CHAPTER THREE
The tunnels reekof rot and secrecy. I don’t move through the darkness—I become it, slipping through like a blade through silk.
I check the blades at my thighs—sheathed, secure, ready—and move swiftly without making eye contact with anyone in The Underbelly. Stars know I’m one lingering gaze away from a knife to the ribcage.
There’s only one thought echoing as I climb back to ground level—I’m utterly fucked.
Low-level or not, I’ll be facing Starborn magic. Alone. It won’t stop me—nothing ever does. But it gives me pause to consider my best approach.
Stealth or an all-out attack—these are my options.
I keep to the rooftops, moving through the shadows like smoke. My chest tightens, and a strange lightness swells behind my ribs—dizziness, maybe, or something else. I tell myself it’s hunger. But the feeling lingers, hot and consuming. I press on. Food can wait. Taverns here are more likely to serve you a blade than a meal. In The Barrier District, Starborn nobility come slumming for a taste ofdarkness—whorehouses, fighting pits, gambling dens. The air hums with moans, grunts, and the scent of sweat and coin.
The reality of life in Virellin’s slums is that even if I weren’t thieving and raiding—which I absolutely am—nothing guarantees your safety. Innocence in the slums means nothing to the Royal Guard, who have been indoctrinated to see us as subhuman, and therefore, not worthy of their morality—if they even have any. Guards raid homes, take from those who already have so little, and abuse the Earthbound—all because we were born beneath a blank sky, untouched by starlight, unchosen by any of the constellations that grant magic.
We have all grown accustomed to the reek of ale on soldiers’ breaths, wandering eyes and liberal hands, our meagre belongings being taken, and the innocent being found guilty of whatever it is the guards need to offload blame for—an occurrence now almost routine.
Despite my tight chest, I urge my legs and lungs to carry me farther before swiftly climbing down an abandoned side street. I peer around the broken building on the corner, assessing how in the Stars I’ll get across the open ground. The Barrier District night trade takes place here—the merchant wagons line up for inspection before being granted access beyond The Lightborne Barrier into the inner sanctum of Virellin nobility. In other words, it is absolutely crawling with magic-wielding Royal Guards who would love nothing more than finding an Earthbound street thief here. Being found on this side of The Black Stream would get me a public lashing at best, or a noose around my neck at worst.
I’m quite skilled with a blade—Revryn has honed me into more than just a street thief—but being perceptive has always been my real weapon. Growing up in the slums, I’ve learned to noticeeverything. Perceiving subtle movements—the twitch of a finger, the clenching of a jaw, the shifting of feet. Without it, I would’ve been dead years ago.
The smell hits me before I even see it—the sickly sweet, cloying stench of voidroot. Only one person in Virellin manages to make even voidroot seem dirtier than it already is. Sure enough, I spot afamiliar face in the lineup—Jeks,one of Gellesk’s lackeys, leaning lazily against the side of a merchant wagon.
The wagon is overflowing with burlap sacks, the faint glow of voidroot seeping through the coarse fabric. Jeks is chatting with another lackey, laughing at something stupid, no doubt. No doubt some tall tale that never happened.
I duck back into the shadows, watching as the wagons inch forward toward inspection. There’s no way I’m slipping past unnoticed with this many guards around. I’d bet all the coin in Virellin that I would make a lovely prize for anyone in this area to turn into a bountiful payday in one way or another.
My gaze flicks back to the voidroot wagon—a plan starting to form. Gellesk always said his wagons were untouchable because no one in their right mind would risk the King’s wrath over voidroot smuggling.
But Gellesk isn’t here, and I’ve never been accused of being in my right mind.
I creep closer, keeping to the shadows as I slide a flint from my belt. The plan forms quickly: set the voidroot alight, watch the chaos, and slip across the open space while everyone’s busy trying not to choke on the acrid smoke. It’s not elegant, but it’s effective—and honestly, it feels a bit poetic.
I edge closer to the lineup, ensuring I blend with the shadows. Jeks doesn’t even notice me as I crouch behind the wagon. He’s too busy regaling his friend with some story about how he once “outsmarted” a rival group. Judging by the fact that Jeks is still alive, it’s probably true, but Stars fucking save me, the man is insufferable.
I glance at the sacks, noting how the glow seems to pulse faintly in time with the rancid fumes. Voidroot doesn’t just burn—itexplodes.And that’s exactly what I need.
“Gellesk’s going to kill me for this,” I mutter as I strike the flint.
A spark catches, and I press it against the edge of a sack.
A moment. A hiss. Then—fire.
A thin plume of smoke curling into the night.
“I’m coming, Ronyn,” I say softly, stepping back into the shadows.He’d better be alive—Starsdamned fool.I didn’t risk my life several times in one night to let him die in a place like this.
It doesn’t take long for the fire to spread, leaping hungrily from sack to sack. The faint glow turns into an eerie orange blaze, lighting up the wagon like a festival bonfire. Jeks notices just as the first bag of voidroot bursts with a loudboom,sending up a cloud of thick, choking smoke.
“What in the holy fuckin’ Stars?!” Jeks yells, coughing as he stumbles back from the wagon.
The guards are on high alert instantly, shouting commands and pointing fingers. Some of the merchants scatter, while others try to save their goods from the spreading flames. The chaos spreads like wildfire—quite literally.
I don’t stick around to watch the fallout. Using the rising smoke and the confusion as cover, I dart across the open space, heat blazing at my back, my boots silent against the cobblestones. The guards are too busy dousing the blaze to notice a lone figure slipping through the shadows.
As I reach the other side, I glance back at the chaos. Jeks frantically tries to smother the flames, but it’s a losing battle. Gellesk is going to be livid, and the thought sends a surge of satisfaction through me.
Gellesk may have to become a legitimate businessman after all.
