Joren held the matte-black registry open on the wooden display table, flipping past the introduction pages and threat classification rubric as Gus peered over his shoulder. The book was dense, with its clean columns of data broken up only by the occasional warning banner or redacted field. Each entry listed codename, real name (if known), status, associated Portrait (if identified), last known location, and recent activity all separated by classification levels.
He turned to the Oblivion-class entries and worked his way backward.
The ink on the page felt heavier here.
– BLACKROOT
Classification: Oblivion-class
Status: Presumed deceased (unconfirmed)
Portrait: Decay
Last Known Location: Southern Ridge Collapse Zone 471 T.E.
Activity: Ground liquefaction; total loss of five smaller settlements.
Notes: Final engagement confirmed by Sovereign Unit 3. No remains recovered.
– HERALD OF GLASS (Marecy Grinkle)
Classification: Oblivion-class
Status: Inactive
Portrait: Fragmentation
Last Known Location: Varenthal Capital outskirts, 466 T.E.
Activity: Mass-scale structural erasure of three towns near the capital.
Notes: Believed to be inactive or deceased. Approach forbidden.
Joren's throat felt dry. Even the names carried weight, like monuments carved in warning.
He turned the pages again, entering the Harbinger-class after a few swipes of his hand.
– STIGMA
Classification: Harbinger-class
Status: Rogue
Portrait: Unknown
Last Known Location: Mirrege Border
Activity: Major destruction of Karencene headquarters.
Notes: Operates symbolically; known to target government infrastructure.
– TSUNAMI (Kaien Moras)
Classification: Harbinger-class
Status: Rogue
Portrait: Water
Last Known Location: Brindlewood
Activity: No civilian casualties in recent sightings; terrain damage reported.
Notes: Capable of large-scale weather manipulation. Caution advised. No longer marked as Affiliated, but be cautious.
Then came the Eclipse-class. This section was longer than most, likely since this is where most Auspex resided. Joren spotted a familiar name, someone who he had fought with only a couple months earlier.
– THUNDERCLAP (Riven Calder)
Classification: Eclipse-class
Status: Unknown
Portrait: Lightning
Last Known Location: Glazebend
Activity: High-voltage discharge to multiple structures during Glazebend incident.
Notes: Escaped detainment. Engage only with artifact present.
Finally, his thumb reached a name that stuck out.
It was no mistake that this was referring to Joren, though it had a strange name he hadn't heard before.
– STARFALL
Classification: Eclipse – Potential Harbinger-class
Status: Escalating, Affiliated
Portrait: Presumed Celestial / Atomic
Last Known Location: Gloryhollow
Activity: Event under review.
Notes: Travels with 3 companions, 1 of which being Chimera. Powers unstable, bordering on Harbinger according to reports. Tied to the Glazebend Incident, Duskfen Incident, Dyer's Crossing Incident, and the Gloryhollow Incident.
Joren stared at the codename.
No name, yet they knew far more about him than he had thought. How did they know he was in Gloryhollow last? Too many questions he couldn't answer. Just the shape of a reputation forming in places he hadn't even stepped made Joren shudder.
Gus leaned in. "You think they could've come up with a better name."
Joren closed the book quietly.
"Doesn't matter," Joren said. "I'm in it now, even if they don't know my name."
Joren decided to buy it, just in case he needed it later.
Maybe this would be useful for research. What would happen if I come across one of these guys? It would probably be best to know as much about them as I can.
Evening – Glassward DIstrict
The two stepped out of the shop into the dappled evening light, the polished stone streets of Glassward still warm underfoot. Things carried on like usual, with carriages passing by and people walking in every which direction.
Joren tucked the registry under one arm as they walked. He kept thinking about the way the ink was bold and black, how even the worst of the Auspex had become just another entry, as if it was some sort of catalogue. Joren supposed that it could be considered that in some sense, but it still felt weird.
"Do you think they watch everyone on that list?" he asked, his voice low.
Gus shrugged. "Probably not all at once. They can't spare enough people that can go toe-to-toe with anyone above Harbinger, so I'm sure they tend to do surveillance instead. That way, if someone is really hostile, they can send people accordingly."
Joren nodded slightly, not comforted. "That makes sense, I suppose. Kind of makes you wonder if someone is watching us, you know?"
Gus gave a soft grunt. "I doubt it. We would probably have noticed someone following us by now for all those open areas we passed through on the way here. I wouldn't worry so much about it."
As they rounded a corner, Willow and Bartholomew came into view. Willow casually leaned against a post with some packets underarm while Bart stood beside her, arguing animatedly with a chalkboard menu that apparently offended his culinary sensibilities. Joren could hear 'Turnip' from this far away, so it was definitely Bart antics.
"—which is not a root to be trusted!" Bartholomew declared, jabbing the chalkboard with a dramatic flourish. "It's a spy network you have running in here. I can smell it."
Willow glanced over as Joren and Gus approached. "Hey boys! You two done shopping now? I could use an Inn right about now."
