Kaelen fell into step beside him, stealing a glance his way. He wasn't tense—but he wasn't relaxed either. Something in him was still turning over the words they'd overheard.
Rauel took the lead, guiding them through a narrower street that cut between leaning buildings and tangled wires. The air thickened as they walked—less salt, more smoke and metal. The cobbles gave way to uneven stone and trampled mud. A half-toppled lantern dangled above a rusted door, flickering weakly in the midday light.
As they passed a crooked stall squeezed between a collapsed wall and a shuttered home, a man called out from behind the table.
"Charms to ward the deep, to twist the flow, to quiet the wake. First price is coin. Second one costs more."
His display was a scatter of cloudy bottles, rusted trinkets, and little carved knots that didn't look like much of anything. It wasn't clear if he was selling protection or superstition.
Elias's eyes lingered—not out of belief, but curiosity.
Kaelen noticed.
She didn't say anything, just touched his arm and gently urged him forward. Her expression wasn't afraid, just… cautious. Disapproving, maybe—but not of him. Of the world she could already tell was ready to take more than it gave.
They moved on.
Another corner. A wider path. And finally, they spilled into a sun-worn plaza surrounded by buildings that looked like they'd been standing just long enough to earn every crack in their stone.
At the far end stood Unruly Waters.
A squat, two-story tavern with mismatched shutters and a sign swinging from rusted hooks. Painted waves curled around a tankard that had been gouged with bite marks, whether part of the design or local flavor was anyone's guess.
Noise spilled from within—shouted bets, bad music, worse laughter. The kind of sound that promised spilled drinks and stronger opinions.
Rauel let out a low breath. "Finally."
He pushed the door open, and they followed.
Inside, it was all heat and chaos. A bard with only two working strings was being heckled by someone slurring their way through an improvised sea shanty. Boots clunked on warped floorboards. The scent of stew fought for dominance with beer and the bitter edge of something burning behind the bar.
Kaelen stood just inside, her eyes scanning everything with wide but focused attention. She wasn't overwhelmed—just cataloging.
Elias stepped in behind her, letting the noise settle around him like a coat he'd have to get used to wearing.
No one looked at them twice.
Rauel elbowed his way to the bar and leaned in toward the man behind it—a hulking figure with a thick neck, uneven tattoos, and a grin that suggested he'd happily fight someone or feed them, whichever came first.
"Need two rooms," Rauel said. "And something strong enough to reset my skull."
The man looked them over, then reached under the counter, pulling out two rusted keys.
"You want the drink now or after the headache?"
"Now," Rauel said. "I'll deal with the headache later."
Two keys landed on the bar with a clack. "Up the stairs. Left hall—first door and far end. First drink's on the house if you don't mind it warm."
Rauel gave a tired grin. "Warm's fine. We're not dead. Might as well celebrate that."
He took the keys in one hand and his drink in the other, raised it in a casual salute, then turned back toward the others and made his way through the crowd.
"Rooms are decent. Beds probably squeak. No one'll bother us unless we start a fight or win at cards."
Kaelen looked around the room again, her voice low. "Is this where we're staying?"
"For now," Rauel said. "It's loud, it's ugly, and it's mine."
He grinned, then handed her one of the keys.
"Ladies get the far end."
Kaelen took it, her hand brushing his with a quiet "Thanks."
Rauel turned to Elias and handed him the other. "You're next door. Don't worry—it's not haunted unless you count emotional damage from whoever stayed there last."
He said it lightly, but his eyes lingered just a beat longer than usual, as if gauging how Elias was holding together.
"Drop your gear if you want," Rauel added. "Or we can sit a bit first. Up to you."
They found a table along the back wall—far enough from the bar to avoid the worst of the noise, close enough to catch the occasional breeze from the open door. The wood was scratched, the legs uneven, but it held.
Rauel sat with a tired sigh, took a drink, and leaned back like he'd been carrying the storm on his shoulders since morning.
Elias sat across from him, quiet at first. Then, without looking up:
"What exactly are manipulators?"
Rauel blinked once, then let out a short laugh. "You really are new."
Elias didn't respond.
"Alright," Rauel said, adjusting his seat. "A manipulator is someone with elemental affinity. Most folks have a trace of it—just enough to light a stove or move a puddle. But real manipulators? They don't need tools. Don't need spells. They are the spark."
Elias nodded slowly. "How many elements are there?"
"Depends who you ask," Rauel said. "But the basics? Fire, water, earth, air. Then you've got ice, lightning, carbon—think plants—light, dark, and sound. Some people stretch it further. Animal taming, if you can believe it."
"People can really tame animals?"
"Natureborne they can. Rarely. It's not flashy, so no one pays attention to it. Same with plantwork. Think vines. Roots. Wood. But don't get any ideas—you can't control people. Conscious carbon's off the table. The ones who've tried just end up dead, or worse."
It's all carbon, sure, but the nobles don't bother. Takes too much patience. Too much complexity. They like things that explode."
Elias looked at him. "So the powerful ones... the nobles?"
Rauel snorted. "Yeah. Them. Whole system's built to keep their hands clean and their names sharp. They're born into it—strong affinity, early training, all wrapped in gold and pride. Nobles don't struggle. They command."
Elias ran a thumb over the rim of his mug. "And everyone else?"
"We make do," Rauel said, with a shrug. "Common blood gets common gifts. One element if you're lucky. Maybe two, if the gods are feeling generous. But you'll never match what's locked behind the noble gates. That's the point."
