The bar’s atmosphere was thick with that same tense dread that had overtaken the streets of the Dregs. Rowan could feel it on the shaky breaths of the patrons. They whispered to each other, worrying over lost loved ones who might have been in the Aurifex during the attack. Cries would break out, raw and heart-wrenching, as fears became reality. Others broke into anger, shaking and cursing, unable to control themselves when faced with loss. “Hurry, Rowan! We’re almost there!” Nyve urged, her voice tinged with worry. She bounced in his hair, tiny fists pounding to spur him forward through the crowded bar. Rowan muscled through as hard as he could, cutting through the crowd like a fish through water. When he reached the kitchen, it was empty, but from the stairs leading up to the loft, he could hear soft knocking.

  “Callahan? I brought you some food! Open the door, hun!” Kiki stood outside, a plate of savory meat and vegetables balanced in her clawed hand. Rowan came up beside her. “Smells good! Once he gets a whiff of that, I bet he’ll be right out!” Kiki turned to him, her frills flaring in a mock show of aggression. “Where were you two? Callahan came in here pale as a ghost, didn’t say a word, and locked himself in his room…”

  Rowan tried to keep a lighthearted smile. There was no way to explain what happened without making Kiki upset. He hesitated, then softened his voice, painting a picture of what Callahan might’ve seen—but he kept Nyve out of the story. As he spoke, Kiki’s frills drooped lower and lower, her expression darkening. “Horrible…” She placed the plate on the step just outside Callahan’s door. “If I had known something terrible was going to happen today, I would’ve insisted on keeping you boys here…”

  Rowan shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Kiki. He just needs a few days.”

  She gave him a look, eyes filled with guilt that Rowan didn’t quite understand. Her head hung low. Without anymore words she took the steps down, there were many more guests to serve at the bar, and it seemed she didn’t want to talk about whatever was weighing heavy on her heart.

  “Go on, Rowan, open it! Open it!” Nyve burst from his hair, frantic and fluttering, her wings a blur of movement. “He’s right behind the door! Quick, quick!”

  “Hold on, lemme find the key first,” Rowan grumbled, patting himself down while Nyve flitted about, her frantic energy buzzing around his face. “Hurry, Rowan!”

  He finally found the key, fumbling to get it into the lock as Nyve buzzed around him like an impatient bee. The door barely squeaked open before she shot through the gap, darting around the room.

  “Oh… Oooh… No, no…” She searched frantically, from the bed to the closet to the shadows in the corners, but Callahan was gone. “He left us! I knew it, he really truly hates me!” Her voice was impatient and flustered, laced with heartbreak.

  “I told you it was gonna take some time! That means longer than the walk from the markets to home, Nyve!” Rowan stepped in, his body melting into a chair, exhaustion weighing him down. “Phoo, rough day that’s for sure.”

  Nyve retreated to her tiny bed of fractal light, curling into the shimmering blankets. “I don’t want to wait! I want to fix things now! Why must we prolong this silly thing! I saved him, after all! He was right! He should be thankful!”

  Rowan sighed, his eyes scanning the room. Callahan wasn’t the type to leave on his own, at least not too far from the bar. And he hadn’t seen him outside, though the crowd was thick—maybe he missed him? His eyes drifted to the table, catching on a familiar shape. “Ooh, looky here!” He picked it up, rolling it between his fingers. The petal twine wrapped around his hand.

  Nyve peeked out from her blankets, the sheets curled around her head like a shawl. “OH! He abandoned it! Oh, such a rude, rude boy! AWFUL BOY! OOH, I can’t believe him… First he threatens to shatter it and then! He just leaves it on the table, after all the heart I put into it! I can’t believe him, OH!”

  She shot from her bed, petals scattering as she burst into the air. She darted straight to the Eye, inspecting it with frantic fingers, searching for scratches or scuffs. “Well…” She rubbed her fingers over its surface, eyes narrowed in focus. “At least he didn’t try to hurt it…”

  “‘Cause he was bluffin’.” Rowan leaned against the table, arms crossed. “He wouldn’t break somethin’ you made for him. Like I said, he just says stupid things sometimes.”

  Nyve was quiet, her chin resting on her thumb as she twirled slowly toward the window, lost in thought. “Hmm…” She stared out at the crowded streets below, her eyes flickering with worry. “It’ll be dark soon. Why would he leave alone? Tonight will be dangerous! Look at the streets—they’re full of people!”

