Floor 1: Chapter Two - The City of Souls

The City of Souls was the main and only city that I knew of on floor one. The grandiose place I’d been spirited away to shortly after enrolling in the Ascension Challenge. It was very different from the light, spring-scented streets I grew up in; these had a way of making my skin crawl.

The streets twisted and turned, folding in on themselves in ways that felt deliberately confusing. No two alleys looked the same, yet somehow, they all blended together. Dark stone buildings stacked too closely, their warped wooden doors and slanted rooftops each telling a story of age and neglect.

A damp chill clung to the air, carrying the faint scent of dried herbs, burning incense, and something old. The ladder clung to my nostrils, whispering to me in a ghostly hum; the city streets stretched far enough to get lost in ten times over, and I hadn’t bothered learning about the districts or family names that loosely governed in sections. I only kept my head down, hood up, and shoulders hunched beneath my cloak as I moved through the passageways heading toward the center.

It felt like eyes were always on me despite my attempt at keeping a low profile. A halfway translucent spirit paused as I drifted past, their edges wavering with clear fingers that brushed over a wooden stall filled with faded silks. Another spirit sat on the steps of what seemed to be a tea shop. The figure shared the shape of an old man with hollowed-out features, staring into a cup that wasn’t actually there. He had to be one of the worst-looking spirits I’d seen, which I guess meant he was ancient and refusing to pass on. He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. just... Waited. The stillness of his expression sent a shiver up my spine, creeping me the hell out.

I got the sense I should pull my cloak tight, but resisted the urge to quicken my pace as I slipped by another set of straggling souls. The city wasn’t devoid of the living, not exactly. I’d seen at least a few dozen people since I’d arrived some weeks ago, but there was a clear sense of separation between the two, like they didn’t particularly want us here.

A sigh left my lips as I adjusted the satchel at my hip, fingers briefly brushing against the small glass vial near the top. I couldn't help but reflect on the strange blood from the undead troll I’d placed in it. The liquid sloshed in thick stickiness with every step, black as tar.

Making my way through the various stalls, I spotted a small group of humans gathered in hushed conversation near a shop I’d only seen from the outside. It had a large wooden banner, swaying in the wind out front, that read: Xolob’s trinkets. The gathered humans each had a similar uniform and were discussing something in tones too low to catch. They definitely stood out from the crowd, but I attempted to pay them no mind.

Just before I begin to doubt my sense of direction, I turned the corner, finally spotting the polished wooden sign of The Witch’s Brew swaying slightly in the cold air. I had frequently used this corner as a reference point for exploring the rest of the city. The apothecary was wedged between two taller buildings, half-forgotten like the city had simply built around it and moved on. Despite its age, it still carried a comforting glow. The small glass window in the front was fogged over from within, faint candlelight flickering behind it. A small bundle of dried lavender and crushed rosemary hung above the doorframe.

The old wooden door creaked as I stepped inside, air heavy and thick with the scent of dried herbs and bitter tinctures. The shop was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from candlelight flickering over rows of glass bottles, bundles of hanging plants, and jars filled with ingredients that I couldn’t name if I wanted to.

Knowledge of the arcane was something I wasn’t privileged enough to access growing up, among other things. Either way, it felt like academy, in general, was reserved for the rich and pompous. Maybe it wasn’t, but I’d stand behind the statement anyway. In the end, it didn’t matter; I managed to figure out a few tricks anyway, like summoning a translucent hand. That one saved my life at least a few times as a kid.

The shopkeep here, Selene, was probably the nicest person I’d ever met, and it was a bit too early to begin including Dent in that assessment. Unlike many of the other spirits, she wasn’t a flickering wisp or a hazy afterimage of what once was. Her figure was more defined, almost appearing solid, though obviously still a spirit. She’s the one who told me they fade with age, so I guess that meant she was young.

I approached slowly as she drifted smoothly between the shelves, arranging vials with precise, practiced motions. “Ay, Selene. Ya miss me?”

“Remy!” she exclaimed with a warm smile and soft voice that carried the otherworldly hum that all ghosts had, like the echo of something once whole. “You’re back! And so soon.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “You say that like you weren’t expecting me to make it.”

"I can't help but worry for anyone venturing into the forest these days, but I’m glad to see you back in one piece.”

You don't know the half of it. I shrugged, nonchalant. “Well, you know, it’s never as bad as they say.”

