The Free City looked different at night, with some places louder while others eerily quiet. As they walked, voices carried across the rooftops and distant fires flickered between windows.
Kael led the way with a focused stride, his formal coat shifting with each step. Thorne followed slightly behind, posture upright with his eyes scanning the walkways out of habit.
Pheo walked alongside them, adjusting the stiff collar of his borrowed coat and trying not to look out of place. They crossed a narrow bridge where the sounds of music rose from somewhere down below.
"This used to be a grain exchange," Kael said suddenly, nodding toward the direction they were headed. "The Ember Pact turned it into a private hall. That's where we'll find them."
The deeper they went, the fewer common folk there were. More faces with straight backs, sharp eyes, and armed escorts following them. By the time they reached the tall wooden doors of the old exchange building, the streets had already emptied.
Torches burned in sconces outside, giving the entrance a warm, almost ceremonial glow. Kael didn't hesitate. He handed the sealed invitation to the two guards at the door, allowing them to step inside.
With a final glance between them, The three of them entered the hall. They'd barely made it past the entrance before Kael was recognized. A group of pact affiliates immediately swarmed him.
"Kael the prodigy, right?"
"The detective boy! Elion mentioned you might be coming."
"Your mind could do so much good for us–"
Kael's eyes twitched. He tried maintaining his composure, but the circle around him tightened with every flattering remark. Thorne's jaw flexed once as he stepped forward, seamlessly placing himself between Kael and the pressing crowd.
"I must ask that you give Master Kael breathing room," Thorne said calmly. "This is a strategic gathering, not a street fair." His voice remained polite, but his tone carried weight.
Some of the crowd backed off at the quiet authority in his voice, but it was still too cramped around Kael. Pheo quickly stepped aside before he got tangled into it, quietly distancing himself from the commotion.
That's when he saw Elion up a short set of steps, he was standing under an arch of crimson cloth. He was in the middle of conversing with a few key figures, his posture and smile measured.
On either side of him stood the same people from the square, all four of them. He recognized Don first, his face as stoic as ever. Next to him was Wing, standing tall and disciplined.
With them were two women, one of them was the person he bandaged once, back when she was wounded in the caverns. The other one was a new face, lean, with hands wrapped like a fighter's.
He didn't think they had noticed him yet, and he needed to keep it that way. What exactly happened down there, he couldn't quite explain it. It wouldn't be a stretch to think that they would hold him captive for answers.
He hadn't forgotten how Don had been toward him, the rough but needed mentorship he put Pheo under. Seeing him made him think back of when he would spend time mining with Ryu.
How was he doing now?
His fingers moved subconsciously to the inside of his coat, finding the small necklace with the blue stone. He rubbed it between his fingers out of habit as he slipped deeper into a side corridor just off the main hall.
The gathering was large, but The Ember Pact clearly left some areas unguarded. Pheo paused outside a small back office with the door slightly cracked open. He peeked inside to find that no one was inside.
Bingo.
He stepped in and shut the door halfway behind him. The desk was cluttered with parchment and sealed notes. He flipped through a few folders, skimming handwriting he didn't recognize.
He saw the inner details of The Ember Pact. His eyes went around, finding recruitment lists filled with the names of people he didn't know and logistics for moving supplies. His hands went to work, finding anything that could serve as evidence.
Under a stack of letters was a single page that was half-burnt, as if someone had tried to destroy it but couldn't finish. Pheo pulled it free carefully, his eyes widening when he saw the sigil on the top corner.
It wasn't the Ember flame icon that the Pact uses, but a jagged spiral carved into a crude sun. It made his blood run cold as he recalled the last time he had encountered the symbol.
The mark of the Dark Church
The Dark Church is a cult that worships the God of Chaos. The deity is ancient and forgotten, said to embody disorder, destruction, and rebirth through suffering. Its followers believe that their God once walked the world, torn apart to pieces long ago.
They aim for his resurrection, using sacrificial rites to gather fragments of the god's essence. Members of the church often follow those who're given the title of disciple, with people vanishing wherever the church operates.
Pheo last saw this sigil as a symbol of hope for his father, thinking that The Dark Church would be able to destroy the curse. He took a look at the writing, taking a bit of time to decode the message:
Meeting confirmed outside the southern ridge. Supply of vessels secured. Ember's leader will ensure passage through The Free City. Pact to gain immunity from the cleansing when God resurrects.
Pheo stared at it, knowing very well that vessels was just another word for victims. Ember's leader could only refer to Elion, he was the living embodiment of the pact after all.
