Now outside, Veyn found himself in the alley behind the neighboring cafe, where frozen flowers still hung from the windows. Shadows from the adjacent carpenter workshop darkened the stone.
By now, the sun had nearly vanished, slipping behind the crooked rooftops of Frostpoint's western skyline.
As far back as he could remember, he lived in this city, and so Veyn could feel snow coming. The air had that sharp stillness. A pale shimmer lined the cobbles along Blythe street, and even the rats had scurried off somewhere warmer.
'10? Maybe a fifteen minute walk home? Either way, I better hurry if I don't want to get snowed on.'
Not that he minded a little snow, but after a wasted trip to the library he wasn't too keen on being wet when he got home. He picked up the pace, heading down Blythe, where the crowd from earlier had thinned.
The street wasn't empty, just… subdued. Not because of the weather. Because of the hour. Most folks were home by now, crouched around stoves, boiling stew, or sipping awful tea from chipped mugs. Somewhere nearby, someone played a wheezing violin on a second story balcony, its tune lilting and aimless.
"Isn't there supposed to be a bathhouse around here? This is a working class area after all." Veyn muttered aloud.
That, apparently, was enough to catch someone's attention.
A well dressed man stood near an employment board, pinning a flyer with one hand while holding a neat stack of them in the other. He wore a dark wool overcoat with brass buttons, scarf neatly tucked, and boots that had never once touched gutter water.
He paused mid pin, eyes scanning until they landed on the pale, white haired boy. He stepped forward and tapped Veyn's shoulder.
"Excuse me, young man. Could you repeat that?"
Veyn turned slowly, giving the man an unapologetic once over.
"Repeat what? Wait, are you looking for a business partner? Well dressed, optimistic, and clearly new to this part of town. Yes, I think you'll make a fine scapeg-partner, a finely shaped partner."
The man blinked and coughed into his glove. "Ahem. Gideon Brackett." He said reaching a hand out. "I thought I heard you right. You want to bathe? Well, as it happens, I can help you with tha-"
Before he could even finish the smile forming on his face, Veyn's voice, sounding very angry and just loud enough for a decent crowd to turn their head said.
"Why do you want to help me bathe, you creepy bastard? Get away from me."
And just like that, he vanished into the thick of the crowd. The man was left blinking, red faced, mumbling.
"Damn brat, I was going to offer you a job…" Then louder. "Haha he was-… I mean that was just a misunderstanding! He thought-" By now everybody had stopped paying attention.
Veyn snorted laughter halfway down the block, hiding his grin behind a gloved hand. Once the giggles died, he resumed speed walking.
Right. I was going fast cause it's about to snow.
Just then, something soft and white landed on his shoulder. Another kissed the tip of his nose. A third landed on the back of his hand, so light it barely registered. But as he brought his hand closer, squinting at the speck, his smirk faded.
That's not a snowflake.
It crumbled gray against his skin, powdery and fine.
Ash.
He looked up. Ha. Some poor bastard's house must be on fire.
Except… something twisted in his stomach. Not hunger. Not guilt. Something colder. That creeping, tight little knot that forms just beneath the ribs, the one you get when the universe tilts suddenly, like the world's holding its breath before it shoves you off balance. It was the kind of feeling that didn't need words, didn't need reason. Just a primal warning, whispered straight to the bones.
His steps faltered. The air felt heavier. And then he saw it. Off in the distance, cutting through the darkening sky, was a dark column rising. Smoke. Thick and black and rolling upward in slow, deliberate spirals, like fingers reaching to choke the stars.
His breath caught. That smoke, it wasn't just anywhere. It was in the direction of Brindle Street. His street. His home. A building or two away from the corner he passed every day. He didn't need to double check the wind or squint to be sure. He already knew.
His grin vanished.