  Rowan reluctantly pulled himself from the chair and joined her at the window. “Yeah, it’s not lookin’ too nice. The Goldy ones are real pricks. They don’t like havin’ to come down here and deal with us.”

  Nyve spun around, wings buzzing frantically. “We have to go look for him, Rowan! I would’ve kept quiet and hidden if I knew he was here, but surely we can go and look for him and he won’t get even more mad for checking on him, surely!”

  Rowan let out a chuckle. “You burst through the door before I could even peek in! I’m not so sure you would’ve kept hidden.”

  Nyve’s face flushed red, and she darted up to his nose, kicking him right on the tip. “Not the point, you big idiot! You’re not really going to leave your brother out in the dark after all that’s happened, are you?”

  “Of course not!” Rowan sighed, rubbing his nose. “We’ll go look for him. I’m bein’ serious though, Nyve—you should maybe just stay in my hair and not come out until he starts feelin’ better.”

  Nyve’s wings slowed, and she nodded reluctantly. “I will! I promise!”

  Rowan’s rolled his eyes, suspicion flickering across his face. His mother’s tales of trickster fairies played in his mind, reminding him never to trust a fairy’s promise. And the way Nyve’s eyes sparkled with impatience, he knew she wouldn’t resist trying to fix things. “Alright… but stay hidden, ya hear? The real shady types’ll be out soon.”

  Nyve’s wings buzzed, excitement radiating off her. “Yes! Quick, before the darkness falls! I’ll help you search any and every hall!”

  Rowan headed for the door, ready to start the search, but Nyve tugged on his collar, stopping him. “Don’t forget the Eye! We might need it.”

  He looked at her, confusion flashing across his face, but he didn’t argue. The petal twine felt soft against his skin as he slipped it around his neck. He gave Nyve one last look before heading out the door, determined to find his brother.

  ?? ?? ??

  Callahan had never been out on his own in the city so late before, especially not in this part of the Dregs. It was far from Kiki’s bar, more rundown than anywhere else in the city. Trash littered the streets, piled high against crumbling walls. Rats skittered past in packs, their eyes gleaming as they disappeared into the shadows. People were everywhere, but none of them seemed fully alive. Some wandered aimlessly, faces hollow and eyes glazed, moving like shadows in the dark. Others lay crumpled against walls, looking half-dead. There was a hierarchy of scum you could clearly see down here. If the Dregs proper were the worst of Onoria, then this place was the bottom of the bottom, the refuse of the refuse. The city’s forgotten ghosts, drifting in filth and despair.

  This place was the living Mire, and there are some things that can only truly live and thrive in such a rotten place. People with important information who didn’t want to be caught by authorities would make their homes here, in these sorts of dark places, hiding like insects among the other reprobates, murderers, and thieves. Callahan kept a tight grip on his belongings; he didn’t want to get robbed before he could find what he was looking for. He wanted so desperately to know who that person was that almost drowned him in the bathhouse. He had little to go off—bandages, black hair, a binding sight. But those traits, as few of them as he could glean, were niche; easy to find in a place like Onoria.

  The darkest hair an Onorion could have was a dirty gold or a dull silver. Sight binding was also something very rare for them as well. If the culprit wasn’t here themselves, surely he could pay for someone to tell him who they were.

  What am I going to do when—if—I find them? I need answers, but I doubt they’ll tell me if I don’t have a way to threaten them.

  His fingers tightened around his wallet, strapped securely to his belt. I need something to make them talk.

  His knowledge of this place was second-hand, gathered from eavesdropping at the bar, listening to whispers of the hidden etiquette that governed the Living Mire. He knew that peddlers liked to leave breadcrumbs, markers for those clever enough to find their hidden shops in the most dilapidated alleys. They were all unique to each merchant—some used broken bells wedged into cracked bricks, others left painted marks behind signs or piled garbage.

  But Callahan was looking for something more peculiar. A more erratic sign. A shop that moved often, never staying in one place for long, its breadcrumbs often mistaken for trash itself. You had to watch the ground carefully. If you were lucky, you might catch a glimpse of shattered blue glass, scattered among the refuse. It came from foreign phials, delicate and strange, filled with exotic scents from lands unknown. They were owned by a peculiar people called the Tomtei.