“The claw marks down your side say differently, dear.” She peered at me with a questioning grin before placing a small corked bottle on the shelf. “Yet here you are, typical Remy, covered in mud and sass.” I chuckled at the comment, but she continued, “…And judging by the state of you, you didn’t stop by for tea.”

Right. I must’ve looked even worse than usual. “Yeah… I’ve got something I think you might be interested in,” I said, pulling the small glass vial from my satchel and placing it on the counter.

Selene drifted through to the other side, turned back, and studied it for a moment. The faint glow of her form reflected off the glass as she moved back and forth, staring at it from different angles. I wasn’t sure why, but she made a point not to touch it directly. After a brief pause, she nodded toward the back of the shop. “Eshlyn,” she called, “We have something for you.”

I leaned over slightly to notice the individual thoroughly stuffed behind a cluttered workbench, flipping the pages of a thick tome.

She hadn’t noticed me yet, or anything for that matter. She was too focused on the book in front of her. A long, silent moment passed before she dipped a glass dropper into a vial of bubbling liquid, carefully releasing one drop onto an outstretched leaf. It curled inward with a simmer, blackening at the edges. “Too acidic,” she whispered, barely a breath, but I caught it, watching as she quickly adjusted her notes.

Selene let out a light, amused sigh. “Eshlyn, please, put the book down for a moment. Our guest has something she’d like you to look at.”

The elven figure barely glanced up as she stepped past the crowded desk, head tilted just enough for me to catch her eyes from behind the book. They were green, like mine, but they stood out against her slightly blue-tinged skin, like polished emeralds beneath the sea. She was a sea-elf. Full or half, I couldn’t tell, but her long, purple hair cascaded downward in soft waves, catching the candlelight in deep indigo hues. The strands drifted with movement as if following a current.

Damn. She was beautiful, and I looked like shit. That’s when I realized her robes were far too fine for a place like this. The fabric was embroidered with silver threads. The kind of detailing that displayed wealth and status. Her posture said the same, practiced and pretentious in all the ways I hated.

Her gaze finally met my own. A flicker of assessment lingered before a long pause. I could tell she was taking in my ragged cloak, torn remnants of ill-fitting armor, and scuffed boots caked in dried forest dirt… And there it was, the look I knew all too well. She stared at me with the king of pompous disdain that said I was below her and should know it.

I wanted to call her out, ask who the fuck she thinks she’s looking at like that, but I held my tongue for once, still needing her to study whatever was in this dumbass vial.

“You brought something in?” she needlessly asked, voice tinged with sly contempt.

Oh, this should be fun, I grinned lazily. “Well… Anticipating your unparalleled observation skills… I put it on the counter.”

Selene gave me an amused glance but didn’t step in.

Eshlyn, on the other hand, exhaled through her nose, plucked the vial off the counter as if I might contaminate her, and walked back toward her workbench. “Such unnecessary interruptions.” She scowled. “A stray dog discovers dung, thinks it's a diamond…” Then began examining the vial. “...And wastes everyone's time.”

“Mhmm…” I couldn’t resist, so I leaned my elbows on the counter, continuing to watch her work. “Are you always this friendly, or is the overwhelming affection just for me?”

“How amusing. The mut can speak.” She didn’t even look up. “Are you always hopelessly insufferable, or am I getting special treatment?”

I held back the oncoming grin sliding its way across my face.

Selene chuckled in quiet spectacle, “She grows on you.”

“Does she now?” I muttered, strangely enjoying the game. “Like mold?”

Eshlyn’s eyes flicked up, but she didn’t respond.

A low chuckle escaped my lips before I could wind my amusement back in, but my attention drew back to the vial in her hands as she swirled the liquid, watching it move under the candlelight. Then, for the first time, her brows furrowed slightly, as if she actually might be interested in… Whatever it was.

She set the vial down and pulled out a thin metal needle, dipping it into the liquid before letting a single drop fall onto a clean glass plate.

The blood twitched, predating a shiver up my spine. I didn’t need to be an expert alchemist to know that was fuckin’ weird.

Eshlyn leaned in, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the plate as she turned back to Selene. “It’s not congealing properly, and there’s something…” She narrowed her eyes, watching the way the drop of blood moved unnaturally. “...I’m not sure of.” Her head tilted in silent curiosity. “I’ll need more time.”

“Not a problem.” Selene gave her a small nod. “Take as much as you need.”

