Waterloo's gaze, filled with a cold malice, shifted to the three of them. "That dumb server at the inn should've kept her mouth shut," he said, the words a chilling confession that hung in the air.
Doren, Varen, and Meko turned to each other, a silent understanding passing between them. The shock of the betrayal was a cold, hard knot in Doren's stomach.
"What are we doing with him?" Doren asked, his voice low and steady, a new darkness to it.
"Tie his hands, gag him, and throw him in the shed," Varen said, her voice low and filled with aggravation. Her eyes, filled with fury, were fixed on the captured elementalist. "He's not going anywhere with that cage on his feet."
Without a word, Meko found a piece of rope and with a quick knot, he bound Waterloo's hands together. Doren, with a grim resolve, grabbed a piece of cloth from the ground and gagged the man. The stone cage on his legs and the ropes on his hands held Waterloo in place, a prisoner of his own making. The two of them, with a single, shared purpose, dragged the man to the shed, his body a dead weight against the ground. They threw him inside and locked the door, leaving him in the darkness.
Varen's eyes, wide and filled with a quiet fury, scanned the outside. "Let's head back to town. I need to check on Macy." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, and my grain! That jerk stole it!"
A grim smile touched the corners of Doren's mouth, a silent acknowledgement of her fierce, unwavering spirit. He and Meko, with a shared sense of purpose, grabbed the burlap sacks of grain and the three of them hurried out to the street. The morning light was a soft, pale gray, and the scent of the sea and the damp earth was a welcome relief after.
They found Katarina at the stalls, her arms wrapped around Anya, her face a mask of concern. Anya, with a quiet strength, was trying to explain what she had seen. Meko and Doren' threw Varen's grain back in the back of the wagon.
"Did you get them?" Katarina asked, her voice urgent.
Meko's face, a moment ago filled with relief, twisted into a look of confusion. "Them?" he said, his voice a questioning rumble. "There was only one."
Anya began trembling and backed away from them. Her eyes, wide with a raw, primal terror, found Varen's. "There were two of them!" she cried out, her voice a thin wail. "Two of them!"
Varen's face, a moment ago filled with relief, was now a mask of dread. She nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on the terrified woman. "She's right," she said, her voice a low, strangled whisper. "I saw him too. He was just a shadow at first, but I saw him. He helped drag her off." She said as she pointed to Anya.
The words struck Doren, Meko, and Katarina like a physical blow. They had been celebrating a victory against a single foe, but Varen's confirmation painted a new and terrifying picture. The fight in the shed was a distraction. The true threat was still out there.
Varen looked at them, her eyes, filled with a quiet dread, the tone in her voice completely changed. "I have to sell my grain," she said, her voice firm. "And then I have to go home." She paused, her gaze shifting between Doren and Meko. "I can't go with you. I can't be... a liability. You heard what he said. He's not after me. He's after you."
Doren's stomach clenched, and he took a step toward her. "Varen, you're not a liability. You're a part of this now. We can protect you."
Meko nodded in agreement, his silence a powerful testament to his loyalty.
Varen shook her head. "I can't ask you to. My family also needs me to return. I'm sorry." Her decision was final.
They didn't argue. Instead, they went to a local mill and helped Varen sell her grain. When the grain was sold, they stood there.
Varen gave Doren a brief hug. "Find him, Doren," she whispered. "Find my father." She looked at Meko, a silent thank you in her eyes, and then she turned and walked away, a small, resolute figure heading into the distance.
The last echo of Varen's footsteps faded, leaving Doren and Meko standing alone. The quiet of the market was a stark contrast to the churning storm of thoughts in their minds. Doren looked at Meko, his expression grim.
"Ready to get back to Waterloo?" Doren asked, his voice low and steady, a clear sign of his renewed determination.
Meko's look was unyielding. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I have a few questions for you first." His eyes were fixed on Doren. "So you have a Powerhart?"
Doren met his stare, his face weary. "Yes," he said, the word a raw, honest confession. "And I've been told to keep it a secret almost my whole life. The last ten years, after my father left, I wasn't allowed to talk to my siblings about it. I don't fully understand what it is yet myself. Just from what I've read in my father's journals."
Meko's face, a moment ago filled with a quiet anger, softened. The air, thick with unspoken tensions, began to lighten. Doren was not a lying.
"What do you know about it?" Meko asked, his voice still a low rumble. "I thought it was just a myth."
Doren ran a hand through his hair, a weary, frustrated gesture. "I know my father called it a king maker. And he said it's powerful if I can master all the elements." He looked at Meko. "He said he had one too. I guess it must be a Mercer bloodline thing."
The words hung in the air. The awkward silence between them was now thick with unspoken thoughts. Doren had a power beyond measure. The fight in the shed was not a simple kidnapping but a chess move in a game Doren didn't even know he was playing.
The two friends left the market. The air grew colder as they approached the abandoned house, the scent of stagnant water and cold earth growing stronger with every step.
Meko broke the silence, his voice a low, thoughtful rumble. "So you have two elements... a Powerhart... what's it like?"
Doren ran a hand through his hair, a weary, frustrated gesture. "Well, I actually have all of them when I figure out how to use them."
"Your father called it a king maker?" Meko asked, his voice laced with a quiet, disbelieving wonder. "And he said it was your destiny?"
Doren shook his head. "Destiny is a heavy burden, Meko," he said. "It's a path I don't want to walk alone."
Meko placed a large, reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone, Doren. We'll find out what this means. We'll find out what's really going on."
They arrived at the abandoned house, its dark windows like vacant eyes watching them. The shed was a dark, silent shape in the distance, a tomb for their captive. The conversation was a brief pause, a quiet moment before the potential storm.
The two stopped before the shed door. Doren took a deep breath, his hand on the rough wood. He exchanged a look with Meko, a silent confirmation of their shared purpose. He pushed the door open, the rusty hinges groaning in protest. But the shed was empty.
The cold air rushed out to meet them, and the dim light of the single window showed a dusty, vacant space. The ropes they had used to bind Waterloo were gone, and the stone cage had crumbled to dust on the floor. In the center of the room, a small, folded piece of parchment was pinned to the floor by a sharp, obsidian knife.
Meko stepped forward and carefully pulled the knife from the floor. He handed the note to Doren, who unfolded it with a trembling hand. The words were written in a sharp, elegant script, and there was a message of pure evil.
"To Mercer, we see you. We know what you are, and we know who you run with. You cannot hide. The Powerhart is our birthright, and we will take it from you. Your father was a fool. You are too. Your loved ones are in our sights. Do not return to the family you have abandoned. The Order of the Sunless is watching. We are everywhere."
The words struck Doren like a physical blow. The air, a moment ago thick with the hope of answers, was now cold with the weight of a new, named enemy. They were no longer fighting a small group of thugs; they were fighting an organization, a ghost in the shadows that knew who he was, and who his family was.