  No one knew exactly where they came from, and they spoke little about their homes or methods of travel. But they always came with the strangest tools and weapons, devices so powerful and simple to use that they could turn a peasant into a deadly threat. They were almost impossible to replicate, crafted from mysterious materials and foreign techniques that eluded even the most skilled Onorion smiths and tinkerers. Callahan didn’t know how much it would cost, but he knew he needed something dangerous. Something that could protect him and threaten his attacker if he was going to confront them and get the answers he needed.

  He would follow bits of debris into the darkened streets; every dead end would leave him with less time in the twilight. A search in the dark would make this far worse, and he was getting worried about the people he passed by. They kept to themselves for the most part, but wiry eyes would take quick glances at him. He wasn’t sure if they were sizing him up, thinking about how they might attack him, or if they were being cautious, unfamiliar with who he was.

  Callahan eventually felt a crisp, glassy crunch under his boot that reflected that unique dark blue he had heard of. It led him down a dark, empty alley. It was quiet—at first, no rats or even people were around, and the further he went down, the cleaner the alley got. That broken trail of glass eventually led to unbroken phials laid haphazardly in a line toward some strange light at the end of the alley.

  When he finally made it past the last phial, a burst of sound came bellowing out from the light in the distance. He could hear hammers, pops, whirling gears, and cranks. It was like a city coming to life. It frightened him at first; he stood back reflexively, almost falling backward past the phial he had just passed. When he did, the sound disappeared again. It was dead quiet once more.

  “Oh great… I’m already getting flashbacks.” It reminded him of the water in Gwyndadoraoralaeolye. It seemed the more time he spent far from Rindle, the more the world showed him its strange ways. He knew he had found what he was looking for. It was unmistakably strange, and that was as good a sign as any that he was on the right path. It wasn’t a long walk before the light began to take shape. A strange cart, cluttered with all sorts of peculiar devices, stood at the end of the alley. There was no mule or horse to pull it, but at the very top, horns vibrated, playing musical notes that echoed into the night. On the alley floor, tiny puppet men skittered about with brooms in hand, sweeping up broken glass, steel shavings, bolts, and screws. In the corners, he saw some of them armed with needles, fighting off rats with surprising ferocity. He watched, entranced. It was like watching a living toy box come to life. It was sickeningly whimsical. He couldn’t help but think Nyve would be right at home here, but that thought quickly turned to frustration. He didn’t want to think about her.

  The puppets didn’t seem to notice him, nor did they pose any threat, so he took another cautious step forward. The humming grew louder, drifting from inside the cart. The voice was playful and erratic, and it made his skin crawl.

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  “Twist, tweeble, twim, twop, hmm… That isn’t working. SMASH IT!”

  He could hear whoever was inside the cart beating something to bits. The parts came flying out of the cart’s window soon after; whatever it was before, he couldn’t tell, but it was just strange scrap now, quickly swept up by the little puppet men.

  He heard someone climbing to their feet. He expected to see a face pop out from the window to greet him, but instead, he was met with the tip of a pointy blue hat. He watched the tip of the hat scramble from one side of the cart to another. He could hear the owner scuffling with tools and bits and bobs, and then the tip descended once more as the twisting and clanging of tools commenced again.

  “Hey! Uh… I’d like to buy something,” Callahan called out, and in an instant, the noise inside the cart stopped.

  “A customer! At this hour? It’s damn near midnight!” He could hear the man jumping up onto a stool to see over the counter of the cart.

  “Hello there, stranger! I didn’t expect somebody so late!”

  He was odd looking. His hat bent against the ceiling of his cart when he stood upon the stool. It was at least four feet tall on its own. Callahan wasn’t sure if it was cultural garb or if the little man was compensating for his height. He was also quite welcoming, despite the late hour, “Welcome to Grimmwald’s Boggle Box, what did you have in mind to buy?”

  Callahan looked around the back of the cart at the chaotic displays the man had set up. Everything was a jumbled mess, piled high without any sense of order. Callahan couldn’t even begin to guess what most of these strange contraptions were supposed to do, let alone pick out something useful.

  “Well, I’m lookin’ for something… you know, maybe long range, but easy to hide?” Callahan asked.

  “A weapon, eh? Long range and easy to hide,” Grimmwald repeated, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “And what may I ask are you planning to use this weapon for? Big fights? Assassinations?” His eyes sparkled with curiosity and mischief. “Or are you just looking for something for self-defense?”

  “Uhm…” Callahan hesitated, realizing he hadn’t fully thought it through. “Well, I guess… something that looks scary? Something loud, maybe?” He looked away, his voice dropping to a sheepish murmur. “Also… preferably cheap too…”

  “Hmm… cheap, loud, and scary,” Grimmwald mused, his grin widening. He hopped off his chair with surprising agility and burrowed into the piles of junk, muttering to himself as he searched.