Do they really think their rituals do anything?
He stuffed the page into his coat as he thought about it. Learning from the constant dead ends his father hit, The Dark Church's goal is nothing but an excuse for murder. As he took one quiet step back towards the hallway–
Creak.
He froze as the door behind him opened sharply. A woman stepped into the doorway, half-shadowed by the lantern behind her. It was one of the bodyguards, her fists taped and ready.
Her knuckles looked dusty, a sign that she'd been training even in the middle of the event. Her eyes narrowed the moment she noticed that someone was inside the restricted room.
"Hey."
Pheo didn't wait for more. He swung the door open the rest of the way and bolted past her shoulder, nearly knocking her sideways along the way. "What the?!" Her reaction was almost immediate.
He could hear her boots scraping as she lunged after him. Pheo didn't bother stopping, doing his best to turn corners fast and low enough to stay under most people's line of sight.
"STOP!" her voice rang behind him, rough and furious. He pushed through a crowded corridor, heads turning as he passed. Sylira shoved through after him, people stumbling out of her way as she sprinted. She squinted, but the room was too dark and crowded to register his face.
Pheo focused only on finding the next door, the next corner, anything to get him further away from her vision. He heard a table crash behind him as she tripped someone else trying to follow.
The whole hallway erupted in confusion when Pheo was already slipping through a back entrance, ducking under a low wooden beam and bursting out into an alleyway behind the grain hall. The night air hit him like cold water as he went out.
He kept running, boots slamming across the bridgeway, his lungs burning as he pushed toward the darker side-streets of the city. He vaulted down a side stairwell and cut through a stack of crates.
Pheo's breaths came sharply as he pushed deeper into the maze of side streets. The sound of boots still echoed somewhere behind him, she wasn't going to give up chasing him that easily.
He turned a corner and spotted a lone figure up ahead. It was a girl, maybe his age, sitting on a low stone ledge near the side wall of an old trading house. She had her knees drawn up and a scarf wrapped around her neck.
She was idly tossing pebbles into a gutter, as if to pass the time. Without stopping to think, Pheo strode straight toward her and dropped to sit beside her, acting like he had known her all his life.
The girl turned towards him, startled. Her eyes widened as Pheo leaned in like he was whispering a secret to a close friend. "Play along," he whispered fast, his breathing strained. "Lie if someone asks. Please."
She froze for a split second, long enough that Pheo thought it wouldn't work. Then, she glanced past him toward the echo of running footsteps around the corner. She could see the silhouette of a woman appearing briefly at the far end of the alley.
It was then that the girl seemed to understand. Sylira turned into the opposite end of the alley, breath sharp, eyes scanning. She spotted the two of them immediately. The girl lifted her head calmly and looked straight back at Sylira.
She wasn't frightened at all, her reaction confused Pheo until he saw a subtle emblem on the girl's glove. A small silver crest. Concordist. The girl didn't say a word, she merely raised an eyebrow at Sylira with cool annoyance, almost as if she were the one being interrupted.
For a long second, no one spoke. Sylira's jaw tightened, glancing once at Pheo, then back at the girl. She stepped back, turning without a word and retreated back up the alley, disappearing silently into the crowds.
Pheo watched as her silhouette disappeared into the dark, his pulse still hammering under his skin. He turned back toward the girl, who was now standing up.
She was dusting off her sleeves with an ease that only someone in power would have. He didn't know her name, but he knew the crest on her glove. A polished silver insignia shaped like two interlocking circles marked her as a Concordist. Not just as someone affiliated with them, but as someone of higher rank.
She looked at him with faint intrigue, studying him like he was some strange puzzle she almost recognized. "You're not from their faction," she said, quiet but sure. "But you know enough about them for them to chase you like that."
"That means you're either very lucky... Or you just stepped into a storm you can't handle." Her words made Pheo shift his weight, "Listen... I appreciate the help, really. But I have to go." He couldn't risk someone else knowing about the note.
She stepped forward once, as if she had more to say. "At least tell me your-"
"I'm sorry, I can't." Pheo said, taking a step back. His hand brushed against the inside of his coat, feeling the edge of that burnt parchment, the evidence of Elion's pact with the Dark Church.
Kael needs to see this.
The girl's expression changed. She didn't look offended, but curious. She watched as he retreated, simply nodding while crossing her arms as if she already expected not to get answers tonight.
"Fine," she said. "But the next time we speak, you'll be spilling the truth." Pheo gave a small nod of acknowledgement, then turned and sprinted toward the narrow stairway that would take him back towards the main streets.