And just before I move along, the heavy wooden door cracks open just enough to see a sliver of a harsh face looking down at me.
“What could two lovely ladies possibly want in The Underbelly?” he asks with suspicion.
“I’m here to see Gellesk. Tell him Iskara is here and I’ve come to collect on a debt he owes me,” I snarl, all traces of the inebriated fool I’d played gone in a heartbeat.
“Fuckin’ Gellesk and his Starsdamned debts,” the man grumbles.
The door slams in my face.Fuck.
But just as I think the man has shut me out, the door retracts fully to reveal a big-bellied man, strapped head to toe in steel. “Follow me,” he states gruffly with a wave of his hand, and leads us through the abandoned shopfront, and we descend into the bowels of The Underbelly.
If it’s outlawed, this is where you’ll find it. Navigating these labyrinths underneath The Barrier District is a rare skill.I have it.The depravity and sheer ruthlessness of the vendors and clients that inhabit this place are enough to make the Royal Guard look the other way. In The Underbelly, everything’s for sale, and it always goes to the highest—or darkest—bidder.
I can see Tess’s face contorting in discomfort, and her eyes averting from the afflicted nobles high as Stars on moonshade and voidroot stumbling through the corridors.
The deeper we descend into the depths, the darker the deals in shadowed alcoves, and the more clearly I see what the Virellin Kingdom is most afraid of: challenges to their power and threats to the tight leash they have on us.
That’s the thing when you take everything away from people; they will resist, and they will find a way of life that pushes against the cage they get put in. Of course, it doesn’t look like a threat. It looks like hushed voices, secret handshakes and stumbling recipients.
The Underbelly is crawling with contraband: The Lunar Codex, a banned book said to contain forbidden rituals, Obsidian Shards that grant the drinker a temporary ability to hide from magical detection, and Memory Orbs that contain stolen memories, from where, no one will say. But perhaps the most unsettling are the shadowhound beasts that can be used in battle, but are more often than not used for entertainment and coin in fighting pits.
The relics here speak of histories I’ve never been taught—symbols no one remembers, names that vanish the moment they’re spoken aloud. Sometimes I wonder if we’ve forgotten on purpose.Or if someone made sure we did.
But the real reason this place exists? Every type of state-altering elixir one could imagine—eclipsium, moonshade, voidroot, souldrift.
It smells like regret and shit down here—a heady mix of voidroot smoke, unwashed bodies, and whatever passes for food around here. Tess clings to my side like I’m her last hope, which, in all honesty, I probably am.
I spot Gellesk at his usual stall, haggling over what looks like a pile of moldy fabric and maybe a cursed relic or two. He’s gesturing wildly, his face already flushed with whatever temper tantrum he’s throwing.
Perfect.
I stride up to his table and rap my knuckles on the wood. A few of his precious vials wobble, one teetering dangerously before I catch it. I give it a deliberate once-over before setting it back down.
“Still running this sideshow, Gellesk? I see quality control isn’t your strong suit,” I sneer, an arrogant smirk lifting the left side of my mouth.
He freezes mid-shout, his head swiveling toward me like a startled owl. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Iskara? Stars damn it, what do you want now?”
I smile sweetly. “I’ve come to collect.” My tone is lilting.
His face falls, all theatrics replaced by genuine concern. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I lean forward on the table, dropping my voice so only he can hear. “Oh, but I would. Let me jog your memory: voidroot overdose, no pants, and an angry noble who very much wanted to see your head on a spike. And then there was me, rendering him unconscious, saving your very visible ass.”
He groans, throwing a hand over his face. “For the last time, I wasn’t overdosing. I was... experimenting.”
“You were drooling on yourself and begging for mercy.” I raise an eyebrow, “From the furniture.”
Gellesk glares at me, cheeks reddening. “And you just had to bring that up.Again. I said thank you, didn’t I?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you, Iskara, for saving my life while I was naked and covered in voidroot ash,” I mock, pitching my voice higher. “Thank you, Iskara, for keeping me from being skewered by a noble after I slept with his wife and stole his jewelry.”
He bristles. “I didn’t steal his jewelry. She gave it to me.Freely,” he tries his hardest to convince me.
“While you were naked and drooling,” I remind him, my tone saccharine sweet.
He opens his mouth, then closes it, clearly losing the battle. “Fine,” he snaps. “You saved my life.Once. Are you happy? Now, can we move on to how I’m clearly a reformed man?”
I smirk. “Reformed? Gellesk, you’re still peddling moonshade nectar cut with ash and passing off tin charms as Starforged relics,” I scoff a laugh.
