The night stretched long and silent as Ezra walked through the fog-laden streets, the scent of damp stone and distant smoke curling in the cold air.
Hallowmere Cross.
A place that didnt exist. A location erased from every mapexcept Crownes.
Yet here he was, following streets that shouldnt lead anywhere, feeling the city shift around him in ways he couldnt quite name.
Every turn he took felt deliberate, like unseen hands had already traced the path for him. The further he walked, the quieter Eldenwald became. The usual hum of distant voices, the clatter of carriage wheels, even the whisper of wind through the alleysall of it faded.
Until the only sound left was his own breathing.
Ezra stopped.
Ahead, where the street should have ended, an archway of stone loomed in the fog.
He had never seen this place before.
And yet, he knew.
Hallowmere Cross.
The mist curled unnaturally beyond the archway, thicker, almost solid. The buildings that framed it were wrong. Not abandoned, not ruinedjust empty. Windows dark, doorways ajar, as if their owners had stepped out long ago and forgotten to return.
Ezra inhaled slowly, stepping forward.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the world changed.
The air tightened around him, pressing against his skin like an unseen weight. The gas lamps overhead flickered, their glow tinged with something deeper than light, something that watched.
And then
A voice.
"You came."
Ezra turned.
A figure emerged from the mist, stepping into the dim lamplight.
Tall, wrapped in a heavy coat, the hood drawn low over their face. Not like the Ministrys agentsthis one moved differently. Measured. Unrushed. Like they had all the time in the world.
Ezras fingers curled instinctively, his body ready to react. "I didnt come for pleasantries."
The hooded figure chuckled. "Of course not. You came for answers."
Ezra exhaled sharply. "Then give them to me."
The figure tilted their head, as if considering. Then, slowly, they lifted a hand.
Not to attack. Not to threaten.
To offer.
A small, aged coin rested in their palm, the surface tarnished, worn by hands that had passed it through time. A sigil was pressed into the metalone Ezra recognized immediately.
The same sigil from The Hidden Laws.
His breath slowed.
The figures voice was quiet.
"Make your choice, Lockwood."
Ezra studied the coin.
A token. A key. An agreement.
The weight of it wasnt in its metal.
It was in what it meant.
The air around them stirred, waiting.
Ezra exhaled.
And reached for the coin.
The moment his fingers touched it
The world blinked.
And the deal was sealed.