The weight of sleep clung to Gray like a heavy blanket, but for the first time in what felt like months, it wasn't suffocating. He stirred slowly, eyes blinking against the soft glow spilling through the shutters. His limbs felt lighter, his chest unburdened. A deep breath left him with surprising ease. He lay still for a moment longer, relishing the strange sense of peace.
The dream lingered at the edge of his thoughts. He didn't remember much, only the impression of a tree—its branches stretching far into the sky, leaves that seemed to shimmer like light woven into matter itself. He couldn't say what it meant, and tried not to think too much of it, but the image refused to fade.
With a grunt, Gray sat up, scanning the room. His gaze caught on the desk by the wall. A folded pair of fresh clothes lay neatly across its surface, clothes he hadn't placed there. Beside them, a tray of food waited: bread still warm, fruit sliced into neat pieces, even a small dish of butter. His stomach growled in response. He hadn't tasted food this fresh since before Ironhold.
"Someone came in," he muttered, fingers brushing over the fabric. Whoever it was had been quiet enough not to wake him
Gray sat at the desk, staring at the simple spread laid out for him—bread still warm, slices of fruit glistening, a small wedge of cheese. Nothing extravagant, but to him it was a feast. He tore off a piece of bread and chewed slowly, savoring the softness against his tongue. The fruit was sweet, almost too sweet after months of bitter roots and dried rations, and the cheese melted rich and heavy on his mouth. For the first time in a long time. He had enjoyed a meal.
After finishing the meal down he walked over to the bathroom.
He carried the new set of clothes into the bathroom, he paused before the tall mirror in his room. For the first time in weeks, he really looked at himself. His once-cropped hair now spilled down to his shoulders, uneven and wild, as though it had grown wild and unchecked.The ashen strands caught the light strangely, a pale silver sheen that made him look both older and unfamiliar. His face had also changed slightly. His skind had become smoother and his grey eyes had seemingly dulled further. He lifted a long strand of hair between his fingers, frowning, he almost didn't recognize the reflection staring back.
'I might have to cut this some time in the future...annoying.' He sighed loudly.
He stripped down and stepped into the shower, hot water cascaded down, steam curling against the stone walls. He let it wash over him, lingering far longer than necessary, savoring the indulgence. A month in Glacierfang's frost had turned the simple act of bathing into luxury. By the time he emerged, skin flushed, he felt almost human again.
Dressing quickly, he devoured the food on the desk, chewing slowly, savoring each bite as though he were afraid it would vanish if he hurried. The fruit burst sweet on his tongue, the bread soft, the butter rich. It was the kind of meal he'd once considered a fairy tale.
He noticed a pair of plain shoes set neatly by the balcony door. He slipped them on, stretching his legs before stepping into the hallway.
Most of the doors along the corridor stood open. Inside, the rooms were bare, empty. The others had already gone, somewhere. Gray wondered where they could be. Only one door remained closed, though not fully. A sliver of light bled through the gap.
He knocked softly.
"Come in," came Lira's voice, quieter than usual.
He pushed the door open.
Her room was much like his own, though tidier, everything arranged with deliberate care. Lira sat on the edge of her bed, her upper body swathed in white bandages. Her blazing hair flowed smoothly like a waterfall, her skin so pale it made it seem fake.
Her hands moved deftly, wrapping another length of cloth around her palm.
"You need something?" she cast her orange eyes at Gray. They slightly flickered, like a flame.
Gray hesitated, then stepped in. "I was just checking if you're alright."
She paused. A silence stretched before she finally nodded. "Yes. Most of these aren't for bleeding. They're infused with Vyre. Special weave. They feed energy back into the body while you rest."
Gray blinked, surprised. "I've… never heard of that."
"You wouldn't," she said simply, turning back to her work. "They're rare. Costly."
He watched the careful motion of her fingers, the bandage winding in perfect symmetry. She looked calm, though there was a weight in her shoulders, something unspoken.
After a moment, he asked, "Have you seen the others?"
"They're downstairs," she replied, tugging the bandage snug around her wrist. "Planning to walk the city."
Gray blinked. "We can… do that?"
A faint smile touched her lips. "Apparently."
He lingered in the doorway. "You're not coming?"
Her head lowered, shadows hiding her face. "No."
Gray nodded slowly. "Alright. Take care." He pulled the door shut behind him, the faint click echoing in the hall.
Downstairs, voices reached him before he saw them. The group was gathered near the front, already dressed, waiting. Gray had spotted something weird. Korrs thick black hair had been cut short, cropped close enough to reveal the sharp angles of his jaw. Adel raised a brow, a grin tugging at her lips. "I can't stop looking at how aweful it looks, lose a fight with the barber?" she teased. Korr frowned deeply "Keep your words to yourself, no one wants to hear you shitty opinions anyway." he muttered. Adel only laughed, telling him he finally looked less like a wandering beast and more like someone who lived in a city.
"Gray!" Renn called, bounding forward. "You look alive for once. Did you actually sleep?"
Gray gave a small nod. "Yeah. First time in a while."
"Good," Adel said, stretching her arms. "We're heading out. You in?"
Gray hesitated only a second before answering, "Sure."
"Great," Renn grinned, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him toward the door before he could protest.
Outside, the city greeted them with warm sunlight and the mingling scents of street life—fresh bread, spiced meats, the faint tang of burning incense. Cobblestones rang beneath their steps, the crowd flowing around them.
"Just act normal," Adel said with a grin. "Don't look like you're about to stab someone, and nobody will stare."