Eshlyn quickly capped the vial, finally looking at me directly. “Where did you get this?”

“Undead troll,” I said before following up. “Well. Formerly undead. Now I guess it’s just… Dead?”

She went quiet again, something unreadable passing through her expression before she let out a slow, thoughtful nod. “You’ll have to come back later.”

“That’s fine,” I muttered, pushing off the counter. “I need to do some shopping anyway.” I turned toward the door, then paused, glancing back, “You wouldn’t know anyone in the market for a decent-sized bushel of fruit, nuts, and berries, would you?”

Selene tilted her head slightly, a faint shimmer passing through her translucent form. “That depends,” she said, her tone light but measured. “Are they stolen?”

I put a hand to my chest in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I acquired them most fairly from a very hairy and overly generous source.”

She hummed softly, intrigued but unconvinced. “A druid, then?”

“That's right.” I grinned. “One that’s proving to be particularly useful.”

Selene drifted closer, studying me for a long moment before giving a slow nod. “I could use fresh produce for my alchemical work.” She tapped a spectral finger against her chin. “Foraging has been difficult lately, and the woods continue to grow increasingly hazardous.”

Tell me about it. “I got some good stuff here.” I set out the bushel and tried not to look desperate. “How much are you thinking?”

“Mmm…” She paused for a second. “I can give you thirty silver for the lot,” she finally said.

I tried to stop my eyes from lighting up before letting out a dramatic scoff, “Thirty?! C’mon. That’s practically robbery.”

Selene smiled. “You just told me you got them for free.”

Damn. Got me there. I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms. “Fifty.”

She lifted a brow. “Thirty-five”

I leaned an elbow on the counter. “Forty-five”

She gave me a long, unreadable look before sighing. “Thirty-seven, and I’ll throw in a free minor healing salve.”

I could probably push for more, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to be picky, and attempting to sell it elsewhere sounded like a real chore. Besides, I’d already eaten my fill, and more was only a half-day walk down the river. “Deal,” I agreed. Thanks, Dent.

Selene reached for a small coin pouch, carefully counting out thirty-seven silver pieces before setting them on the counter. The coins clinked softly, an oddly grounding sound in a place filled with ghosts. She pushed a small glass jar of healing salve toward me as well. “I hope it comes in handy for when your overly generous druid isn’t around.”

I slid the coins into my belt pouch and picked up the salve, tucking it into my bag. “Pleasure doing business with ya, as always.”

Selene gave me a knowing smile. “Try not to get into too much trouble, Remy.”

“Me?” I grinned. “Never.”

Eshlyn let out a quiet huff, clearly unconvinced.

I smirked at her before stepping outside, letting the door swing shut behind me.

---

…

I ran my fingers down the newly acquired silver coins inside my coin pouch. They matched well with the fifteen or so other silver I managed to hold on to over the last few weeks, but I knew it wouldn’t last long... Not if I wanted to replace my armor with something that actually fit.

Fifty-two silver pieces. I thought, working out the math. One silver would get me a hot meal. Nothing good but food was food. I needed another five for a bed at the inn, which left me with a maximum budget of… Forty-six silver… More like forty if I wanted to stay out of the woods. Which meant I had two choices. Go to a proper smith and walk away broke… Or try my luck finding something used.

Starting down the same path I took on my way here, my gaze ran across the large wooden banner of Xolob’s Trinkets. Spending the time to take a lingering look, I noticed the haphazardly painted stamp of a goblin’s face, grinning wide beneath a pile of assorted junk. It was a cute drawing, but the window display was an absolute mess. Odds and ends were stacked precariously, a contortion of old weapons, jewelry that was obviously fake, and what I swore was an entire taxidermied frog sitting on a silver plate.

What in the hell…

Didn’t matter. I wasn’t here for quality. I needed cheap, so I let out a sigh before meandering to the entrance. The six humanoid figures grouped up outside thoroughly eyed me on my way in. I was close enough to catch a glimpse of them before the door swung shut loosely behind me. Of course, my past self would have slapped me if I didn’t immediately recognize the emblem on their sleeves, a diamond shape with a black eyeball protruding from its center, meant they were part of ‘Xanathar’s Guild'.

Just a stupid gang. I always thought it was ridiculous when people named groups after themselves, but it didn’t matter. I could call them stupid all I wanted, but their reputation was enough for me to think hard about walking out the back door. By the looks of it, they were feeling particularly confident as well, donning emblems and uniforms on full display. Still, I knew I wasn’t worth the hassle. They’d ignore me if I kept my head down, so I did.

