Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

  Korie pressed his fingers against his temple, trying to rub away the tension. His head felt as though it was being wrapped up in tight bonds, his skull pounding with a migraine that had settled and simply wouldn't leave.

  This wasn’t his first time behind bars. Not often, but twice before he had found himself locked away in places like this. Both times had been miserable in their own ways, though at least this time he wasn’t stuck with some half-mad drunk. No unwelcome roommates, at least.

  Not that he was alone.

  Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

  "Can we please do something about the dripping?" Korie finally asked, irritated beyond belief. He could hardly think. All he wanted to do was slam his head into the stone brick wall until the tension went away.

  The guard, who'd been sitting right outside their cells this entire time, hardly spared him a glance. He held onto his tankard with one paw, the foamy liquid covering his snout after he took another sip. "Do what, pup? We're underground. Of course there's going to be drips."

  Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

  The jailor stood just outside the cell, watching him with sharp, alert eyes. He was no ordinary man. His snout twitched slightly, ears perked as if listening for the slightest shift in breath or movement. Fur covered his arms, thick and coarse, and his claws tapped idly against the keys looped at his belt. His tail flicked once before going still. His face was unmistakably that of a hound, broad-muzzled with sharp teeth barely visible behind curled lips. There was no point trying to talk his way out of this with someone like him standing guard.

  Korie clenched his jaw, his teeth pressing together hard enough that his head ached. He took a slow, measured breath through his nose, holding it for a moment before exhaling through gritted teeth. His shoulders stiffened, tension rippling through his body as he took in his surroundings. The walls were worn down in places but still solid, holding in the damp chill of the air and impossible to penetrate through. The only way out was through the iron bars in front of him, thick and rusted but sturdy enough to keep him exactly where they wanted him.

  Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

  "Why'd ya do it?" The inu asked again, the fourth time now. Korie was, unfortunately, awfully close to cracking. Anything to get him out of this situation. In the past he'd been bailed out by his then-allies, but now? He had nobody he could request to see, nobody with the power to free him.

  "I liked the horse."

  "Oh, spare me."

  "I'm not sure what you want me to say. Horse thievery is not so complicated."

  The inu slammed his tankard onto the wooden table, dragging his chair back as he suddenly stood. Korie flinched at the sudden noise, instinctively pressing his back against the rough wall behind him. The jailer appeared to be particularly annoyed at him, and Korie wasn't sure why.

  "Cut the bullshit," The inu growled, looking down at him from behind the bars. "You knew exactly what you were doing. Why that horse, huh?"

  Korie did not let it phase him, and did not allow the terrifying tone of the jailer's voice to shake him. He did swallow anxiously, however. The hound’s voice had a deep, guttural quality, something that rumbled from the chest and resonated through the heavy stone walls. It was the kind of voice that could make a man feel small, the kind that carried the promise of pain if its owner so desired.

  Korie lifted his chin slightly, meeting the jailer’s yellow eyes.

  He was still watching him, unmoving except for the slow, rhythmic flick of his tail. The torchlight outside the cell cast shifting shadows across his muzzle, highlighting the contours of his sharp, canine features. His lips were curled just enough to reveal the glint of his fangs, whether in amusement or warning Korie couldn’t tell.

  “I see your kind doesn’t scare easy,” the inu rumbled, his voice dripping with something between irritation and approval. He stepped closer, boots clicking against the uneven stone floor, his clawed fingers flexing at his sides.

  His kind. Right. He often forgot what people saw him as; that he appeared as a dark elf to most who knew little about the void-touched. It was rare that someone would recognize the sickness on his skin, his curse. A mark that could never be cured.

  Korie turned his head, and the hound scoffed in disappointment at his lack of answer. "You'll talk soon. They all do," He told him, the threat in his words clear as day. Korie had no idea what his plan would be here; he just had to last until an opportunity would present itself.

  ??

  The bells of Zephyr Hollow hummed in the wind as Lyra walked with measured steps, her gaze fixed ahead. The town around her was lively but peaceful, the kind of place that didn’t often see trouble, much less horse thieves being chased into its streets. Yet Korie had found his way here, forcing her hand yet again. Her fingers curled around the strap of her pack as she stepped off the main street, slipping into the quiet shadow of an alleyway. The cells weren’t far - just around the corner, a squat stone building with iron-barred windows wedged between taller shops and homes. It looked more like a storehouse than a prison, the kind of place that rarely saw much use.

