Kalem approached the hidden door of The Dregs den, a small, weathered building tucked away in the corner of the city's rundown district. The door was unassuming, barely noticeable among the crumbling buildings around it. But Kalem knew better. He pressed his palm to the cool stone, and the hidden mechanism clicked open, revealing a dimly lit corridor leading deeper underground.
He entered the den without hesitation, the familiar scent of stale smoke, spilled liquor, and sweat greeting him. The muffled hum of voices echoed through the walls, the low murmur of conversation mingling with the occasional burst of laughter or angry shout. The Dregs was always alive, always buzzing with the activity of thieves, cutthroats, and those desperate enough to crawl through Jexi's gutter. It was a place where everyone had a hand in the darkness, and Kalem was no different.
He slipped deeper into the den, following the worn path through the common area. The heavy scent of grease and unwashed bodies hit him like a wall. The place was packed, as usual. Tables covered in maps, dirty mugs, and half-open sacks filled with stolen goods. There was a back room, the place where the real business went down, and it was through the thick curtains of tattered cloth that Kalem heard raised voices.
*They're splitting the loot,* Kalem thought, his stomach twisting. The heist. He'd been part of it, but after his run-in with the Devourer, he hadn't had much time to think about what had been taken. Now, the others were dividing it up. *Damn it, I need my share.*
He pushed through the curtain, stepping into the room where the crew was gathered. Most of the faces were familiar. Some were new, but Kalem paid little attention to them. His eyes were drawn to the middle of the room, where the loot was spread out on a battered wooden table: coins, jewelry, weapons, and several strange trinkets from the highborn estate they'd raided last night. It was a treasure trove, and everyone was eagerly picking through it.
But as Kalem stepped inside, all eyes turned toward him.
A big man with wild orange hair stood from the table, his face twisted into a sneer. Sid.
"Well, well, look who's still alive," Sid's voice boomed, echoing off the stone walls. He grinned, but there was no warmth in it—just malice. "I thought for sure the Devourer would've eaten you up by now, little rat. Guess I was wrong."
Kalem's stomach churned. Sid had hated him from the moment they'd met. Though they were the same age, Sid had always seen Kalem as a threat—someone who was too slick, too cunning for his own good. He hated the way Kalem operated, how he could get in and out of trouble without leaving a trace.
It was no secret that Sid had set Kalem up to be killed during the heist. He'd hoped the Devourer would finish the job, but Kalem had somehow escaped, something Sid hadn't counted on. Still, Sid had never let go of his grudge. It was always there, simmering beneath his insults and taunts.
Kalem didn't respond immediately. Instead, he glanced around the room, looking for any sign of the loot he needed. His gaze lingered on a small pile of silver rings. His fingers itched for them.
Sid wasn't done. "How the hell did you survive? You were neck-deep in that mess, crawling around like a rat. Did you hide in a dumpster or something?" Sid's voice dripped with mockery, as if Kalem's survival was some sort of fluke.
Kalem's jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. *Just lie, Kalem. Keep it simple.*
"Yeah," Kalem muttered, wiping his filthy hand across his sleeve to accentuate the grime that covered him. "I got lucky. Hid in some garbage, stayed out of sight. The Devourer didn't notice me."
It was the easiest lie. After all, no one would question it. The filth that clung to him—from the muck of the sewage drain to the grime of the streets—was proof enough. The smell alone confirmed it.
The room fell silent for a moment, the others eyeing Kalem with a mix of suspicion and disbelief, but Sid laughed loudly, his harsh voice cutting through the tension. "Lucky, huh? Well, I guess we all have our lucky days. But don't think for one second that you're in the clear."
Kalem didn't respond to the threat in Sid's voice. He'd heard it all before.
"Anyway, welcome back," Sid said with a twisted grin. "But don't think for a second I'm letting you walk out of here with your share without a little… reminder of who's in charge."
Kalem's heart skipped a beat, but he kept his face calm. Sid was always looking for a way to knock him down a peg, always testing his patience. Kalem ignored the insult and turned to the far corner of the room, where his small cot and personal belongings were tucked away.
He could feel Sid's eyes boring into his back as he walked. The big guy was still seething, but for now, he didn't make a move. Kalem didn't want to push it. Not yet.
Once he reached his room, Kalem shut the door behind him and let out a long breath. The cool air in the small, dingy space was a relief after the tension in the main room. He quickly stripped off his dirty clothes, tossing them into a corner and stepping into the makeshift shower.
The cold water felt good on his skin, washing away the grime of the night's chaos. As the water dripped off him, he thought about the feather, about the crystal, about everything that had happened in the last few days. The strange healing, the monster, the bird—and what all of it meant for him.
But for now, he needed to focus on surviving this moment. The Dregs were full of people like Sid, and Kalem knew better than to show weakness.
He wasn't just a street rat anymore. Not if he could help it.
But that would have to wait.
For now, he had a bath, and soon, he'd go back to the table. He needed his share. He needed power.
And he needed a way to keep Sid and everyone else in this den from realizing what he was really after.