Elias let the silence settle.
"You ask like you've never seen any of this before," Rauel added.
"I haven't."
That made Rauel pause. He gave Elias a longer look, then nodded like he was filing that away.
"Well," he said, finishing the last of his drink, "welcome to the rest of the world."
Elias stood, the key still tucked in his palm.
Rauel raised a hand in lazy farewell. "Try not to drown in your thoughts. Or anything else."
Elias didn't answer. Just turned toward the stairs.
The stairs creaked under Elias's boots, but no one paid him any mind. The noise from the tavern below dulled to a distant hum by the time he reached the hallway—dimly lit, the air warm and still.
He found the door with his key, opened it, and stepped inside.
The room was small but clean. One bed. One chair. A narrow window cracked open to let the heat escape. He set the key on the nightstand and stood in the middle of the floor for a long moment.
The quiet hit harder than the noise had.
The last few days filtered in slowly—like trying to remember a dream that never fully ended. The fight with the Natureborne. The sea. The storm. The tavern. The city. All of it stacked like chapters from someone else's life.
And the moon.
That part stuck with him.
It hadn't felt like a hallucination or a dream. He could still hear her voice—not the words, but the weight of them. The way it felt when she said he'd been chosen, not because of power, but because he'd listened.
But listened to what?
He took a breath, then crossed the room and pulled himself up through the window.
The roof wasn't steep, just uneven with patches of moss and warped shingles. He climbed carefully, settling near the edge where the wind was strongest. The city stretched around him—noisy, glowing, alive.
But his eyes went up.
The moon hung low tonight. Not full. Not bright. But steady. Constant. And familiar in a way that nothing else in this world was.
He didn't speak to it—not out loud. That wasn't his way.
But he thought about everything he hadn't said. Everything he didn't understand.
What do you want from me?
Why me?
What am I supposed to become?
The moon didn't answer. It never had—except that day.
But it was there.
And that was something.
The rooftop wind shifted. A door creaked somewhere below, followed by footsteps crossing the wooden floor inside.
Elias waited a moment, then climbed back through the window, dropping silently onto the floor. The room felt smaller after the open sky—but less cold.
A knock came.
Not loud. Just two short raps. Hesitant.
Elias stepped to the door and opened it.
Kaelen stood there, arms loosely crossed, her braid slightly undone from the walk earlier. She didn't look nervous—just focused.
"You disappeared," she said.
"I needed air."
"I figured," she said. "Still wanted to check."
They stood in the doorway for a second, neither rushing to fill the silence.
Then Kaelen tilted her head slightly. "Can I come in, or are you busy brooding with purpose?"
Elias stepped aside without a word.
She walked in, slow but comfortable, and took the chair by the window. He stayed standing near the bed.
"I'm not used to this much quiet from you," she said, glancing up at him. "You've been quieter than usual."
He thought for a second, then said, "You've been louder than usual."
She smiled a little. "Fair."
For a while, the room was quiet again—less awkward than before. Just still.
Kaelen shifted in the chair, resting her hands in her lap. "I didn't think we'd end up here."
Elias sat down on the edge of the bed. "Where did you think we'd end up?"
"I wasn't thinking," she admitted. "Not really. I just… left."
He glanced over at her.
"I followed you because you did something no one else could," she said. "And I thought… maybe if I went with you, something would finally make sense."
Elias didn't answer. He didn't have anything to correct.
Kaelen looked down, then back up at him. Her voice was softer when she spoke again. "Before we left, my grandmother told me something."
She hesitated—just enough to show she was choosing her words carefully.
"She said to keep an eye on you. Said you weren't just walking blind... but walking in the moon's light is a dangerous path all the same."
Elias met her eyes.
"She didn't say what she meant," Kaelen added. "Only that if you were going to carry something this strange, someone should at least walk beside you."
Elias looked at her for a long moment.
"You don't have to come with me," he said. "You have your own life. Your own choices."
Kaelen didn't flinch. She just leaned back in the chair, her gaze drifting toward the window.
"I've always wanted to go on a journey," she said. "And instead... one came to me."
She glanced back at him, a quiet kind of certainty in her voice.
"I think I'm where I'm supposed to be."
A beat passed. Then came a thud—followed by uneven footsteps and the unmistakable creak of someone dramatically leaning too hard against a wall.
Kaelen raised an eyebrow.
Elias didn't move.
A muffled voice slurred through the door. "Either someone moved the hallway or I've finally achieved sideways walking... success."
Another thump.
"Rauel," Elias said flatly.
Kaelen stifled a laugh. "Do you think he's trying to get into the right room?"
"No."
The door handle rattled once, twice—then it opened.
Rauel half-fell into the room, grinning like a man who had just completed a very important personal quest.
"Found mine! Was about to crash into whatever room opened first."
He blinked at them both. "Oh. You're still... talking."
Kaelen stood, brushing her hands on her trousers. "I was just leaving."
Elias glanced at her, then back at Rauel, who was still swaying like the floor might give way any second.
Kaelen gave Elias a soft smile as she passed. "Good night, moon person."
"Same to you."
She closed the door gently behind her.
Rauel looked around the room, confused for a second, then spotted the bed and pointed at it like it had offended him. "You. Stay still."
Elias crossed the room, nudged Rauel by the shoulder, and guided him toward it with minimal resistance.
"You're helping," Rauel mumbled, flopping down with zero grace. "Good friend. Two rooms. Great idea."
His boots were still on, but he was already snoring by the time Elias thought to mention it.