The sun in Arlinne is more scorching than the rest of the Liveria. I wonder why it's so hot.
This place is really something else.
Buildings leaned on each other like gossiping neighbors, their mismatched stones stacked high, painted with splashes of color that refused to fade. Kael stood just outside the main gate of Arlinne, the most vibrant of the Free Cities, clutching a ripped flyer with the words:
"AUDITIONS – Troupe of Thorns"
Looking at the letter rubbing his hands against it, it felt heavier than a letter normally should.
New city, New chances. Let's not disappoint.
The gates, a grand stone plated in a white lotus, A large line had formed that seem to go on for eons. Time moved on as Kael stepped toward the gates, he saw two guards whose armor were plated in the same lotus he saw on the gates.
The taller one of the two signaled Kael to come over "ID and reason of visitation?"
Kael handed over his papers and the flyer. The guard scanned both papers,
"Kaelian Dolu, Age 21. Son of Godfrey Oris Dolu, Northreach?" he sniffed "Bit far from the snow aren't you?"
"My dad is from there, grew up as a kid there but I moved elsewhere. Alpine to be exact."
"Makes sense. Why are you here again?"
"I'm here for the audition," he says, pointing at the flyer.
The other guard who was silent up until now chuckled "Kid, the troupe of thorns turns away half the city every time they hold auditions."
Kael shrugged "I'll get in, one chance is all I need."
The first guard handed him back his id, but looking at his satchel.
"Open it. "
Kael placed the satchel on the table and opened it immediately. He had nothing but just a satchel filled with clothes for a week and a tattered scarf and a small pendant. The guard poked around the bag with a baton as if checking the actual bag itself.
"No banned material, no contraband." The guard nodded, happy.
He handed the bag back to Kael, he took Kael's hand and pressed a white lotus stamp.
"This is a 3-day pass, not permanent. If you get into the troupe, make sure you register for extended residence."
Kael nodded. " Thank you"
Kael stepped forward, blending into the flow of travelers, the gates of Arlinne opening before him. Performers passed through Arlinne daily. The city survived on song, silk, and scandal.
Noise was all people knew at Arlinne. There is never a moment that sound isn't present. Silence meant one of two things—you were dreaming, or you were dead.
He stepped into the noise of the city for the first time—into the bustling, chaotic rhythm of Arlinne's market square. He saw vendors yelling about citrus wine and roasted larks and a woman in a bright and vibrant outfit juggling knives beside a man who breathed green fire from his lungs.
I finally made it. Remember. New city, New chances.
There was still time before auditions, the paper was getting heavier, Kael needed something to distract him seeing all the performers.
"What if I don't make it?" he muttered softly, then proceeded to slap himself
"Shut up. Just—shut up,he muttered, then raised his voice. "Don't mess this up."
People turned and looked at him but this was common in Arlinne, after all it was only sound, and Arlinne had plenty of that.
The city was getting louder, the voices of the street performers and merchants shouting, their voices bouncing between the buildings.
Kael moved deeper into Arlinne's heart, he spotted hanging from one of the lamps, a sign that read "Welcome to the City of Sound!"
People brushed past him, their faces turned toward the vendors with hunger and thirst. He wasn't sure where he was going, only that he was following the large crowd.
One of the food stalls caught Kael's eye. It was a woman selling golden fruit. She smiled as Kael approached, her teeth seemingly sharp as she offered a piece.
"A bite, traveler?" she asked, her voice low and coaxing.
Kael shook his head, amused. "Not today. Just a look."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. There was something in the way she glanced at his satchel, a quick look before she returned her attention to the fruit. "This can show you a new world. Suit yourself, but there's always something to be gained from a taste. Especially in Arlinne."
Kael smiled, tipping his hat. "Perhaps I'll come back later."
The city had a way of pulling at him, tempting him to forget the reason he was here. The sound of voices harmonized with the clink of coins. It would've been easy to stay. To lose himself in the city's sound. But that was a distraction Kael couldn't afford.
He turned down a side alley, leaving the market behind, knowing that ahead of him was something that had to be done.
Focus
A few turns later, Kael stood before a crumbling theater. It wasn't the grand structure he had imagined, but then again, this was Arlinne, where beauty often hid in the cracks. The building was tilted slightly, its faded brickwork struggling to maintain its former stature. A large banner hung above the door:
"Troupe of Thorns – Accepting Auditions. Noon. All are welcome."
Kael's face twitched, sweat dropped down, before opening the door.
Inside the building was a dim, musty interior, but it seemed to have a distinct homely feel to it.. The stage held dusty marks of old performances, scratches that seem to indicate extensive use. But as he looked around, he envisioned something else, a place he could start this new life he's always been dreaming of.
The space was quiet, nothing like the streets outside. The only sounds were the occasional shuffle of feet and the scratch of a quill.
He slowly approached the center of the room, where 2 figures waited.
A woman with the purple feather in her hat took the first glance at him, before lifting a brow. "Name?"
"Kaelian."
"From?"
"Saint Seraphina."
The scribbler, his quill stopped moving, didn't even look up. "Where is that?"
"It's a church in the town of Alpine, south of here"
"Makes sense, never heard of it. I'm assuming it's not part of the free cities?"
"It is actually, just part of Livera"
"I see, I see, well Lys? "He looked at the woman in the feather hat. "Anything you want to ask?
