Rebek stood. She pulled something from an old wooden box beside her — a folded cloth wrapped in wax twine. She opened it carefully.
Inside was a thin sheet of black glass, veined with silver.
"This is veilsight obsidian. It's how the old clans made the first pacts. It holds the Yvelin's true name… and the price."
Tobias stepped beside her. "Each Yvelin demands something in exchange for power. Not gold. Not blood. Something personal. Something permanent."
"What would Emis want?" Cale asked.
Rebek and Tobias exchanged a glance.
"That name didn't come from us," Rebek said. "If he gave it to you, he's already chosen you."
"He's from the Line of Sight," Tobias said. "The Clairvoyants. They see paths, fates, things not yet born. A creature like that doesn't want anything you have now."
"Then what?" Cale asked.
Rebek hesitated, then said softly, "Something from your future. Something you'll have — but must give up."
Cale looked down at his hands. He wasn't sure if they were shaking from the pain… or from something deeper.
"And if I say no?"
"Then you live a quiet life," Tobias said. "If you're lucky. But I don't think Emis will let you stay quiet."
Rebek touched his shoulder. "Sleep. You'll need strength."
They left the room.
______________
The house had gone still. Cale drifted in and out of sleep, the ache in his chest pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
Then—
Tap.
He blinked. A shadow moved across the floor.
Tap. Tap.
He turned his head.
On the windowsill, outlined in moonlight, sat the black cat.
Its eyes glowed with cold, perfect blue.
Cale sat up slowly.
"You're real."
The cat stared.
Then it spoke.
"I am called Emis," it said, the words echoing without sound — not a voice in the room, but in his mind. Polished. Ancient.
"You saved me," Cale said.
"No. I interrupted your death. Saving implies permanence."
Cale smirked despite himself.
Emis leapt down from the sill and padded across the floor. Every step shimmered faintly, like the shadows bent around him.
"You wish to know the future," Emis said. "That is what humans always ask."
"I didn't—"
"But you will," Emis interrupted. "Soon. And you will beg for it."
Cale swallowed. "What do you want?"
Emis sat. His tail curled around his paws.
"I want what you do not yet own. A moment of clarity. A truth you will one day hold. When it comes, it will cost you."
Cale frowned. "What kind of truth?"
"That is the price." The room darkened slightly, though the moonlight didn't change. "The pact is this: I show you paths. In return, you surrender the moment you understand who you truly are. The day you claim it, it belongs to me."
A silence stretched between them.
"Do you accept it, Cale Varn?"
The room felt heavier. The air charged — like the second before lightning strikes.
Cale's thoughts went back to the conversation he had with his parents. From their expressions, it seemed as though they did not actually want him to form this bond. However, he also remembered his father's words — that the Yvelin will one way or another pursue him even if he declined this offer.
Cale looked into Emis's eyes.
And said, "I do."
The shadows surged.
Emis's body dissolved into smoke — then reformed, threads of shadow wrapping around Cale's hand. A mark seared into his palm — a black spiral of ink, simple and precise.
Then, just like that, Emis sat quietly at the foot of his bed.
"Sleep now," the cat said. "The future is already coming."
_________________
Cale woke with a pounding headache and the taste of smoke in his mouth.
He blinked, sat up too fast, and immediately regretted it. The room swayed.
Then he remembered.
The windowsill. Emis. The pact.
He yanked back his sleeve.
The mark was still there — a black spiral etched into his skin just below the wrist. It wasn't ink. It didn't sit on his skin, but in it, like it had been branded without heat.
He stood, legs stiff, and padded down the hallway to the kitchen.
The smell of fried onions and oat porridge greeted him. Rebek stood at the stove, her braid tucked under a cloth cap, humming softly. Tobias sat at the table sharpening a skinning knife, his eyes flicking up as Cale entered.
"You look like a horse kicked you," Tobias said.
Cale held up his hand. "The cat came back."
Both parents froze.
Rebek turned from the pan. "What?"
Cale walked to the table, palm open. "His name is Emis. He gave me this. I made the contract."
