PROLOGUE
A chair scraped against the floorboards of The Lantern’s Rest, drowning the chatter in the Old Quarter pub.
Tyler stood over the corner booth, his broad frame bunched under his jacket. Beside him, two other Varkyn soldiers flanked the table, their pack instincts locked onto the lone figure before them.
Talia paused mid-wipe, her rag pressed against the scarred bar. The confrontation unfolded, charted by moods vibrating in every corner with bruising accuracy.
The Umbrakynn in the alcove remained seated. The light bent away from him, draping him in gloom. His presence grated against the warmth of the pub—like wire wool on slate. His magic carried a distinct texture: edges where there should be curves, silence where there should be sound.
“You have been staring at us all night,” Tyler growled, scarred knuckles gripping the edge of the table. “Got something to say, or do you just enjoy creeping people out?”
The Umbrakynn remained silent. He nursed a smudged glass, a ghost in the gloom, entirely indifferent to the hostility radiating from the Varkynpack.
Near the hearth, a lone Calysteri woman, Ria, sat perfectly still. Like all her kind, she caught the light with an inner radiance, eyes carrying more colour than nature intended. She watched the soldiers with clear, alert attention, keeping her distance while the confrontation played out.
Tyler leaned closer. The tension in his posture spiked, bleeding into the room as pure hostility.
Talia crossed the floor by muscle memory alone, wading through the sweltering pressure of the pub. She reached the booth just as Tyler raised a hand.
“Tyler,” Talia said. Her voice cut through the noise, rough but kind.
She placed her hand on his forearm. She held her ground and pushed a deliberate wave of Calysteri empathy directly into his rigid muscles. It required focus, a pressing of her own calm against his flared temper. The soothing warmth washed over the Varkyn, smoothing the frayed edges of his aggression.
Tyler exhaled a long breath, his posture relaxing completely. He looked at her, the predatory gleam in his eyes dimming.
“Keep the peace tonight,” Talia murmured, giving him a warm smile.
The Umbrakynn rose silently. He dropped coins onto the table, then deliberately flipped his empty glass upside down with a clack. The Hollow Debt. A gesture as old as the district—leaving the cup dry for the forgotten gods of old Aurethen.
As he slipped out into the rain, the emotional tension in the room eased immediately.
Tyler rubbed the back of his neck, tossing a crumpled note down. “Sorry, Talia. That bloke just grates on the nerves.”
“Another round when you’ve got a minute,” one of his companions muttered, reclaiming his seat.
“Course,” Talia said, scooping up the money. She dropped the copper tips into the star-shaped bowl she had dug out of an antique shop last year. It was meant to hold Moon-Pennies—dried silverpods offered at Calysteri shrines—but now, it just caught loose change.
“Heard there’s more trouble down at the docks,” one of Tyler’s companions muttered, his voice pitched low. Talia caught the words. “Another disappearance.”
“Calysteri?” Tyler’s tone hardened, a low growl under the word.
“Aye.”
Talia’s hands stilled for half a heartbeat before she set the pints down, froth spilling across her knuckles. Tyler met her gaze, and the space between them tightened with unspoken warning—worry and pack-protective instinct flaring hot. She gave a single, subtle nod, then turned back towards the bar just as Garron emerged from the back room, grumbling about the heating coils again. The pub’s owner was gruff as old leather, though protective in ways he’d never admit.
“You good to lock up?”
“Always am.”
His frown softened under her smile. “Mark meeting you after?”
“He’s at home after a long shift. I’ll grab a cab.” She glanced at the battered clock above the hearth. Half eleven. The silver pendant at her throat caught the lamplight, and she touched it briefly, grounding herself in the familiar weight. Garron grunted approval and disappeared into the back again.
Tyler stood a moment later, tossing coins onto the table. “Heading out. Watch yourself tonight, yeah?”
“I plan to.”
The door swung shut behind the Varkyn, and the room shrank towards closing time. Ria closed her tablet, rising from the hearth to cross to the bar, her presence soothing enough to make Talia’s shoulders drop without conscious thought.
