Rain whispered over Draemond City, turning its cobbled streets into rivers of silver and shadow.
Lanterns flickered dimly beneath the downpour, their light bending through the mist like lost souls searching for a way home.
Gareth tugged his cloak tighter, boots splashing through shallow puddles as he moved without direction — half chasing thought, half escaping it.
The Devil Viking's presence still pulsed faintly at the back of his mind, a pressure that refused to fade.
He had returned later than usual and as he walked he felt — something alive beneath the rain.
He turned a corner.
And the world changed.
The alley he entered was narrow, drowned in shadows, the stone slick with oil and grime.
Murmured voices echoed deeper inside — low, secretive, bargaining.
Gareth paused, head tilted. He recognized the rhythm: a black market.
Hidden beneath the heartbeat of the city.
As he walked deeper, faint lights appeared — hanging lanterns burning greenish-white, their smoke curling like fog.
The air was thicker here, heavy with the scent of metal, damp cloth, and whispered trades.
Hooded figures lingered near stalls carved from crates and broken stone.
Trinkets of strange Veil origin shimmered faintly — illegal charms, black powder, fractured sigils etched into glass.
Unwelcoming didn't begin to cover it. Eyes followed him, measuring, waiting. A world that didn't want strangers.
Gareth moved calmly, hands in pockets, gaze straight ahead. The rain dripped from the edges of the tattered awnings above, each drop echoing in rhythm with his quiet heartbeat.
Then—
Someone bumped into him. Hard enough to make him stop.
"Oh—! I'm so sorry!"
The voice was light, breathless — almost musical beneath the rain. Gareth blinked, glancing down.
She stood barely a step away, clutching a satchel to her chest. A second-year's uniform clung to her frame, rain-darkened and wrinkled from the alley's chaos.
Her dark hair stuck in uneven strands across her cheeks, and her eyes — grey, storm-soft — flicked up at him in embarrassment.
For a moment, the black market's chill seemed to soften.
Gareth gave a faint, amused smile. "We're wearing the same uniform."
She blinked, then looked down — as if only just realizing. A flush crept up her neck. "Oh. Right. You're from Highwarden too."
He tilted his head slightly. "You study there?"
"Y-Yes," she said, brushing wet hair from her face, tone flustered but sincere.
"Second year." She hesitated, then frowned slightly, her expression shifting — still gentle, but with an edge. "Wait… are you from the nobles' domain or the commoners'?"
The question hit sharper than expected. Gareth hesitated, caught off guard. "Uh… commoner," he said finally, his tone simple, almost curious.
Her shoulders relaxed instantly. The seriousness vanished, replaced by the same flustered warmth as before.
"Oh— good. I mean— not that it matters, I just…" She trailed off, cheeks pink even beneath the rain.
Gareth chuckled softly.
"You just what?"
She turned away quickly, muttering something he couldn't quite hear.
"Nothing. Never mind."
For a moment, the black market around them seemed distant — just two students caught under the same rain, one hiding behind shyness, the other behind calm curiosity.
Gareth studied her quietly, then smiled. "What's your name?"
She hesitated, then glanced back over her shoulder — eyes brighter now, soft but unreadable.
"Selene Morra."
Rain still fell in sheets, drumming against the rooftops above as the crowd in the black market thinned.
Gareth watched Selene adjust her satchel again, tucking a loose strand of wet black hair behind her ear.
The glow from a nearby lantern caught the rain in her lashes, giving her eyes a faint shimmer — dark, steady, and quietly defiant.
He nodded toward the stalls. "So… what are you doing here, exactly? Doesn't seem like a place for an academy student."
Selene stopped mid-step.
Her shoulders stiffened, and when she turned, her expression carried a flash of irritation — though it was softened by the way she puffed her cheeks slightly, an involuntary habit that almost made Gareth laugh.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, crossing her arms. "Do I need permission to walk somewhere now? Or is this another noble lecture about where 'commoners' belong?"
Gareth raised both hands slightly. "That's not what I meant—"
She cut him off with a little huff, words spilling fast and flustered.
