The alleyway twisted and turned until it opened into a narrow passageway running straight along a building stretching endlessly in both directions.

“Takes a little longer this way, but it’s quieter coming through the alley than coming up the main road.” Rin took in the alleyway, studying the scattered crates and faded markings.

"My family’s had a place here since the Ropewalks became the Ropewalks. Soon as the shipyard work moved out and the buildings emptied, the desperate moved in. Whatever plans the city had here, they gave up—too tangled to untangle."

He pulled his horse to a stop. “This is us. Tie your horse there and help me with Maeric.”

Erith dismounted, his boots splashing into a shallow puddle pooled between the cobblestones. He tied his horse near the doorframe, tucking it beneath the overhang to shield it from the rain. 

As he stepped closer, his eyes caught a faint carving etched into the wood—a symmetrical, leaf-like shape with two circles nestled within. Lines interwoven between the circles formed an intricate pattern within the shape.

He helped Rin bring Maeric to his feet. Together, they made their way to the door. Rin knocked firmly against the wood. For a while, all that was heard was the steady drum of the rain. He knocked again, louder this time.

A noise stirred inside—shuffling, then silence.

“It’s Leorin Varsk,” Rin called out.

There was a pause until the sound of something being dragged across the floor cut across the rain. A hint of light flashed from the peephole atop the heavy wooden door.

A sudden scramble of noise erupted behind the door, followed by it swinging inward with force.

The flickering candlelight illuminated the figure of a boy, a crossbow braced against his chest, its aim leveled squarely at Rin’s abdomen.

“Not a step forward or backward,” the boy warned, his ragged blonde hair falling into his eyes as he surveyed the three figures on the doorstep.

“Easy, kid. We’re not here to cause trouble. We’re—”

“On the wrong side of this crossbow, far as I see it,” the boy cut in.

“Leorin Varsk, are you? Well then, I’m Rhymera Varsk. Good to see you, son—been ages since you wrote home.” The boy’s tone was wry as he flicked his eyebrows up, motioning with his crossbow. “Now be a dear and prove it—don’t make a mother shoot her precious boy in the rain.”

Rin smiled down the face of the crossbow. “Fiery, aren’t you? Let me guess—you’ve got a tattoo already, despite your age. Left shoulder, right? Matches the sigil on the door?”

Moving one hand slowly, Rin lifted his shirt to reveal the faint outline of an arrow-like mark etched into his side. “Part of the family sigil, just like yours. Last time I saw you, you weren’t much for words. In your defense, you weren’t old enough to know many.”

The boy’s grip on the crossbow wavered, a shadow of doubt crossing his guarded expression. He didn’t lower the weapon. “Anyone can draw a symbol, you know.”

Rin’s eyes glinted with mischief. “True. But how many of them would know to call you Moonsie?”

His face reddened, though his finger remained on the trigger. “...Alright. Doesn’t matter if you’re actually my brother, I still might shoot you for calling me by that stupid name.”

With a reluctant sigh, the boy lowered the crossbow and took a step back, gesturing for them to enter.

“What’s his problem?” the boy said over his shoulder, leading them inside.

Erith and Rin helped support Maeric through the doorway. “Part of the reason we’ve stopped by. His leg is shattered. I need a healer, and our presence to be discreet.” 

“Discreet, huh?” Turning his head back, the boy cocked an eyebrow, his gaze landing squarely on the Surelian Sifting Company sigil on Maeric’s vest. “Yeah, sure. Nothing says discreet like hauling a mangled Surelian captain through the ‘Walks.” He led them through the hallway, toward a narrow staircase.

“We kept things quiet enough. Is Rhymera around?” Rin asked, working with Erith to maneuver Maeric up the stairwell.

“She won’t be back ‘till later,” the boy replied, thumbing through a ring of keys as they reached the landing. With a quiet click, he unlocked the door at the top of the staircase and pushed it open.

The upstairs hallway was dimly lit inside, and the soft creaks of the floorboards accompanied their steps as they moved toward a door at the end of the hall.

The boy pulled another key from the ring and unlocked it, revealing a modest, yet cozy bedroom with a fireplace and a pair of worn chairs near the hearth.

Rin eased Maeric down onto the bed, raising his injured leg onto a folded blanket for support. Maeric let out a groan as Rin adjusted his leg.

