The road back to the Drunken Hound felt strangely quiet.
Towan wasn't tired. His legs moved on habit, but his mind was wired—still tracing every step from the ballroom to the garden, to the fire, to that moment the sigils on his sleeve glowed like a heartbeat.
“House Elaren…” he murmured to himself, fingers brushing the embroidered crescent now faded to normal thread. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
It hadn’t been in any history book. No one in the crowd recognized it—except the Governor, and the way he had whispered it… like speaking it out loud was a kind of heresy.
“Must’ve fallen long ago,” Towan muttered. “But I should ask Herb. He might’ve heard something.”
Before he even realized how far he'd walked, the crooked roof and uneven lanternlight of the Drunken Hound appeared in the distance—home in a city that didn't know him, in a world that kept getting stranger.
The door creaked open.
Warmth. Tea.
“Well, well,” Herb said from behind the counter, holding a cup like a peace offering. “You don’t look burned, stabbed, or publicly disgraced. Must’ve been a great party.”
He handed Towan the tea, steam curling between their fingers.
Towan gave a tired grin. “Let’s just say... interesting barely covers it.”
Herb raised an eyebrow but didn’t press.
“Well,” he said instead, reaching into a drawer, “while you were out charming high society, I finally tracked down Eryndar’s dojo.”
He slid a folded parchment across the counter like a winning hand.
“Took a few favors and a lot of coin. Remote place. Up a mountain, off every map that matters.”
Towan chuckled and set down his tea.
“That’s great, Herb. But...” he pulled out the elegant paper Selene had given him earlier and laid it beside Herb’s. “...I got it too.”
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A pause.
Herb stared at both maps. Then at Towan. Then back at the maps.
“You—? …Of course you did.” He huffed, half amused, half insulted. “What, did a noblebird just flutter down and whisper it to you?”
“Something like that,” Towan said, smiling into his cup.
Herb let out a soft snort, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Alright then. Guess I won’t invoice you for my hard-earned intel.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the counter, a glint in his eye.
“So? Come on, tell me—did you dance with Lady Len?”
Towan’s smile widened a little.
“I did.”
“You did?! Stars above.” Herb threw up his hands. “And you’re still alive?! Kid, you realize half the city’s nobles’ve been trying to get her to waltz with them for years.”
Towan chuckled. “She corrected my hand placement mid-dance. Very politely. With a death glare.”
“Ah, romance,” Herb muttered. “Just how I remember it.”
Towan took another sip, watching the fire flicker in the hearth.
“There was… more. A lot more,” he said quietly.
But for now, he kept the rest of the story folded in his chest, like the parchment on the table. The fire. The sigils. Sera. The rebellion.
Herb didn’t press again. He just nodded once, poured himself a drink, and said:
“Well. Let’s hope Eryndar doesn’t ask you to dance.”
The tavern was quiet—just the crackle of the hearth and the occasional clink of mugs as Herb puttered behind the counter.
Then—footsteps. Slow, reluctant, and far too synchronized to be anything but a shared, grumpy truce with gravity.
Cassia appeared first at the top of the stairs, blanket draped over her like a reluctant cape, hair a glorious disaster. Behind her, Rellie emerged silently, arms crossed, oversized sleeves swallowing her hands.
“Welcome back, boss,” Cassia yawned. “Heard explosions. Figured it was either you or a noble scandal.”
Her eyes scanned him from head to toe. “Suit’s still intact. That’s new.”
Towan gave her a tired smile, raising his mug in greeting. “Managed not to ruin it. Barely.”
Rellie didn’t speak at first. She just stopped on the last step and stared—no, not stared. Read. Her gaze swept over Towan like she was measuring something only she could see.
A subtle furrow appeared between her brows.
Towan caught it. “Something wrong?”
“You still have something on you,” Rellie said softly.
Cassia raised an eyebrow. “What, like glitter? Noble germs?”
But Rellie shook her head, slowly descending the rest of the stairs. Her eyes narrowed, focusing just past Towan’s shoulder. Her gloved fingers flexed once.
“No. Not that. Just… a trace of someone else’s Essentia. It’s faint, but it’s clinging to you. Like it wants to be remembered.”
Towan’s smile faltered for half a heartbeat.
“Probably nothing,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just... too many people in one place.”
Rellie didn’t press. She just nodded once and moved past him toward the hearth.
“If you start glowing in your sleep, I’m not cleaning it up,” Cassia added, flopping onto a couch with theatrical exhaustion.
Towan laughed quietly. “Noted.”
Herb leaned against the counter, watching them with the patient gaze of someone who had seen a hundred versions of nights like this, and somehow still liked them.
“Get some rest, all of you,” he said. “Tomorrow’s a new kind of chaos.”