  Callahan’s eyes wandered over the cluttered displays again, trying to make sense of the bizarre gadgets. Most looked like toys gone wrong—spring-loaded oversized fists, wobbly swords that jiggled like jelly, and crossbows with absurdly large boxes where the bolts should be, making them look impossibly awkward to use.

  But something in the back caught his attention. It was half-finished, its components exposed and wires dangling, but that wasn’t what set it apart. It looked strangely familiar. Before he could ask about it, Grimmwald popped back up onto his stool, a blue phial clutched in his hand. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “I got just the thing! But not here! If you’d wait just a moment, I’ll be right back!”

  With a quick motion, he popped the phial’s lid, releasing a strange aroma that curled through the air. Callahan’s nose crinkled as he caught the scent—metallic and burning, with a faint undertone of salt and meat.

  “Wait—what are you doing?” Callahan asked, his eyes widening as Grimmwald’s form began to blur. His body shimmered, the colors fading and melting into the air as if he were an illusion dissolving before his eyes. He was gone. Callahan stood there, suddenly alone with only the tiny puppet men and the strange musical hum of the cart to keep him company. “Where the hell did he go? Hello? Did you go invisible?” He looked around, feeling a bit foolish talking to thin air. Was he just ditched?

  I guess I would sort of deserve it… A pang of guilt nagged at him, thoughts of how he’d left things with Rowan. I should’ve at least left a note so Rowan would know.

  He glanced up at the sky. Night had fully fallen, and the stars twinkled overhead, their light casting faint shadows across the alley. The street felt safe here, but Callahan knew once he left, he’d have to navigate back through the more dangerous parts of the Dregs. He was half-regretting this whole plan. Even if I end up buying whatever this guy has for me, I still don’t know who I’m looking for… I need to know why though. Why attack me? And the timing… it was too perfect.

  “Ah, sorry ‘bout that!” The voice made Callahan jump, spinning around to see Grimmwald suddenly standing there as if he’d never left. “Wife was botherin’ me! Said I don’t spend enough time with the kids, yadda yadda yadda. Family, right? Such a hassle. Well, I’m back now! And I got somethin’ I think you’ll like!”

  Callahan’s eyes widened. “Oh… uh, welcome back? Where’d you go?”

  Grimmwald laughed, his belly bouncing with each chuckle as he fiddled with a strange contraption. “Ah well, I leave some things back home, y’see. Especially the more experimental types! Don’t wanna clog up the shop with stuff that might not sell!”

  “You went all the way back home? That quickly? What kind of bind is that?” Callahan’s curiosity was piqued, his eyes glued to the odd gadgets Grimmwald was setting on the counter.

  Grimmwald lifted a chubby finger to the tip of his rosy red nose. “Ah, that’s a Tomtei special!” He flipped open his coat, revealing rows of deep blue phials, each one topped with a differently colored cap. “We keep the scents of home and places we been in these little containers, see?”

  He began to show off his collection, each phial shimmering in the dim light. “This one’s the jungles in Yth, humid and spicy. These ones are all the cities in Vallara, they all smell different y’know. Got this one for Great Gila—ooh, that place is rancid, but lots of really unique leathers are there. And this one’s for Moravyr…” Grimmwald’s words became animated ramblings as he recounted his adventures, his hands waving excitedly as he displayed each phial. Callahan was captivated, realizing just how far this tiny man had traveled.

  “Wow…” Callahan couldn’t hide his amazement. “That’s a really impressive ability… I always thought scent bindings were a bit… well, useless, y’know.”

  Grimmwald chuckled as he pieced together the strange weapon. “Ah, well, our particular bind rarely awakens in those who aren’t Tomtei. I can see how you might think that way if all you’ve ever met were Onorion Harmonies or the occasional perfumer! But we’re quite gifted in this particular school of binding.” He slapped the final component into place with a satisfied grin. “Ah, there you go! I think this will suit you nicely!” He handed Callahan a peculiar device. It had a fat barrel like a miniature cannon and a thick, sturdy handle with a trigger mechanism. The design was odd, almost playful, with curling engravings that danced along the metal. It looked more like a toy than a weapon.

