Zay shifted his feet, the sound of his boots echoing faintly against the metal flooring of the train as he settled into his seat. Pale moonlight streamed in through the window beside him, casting soft silver hues across the corridor and illuminating the worn fabric of his seat.
Just as he began to relax, his gaze flicked toward Monroe. The man stood up wordlessly and began walking down the aisle, disappearing into one of the rear cars. Zay watched him go with a passive expression.
He didn't think much of it. After all, he hardly knew Monroe on a personal level—so why bother concerning himself with whatever he was doing? He was curious though.
With a sigh, Zay shifted again.
Moments later, a woman approached and sat down in the seat beside him.
She wore a rounded black hat adorned with intertwining rings of silver and gold that shimmered subtly in the moonlight. Her presence was striking—elegant yet sharp. Her hair flowed in cascading waves, silver bleeding into strands of deep crimson. Her eyes, a piercing deep blue, scanned the interior of the train before sighing.
Zay glanced at her, curious, but said nothing.
The woman noticed his gaze and narrowed her eyes. Her voice was flat and cold when she finally spoke.
"If you're thinking of asking me on a date—don't," she said curtly, turning her head away and leaning back into her seat. Her eyes closed, her posture relaxed but distant, as if she had already dismissed him from her thoughts entirely.
Zay blinked, caught off guard by the woman's bluntness. He leaned slightly back in his seat, his expression neutral as he replied, "I wasn't even thinking of asking that at all."
The woman's eyes opened slowly, one brow arching in mild curiosity. "Then why were you looking at me?" she asked, her tone calm but edged with suspicion.
Zay glanced around the corridor, then back at her. "Because... I've never seen someone with silver and red hair before. It looks unique" he said, on the spot, unsure of how else to answer her question.
The woman studied him for a few seconds, then let out a quiet hum of acknowledgment.
"...Fair enough," she muttered, shifting slightly in her seat. "Still, most people know better than to stare at others."
Zay said nothing else, letting the silence stretch as the train rumbled beneath them, rocking gently under the pull of the rails. The moonlight continued to spill into the corridor, casting both of their faces in pale silver light.
An hour and forty minutes slipped by faster than Zay expected, yet Monroe hadn't returned since standing up. Zay sighed quietly, the subtle weight of time pressing on his thoughts as the train finally began to slow, the steel wheels groaning as they met the resistance of the approaching station.
During that stretch of time, Zay had spoken more with the woman beside him. Her name was Rivena. She was twenty-five, born in a town called Cylist—a coastal settlement tucked along the northern edge of Gyro, where mist rolled in off stormy waters and salt clung to the air. Beyond that, however, she kept the details of her past to herself, only offering vague, guarded responses. Even so, Zay didn't push. He recognized the tone of someone who had seen too much.
The train screeched to a halt, rails locking against reinforced metal with a thunderous clang. A hiss of steam vented from above as the doors slid open. Nearly everyone surged toward the exit, eager to step out onto solid ground and reach their destination.
Zay stood slowly, rolling his neck until it cracked with a sharp pop, then glanced at the departing crowd. He raised his hand ever so slightly and issued a quiet command, his voice barely louder than a breath:
"Command: Give me the most valuable thing you have on you."
Within moments, everyone within a seven-foot radius whose Influence Bar had reached 100% obeyed without hesitation. One by one, they reached into their pockets, bags, or pouches, offering up strange and mismatched trinkets.
A bell, entirely silver but missing the clapper inside, scuffed and aged as though ancient.
A blackened key, etched with symbols too worn to read.
A small, dull stone that pulsed with a faint warmth when Zay's fingers brushed against it.
And finally, an older man with long crimson hair near the rear of the crowd stepped forward. He reached deep into his coat and pulled out a peculiar object—a small, rectangular box no larger than a clenched fist. It was black with streaks of vivid orange coursing through its surface like veins of molten metal. At each corner, faint rings of aura pulsed in steady rhythm, glowing softly in alternating hues of amber and violet. The surface of the box was impossibly smooth, almost like glass, yet it didn't reflect light properly—absorbing it instead, as though it were drinking in the moonlight.
The man placed the object into Zay's hand without a word and exited the train with the others.
Zay turned the box over in his hand, studying it closely. His brows furrowed. 'What is this?' he thought, feeling a strange vibration run through his fingertips—like the box itself was alive.
Without another moment's hesitation, he whispered, "Arbiter: Vault," and all the objects vanished in a faint shimmer.
Zay stepped off of the train and stood in the small station of Draxen before stretching his body out. He raised his arms high, fingers laced together as his spine arched backward with a satisfying crack. The cool night air bit at his face, sharp with the scent of rain-drenched iron and old stone. Overhead, clouds rolled sluggishly, veiling the moon in passing waves, casting the station in a shifting blend of silver and shadow.
He leaned to one side, stretching out his ribs, then the other. His muscles were tight from sitting too long, coiled like wires beneath his skin. Zay rotated his neck slowly, vertebrae clicking into place one by one.
He reached down, touching his toes with ease, Zay stood upright, drawing in a deep breath, letting it settle low in his lungs before slowly exhaling. His eyes scanned the misty platform.
Draxen wasn't much—a small outpost with rusted lanterns, cracked tiles, and a single long platform surrounded by thick forest. In the distance, an old bell tower stood crooked, half-sunken into the earth. The station looked abandoned by time, kept alive only because it hadn't yet been swallowed by the wilds.
Zay flexed his hands once, twice, then stuffed them into his leggings pockets.
The attendant stepped off the train and raised a hand to his mouth, amplifying his voice through a device etched with runes. His voice echoed across the mist-drenched platform, clear and commanding enough to cut through the idle chatter of the small crowd.
"We're leaving Draxen and heading straight to Kingdom Cindra in one hour," he announced, his words sharp and deliberate. "We will not be stopping at Everrise due to sudden maintenance—station authorities just informed us of structural instability. Repeat: Everrise is being bypassed."
A few murmurs rippled through the passengers—some annoyed, others confused. One woman clutched her bag tighter, clearly frustrated, while a pair of merchants glanced at each other, whispering in low tones about rerouting their delivery plans.
The attendant rolled his shoulders and stepped back into position near the loading area, folding his arms. Standing under the glow of the lanterns overhead.
After a few more moments of quiet chatter, Monroe stepped off the train without a word. He passed by Zay with a quick nod, raising his hand briefly in acknowledgment before descending a set of broken, moss-covered stone steps. The steps creaked underfoot, and within seconds, Monroe disappeared into the dense, shadowed forest that clawed at the edges of the station.
Zay's eyes remained fixed on the spot where Monroe had vanished, a mixture of confusion and suspicion tightening his chest. 'What... the hell?' was all he could think.
A light tap on his shoulder broke his focus. He turned to find Rivena standing quietly behind him, her silver-and-crimson hair catching the faint glow of the moonlight. The mist swirled softly around them, adding a chill to the night air that seeped through Zay's cloak.
"I assume you heard the announcement?" Rivena's voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of urgency, her tone both light and deeper than most women's. "Everrise won't be a stop. It's strange—Everrise is a major checkpoint in Gyro, especially for those heading to the capital. Something's off."
Rivena turned on her heel. Her boots clicked firmly against the weathered stone pathway as she strode toward the half-sunken bell tower looming in the distance. Its once proud structure was now crumbling and cloaked in creeping vines, silhouetted against the mist and the faint, ghostly light of the moon.
Zay watched her retreating figure, the damp scent of oil, rain and earth heavy in the air, and the distant howl of wind weaving through the skeletal branches. Time felt thin, stretched taut with tension.