“About the healer,” Rin began, glancing at the boy. “Would you know where Talyrin is?”

The boy crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed Maeric’s condition. “Maybe. Depends on how much trouble you’re dragging us all into. He looks bad, but not like he’s on his way out.”

“Maybe not, Amun,” Rin replied, his tone sharp but calm. “But I'd like to make sure he can walk again when his leg heals. As for the trouble—I don’t know what trouble anyone’s been dragged into. I need time. For that, I need them hidden. And I need Talyrin.”

“Yeah, about them, what’s that one’s story?” Amun leaned on the door frame, eyeing Erith.

“Hell if I know. Talyrin, Moons. Just go get Talyrin.” Rin fidgeted with his holster, unfastening it from his belt before setting it and his sword onto the bed.

“Alright, alright. I’ll see what I can do.” Amun unhooked a key from the ring and tossed it to Rin. “I’ll lock you in. Stay here until I’m back. Spindle’s quiet, don’t go stirrin’ it up.”

The door closed behind Amun with a soft click of the lock. Rin let out a breath and slumped into one of the chairs near the hearth.

“Spindle?” Erith asked, glancing at the unlit wood stacked neatly in the fireplace.

“Spindle Hall—our family’s tavern and inn.” Rin buried his face within his hands, rubbing his eyes as exhaustion weighed in on him.

“I haven’t been here since I was Moonsie’s age. Seen my mum a few times when the sifting season brought us into town. Family’s…complicated, but we’ll be safe here.

Erith ran his fingers against the cold stone of the fireplace mantle as he studied it. Catching Erith’s eye, Rin pointed him toward a striker tucked in the corner.

“You said the barrier carts were emptied—how did you know that?” His tone carried more weariness than curiosity.

Kneeling beside the fireplace, Erith sparked embers with the striker, catching the kindling beneath the stacked wood. “I can… Well I can sort of ‘sense’ Kaida, but I think you’ve already figured that out.”

“So, you felt the Kaida pouring out from the carts.” Rin leaned back in his chair with his hands folded, piecing his thoughts together aloud. 

“You can sense Mura then too? You knew how many Murasi were around—and where they were. But it looked like something you needed to…” He unfolded his hands, making a vague, uncertain gesture. “...feel for?”

Erith’s fingers brushed against the gem in his pocket. It’s not exactly a lie, he thought, turning it over in his hand.

After a brief hesitation, he pulled the Kaida gem out he’d taken from the refinery at the Pining Frost camp and held it out for Rin to see.

Rin leaned forward slightly, squinting as he examined the gem from the chair. “Ah. So this is 'sense' is also through wielding Kaida? Maeric speaks highly of the King’s Illuminary. Imagine that—someone fit to stand among them has been right under his nose all this time.”

The flame from the kindling began to spread, catching the splinters on the wood. Erith sat beside the fireside, letting the warmth settle against his skin

Rin put a hand to his chin, his gaze fixed on Erith. “One more thing—what rattled you before the carts? The moment we walked into the tent, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Erith stared into the fire, watching the wood be overtaken by the flames. He turned his head to respond, but noticed Rin’s attention had shifted to the door.

Rin’s expression sharpened, and he raised a hand toward Erith, signaling him to stay still.

A click of the lock broke the silence, and the door flung open. A man stood in the doorway. A dagger gleamed in his hand as the firelight danced across the blade.

Rin moved in an instant, darting forward to grab the man’s wrist. The two grappled, the man’s face twisted in determination as he reached with his free hand toward his side.

Instinct jolted Rin backwards, but not enough to avoid the man’s swipe with his other blade. The knife grazed his side. Rin hissed, clutching his stomach. The man hurled him toward the fireplace with a brutal kick.

The abruptness of the fight left Erith frozen. The man wasted no time. He shifted his attention toward the bed where Maeric lay motionless. Dagger in hand, he advanced.

Rin struggled to his feet, his face contorted with pain, when a blur of blackness streaked toward the man. It collided with the wall behind him with a sharp thud, splintering bits of wood before dissipating into wisps of dark smoke.

Rin’s eyes darted, searching for the source, until they landed on Erith, standing rigid near the fireplace, his hand extended.

The man staggered backward, his steps faltering before he collapsed onto the floor. 

Blood pooled beneath the man, seeping steadily across the wooden planks. The crackle of the firewood was the only sound breaking the heavy silence in the room.