The forge was silent when Duncan and Elias left the castle. They couldn't speak openly about what they were seeking: the risk of someone from the Church spying on them was too high.
They arrived in the city, in the merchants' quarter. The streets were crowded with vendors shouting prices, beggars holding out their hands, and thieves moving through the crowd like shadows.
Elias looked around fearfully. "The meteorite... if someone really has it, it certainly won't be for sale on the stall of a common merchant."
Duncan nodded. "No. We need to delve deeper. Where contraband smuggles are sold. Where what no one should possess is sold."
They found him in a smoky tavern, frequented by mercenaries and travelers. An old informant, hunchbacked and with one clouded eye, greeted them with a gap-toothed smile.
"A fragment of a star, you say?" His voice was hoarse as gravel. "A rare commodity… and very dangerous. Not for blacksmiths."
Duncan placed a bag of coins on the table. "I don't want any fuss. Tell me who has it."
The man clinked the coins, pleased. Then he leaned toward them.
"It is said that a sect of corrupt monks, the Keepers of the Black Flame, holds a fragment that fell from the sky. They revere it as a divine gift… but in reality they use it for forbidden rituals. Their monastery is located in the Ash Mountains."
Elias blanched. "The Keepers… are fanatics. They let no one in. And those who dare steal their relics do not live long."
Duncan smiled faintly, as if the threat were just a detail. "Then it seems that that is where we must go."
The old man laughed, coughing. "Be careful, stranger. The stars do not belong to men. And those who try to steal them… are often burned alive."
But Duncan did not falter. Within him, the Divine Fire burned like a promise.
If the meteorite was the key to forging the future, no monastery, no sect, and no corrupt cleric could stop him.