The shop smelled of aged leather, candle wax, and dust; the inside was somehow worse than the window display. Cramped shelves were stacked from floor to ceiling with old trinkets, dusty tomes, rusted weapons, and a collection of questionable ‘artifacts’ that looked like they had been stolen, pawned, or just straight-up fished out of the river. And behind the cluttered counter, sorting through a pile of tangled jewelry, was a… Goblin.

It shouldn’t have been so surprising with a name like Xolob, but it still caught me off guard.

They were quite small, barely coming up to my waist. I couldn’t help but stare curiously at their deep green skin, wild silver-streaked brown hair, and at least four different scarves lying over their patchwork leather vest. Their ears twitched when I stepped up to the counter, but they didn’t look up right away. “Trade or purchase?” They asked with a voice that was scratchy but quick.

I smirked. “Depends on the prices.”

That got their attention. Their bright, golden eyes locked onto mine, then immediately flicked to the coin pouch tucked tight into my satchel, prompting their sharp little teeth to curl into a grin.

“Ohhh, a buyer,” they purred, tossing the tangled necklaces over their shoulder while rubbing their hands together. “And what, pray tell, does a beauty such as yourself require of my most prestigious and well-stocked establishment?”

I made a show to glance at the shelf where a rusted helmet sat next to a pile of old books, a wooden duck, and something that looked like a cursed doll. “Prestigious, huh?”

“Come, come! What is it?” They hopped up on the counter. “Trinkets? Potions? A sword, perhaps? I have a very nice set of throwing knives… Enchanted, if you’re hush about it.” They winked.

“Armor,” I cut in, then added, “And a bow.” Since it felt like I might get a decent bargain against this goblin.

They paused, ears flicking slightly, golden eyes narrowing. “Armor… And a bow? In your size, I assume?”

Here we go. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Mhmm… Reinforced leather, preferably. Light, fitted, and...” I glanced down at my torn, bloodstained cloak and ripped armor. “...Not falling apart at the seams.”

Xolob snickered, already storming up a stack of crates behind the counter, somehow doing it in a way that made my demands seem outlandish. “Hmmm. I might have something. Might.”

I crossed my arms, waiting. “How much to sure up your certainty?”

“You’re funny,” they said with a dry tone before tossing an old leather chest piece onto the counter. “But unfortunately, I either have it or I don’t.”

A low smile creased my face as I reached out to inspect the armor. It wasn’t terrible. A little worn, had a few scratches, but it was definitely better than what I had. I turned it over in my hands, about to ask for a price, again, when the door opened behind me.

Xolob’s ears twitched, their golden gaze flicking toward the entrance, as the grin slowly faded from their face.

I turned my head to see what they were looking at, catching the six men outside finally entering the shop.

They didn’t march in with a show of force. Instead, they moved slowly, spreading out like they had all the time in the world. A few lingered near the entrance, while others casually drifted toward the shelves, fingers brushing over old trinkets, worn blades, and half-buried curiosities.

So lame. I wouldn’t have mistaken them for shoppers in a million years, but I guess no one else seemed to pay them any attention, so I silently turned back towards the counter. Maybe they’re new recruits. Either way, I was in no mood to deal with their bullshit, so I considered cutting my visit short, but they weren’t looking in my direction. I followed their gaze to the far back corner of the store, where another customer was perusing some of the stranger artifacts.

The customer in question was tall and at least relatively muscular. He had pale skin, hidden under a full set of black, polished armor that matched his hair, which was as dark as the night sky, and ears that were pointed higher than mine. Definitely an elf, maybe a dusk elf? His set of breastplate armor stood out a bit as well, given that it was well-worn but had silver inlays that must have been expensive. Across his back, two swords were strapped in an X-shape, the hilts simple but well-fitting.

Xolob went back to the crates, continuing to shuffle items. “We don’t get too many bows in here, but I should have at least one,” they said, finally returning to their gleeful focus. I tried to draw my attention back to Xolob, but peering away from the front-row seat I’d been blessed with felt almost criminal. My gaze was practically pulled over to watch as the burly figures began circling the elf in a distant arch.

Tough mark for newbies, though he does look like he’s got some money.

One of the scruffier men drifted close, fingers skimming along a shelf as if debating a purchase. Another one, younger than the others, took a slow step forward as well, stopping just beside the elf’s left flank.