  “You’ll want to load these into the front end,” Grimmwald said, passing him the ammunition. They were round, blue orbs, shimmering like glass. Callahan hesitated, noticing they were made of the same material as the phials that led him here. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy about firing off glass rounds.

  “Is this… a gun?” Callahan asked, his brow furrowed.

  “Yes! Though it’s not exactly the best at killing, but it sure is loud and cheap! I call it Jubilee! Every shot’s a celebration with this thing!” Grimmwald’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Go on then, try it out! First shot’s on me! Don’t worry about the mess—my pups will clean up afterward.”

  Callahan turned the device over in his hands. It felt heavier than it looked, and the orbs clinked softly as he loaded one into the barrel. Like all of Grimmwald’s gadgets, it had an air of whimsy, almost too harmless to be dangerous. Yet the potential power inside those sparkling blue orbs made him uneasy. “Okay… I’ll give it a shot. Just anywhere?”

  Grimmwald’s grin widened. “If you want the best light show, point it up!”

  Callahan raised his firing arm to the sky and gently squeezed the trigger. A sharp click echoed, followed by a strange pop. The blue orb shot out of the barrel like a cannonball, leaving a sparkling trail that sizzled through the air. It soared high, the light growing ever brighter as it climbed into the night sky.

  “Here it comes! Get ready!” Grimmwald shouted with gleeful anticipation.

  Callahan braced himself, eyes locked on the shimmering orb. When it exploded, it was nothing like he expected. In every direction, fireballs burst forth, dancing across the sky in a dazzling array of colors. They twirled and zigzagged, each spark following its own chaotic path. The sound was deafening, a rumbling blast that rattled his eardrums as if the explosion had gone off right beside him. Then came the smell—rancid and revolting, like rotten eggs mixed with sour milk. The stench assaulted his nose, making his stomach churn.

  “Oh, you picked one of the nastier smelling ones!” Grimmwald pinched his nose, barely containing his laughter. “Jubilee doesn’t discriminate, you know! Scent, sight, sound, taste—it’s the whole palette!”

  Callahan staggered back, gagging as the smell hung heavy in the air. His ears were ringing, and his vision blurred with afterimages. But despite the discomfort, he realized the potential of this weapon.

  I don’t want to kill anyone… but this? If things go bad, it’ll definitely buy me some time.

  “This is almost perfect,” he admitted, coughing as the stench lingered. “And you said it was cheap, right? But uh… I heard you don’t really stay in one place for long. How am I supposed to get more ammo?”

  Grimmwald’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “So you are going to buy! Well, I always keep a good relationship with my customers. Where’s home for you? I’ll keep tabs!”

  “Oh, I live at Kiki’s. Do you know it?”

  “Of course I know it! Bit too crowded for my taste, but I’ve got a phial for it!” Grimmwald quickly scribbled in a little notebook. “Say, could I get your name? For my records, of course.”

  “Yeah, it’s Callahan.”

  “Call-ah-han…” Grimmwald repeated, his voice lilting with curiosity. He snapped the notebook shut, stuffing it back into his clothes. “Right then! So, how much would you like to start with?”

  Callahan emptied half his wallet onto the counter. “However much ammo this will buy me. And Jubilee, of course.”

  Grimmwald’s eyes gleamed as he counted the coins, muttering to himself as he sorted through a bag of the blue orbs. “Some surprises would be good… Ooh, that’ll be fun…”

  While the Tomtei was distracted, Callahan’s eyes drifted to the back of the cart. His gaze fell on the half-finished device that caught his interest before, even among the chaos of gadgets and gizmos. It was different from the rest—broken, incomplete, but unmistakable.

  “Hey, Grimmwald… what’s that thing back there?”

  Grimmwald’s head snapped up, nearly dropping a handful of orbs. He glanced at the device Callahan was pointing at and shrugged. “Oh, that thingy? Some weird contraption my friend Morna had me trying to reverse engineer for her. It’s Onorion make, you know? I was surprised by how complex it is. Couldn’t quite figure out how it works, though. It’s missing an important part I just can’t seem to replicate.” Callahan’s heart skipped a beat. That terrible device, it was almost following him now, first the Island, then Ollie, now here.

  “Oh… this Morna… you know her well?” Callahan asked, keeping his voice steady.

  Grimmwald’s eyes lit up. “Ah, she’s my number one customer! Always buying weapons or having me figure things out for her. Fine woman, that one. I may not have been able to fully replicate the contraption, but I sure as hell figured out how to make it go boom.”