  This damn elf.

  First, he’d forced her into a chase across half the countryside. And now, because of his idiocy, he was forcing her to wield an authority she hadn’t used in such a long time, it felt unfamiliar. She crouched down and unbuckled her pack, her fingers finding the small, worn bundle tucked inside. The fabric was stiff, its embroidery still pristine despite its long neglect. She hadn’t needed to wear it in so long. How long had it been since she had last wielded the power that came with it?

  Too long.

  She unfolded the armband, running her thumb over the insignia stitched into the fabric. The crest of the royal family stood out against the dark material - recognisable, undeniable. Beneath it, a mark that signified her rank, a symbol that would silence questions before they could be asked. She had always kept it, though she had not worn it. It was not something you threw away, not when it carried weight beyond just cloth and thread. She had chosen to set it aside, to leave behind the influence it carried. Yet, here she was, slipping it back on because of him.

  Damn him.

  Her bracers made it impossible to wear on her forearm, so she adjusted it just above her elbow, securing it snugly over the supple leather of her undersuit. The embroidered insignia stood out unmistakably against the muted tones of her armour. It felt strange, out of place after so long. The weight of it wasn’t in the cloth but in the authority it carried. A reminder of who she had been - of the rank she had once commanded. She exhaled slowly, flexing her arm to ensure the fit. It stayed in place, the insignia stark and visible.

  With that, she adjusted her posture, rolling her shoulders before stepping back onto the street. She wasn’t just Lyra anymore. Not here. Not now. Now, she was one of the highest-ranking members of the royal guard.

  The air inside the cells was thick with damp stone and old iron, a stark contrast to the open, wind-sung streets above. Lyra stepped inside, her boots clicking against the uneven stone floor of the small entryway. A wooden counter stood to one side, though it was empty, and the dim torchlight cast flickering shadows along the walls. She scanned the room before moving forward, her steps measured as she reached the narrow stone stairwell that led deeper into the holding cells. The further she descended, the cooler the air became, the scent of damp and rust growing stronger.

  Just as she rounded the corner at the bottom of the steps, there was a flash of pale fur, then teeth. Sharp, gleaming fangs bared in a warning snarl, followed by the scrape of claws against stone - wicked-looking and ready to tear into her if she took one step too close.

  Korie had been sitting cross-legged on the rough hay bed, in trance with his hands on his knees and his breathing steady. There was hardly anything else he could do to ignore the constant dripping noise of that leak through a stone brick. That was when the new sound began to echo; a rumble, an indiscernible sound at first. He opened his eyes, glancing around curiously until they settled on the sight outside of his cell.

  It was the jailer. His fangs were bared in a growl, the hairs on his nape and head prickled. It reminded him of a cat, ironically. His posture was tense and bowed down as though ready to attack if needed, his eyes laser-focused on the staircase leading out; clearly, he'd detected someone's presence and they were not welcome in his territory without an explanation. Korie remained still, barely breathing as he watched the inu’s reaction. He wasn’t sure if this was an opportunity or a sign that things were about to get much worse.

  He got his answer as soon as she entered the room.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Lyra didn’t flinch.

  Her voice cut through the stale air, harsh and commanding.

  "Put them away, mutt."

  He held back a groan, rubbing his face with his hands and shutting his eyes for a moment. It couldn't be. The fact that she had managed to track him down alone made her dedication to the subject incredibly obvious. To think that she would follow him a city over just for, what, some information on Tarek Nocturne? Hatred was clearly an incredible motivator.

  The creature's eyes gleamed in the dim torchlight, its pale fur bristling as it regarded her with thinly veiled irritation. Now that the snarl had faded, Lyra could see it for what it was - not just some oversized mutt, but an inu, a beast of both intellect and instinct. The kind that made damn good guards.

  She held his gaze, unyielding, as he let out a slow huff, lowering his clawed hands with exaggerated reluctance. "You could stand to be more polite, human," he grumbled, voice rough, the words almost blending into a growl. "What are you here for?"

