The night breeze brushed across the terrace, carrying the faint scent of wine and damp stone.
"Why do we always meet at night? Right after I took bath?" Robert grumbled, his voice echoing softly against the rooftop walls.
Lock stood by the railing, Hoot perched on his shoulder, the moonlight glinting faintly off his black coat. "This is only our second meeting," he said calmly. "And between city guards and an evil sorcerer, night is the best time for business."
Robert clicked his tongue. "Whatever. We're leaving tomorrow morning anyway." His towel hung loosely around his shoulders, the heat of the bath still steaming from his skin. "Also—why still the mask? Planning to rob us mid-conversation?"
Lock chuckled, voice rich with irony. "Well, I am an evil sorcerer How can I show my face to Chief Guard? But if showing my face makes the Chief Guard trust me more…" He removed the mask with an almost theatrical flourish.
Robert and Gust exchanged a quick glance, then nodded in slight approval.
Lock's smirk sharpened. "If we're going to risk our necks together, we should at least exchange information."
Robert leaned against the terrace wall. "Fine. We were planning to hire a sorcerer anyway," he admitted. "We know how to track the treasure —but not which side of Lightfall Mountain it's hidden on. The phenomenon appears in multiple places as a feint. We need someone who can sense real magic."
"Don't know which side?" Lock asked, intrigued.
Robert unfurled a folded map on a stone table, the edges weighed down with metal cups. "See this? The treasure's supposed to reveal itself through a small phenomenon and tremors in the ground. But those same signs will appear as illusions elsewhere in the mountain. We don't know which one's real."
Lock scanned the map, eyes gleaming. "I might know," he said at last. "The witch who lived in Ram City left clues. Her notes pointed toward a convergence point."
Robert's suspicion faded into intrigue. Gust, more practical, leaned closer. "Since you're chasing the same treasure, we can help each other reach it. Once we find it —we divide it."
Lock smiled thinly. "Agreed. A fair split."
"Now," Gust said, "we just need someone who knows the routes."
Robert crossed his arms, smirking. "Already done. I hired a guide. A local."
---
Morning at the Crossroads
The sun had just crept over the horizon when the three men stood near the Lightfall Crossroad. A small figure approached—barefoot, with shaggy hair and pointed wolf ears twitching with alertness.
"Hello, mister," the boy said politely. "I'm Woofy."
"A kid?" Lock arched a brow.
Gust waved off his doubt. "Don't worry. He knows the mountain better than anyone. Locals say his hearing can catch a beast's growl from half a mile away."
"My hearing's good," Woofy said proudly. "I can find safe paths and avoid wild beasts."
Lock studied him for a moment, then handed over the map. "Then lead us here," he said, tapping the circled mark.
Robert's and Gust's eyes flicked toward the map. They both recognized it as Lock's treasure coordinates —but neither dared make a move. Atleast not now.
---
At Noon — Ram City
"Are you sure you can manage both study and work?" Hester asked, adjusting his glasses.
"I already finished my duties," Dusk replied. "Granny Elara only needs me to help with cooking till noon. Washing dishes earns a little extra coin, but there are others who can do it."
The young boy sat on a wooden chair inside Hester's modest office, where parchment, ink bottles, and letters covered every surface. The air smelled faintly of ink and roasted coffee.
Hester smiled, resting his chin on his hand. "Good. Diligence suits you."
Soon after, the class began. A few other children, slightly older than Dusk, were already scribbling letters on parchment. Dawn sat beside her brother, humming as she tried to copy numbers onto her page.
An hour passed.
"Genius," Hester muttered, rubbing his chin. "Your sister is an absolute genius. She memorized and wrote all the numbers till twenty already. Usually, it takes two days for beginners. As for you, ." He shook his head at Dusk.
Dusk's face flushed slightly as the other kids snickered.
Hester cleared his throat sharply. "And you lot were worse than Dusk when you started. I still remember the tears."
Instant silence.
Hester smirked. "That's better. Now —continue writing."
---
Afternoon – At the Mountain Base
They reached the foothills of Lightfall Mountain by mid-afternoon, clouds rolling across its jagged peaks like restless waves. The terrain was steep and shadowed, the trees whispering in the wind.
"You're a good kid," Gust said, patting Woofy's head as they stopped near a rocky ridge. Woofy beamed with pride.
Robert's hand slid toward his sword, eyes gleaming. But before he could draw, Lock caught his wrist.
Robert scowled, but said nothing. The unspoken threat lingered.
Gust cleared his throat. "Alright, kid. You've done well. You can go now." He handed Woofy eight fins.
The boy's face lit up. "Thank you, sirs!" He saluted them clumsily, then jogged back down the path— completely unaware of how close death had followed him.
"Why did you stop me?" Robert frowned, felt irritated.
Lock smiled faintly. "Killing him after he's done his job might be efficient— but not subtle. If that boy doesn't return, someone will come looking. Besides…" His tone lowered, carrying a quiet warning. "It makes your temporary ally feel... uneasy."
---
Evening — Home Again
The sky had turned crimson by the time Dusk and Dawn returned home. The quiet of the alley was comforting after the noise of the day. But as Dusk pushed open the door, a sharp sound startled him.
Flap.
His eyes darted to the table. Hoot— the talking owl— was sprawled there, feathers ruffled, one claw bleeding.
"Hoot!" Dawn cried, rushing forward.
Dusk's heart jumped. He quickly shut and bolted the door before kneeling beside the wounded bird.
"Hoot, what happened?" he asked, voice urgent.
Dawn's small hands trembled as she reached out,eyes wide with fear. Dusk clenched his jaw, the weight of dread sinking deep in his chest.
The owl trembled, its beak opening weakly. "Save... Master..." it rasped. "Save... Master Lock..."
Blood smeared the wooden table as Hoot's voice grew fainter, repeating the same desperate plea.
"Save Master... Lock…"