Tess didn’t speak right away.
Her jaw was tight, eyes fixed on Gabriel like she was trying to decide whether to shake him or demand answers. Some wolves heal people. The words replayed in her head.
"Did someone hit you too hard on the head?" she finally said.
She turned her gaze to Hanitz. "And you... Why are you sending two guild assistants with us?"
The Guild Master rose from his chair, the wood creaking from the strain.
"Because I want you walking away from this," his voice calm
Tess scoffed. "With a clerk and a girl who drops paperwork?"
Adan shifted at the bar, straightening slowly. As though he was listening to the conversation from across the hall.
Tess stared at him. "He pours drinks."
"And her?" Tess snapped.
Hanitz’s eyes flicked briefly toward the counter.
"You won’t even notice she’s there."
As if summoned by the words, Ennu looked up from her ledger, smiling, and returned to writing, her quill never pausing.
Gabriel pushed himself up from the chair, nodding his head towards the giant before turning.
"Let’s go."
Adan was already moving, slipping on his cloak, fastening his sword sheath around his hip.
Behind them, Ennu’s quill scratched once more.
She didn’t look up. She didn’t need to.
Tess remained seated.
The noise of the guild bled back in around her, tankards clinking, boots scraping, low voices rising and falling. But it all felt distant.
Nothing made sense.
"Oi." Hanitz’s voice cut through the fog in her head.
She blinked, realising she’d been staring at the empty chair Gabriel had just vacated.
The giant loomed beside the table now, arms folded.
"Go on, girl," he said gruffly. "Before they get halfway there without you."
Tess opened her mouth, then shut it again.
Hanitz softened, just a fraction.
"I’ll explain everything later," he added. "All of it."
Tess lingered for a heartbeat longer, fingers curled against the edge of the table.
Questions pressed at the back of her throat.
She pushed back from the chair and stood.
"All of it," she repeated under her breath, more promise than agreement.
By the time she reached the door, Gabriel and Adan were already gone, the cold air slipping in through the crack they’d left behind.
Tess pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and stepped after them.
Whatever was waiting at Mera’s, she was done being the last one to know.
...
The streets had begun to empty.
Stalls were being packed away, crates dragged back into doorways. A few torches had been lit, their glow thin and yellow against the creeping dark.
Only a handful of townspeople remained, heads lowered as they made their way home, eager to be off the streets before night settled fully.
The moon had just begun to climb, stretching long shadows across the dirt street.
She spotted them ahead.
Gabriel walked without slowing, Adan keeping pace beside him.
Tess jogged to catch up.
"Gabriel, what are we going to find at Mera’s?" she asked as she reached his side.
Gabriel didn’t slow.
His eyes stayed forward, fixed on the stretch of path ahead as torchlight slid across his features.
"I don’t know," he said. "But I think she’s in danger."
That wasn’t what Tess wanted to hear.
"She is the danger," Adan said quietly.
The words plunged into Gabriel’s gut like a knife.
Mera had patched his wounds when others wouldn’t touch him. Fed him when no one else would. Aside from Hanitz, she was the only one in Eldenreach who had never looked at him like something to be feared.
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
"We don’t know that yet."
The words lingered between them as they made it through the market.
They reached the stable at the far end of the square, tucked beside the potato fields that stretched out in uneven rows, dark soil turned and ready for planting. A lone lantern burned above the stable door, its light wavering in the cold Northern breeze.
Across the road, on the bank before the treeline.
Fire pits burned, low flames crackling around circles of blackened stone where peasants camped when coin ran short. The smell of cooking food drifted through the air, boiled vegetables, charred meat, and cheap bread warming on flat stones.
Bedrolls were spread between the trees. Some covered, others left out to the elements, packs hung from low branches, and broken crates had been dragged together into makeshift seats. Quiet voices carried through the night.
The three slowed their pace, walking past the campsite.
Ahead, the dirt street narrowed, bending slightly as it climbed toward the edge of town. Beyond it, partially hidden by a stand of trees, the apothecary came into view.
Smoke bellowed out of the chimney from the hearth Mera always kept full of logs.
It looked the same as it always had.
Gabriel took another step.
Something shifted.
Not in the street. Not in the house. Inside him.
A faint surge rolled through his body, gathering in his chest before fading away. With every step closer, the sensation returned stronger than before, a quiet pressure warning him.
Gabriel slowed.
The pressure coiled tighter with each step, no longer a passing ripple but a steady pull beneath his ribs.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, letting his stride shorten, his senses widening to the space around them.
Adan glanced towards Gabriel, noticing the change in his posture.
He matched his pace as he slowly brushed his fingers against the hilt at his side.
Tess followed a moment later. Sliding her hand down towards her blade.
The three of them advanced together through the last stretch.
The apothecary was mere steps away, smoke still rising from the chimney.
Whatever was waiting inside hadn’t moved.
They crossed into the garden.
The herbs were just as Mera kept them, neat rows carefully spaced, their faint familiar scents cutting through the night air.
The pressure flared again, stronger now. Centring at his chest.
His steps slowed further as they moved between the beds, boots brushing the edges of leaves.
The air around them began to buzz, almost as if it were reacting to their presence.
Gabriel lifted a hand, signalling the other two to stop, and moved toward the door alone.
As his fingers brushed the latch, a sound crept through the wooden doorframe.
A soft humming. The same one he remembered.