She tapped her hands against the table, fixating her gaze on Kael. "Yes, thank you Aroa. Now, Kaelian, what are your talents?
She tapped her hands against the table, fixating her gaze on Kael.
Kael hesitated "I... I can sing," he began, his voice a little rough from nerves.
"And?" Lys prompted, her eyes sharp.
Aroa finally looked up from his notes, a hint of curiosity in his usually impassive expression.
"I can act, I suppose. I can play some instruments. I also pick things up quickly."
Lys leaned back, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
"You're a Jack-of-all-trades, then? Or master of none?"
Kael's jaw tightened.
"I prefer to be called versatile."
Lys chuckled "Versatile it is. Alright. Show us."
She gestured to the small, bare stage.
All were eyes on him. Kael took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sudden pounding of his heart. This was it. The moment to prove he wasn't just running from something, but running to something.
He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining himself back in the cathedral, recalling the way his voice used to fill in the vast space.
Then, he let the sound pour out of him.
It was about a song of a boy under a red moon, dancing on broken glass, daring the world to remember his name.
When the last note faded, the silence that followed was thick and heavy.
Then, Lys clapped once, a sharp, decisive sound that broke the spell.
"You're in."
Kael's eyes flew open, surprised by the abruptness of her decision. "Just like that?"
Lys stood, her gaze intense. "You have a voice, Kaelian. That's a rare and valuable thing in this city."
She turned to Aroa. "Aroa, draft up the contract."
"Will do"
Then, Lys turned back to Kael.
"Welcome to the Troupe of Thorns." She waved her hand, signaling the end. "We start rehearsal tomorrow. If you don't have a place to stay, I'd recommend 'The Rusted Feather'. It's pretty close, and cheap for an inn."
Kael nodded, the tension in his chest easing. The moment Kael stepped out of the theater, the chilly air of Arlinne wrapped around him like a cloak. He walked aimlessly for a bit, avoiding the louder taverns and carriages on the main road. His boots clicked softly against the cobbles, his satchel bouncing against his side.
"Alright," he muttered, glancing up at the sky.
After aimlessly walking into 3 walls, Kael found it a crooked sign swinging with the breeze, its paint peeling but the name just visible:
'The Rusted Feather'
His stomach growled, singing had taken a lot more out of him than he thought, but he pushed the hunger aside.
I'm really hungry, will I even have enough for food?
He pushed the door open, a loud bell rang somewhere deep inside. The place was dim and quiet, a perfect place to rest. A stout woman stood behind the counter, drying a mug. Her hair was pinned in a loose bun.
"Evening," she looked at Kael with warm autumn eyes as she spoke.
"Hello." Kael stepped forward, digging into his coat pocket. "How much for a room?"
"A single is ten coppers a night. You get a washbasin, fresh linens, and the window that opens if you're the kind that is able to push it open. Breakfast is 4 coppers, comes with fresh bread"
Kael forced a smile and placed a few worn coins on the counter. He hesitated, then pulled one back. "I, uh... I'll pass on breakfast. Need to start cutting back a little."
The woman raised an eyebrow. "A performer?", asked while handing him a pair of keys.
"Yeah."
"Figures. You folks always arrive in Arlinne with more dreams than money. Well, your dreams ain't gonna pay for a room, are they? " She paused, then her eyes flickered to the coins on the counter. "You know we also take crescents here, right?"
Kael blinked, confused. "Crescents?"
"Arlinne's currency," Marla explained, a hint of impatience in her voice, "They're worth… What is it? Twenty-five coppers each. You might have some without realizing it."
Kael checked his coins again, sifting through the small pile. He recognized only the coppers, the currency he'd used his whole life. "I don't think so," he admitted.
"Right then. Ten coppers it is. Your room's up the stairs, third on the left."
He nodded, relief washing over him. At least he had a place for the night. "Thanks."
"The name's Marla, if you need anything."
"Kael."
She gave a curt nod and turned back to wiping the mug.
Upstairs, the hallway was narrow and quiet. Kael's room was small, but warm. He tossed his satchel down and sat on the edge of the bed, eyes lingering on the cracked ceiling. His hand brushed his neck, tracing the faint scar beneath his collar.
"You're not that person anymore," he told himself quietly.
But something about tonight lingered. There was a strange weight in the air after the audition. The director's final look. Like he'd seen something in Kael no one else was meant to.
He stood and walked to the window. The streets below were nearly empty now. A lone man swept the steps of a bakery. A stray cat darted between shadows. Just the usual
But then—
A whisper threaded through a crack in the glass:
"The devil walks among us. He has already sent his children here."
Kael went still.
His heart pounded. The voice—it was wrong, familiar, but distorted, like two voices tangled together, speaking in unison.
He pressed his forehead to the glass. The space outside was void of life, just a quiet alley, untouched. Then he saw them.
Thin bony hands—too thin—long-fingered and pale as they crept up the side of the building across from him. No arms, no faces. Just hands, climbing as though they had a purpose.
Kael blinked and they were gone.
He stumbled back, nearly tripping over his satchel.
"What the hell was that?"
He waited. Nothing came. No sounds. No shadows. Just the crackling hearth which could be heard from downstairs.
Back on the bed, he pulled the blanket tight, one hand still clutched near his neck.
"New city, new stage. Don't fall apart now."
But his eyes stayed open long after midnight, staring at the ceiling, listening for whispers in the dark.