Tobias stood slowly. "Are you insane?"
"You told me I'd be hunted either way," Cale said. "I figured I'd rather not die unarmed."
Rebek touched his hand, tracing the spiral with one finger. Her eyes were wide — a strange mix of awe and fear.
"Was it… painful?" she asked.
"Only the part where I gave up some future moment I'll eventually want to keep," he said. "But other than that, no. It felt like a shadow kissed my arm."
Tobias grunted. "Typical Yvelari bullshit. Always vague, always a trick somewhere in the fine print."
"Do you know what the Veyrathi paid, back then?" Cale asked.
Rebek nodded. "Everything. Identity. Memory. Even family, sometimes. They gave what could be taken, not what already was."
"So I should be careful?" Cale asked, voice drier now.
Tobias locked eyes with him. "You should be paranoid."
Just then, a door creaked open. Lukas appeared, hair sticking up, dragging a blanket like a cape.
"I smelled porridge," he said sleepily.
The conversation ended.
After breakfast, Rebek handed Cale a worn canvas satchel. "We're out of salt and vinegar. And ask for the day's bread, not the night's. The last batch was soggy."
Cale tucked the bag over his shoulder, buttoned his heavy coat, and stepped outside.
______________
The wind off the sea cut through the alleys like it had a grudge. The town clung to the cliffs — all slate roofs, damp cobblestones, and windows clouded with breath. Laundry flapped like sad flags above the streets.
Ime never felt awake. It was always half-dreaming — wrapped in fog, smells of brine and woodsmoke, iron chimneys coughing against the grey.
Cale passed the baker's shop — warm air puffed out in bursts, smelling of yeast and sweat. He bought what Rebek asked, haggled over the vinegar, and picked up salt from the man who barely had any teeth left.
That's when he heard his name.
"Cale!"
He turned.
Two figures waved from near the well.
The girl was tall, dark curls tied with string, sleeves rolled high. Dirt on her boots. Her name was Seren — sharp-tongued and sharp-eyed. Her parents worked the port and she could tie twelve kinds of sailor's knots before she could read.
The boy beside her was lean and always looked like he just barely avoided falling. That was Finn, all grins and loose limbs, the kind of friend who always had a bruised elbow but never the story behind it.
"What are you two doing up this early?" Cale asked.
"The port's busy today," Seren said. "Double load from the mainland. Probably a shipment for the governor's stockpile."
"And my father roped me into helping," she added with a sigh. "Which means you're helping too."
Finn grinned. "You're free labor now."
Cale rolled his eyes. "Let me drop this off first. My mom will skin me if I come home empty-handed."
Seren nodded. "Meet us at Pier Six."
__________________
Back home, Cale set the bag on the table.
"Seren needs help at the docks," he said.
Rebek looked up from her stitching. "Don't get sucked into any trouble. You're still healing."
He gave a lazy salute. "No trouble. Just crates."
__________________
Pier Six was packed. Crates being offloaded. Nets draped over barrels. Seagulls screaming like they'd witnessed murder.
But Seren and Finn weren't there.
He checked behind the fish stall. Then the ropeyard. Nothing.
He stood still for a moment, squinting into the thick grey air. This had never happened before. Him, arriving there before the other two? This was almost like they were trying to play a bad joke on him. Cale felt ominous.
This seemed a little too out of the book for his disciplined friends.
Then a voice brushed the back of his thoughts — like breath behind his ear.
"They are not here."
Cale stiffened.
"Emis?"
"Yes."
"Where are they?"
"Taken."
Cale's heartbeat jumped. "What?"
"Dragged aboard the black ship moored at Dock Four. They're below deck. If you do not move now, you will not see them again."
Cale turned. His boots hit the planks hard as he sprinted toward Dock Four.
The ship sat like a wound in the harbor — black sails furled, hull streaked with rust. No flag. No name.
He didn't stop to think. Just leapt onto the gangplank.
"Emis—how do I—"
"Too late."
A shape moved behind him.
A sharp prick hit the side of his neck.
Darkness swallowed the dock.