"Sure," Gray muttered.
Adel tilted her head. "Where are we going?"
Korr snorted. "It was your idea to explore."
"My idea? It was your suggestion," she shot back.
"I didn't mean it literally," Korr growled.
"You always mean things literally," she countered.
Aurelle stepped smoothly between them, voice low and sharp. "Enough. People are watching."
Gray glanced around. Indeed, several locals had paused mid-step to eye the group, curiosity plain. At once, Adel and Korr stepped apart, muttering under their breaths.
Renn, undeterred, puffed his chest. "Don't worry, I've got a good sense of direction. I'll guide us right back here."
Adel laughed. "Brave words from the guy who nearly got us all killed."
"That was one time!" Renn protested. "And we had nowhere else to go!"
"Uh-huh," she said, smirking, and pointed down a street. "This way."
They walked. Sunlight warmed the stone, banners fluttered from windows. Merchants called out their wares, children darted past with sticks for swords. For the first time in months, Gray felt the rhythm of a city alive, untouched by endless frost.
The smell of roasted meat turned his head just as Korr's eyes lit up. A bar stood across the street, its wooden sign painted with a frothing mug.
Korr grinned wide and started forward.
"You can't," Renn yelped, rushing to block him. "You're underage! They'll arrest you!"
Korr kept walking, swatting him aside like a fly. "Let them try and they'll catch these fists."
Adel darted forward too, laughing. "This, I've got to see."
As they bickered, Aurelle lagged behind, his gaze drifting toward the rooftops, expression unreadable. Gray watched him for a moment before a low conversation caught his ear.
From across the street, two men at a small stand spoke in hushed tones.
"Hey, did you hear? That royal kid entered from the southern gate yesterday."
"Shh! Don't say that out loud! Do you want trouble? It's not just any royal. It's one of the Cael heirs. One of the three major royal families! Do you want to die?!" The other man's eyes were filled with panick and anxiety as he spoke, carefully checking his surroundings.
Gray froze, the name slamming into him. Cael.
His pulse quickened. Lira's second name. She'd never spoken it aloud, but now… it all aligned. Her skill, her silence, her distance.
'Is that why she kept it from the Kaan that one time and why she was so defensive about it? Is that why she refused to come outside? It all makes so much sense...' There was still a lot of mystery regarding her. But he didn't want to go around stalking her or invading her personal space.
But there was another thing.
Royals. The word burned in his mind. Food, safety, comfort—things handed freely to them, while he clawed and bled just to live. Bitterness rose sharp in his chest.
Aurelle's voice cut in softly. "Gray. You alright?"
He blinked, realizing his fists were clenched. Forcing his voice steady, he muttered, "Yeah. Let's just… move."
They returned to the main path. Korr grumbled, still in a foul mood from being dragged from the bar, but they pressed on until the square near the gates opened before them again. The twin doors loomed behind, while shops buzzed with business.
Gray's eyes locked on the blacksmith. Sparks flew inside, the steady clang of hammer on steel ringing out. He stepped closer, drawn by the sound. The smith himself was a tall, broad-shouldered man, skin dark as iron, arms corded with strength. He lifted a blade from the anvil, its surface etched with runes startlingly similar to those on Lira's sword.
"You interested, boy?" the smith called, catching Gray's stare.
Gray blinked. "I… guess."
The man chuckled, teeth flashing. "If you ever want to learn, come here. I'll teach you everything worth knowing."
Gray blinked and then smiled faintly, nodding.
'Is that how easy it is to get a job in Nyxterra?' He struggled to believe it, his last job offer had gone extremely wrong.
They moved on, pushing into the alchemist's shop. The door swung open with a chime, revealing chaos. Shelves sagged under jars of herbs, flasks bubbling with strange liquids, powders scattered across tables. The air reeked of smoke and spice.
From behind the counter, a crash rang out. "A customer?!"
A skinny man with enormous spectacles popped up, his grey hair sticking in every direction. He squinted at them. "Bah! Kids! If you're not buying, get out! Waste of time!" He vanished behind the counter again with another thud.
Adel plucked a vial from a shelf, sniffing.
"Put that down!" the man shrieked, popping back up. She dropped it instantly, wrinkling her nose.
"This place is a disaster," she muttered. "Let's go."
But Renn's eyes were fixed on a row of books. He stepped forward, whispering in awe. "Are those… the Fatum Manuscripts?"
The alchemist froze. Slowly, he emerged again, peering down his nose. "How do you know that name?"
Renn's grin widened. "I read about them in—"
The man lunged forward, grabbing his wrist, twisting it as if searching for something. When he found nothing, he sighed. "Tch. Shame. If you were registered, I'd sell to you a copy. Might've even hired you."
"Registered?" Korr asked.
The man rounded on him, shouting, "If you don't even know that, why are you in my shop? Out! Out!"
He flapped his arms until they spilled into the street again.
Renn sulked, staring at the ground. "So close."
Adel smirked. "Don't worry. Maybe one day you'll be registered."
"Shut up," Renn muttered, cheeks red.
Gray glanced up. The sky had begun to darken, shadows stretching across the stone. "We should probably head back."
But Aurelle lingered, eyes distant. "Go on ahead. I have something to do."
The group stilled. Adel frowned. "By yourself?"
Aurelle's nodded. "I'll be fine."
Gray's gaze lingered on him as he turned away, walking into the deepening streets. Just before he vanished, Aurelle looked back. His sapphire eyes met Gray's ashen ones, a silent weight passing between them.
Gray exhaled, unsettled, and followed the others back.