The poor guy was oblivious. Rich kid armor, yet he won’t open his fuckin’ eyes. My head shook as the thoughts spewed out sarcastically. I guess I should give the recruits some credit; at least a few of them are doing a decent job of acting natural.

Then, in one fluid motion, the younger guild member swooped in with a flick of his wrist, quicker and smoother than I thought it’d be. He reached down, fingers hooking around a pouch strapped to the poor idiot’s belt. A clean pickpocket. The pouch was two steps away, and the dumb brute in black hadn’t even noticed.

I exhaled slowly through my nose. Not my problem. Turning slightly, I angled my body away, pretending to examine the old leather armor in my hands as Xolob continued searching. Just gonna mind my own business.

“Hey, what the hell!” a smooth, masculine voice let out as the elf grabbed the man's wrist, pouch still in his hand.

Oh, look at that, heirloom-armor-boy’s not entirely useless

Xolob finished their search, pulling out a carved wooden bow sporting black twine. The goblin stopped just short of placing it on the counter before peering through a gap in the shelves, just in time to take in the newfound commotion.

The caught guild member tried forcing his arm free, but the warrior’s grip was tight. The few other customers in the store began scurrying for the door, finally realizing what was happening.

Xolob stood up on the counter before practically roaring, “THIEVES! Thieves in my shop!” A gesture that easily yanked what little attention could be gathered from outside.

God dammit. Time to go.

At the same time, as if Xolob’s words were a battle cry, the elf, still holding the thug's wrist, drew the sword from his back, and in one quick motion, chopped the recruit’s hand completely off.

What in the fuck? I reeled. Could have at least tried wrestling the guy off first. Holy shit.

Time stretched, the world hanging in that moment of sheer, brutal clarity as the severed hand hit the floor with a dull, wet slap. The recruit’s scream tore through the shop, shrill and guttural, clutching at the bloody stump where his hand had been a second ago. The pouch, a prize he’d already begun paying for, rolled across the wooden planks of the floorboard. For half a heartbeat, there was silence. Then came the all too recognizable sound of steel blades scraping from their sheaths. A chorus of metal resonated in the air when, all at once, the remaining five thugs drew their weapons.

Five verses one… I hope this dusk elf knows what he’s doing…

The first one lunged, quick but reckless, a show of fear blinding his instincts, but the elf was faster. Unsheathing the second sword, he made a clean cut through the air, parrying the strike with a sharp clang that sent the thug staggering back. He pivoted without hesitation, stepping in to follow up with the second blade already swinging.

I couldn’t help but watch the fight, stepping away slowly. I didn’t want to be here when the Watch came. Still, my eyes kept drifting back. I wasn’t sure why, but some idiotic part of me wanted to help the guy. Don't get involved. I repeated to myself as the elf continued brawling against the many recruits. For a moment or two, I just stared. Neither party was gaining any ground, but I could tell there were too many blades for the elf to keep track of. He’d slip up soon, no doubt about it. Then I caught sight of what would be his undoing. One of the recruits had stepped back from the fray, putting the sword away to draw a bow from off their back.

Dammit all…

I snatched the black twine bow from off the counter in front of me, basically right out of Xolob’s dainty fingers, and fired an arrow before I could think better of it… It struck true, right into the wannabe soldiers' back.

He let out a shivering scream before slowly collapsing to his knees, gasping for breath. He had barely fumbled onto the floor when two thugs charged me, leaping from the elf's position in a long stride.

Fucking shit… I guess I’m part of this now.

They closed the gap quickly as I unbuckled my daggers and met the first one head-on. He took the opportunity to swing as I closed in, blade aimed for my neck, but I ducked low. His thick sword reverberated off the hardwood of the adjacent shelf before I caught his wrist and slammed my knee into his gut. He buckled on impact, doubling over, and I knew I couldn’t waste the opening. Not if I wanted to get out of this alive.

He slumped over in a pool of blood as a quick, clean slash from my dagger opened his throat. Holy shit. That was self-defense… Right? The taste of bile rose in my throat, but adrenaline continued its assault.

A shadow flickered in my vision before I could fully comprehend what had just happened. Instinctively, I met the oncoming blade with my own, just barely avoiding another swing meant to take my head off.

