The night pressed down on the city like a living thing, thick with unseen threats and whispers of unseen eyes. The deeper we walked into its maze of filth and firelight, the heavier the weight of danger became.
We moved with purpose, cloaks pulled tightly around us, blending into the flickering glow of lanterns that cast jagged shadows across the alley walls. Even here, in the underbelly of the city, life never stopped—only changed shape. The air was thick with the mingled scents of smoke, cheap ale, and the metallic tang of blood. In the darkness, I heard murmurs of back-alley deals, the quiet clink of stolen coin, and the hushed breaths of those watching from the shadows.
This place was a predator. And we were prey walking a thin line.
The inn we found was nothing remarkable. A battered wooden sign creaked above the entrance, its faded lettering barely legible in the dim lantern light. The building itself, though worn, looked sturdy enough—not a sanctuary, but at least a place where we could rest with a locked door between us and the city.
Inside, the air was heavy with smoke and the sour scent of old ale. A few patrons lingered by the fire, their faces obscured by the hooded cloaks they wore—people who didn't want to be seen. The dwarf behind the counter was as rough as the city itself, his thick beard dusted with crumbs and his eyes sharp with experience.
He measured us the moment we entered, his gaze lingering on our cloaks, on Aria's hesitation, on the way I stood between her and the rest of the room.
"You two look like you've had a rough day," he said, his voice like gravel. His arms rested on the scarred counter, casual but firm. "You here for a room, or just looking to warm up? Either way, don't bring trouble to my doorstep. This ain't the kind of place where people get second chances."
I met his gaze. "A room." My voice was steady. No need to give him more information than necessary.
The dwarf's eyes flicked toward Aria, who kept her hood low. He exhaled through his nose, muttered something under his breath, then reached under the counter and pulled out a key.
"Top of the stairs. Last door on the left," he said, sliding the tarnished key toward me. "Don't mind the creaks—just the wood settling, or so I tell my guests." A knowing look passed through his eyes. "And if you're leaving, do it before sunrise. The streets get… hungrier the longer the night lingers."
I nodded, pocketing the key. He knew. Maybe not everything, but enough to understand we didn't belong here. Without another word, I led Aria upstairs.
The room was small, worn, but safe. Bare wooden walls, a single bed that groaned under the lightest touch, and the faint scent of mildew lingering in the air. A single candle flickered on the nightstand, its weak glow barely pushing back the darkness.
"We'll stay here for the night," I said, shutting the door behind us. I glanced at Aria. "Unless you're uncomfortable here?"
She hesitated. "No… I'm fine." But her voice wavered slightly.
I didn't push. We had enough problems already.
I pulled out the bread from my pouch—the last of what the villagers had given me before I left. It was rough, stale, but food was food. I broke it in half, handing a piece to Aria.
"You hungry?"
She nodded, taking it hesitantly. "Thanks."
We ate in silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. Outside, the city pulsed—shouts, laughter, distant clashes of steel. The kind of sounds that promised someone was meeting an unfortunate end.
Eventually, we lay on the bed, facing opposite directions. Even though her back was turned to me, I could sense the unease in her breathing. Maybe it was the city. Maybe it was what had happened earlier.
I didn't know yet.
What I did know was that this wasn't where I needed to be. The City of Sins had no humans—no signs of the human king, only criminals lost in their own corruption. Tomorrow, I'd ask Aria where she was going. If she had nowhere to go, I'd bring her somewhere safe.
For now, I forced my eyes shut.
The Next Morning
We left the inn before the first rays of sunlight touched the city, slipping into the waking streets where the predators of the night had begun to retreat.
As we stepped onto the worn cobblestones, I turned to Aria.
"Where were you headed?" I asked, keeping my voice even. "If you don't mind, I'd like to escort you there safely."
She hesitated. Her emerald eyes flickered with uncertainty.
Before she could answer, Mira's voice echoed in my mind.
"Ethan. Some people are approaching."
I tensed. "Who?are they still looking for us"
" maybe I don't think they're elves," Mira replied. "But they're fast.They'll reach you in minutes."
I inhaled sharply, scanning the street ahead. The usual figures loitered about—merchants, beggars, thugs still nursing their night's winnings—but then...
Two cloaked figures emerged from the shifting crowd, moving with purpose.
I stiffened as one pulled back his hood.
A monkey-like warrior.
He stood with a disciplined air, his light-brown fur gleaming faintly in the sunlight. His lean, muscular frame was clad in a simple martial artist's robe, tied neatly with a sash. Each step he took was fluid and calculated, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings with vigilance.
Despite his calm exterior, he exuded a quiet intensity. His movements carried the grace of a master fighter, someone who could strike with deadly precision.
Beside him, the other figure remained cloaked, his features obscured. Yet his presence was palpable—commanding, watchful, and heavy with unspoken intent.
I could feel it. They weren't here by accident.
The tension thickened as the two figures approached. Questions raced through my mind. Who were they? Why were they following us? Are they after us, or had the elves sent them?
One thing was certain: this encounter was no coincidence. It was the beginning of something far greater, and we were about to be thrust into the thick of it.
End of Chapter