," I said, keeping my voice low.
"It probably is," Lyra admitted. "But we don't have a choice. Velren's contacts are the best shot we have at getting into the Quarter."
"And what happens if this box is more trouble than it's worth?"
"Then we deal with it," she said simply.
Her confidence didn't do much to reassure me, but I kept my thoughts to myself. The city's shadows felt closer than ever, and I couldn't shake the feeling that we'd just stepped deeper into a game we didn't fully understand.
As we made our way toward the Scholars' Quarter, the pendant at my chest pulsed faintly, its warmth steady but insistent. Whatever secrets lay inside that box, they were now ours to carry. And I had a sinking feeling they wouldn't come without a cost.