  A chill crept up Callahan’s spine. This man, whether he knew it or not, was partly responsible for all the death in the Aurifex. Callahan couldn’t help but wonder how far his involvement went. Who was this Morna? Did Ollie know her? Were they working together?

  Grimmwald doesn’t seem to know what happened in the market… Maybe he just doesn’t care.

  The little Tomtei began packing things up, neatly arranging the weapon and its accessories. Jubilee came with a special belt that held six orbs securely, ready for quick reloads. Callahan noticed some of the orbs were different colors than the usual blue. He wondered if they had different effects, but his mind was weighed down by more pressing questions.

  “So… how did you make it go boom, exactly?” Callahan asked, trying to sound casual.

  Grimmwald’s eyes lit up, his excitement palpable. “Ah! Now, that’s a good story! When Morna first brought me that contraption, it still had the component I couldn’t figure out—these white stones inside, ones that sucked up Anima like a sponge. Couldn’t identify them for the life of me, but they just kept absorbing the stuff! So, I took them to the Great Mire in the Ryvakar, where anima’s thickest. Even without all the mechanisms, the stones would just enrich themselves with soul energy until they were fit to burst!”

  Callahan’s stomach twisted in horror.

  Grimmwald’s grin grew wider as he recounted his experiment. “Now, I wanted to figure out how to get the anima back out, so I tried all sorts of things. Eventually, I hit the jackpot with electricity. At the right amp and voltage, the anima just comes spilling right back out!” He looked genuinely proud, his chest puffed out.

  “So, I gave Morna the good news, told her I figured out something interesting about the device! And wouldn’t you know it, she brings me another one, asks me to modify it so it could release all its contents with a trigger.” Callahan’s fingers went cold.

  “So… does Morna live nearby? Maybe in the Dregs?” He tried to keep his voice even, his heart pounding.

  Grimmwald tilted his head, a curious glint in his eye. “Oh, she never told me exactly where. Says I’m too much of a blabbermouth. But she’s Lughari, so I’d bet she’s somewhere around here.”

  Lughari, the word struck Callahan like one of Rowan’s slaps to the back. How does he know that word…?

  “You are too, aren’t you, Callahan?” Grimmwald’s smile was wide, his eyes full of innocent curiosity. “You’re quite rare around these parts. Always sticking to your islands. We’re quiet kin, the Lughari and Tomtei.”

  He knows. He knows what I am.

  Callahan stared at Grimmwald, heart racing, mind spinning with possibilities. He wasn’t just buying a weapon anymore. He was unraveling a mystery far deeper than he’d realized. Grimmwald’s smile never faltered. “Small world, huh?”

  “Uh, yeah, I gotta go now—promised some people I’d be back for a drink, you know… the boys love drinking, can’t get drinking if I’m not there to pick up the tab.” Callahan’s words tumbled out in a panic, stumbling over themselves as he backed away, clutching the newly acquired weapon. His heart raced, each beat thudding against his ribcage like a drum. I need to get out of here.

  He barely noticed how messily he grabbed the weapon, knocking over the neatly arranged packaging Grimmwald had been putting together. He almost tripped on one of the puppet men as he bolted from the cart. “Sorry! Thank you! I really gotta go!”

  Grimmwald’s cheerful voice followed him. “Oh, well come again soon, Mr. Callahan! It’ll be a pleasure!”

  But Callahan was already gone, his footsteps echoing down the dark alley. His only thought was getting past that strange sound barrier. Once I’m through, I’ll be safe. He ran, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, his mind racing.

  The binder in the water… that frame was so slim… maybe it was a woman.

  And those eyes… green, just like mine.

  What if… what if they’re working with Morna?

  What if they are Morna?

  His mind reeled with questions, every thought spiraling into another. What the hell is going on?

  He burst out of the alley, back onto the main street of the Living Mire. The air was heavy, stagnant. The lamps here were rarely lit, leaving the world shrouded in shadow. His eyes struggled to adjust, the darkness wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket.

  I need to get back to Kiki’s. I need to find Rowan.

  His heart was still racing. He could still feel Grimmwald’s curious eyes, that eerie, knowing smile. Was that an innocent curiosity, or… something else? I need to get home.

  “Hey, what’chu got there, buddy?”

  The voice came from the darkness, just behind him. The kind of voice you never wanted to hear in the Dregs, let alone in the middle of the night, when shadows moved like living things and predators hunted in silence. His grip tightened on Jubilee, Damn it… not now.