I twisted in time to catch a glimpse of the elf before retaliating. He was still fully engaged in the battle. A thug on each side of him, but his movements were precise and unrelenting. Every swing and parry had a purpose. He flowed through the fight like he was born for it, and no matter how reluctant, I was right there with him.

One way or another, I had found my bearings, sidestepping another swing at the same moment the elf pivoted, forcing the attacker to stumble into my path. The elf and I were close now, and the thug was wide open. I lashed out with precision and speed, my dagger piercing through the thin leather armor at his side. Blood spat as I yanked my blade free and decked the guy with a hard right hook that sent him to the floor. At least I didn’t stab him through the temple like I could have.

The elf didn’t hesitate either. Blade flashing, he drove his sword clean into the other man's abdomen, yanking the blade upward before ripping it free.

With that, I couldn’t help but vomit. Chunks of half-digested fruit sprang from my mouth, spilling onto a recruit that was closing in on the elf from the side. The man blinked at the sudden onset of stomach acid drenching his face. A short distraction that would prove useful. Still hurling, I slammed a dagger into his shoulder when his path crossed adjacent to me. The recruit staggered with a roar of pain that lasted just long enough for the elf to twist around and finish the job, his blade cutting deep into the man’s skull.

The last one stood a bit further away, already moving for the back door, propping up the now one-handed thief on his right and the recruit I had shot with an arrow on his left. I felt their confidence shatter as he took in the bodies at our feet and met our eyes for barely a second.

“Cowards!” The elf exclaimed, as if this were some sanctioned deathmatch.

“Fuck you!” the remaining recruit sneered back as the three of them shoved past racks of junk with whatever energy they had remaining while tipping over loose shelves in their wake. I was surprised the two injured ones could still run, even assisted, but they were already at the back door when the elf raced after them.

I followed, bursting through the door just in time to see the gangsters scrambling down a sewer grate. It was already pried open as if it had been their exit plan all along.

Slick bastards.

They dropped quickly into the dark below. The sound of bodies splashing into stagnant water followed.

The dark-haired elf and I stood mere inches apart when I met his gaze for the first time. His piercing light-blue eyes stared back at me, and for a moment we both lingered there, mesmerized somehow.

My head shook, breaking the trance. The hell am I doing?

He rushed for the sewer opening, going after them like a bloodthirsty idiot.

Bad idea! I threw myself forward with all the weight I could muster, slamming into his side just as he reached the opening. We hit the ground with a jolting thump, harder than I’d leaped away from that troll in the forest.

The elf let out a low, startled grunt, the air knocked from his lungs as my elbow unknowingly dug into his ribs on impact. I didn’t even have time to process how god damn solid he was. His body was all lean, compact muscle. It took everything I had just to keep him pinned, knowing immediately, it wouldn’t last long.

Once more, his icy blue eyes snapped to mine. “The hell is your problem!?” he growled.

I exhaled sharply, keeping my weight firmly pressed down over him. “You mother fucker! What do you think is going to happen? Your two swords versus the whole Xanathar’s Guild!? If you're just itching to die, then do it sometime, I didn’t just stick my neck out to save you!”

He didn’t answer right away, but his jaw ticked, nostrils flaring. I could feel his pulse beneath my palm. For whatever reason, he wasn’t fighting me, not really. So eventually, his breathing slowed, and I eased off him.

A deep feeling of regret slowly began to set in, tinged with clarity. Dammit, why did I have to shove myself into this guy's shitty situation? …But it was entirely too late for that line of thinking.

He brushed himself off before rolling onto his feet and letting out a massive sigh. “How’d you know they were guild anyway?”

“I recognize the emblem from back home,” I muttered, trying not to show the bounding frustration that gripped at my gut. “And you need to learn to open your fuckin’ eyes once in a while.”

His jaw dropped, head shaking with reluctance. “Yeah. I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” He held out his hand to shake. “Names Val.”

Introductions? Seriously? I didn’t take it, just sucked in a few deep breaths, shaking my head the whole time, before eventually responding, “...Remy.“

My eyes drifted to the frame of the black twine bow, now that the adrenaline was wearing off. I must have instinctively placed it over my shoulder after taking the thing from Xolob. I knew I should return it, but going back into that shop would be risky, considering The Watch could barge in any minute. I’d jump in the sewer myself if I didn’t know it was infested with guild members, so instead I started off down the alleyway. “The Watch will be here soon. I’m ducking out while I still can.”

“Hold up.” Val caught my arm, “I know a place we can hide out nearby.”