  His golden eyes followed her every movement as Lyra stepped deeper into the corridor, his clawed fingers flexing idly at his sides. He had backed down from snarling at her, but his posture remained watchful, assessing. Korie spared the two a glance as they spoke, watching as the woman stood almost with pride.

  This was a creature who took his duty seriously, and she knew from experience that a good guard wouldn’t let just anyone waltz in and make demands. So, she made sure he saw it first.

  The glint in the jailer's eyes changed all of a sudden, and Korie focused on it as well when he noticed it; a pale strip of cloth, wrapped snugly around the woman’s arm, stood out against the dark leather of her armor. It was almost impossible to miss, the stark contrast drawing attention in comparison to the otherwise muted tones of her gear. The fabric was tightly wound, almost deliberately so, with a carefulness that suggested it wasn’t just a simple piece of cloth.

  She met his eyes, steady and unwavering. "I’m here for the horse thief."

  "Introduce yourself," The inu demanded, his voice snapping back at her. His arms crossed over his broad chest, muscles shifting beneath his fur as he adjusted his posture, a silent show of control. It wasn’t submission, not in the slightest. He was allowing her entry, but it was clear that that permission was his to give. If it had not been for the band, she would not have made it this far.

  It made Korie curious. It must've been the armband that caused such a reaction, but he could hardly see it from afar. Not only that, but the woman's entry and remarks had beared such confidence that it confused him. She walked around as though she was allowed to do as she pleased, expecting no consequence. It was that same arrogance from when he'd spoken to her; I don't need to hear warnings, she'd said. One of these days her attitude would fail to get her what she wanted and only Sol and Luar know what trouble she'd be forced to face instead.

  The inu’s golden eyes flicked between her and the insignia on her arm, sharp and assessing. He wasn’t just asking for her name out of curiosity - he wanted to hear it from her own lips, to confirm what the embroidered crest already suggested. Lyra hesitated for the briefest moment. It had been a long time since she had spoken her full title aloud. She had buried it beneath simpler names, letting it collect dust like an old sword hanging on the wall - still sharp, still deadly, but unused. Going by "Lyra" had been easy. Unremarkable. A name that let her pass unnoticed, free from the weight of expectation. Though that wasn't the name she had been given.

  "Lady Lysandra Selvorin, First Blade, Third Sentinel."

  With a casual adjustment of her sleeve, the embroidered insignia of the royal family caught the dim torchlight, the threads gleaming just enough to be unmistakable. Her rank was woven into the fabric, a silent declaration of authority that left no room for argument.

  The words fell into the air like iron, heavy with a weight she had not carried in a long time. She doubted her name meant anything to the inu himself. Out here, beyond the heart of the kingdom, beyond the reach of the courts and the royal banners, Lysandra Selvorin was just another noble-sounding name. It was the titles that mattered. First Blade. Third Sentinel. Those held weight no matter where she was.

  For a moment, Korie thought he'd misheard. Imagined it, even. There were many beats of silence, and as he slowly processed it, First Blade, as he took those words in, Third Sentinel, as observed on the band, no, the insignia on her...

  Oh.

  He was done for.

  His legs moved without his will, standing him up as he walked towards the bars. He wrapped a hand around the cold metal, his heart about to beat right out of his chest with fear. He'd seriously gone and fucked up this time. That was a member of the royal guard after him, a high ranking one at that. He could feel his heart drop, a cold sweat taking over as he pressed his face against the bars to get a better look.

  Surely not... Surely he was losing his mind. He pulled back when she suddenly turned to face him, their eyes meeting, two terrified and two confident.

  Lyra hadn't dared to use her name and titles on the mainland in a long time. She was too recognisable there - her name, her face, all of it splashed across too many posters, too many proclamations, stripping her of any chance of anonymity. The moment she uttered it, the weight of her past would slam down upon her like a collar snapping shut. But here?

  Here, she had anonymity. She was not the woman whose name had once carried across battlefields and council chambers. Here, she could walk through the streets without eyes trailing after her, without hushed whispers circling in her wake. For a moment, she let herself feel the strangeness of it. The quiet. The weight of a name that had long since been ripped away from her.