"Everyone always thinks if you're here, you're either selling something illegal or doing something wrong. Maybe I just like the noise, the lights, the freedom. Maybe I wanted a cup of coffee without being judged by a thousand gold-plated snobs—"
She stopped herself suddenly, cheeks coloring again as she looked away.
"Sorry. I just… don't like being asked that."
Gareth blinked, then chuckled softly. "You lecture well," he said, tone light.
Her eyes flicked up at him, half annoyed, half amused.
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood."
Now that he could see her properly, she was about his height — not tall, not short, just balanced, confident in how she stood.
Her hair, black as ink, framed her face in damp waves. Her eyes, darker still, had a kind of quiet fire that didn't fade even under the dim lanterns.
There was something striking about her — not polished or noble-beautiful, but real, magnetic, alive.
A hint of mischief in the corners of her lips.
Then, as the thunder rolled above and rain poured harder outside, Selene sighed, all the fire in her posture softening at once.
"Come on," she said suddenly, grabbing his hand.
Gareth blinked. "What—?"
"Standing here makes you look suspicious." She tugged lightly, her fingers warm against his.
"There's a place nearby — quieter."
Before he could argue, she led him through the twisting alleys until the smell of spice and roasted beans reached them.
A small café waited beneath a crooked archway, its old sign half-faded but still legible through the rain:
"The Ember Veil."
Inside, the world was different. Warm light, faint music, the soft hiss of steam and chatter.
The windows trembled as rain hammered the glass, the city beyond reduced to silhouettes and mist.
Selene slid into a corner seat, brushing rain from her sleeves.
"Better," she murmured, her voice quiet but sure.
Gareth followed, sitting opposite her.
For a moment, they just watched the rain streak down the window, the storm's reflection flickering like veins of light across the café walls.
And for the first time since the Devil Viking's shadow, Gareth felt the world slow — real, tangible, almost peaceful.
He glanced across the table at Selene. "You really do pick strange places."
She smiled faintly, eyes glinting. "Strange people make the best company."
Outside, thunder rolled again — deep, distant, and alive.
They sat near the window. Rain traced trembling lines down the glass, thunder distant.
Gareth turned to her, curious."So… you're a second-year?"
Her smile faded, replaced by a faint seriousness that almost startled him.
"Yes. And you—" she tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly, "—why are you even here?"
Gareth blinked, caught off guard."What do you mean?"
"You don't belong in a place like that alley," she said quietly. "Most students avoid it."
Her voice had lost the earlier blushy warmth — now it carried something sharper, thoughtful.
Gareth looked down, his reflection blurred in the rain-streaked window.
"I… don't know," he said finally. "I just found myself there."
For a moment, silence.
Only the sound of rain. Then her expression softened again, the edge in her tone fading.
"Maybe," she said gently, "you just have bad timing."
He gave a small, awkward laugh. "Yeah… maybe."
The rain hadn't let up outside — if anything, it grew heavier, turning the streets beyond the window into rivers of silver.
Inside The Ember Veil, the lamps glowed warmer, shadows dancing softly across their table.
Gareth leaned back, curiosity cutting through the quiet. "Hey," he said. "Can I ask you something?"
She looked up from her cup.
"What?"
He hesitated, then asked, "What do you know about… the religion of Eradicate?"
Her expression shifted — the faint blush from earlier fading into something unreadable.
"That's… a strange question," she said quietly. Then, after a moment, she added.
"They've been around since the Gods' Era. Ancient, older than most kingdoms. Some say they were the first to ever defy the light itself."
Gareth frowned slightly. "Defy the light?"
She nodded.
"They believe the 'Broken Sun' — what the Dawn Church calls the first light — is corruption.
That it shattered the world and every trace of it should be erased. Their creed is simple: purge the false dawn."
Her tone was steady, but there was a flicker of unease in her eyes.
"They've spread all over the kingdom," she continued.
"Even here in Draemond, though most people won't admit it. You'll find their markings in alleys, carved into stone, or burned under bridges."