Joren gave a small nod. "Yeah. Got what I needed."
Gus added, "Figured we'd find a place to stay before it gets too late."
Willow pushed off the post and held up the bundles in her arms. "Got some jerky, spiced fruit, and some more spices for when we eat on the road."
Bartholomew sniffed indignantly. "I attempted to barter for stew, but the proprietor was clearly part of the root vegetable underground. I won't be extorted by turnips, not again."
Joren gave him a sidelong look. "We'll be on the lookout for them, just in case."
Willow grinned. "Let's just find an inn before Bart picks a fight with the entire produce section."
They made their way down the main thoroughfare, where the cobbled streets had begun to quiet under the deepening dusk. People were not bustling as much down here, as this was one of the many residential areas of the district.
Children's laughter echoed faintly from a nearby courtyard, and the occasional bark of a dog or creak of a clothesline swaying overhead gave the street a lived-in warmth. Lanterns flickered to life one by one as the evening deepened, casting long orange reflections across shuttered windows and stone doorsteps.
"Glassward's nicer than I thought," Willow murmured, glancing around. "I figured the capital's edge districts would be all run down in favor of keeping the central parts made of marble or something."
Bartholomew sniffed. "I've always said it's the quiet corners where the rot grows first. Keep your eyes peeled for celery plots."
Willow ignored him. "Think the inn will still have space?"
"Most folks already have houses here," Gus said. "We should be fine. It IS the capital, after all."
A breeze stirred the trees overhead, leaves rustling in whispers as they trudged along. Somewhere, a door creaked open and shut from wind gusts. The group rounded a bend as they made their way towards an Inn.
It was faint at first, something that really didn't catch your attention all that much.
A voice. Muffled, but firm.
"Leave me alone. I told you, I don't have it." A woman cried out.
Gus stopped walking.
Joren did too, the words catching in his ears just as they turned past a low garden wall. He motioned for the others to pause.
Another voice answered in return. It was deeper, male, and sharp with annoyance. "Don't lie. We know you have files on him, hand them over to us."
A second male voice joined in, slower and colder. "Could just kill her now. That'd solve one of the problems."
Willow's posture stiffened. "That's not a mugging," she said quietly.
"No," Joren murmured. "They're after something specific."
He didn't wait for the others this time. His feet moved first, quiet and fast as he ducked through a narrow break between buildings. The voices grew louder with each step.
Joren could see three men manhandling a woman somewhere in her mid-twenties, all of them dressed in dark cloaks and masked.
Willow and Gus followed close behind, steps silent on the stone.
The woman was cornered, her back against an alley wall as one of the masked men gripped her by the arm. Her short, uneven bob of blonde hair clung to her face with sweat and dirt. One lens of her glasses had cracked, and her coat was torn along her left shoulder. Even from a distance, it was clear she'd put up a fight.
"We know you're with Continuity," the first man snarled. "Give us the files on the King's abilities. Now."
"I don't have them," she hissed. "You're wasting your time."
The second man stepped closer, drawing a knife with a casual, practiced flick. "Then we'll waste you instead. Easier that way."
Joren moved quiet and fast, like a shadow breaking loose from the wall.
Willow followed without a sound, eyes sharp. Gus cracked his knuckles.
"Hey!" Willow called out, voice slicing through the alley as she morphed her arm into a blade.
The three attackers turned, clearly startled, but only for a second.
Gus slammed into the one with the knife, sending him sprawling into a stack of empty crates. Joren was already priming a star to use for offensive attack, just enough to pack a wallop but not severely hurt them.
The other two men readied their fists but made moves to allow for escape.
Joren and Willow clearly made things a problem for the three men, but they were no slouches from what he could tell.
Coordinated, trained, and not immediately panicked by surprise.
One threw a handful of powder into the air, masking their escape as they propelled each other up with a hoist of their hands and agile climbing abilities. After one reached the top of the alley walls, he used another man as a makeshift ladder for the third to climb, and they made their escape flawlessly.
Within seconds, all three had vanished into the rooftops.
The powder drifted in the air like ash.
Joren stepped forward, gaze locked on the empty wall where the men had vanished. He could still hear the faint scuff of boots on tile, growing more distant with every second.
Willow exhaled through her nose, her blade-arm slowly shifting back into skin. "That wasn't just some street gang."
"No," Joren said. "They knew who she was. And what they wanted."
Gus helped the woman sit up. She was shaking slightly, clutching her shoulder with one hand and adjusting her cracked glasses with the other.
"Hey," he said gently, "You alright?"
She looked up at them, dazed but aware. Her voice came out rough. "You shouldn't have gotten involved."
Bartholomew arrived a beat later, panting, arms full of spice packets and a stolen napkin. "Did I miss something, or did this district finally admit root vegetables are dangerous?"
No one answered Bart, he was as clueless as ever to the circumstances in front of his eyes.
Joren looked at the woman again, and for the first time, noticed the small, silver badge clipped beneath her torn coat.
Department of Continuity and Civic Integrity.