  Lyra didn’t waver beneath the inu's scrutiny. She had given her name, her rank, and still, he was considering her. Not in defiance, but in the way a seasoned guard weighed the situation before making a decision. A soldier’s caution.

  She let the silence stretch just long enough before she spoke, her voice carrying the weight of authority that came with her station.

  "The royal family has a vested interest in seeing the horse thief punished for his crimes." The words were steady, deliberate. "I can’t leave without him."

  When the woman, Lysandra, had spoken to him, her goal had appeared to be purely driven by emotion. Not to mention the way she'd spoken of her home, entirely personal and involved. She was lying somewhere in those words, and Korie wasn't sure which scenario to hope for; that she had robbed a high ranking officer's armband and was about to get him involved in a world of trouble? That she was a noble knight, seeking him out specifically for one reason or another? Either way, his future didn't look bright.

  The inu, at the very least, accepted her response as the truth. He caved and shook his head, looking away from her and at the cell door. "Well, good luck dealing with him. He's not a talker," The jailer scoffed, unhooking his key ring. He picked a key out, moving to the door and sliding it into the lock, turning it. Just like that, the door was opened and the hound gave him a half glare before stepping closer. "You're now the royal family's business," He nodded at Korie. He grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around, and Korie relaxed and allowed his arms to be put back into binds. Once tied up tight, he stepped out of the cell, looking up at the woman who'd come to pick him up.

  Korie felt something akin to what children would, when in trouble.

  He was carefully guided up the worn stairs and out of the building, the woman's hand firmly wrapped around his arm to ensure he couldn't escape. He hadn’t had a chance to look around when he'd arrived the night before, but now, as they stepped into the open air, he finally saw the town, and it caught him off guard. The streets were lined with old buildings, each one marked by bells hanging from their eaves and church steeples. Everywhere he looked, there were wind chimes, hanging from windows, doorways and porches, gently swaying in the breeze. Their soft jingling created a calming melody that filled the air, contrasting with the shock of the general situation. The town had an unexpectedly tranquil atmosphere, almost as if it existed in another world, one far removed from the chaos that had led him here.

  He glanced up at her curiously, taking a good look at her once again; she appeared different under the sunlight. Her eyes were hooded, eyebrows furrowed in a permanent scowl, but they were simultaneously the most expressive feature of her face from the little he'd known of her. The lines around her mouth, too, were tense, but he could tell there was more to her than just the stoic exterior she wore. She was oddly intriguing now. Or maybe that was only because of her title.

  The morning light was brighter now, casting long beams through the narrow streets of Zephyr Hollow as Lyra led Korie through the town, her grip firm on his arm. His hands were bound behind his back, his usual effortless grace stiffened by restraint, but he moved easily enough. Then, his voice, low and edged with something between intrigue and challenge issued his question.

  "Who are you, really," He asked her, not quite knowing where to start. He hadn't even known her name until a few minutes ago.

  Lyra didn't break stride, though her grip on his arm tightened ever so slightly. She glanced sideways at him, giving him a warning look, sharp and unmistakable. He needed to play along. He needed to act the part of the prisoner. Beyond that, deeper beneath the necessity of the moment, was something else - a quiet, selfish part of her that wanted to taste what her life had once been. So, she gave him the answer, her voice steady and deliberate.

  "Lady Lysandra Selvorin. First Blade. Third Sentinel."

  For a moment, she watched as the words settled over him, and saw the way his expression flickered. Her name had been power once. A force that had turned heads, opened doors, made men stand at attention. She had lived and breathed that title for so long that it had shaped her into something unyielding, something unquestionable. Here, in this far-flung town, among its chimes and wind-washed streets, no one knew it. No one cared for her name. It was solely her titles that meant anything.

  Except now, she had spoken it again.

  She didn't hate how it felt.

  "You can also call me Lyra," she added after a moment. There was no need for her to break the pretence just yet.

  Korie looked up at her, Lyra. He did not know this woman, not at all, but the confidence in the way she spoke her title felt so natural that he was inclined to believe that she was actually a royal guard. Not just some thief or mercenary throwing around an empty claim with a stolen emblem, but someone who had earned her place, someone who belonged to something far greater than their offshore island. It only confused him further; why was the royal guard so far out of the kingdom's capital, and why was Lyra out here hunting him down?