The soft glow of the obelisk in Elder's Hollow still lingered in Eran's mind as he made his way back through the twisting streets of Lumenholt. The encounter with the mysterious woman had shaken him more than he cared to admit. Her voice echoed in his head, her piercing eyes burned into his memory. Who was she? And how did she know what he was looking for?
The marketplace was quieter now, the bustle of the morning giving way to the stillness of midday. Vendors chatted idly, their wares glittering under the weak sunlight. Eran's instincts told him he wasn't alone, though. He had felt it ever since leaving Elder's Hollow—a subtle presence, like a shadow just beyond his sight.
He turned down an alley, then suddenly stopped and spun around. "Who's there?"
The silence stretched. For a moment, he thought he had imagined it. But then, from the dimness of the alley, a figure stepped forward—a woman draped in a cloak that shimmered faintly, as though woven from starlight.
It was her.
"I warned you not to go there," she said, her voice low but steady.
Eran tensed, his hand instinctively moving to the blade hidden beneath his coat. "Who are you? What do you know about Elder's Hollow?"
The woman tilted her head, studying him. "You ask the right questions, Eran Vale. But answers have a cost."
"How do you know my name?"
She stepped closer, the dim light catching her features. Her face was striking—sharp cheekbones, dark eyes that seemed to hold entire lifetimes within them. She looked both young and ancient, her presence unsettling yet captivating.
"Because I've been watching you," she replied. "You're not like the others in this town. You notice things, question things. That makes you dangerous."
Eran's grip tightened on his blade. "Dangerous to who?"
"To the ones who control this place," she said. "To the council."
Her words hit like a thunderclap. Eran had always suspected the council of hiding something, but hearing it confirmed sent a chill down his spine. "What do you know about the council?"
"Enough to know that your curiosity will get you killed if you're not careful," she said. "But if you truly want answers, you'll have to trust me."
Eran hesitated. He didn't trust her—how could he? But something in her voice, her eyes, told him she wasn't lying. "Why would you help me?"
A faint smile touched her lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Because I need you as much as you need me."
Before he could respond, a sudden noise echoed from the street—a metallic clanging, followed by hurried footsteps. The woman's expression darkened.
"They're coming," she said sharply. "We need to move."
"Who's coming?" Eran demanded.
She didn't answer, instead grabbing his arm and pulling him deeper into the alley. They slipped through a hidden door, the world outside disappearing as they entered a dark, narrow passage.
"Stay quiet," she whispered.
Eran could hear voices now, muffled but urgent. He recognized one of them—Garrick Hensley. The enforcer's deep, gruff tone was unmistakable.
"We know he was here," Garrick growled. "Find him."
Eran's heart raced as the footsteps drew closer. The woman placed a finger to her lips, her other hand resting on a strange device at her hip.
The voices faded, and the tension in the air eased slightly. The woman let out a breath, then turned to Eran. "If you want to survive, you'll need to learn who your real enemies are. Meet me tonight at the Iron Spire. And come alone."
Before Eran could respond, she was gone, disappearing into the shadows as if she had never been there.
He stood alone in the dark passage, his mind spinning. The council, the obelisk, the woman—none of it made sense. But one thing was clear: whatever was happening in Lumenholt, it was far bigger than he had imagined.
And he was right in the middle of it.