The alleys of Val'Tharis twisted and turned like veins through a decaying corpse, and tonight, Evren moved through them with purpose. After his daring declaration at Varis's gathering, he'd expected the nobleman to test him, and the task had arrived swiftly.
"Retrieve information from the Whisperer," Varis had instructed, his gaze unreadable. "He's deep within the underbelly of Val'Tharis. The way will be dangerous, but the Whisperer's secrets are worth the risk."
The Whisperer—a name that carried a chill even in Varis's confident tone. Evren had heard of him, an informant whose knowledge ran deeper than rumor. He was a figure whispered about in shadows, a broker of secrets who had a price that most people weren't willing to pay.
Evren moved quietly through the district known as the Shallows, where the city's neglected streets slumped beneath the weight of darkness and despair. Shadows here weren't simply cast; they seemed to breathe, swelling and retreating as if aware of the life within them. He knew the types who roamed these parts—opportunists, thieves, desperate men and women whose loyalty could be bought for a handful of coins or an empty promise. Tonight, he'd have to walk a fine line between blending in and keeping his wits razor-sharp.
He rounded a corner and slipped into a narrow passage, its stone walls dripping with moisture that smelled faintly metallic. The Whisperer's lair was supposedly in the heart of the Shallows, hidden within a labyrinthine market. Evren's hand brushed the dagger at his hip, its reassuring weight a reminder of his cautious approach.
***
After winding through narrow corridors and passing silent eyes peeking from behind ragged curtains, Evren reached the entrance to the market. It was a dimly lit place filled with mismatched stalls that hawked forbidden wares: powders and herbs whose origins were better left unspoken, artifacts with ominous auras, and faded trinkets that bore the weight of sorrowful memories.
Evren approached a stall where a gaunt man with eyes like chipped glass observed him. He murmured softly, knowing the code Varis had given him would open doors not visible to most.
"Looking for whispers in the dark," Evren said, his voice steady.
The gaunt man's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Follow the path behind the mirrorstall. Look for the door with no handle."
Evren inclined his head in thanks, though he kept his expression guarded. Trust was a precious commodity here, and he wasn't one to give it freely.
He moved deeper into the maze, his footsteps nearly silent. At the mirror stall, he found the hidden path behind it and followed until he reached a heavy, weathered door set into the wall. It had no handle, just as the man had described, only a small, circular opening at eye level. Evren leaned close, and after a moment, the faintest rustle of movement came from within.
"What does the dusk ask of the night?" A voice whispered from behind the door, soft and eerie.
"The night answers only to those who seek truth," Evren replied, repeating the words Varis had given him.
The door opened a crack, then wider, until Evren was able to slip inside. The room beyond was dimly lit, its walls lined with shelves filled with strange, dusty relics. In the center sat a man cloaked in shadows, his face obscured by a hood. Only his mouth was visible, thin-lipped and twisted into a vague, unsettling smile.
"The Whisperer," Evren murmured, inclining his head.
"Evren, is it?" The man's voice was like dried leaves scraping across stone, fragile yet unnerving. "Varis has a keen eye, it seems. He sends you here, but does he trust you, I wonder?"
Evren held the man's gaze, unflinching. "He trusts me enough to risk sending me to you. That should speak for itself."
The Whisperer laughed, a sound that barely rose above a whisper but sent shivers down Evren's spine. "Trust, yes. But tell me, Are you the kind who honors it, or the kind who only uses it?"
Evren's smile was cool. "I think we both know the answer to that."
The Whisperer nodded, approving. "Clever. I expected as much. But you're here for secrets, not for musings. There's something you seek?"
"Information," Evren replied. "About the relics that Varis's rivals are acquiring. Their purpose, their value. He wants to know what they hold and why they're in demand."
The Whisperer's expression remained unreadable, but his hands moved slowly over the table, lifting a small, ornate box. He opened it, revealing a weathered parchment. "The relics Varis seeks have a history as old as the Abyss itself. They're not mere curiosities—they hold fragments of forgotten power, long lost to this city."
Evren leaned in; his attention sharpened. "Power? What kind?"
"The kind that binds, controls, and, if wielded well, dominates," the Whisperer said. "These relics are pieces of a puzzle that the rulers of Val'Tharis believe will give them mastery over the Abyss."
Evren took a breath, digesting the information. "And who else knows of this?"
The Whisperer's mouth twisted into a sly grin. "Those who need to know—and now, you. But be warned, Evren. The path to these relics is treacherous. Those who seek them are as ruthless as they are desperate."
Evren's mind raced, calculating his next move. This was more than he'd bargained for. Knowledge of these relics could be a powerful lever, one that could shift alliances in his favor—or set the city against him.
He nodded, his voice steady. "Thank you for your counsel."
As he turned to leave, he sensed movement behind him—a faint rustle, a presence. He whipped around, dagger drawn, just as two figures emerged from the shadows, blades glinting in the dim light.
"Friends of yours?" he asked, glancing back at the Whisperer, who only smiled, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement.
"Consider them... rivals. A test, if you will," the Whisperer replied, his voice dripping with satisfaction.
Evren tensed, adjusting his grip on his dagger. The two figures advanced, and he braced himself, assessing their movements, looking for any weakness. With a fluid motion, he sidestepped the first strike, driving his blade into the attacker's side. The second lunged at him faster, but Evren twisted, using his opponent's momentum to slam him against the wall.
In moments, both lay on the ground, defeated. Evren turned back to the Whisperer, breathing heavily. "Was that part of the deal?"
The Whisperer's smile widened. "You came for whispers; I offered you a lesson. Trust nothing in the Shallows."
Without a word, Evren left the room, his mind buzzing with the knowledge he'd gained—and the dangerous reminder of what it meant to deal with shadows. He'd completed the task, but he knew that the real trials were only beginning.