Gareth glanced outside, almost expecting to see one.
"But they aren't the only faith," she said, her voice softening.
"There's the Church of the Dawn — the main one. The nobles swear by it, and most of that is in Luminara , many worships there. They preach that light is purity, that the dawn is renewal."
She sighed, brushing a strand of wet black hair behind her ear.
"It's the opposite of Eradicate — where one seeks cleansing through light, the other seeks truth through darkness."
Gareth leaned forward slightly. "And what about you? Which do you believe in?"
She smiled faintly — small, quiet, unreadable.
"Neither," she said. "Belief doesn't make the world less cruel."
The warmth of the café didn't chase away the weight of her words. For a while, neither of them spoke — just the rhythm of rain and the faint clinking of cups.
Gareth stared at the table, then asked quietly, "Can I ask… something else?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Go on."
"Does the law here…" he hesitated, eyes narrowing a little, "allow slavery?"
Her smile vanished completely. For a second, her gaze dropped to her hands.
"Yes," she said finally. "It does."
Gareth looked up, startled.
"It's not open," she added, her tone bitter but calm. "But it exists.
The nobles call it indentured service — lifetime contracts, passed from parent to child. The Church pretends it's mercy. The courts pretend it's order."
Her fingers tightened around her cup. "In places like Luminara or Aurensport, you'll never see them — too clean, too polished.
But in Sunstead or the lower rings of Highwarden… you'll see people wearing chains that don't look like chains."
Gareth stayed silent, watching her.
Finally, she looked back at him — that faint blush from earlier nowhere to be seen now, replaced by something sharper, almost defiant.
"You didn't grow up here, did you?"
Gareth hesitated, unsure how to answer. "…No."
She nodded, as if that explained everything. "Then maybe it's better you didn't."
Outside, thunder rolled across the rooftops, echoing through the rain.
Gareth stayed quiet, his eyes fixed on her. The rain outside seemed to echo the weight of her words.
She exhaled softly, setting her cup down.
"All of this," she said, voice low but firm, "the slavery, the silence, the rot in the courts — it all happens because of the nobles."
Her tone sharpened.
"They pretend they're chosen by light, blessed by the Dawn, but all they've done is twist the kingdom to their own comfort. They build temples while people starve in the streets beneath them."
Her black eyes glimmered faintly in the golden light of the café. "They call it order. I call it decay."
Gareth watched her, something unsettled stirring in his chest. There was no hesitation in her voice — just conviction, as if she'd seen it all firsthand.
Finally, she looked away, her tone softening slightly. "Sorry. I get carried away."
Gareth shook his head. "No… you're right."
A faint smile returned to her lips — brief, but real. "You sound like you mean that."
He gave a small shrug, gaze drifting back to the window where rain blurred the lights of Draemond. "Maybe I do."
The rain had softened by the time they left The Ember Veil, though the streets still glistened like dark glass beneath the lamplight.
The sky was a dull silver, clouds drifting low over Draemond's rooftops.
Gareth pulled his cloak tighter as they stepped out. The girl walked beside him in silence, their footsteps echoing faintly through the narrow lane.
Neither spoke for a while. The city was quiet — only the whisper of rain and the distant hum of carriages moving along the upper roads.
As they neared the main bridge leading toward the Highwarden district, she finally said, her tone calmer now,"You should be careful where you wander next time. Some alleys don't lead to cafés."
Gareth glanced at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Guess I was lucky this time."
She looked at him briefly — then smiled, just enough for the lamplight to catch the curve of it. "Yeah… maybe you were."
They crossed the bridge together, the spires of Highwarden Academy rising ahead like shadowed towers in the mist. The rain began again, light and steady, pattering against the stone.
"Bye friend." Gareth said.
Selene stopped beneath the lantern's glow, rain tracing silver lines down her hair as Gareth walked ahead.
He didn't look back — just tightened his cloak and kept moving into the mist. She watched him go, a faint smile flickering before the rain swallowed him whole.