The three of them sat around the small table in their room, plates spread with bread, dried meat, and the fruit Riven had dragged back from the market. Morning light leaked through the window, casting long shadows over the scene.
Auren tore a piece of bread and leaned back in his chair.
"So," he said between bites, "how the hell do you think we can track my father? Every trail I've had so far has turned to dust."
Riven chewed slowly, eyes narrowing in thought. "Could try the adventurer's records. People who've been here a long time know things. Or maybe… bounty boards, underground contacts. Hell, you could even pay a diviner if you're desperate."
Auren shook his head, unimpressed. "Useless. Records are incomplete, bounty boards are only for wanted scum, and diviners? Half of them are just lying rats in robes. Waste of coin."
For a while, only the sound of chewing filled the room. Then Lyara set down her cup of tea, her voice calm but confident.
"Master," she said, meeting Auren's gaze. "I have an idea."
His brow arched. "Go on."
"You're skilled in magic," she began. "That means you're capable of location-binding spells — but those need a sympathetic link to the person you're seeking. If you had something that belonged to your father… something deeply personal — like a ring, a pendant, even an old piece of clothing — you could use it as an anchor. The stronger the bond the item had with him, the clearer the magical connection."
She paused before leaning forward slightly. "If you had a drop of his blood, the spell's accuracy would be almost perfect. No interference, no false leads. You could pinpoint his location anywhere in the world."
Auren studied her in silence for a moment, a slow smirk forming. "Smart girl."
Riven gave a small grunt, reaching for another slice of bread. "Sounds great, if you happen to have a piece of him lying around in your pocket."
"We'll see," Auren said quietly, his mind already shifting gears, calculating. "But if it's blood that'll give me the clearest path… then I'll just have to find it."
The rest of breakfast passed with fewer words, but there was a heaviness in the air now — the kind that came when a dangerous idea started to take root.
---
After breakfast, Auren shoved the empty plates aside and pulled his travel bag closer. He dug through it, tossing aside spare clothes, a dented flask, a few wrapped rations, and some loose coins. The search grew more aggressive with every passing second until the bag lay limp and empty on the table.
"Nothing," he muttered, frustration bleeding into his voice.
Riven leaned back in his chair, arms folded. "Guess that's that. We're too far from your village to go digging through old ruins and closets. Even if we went back, there's no guarantee anything of his is still there."
Auren sat in silence for a long moment, staring at the pile of junk he'd pulled out. His jaw worked as if chewing on the thought itself. "You're right. The chances are low. Wasted time."
The room fell into a lull. Riven drummed his fingers on the table, Lyara sat with her legs crossed, quietly observing.
"Then what now?" Riven finally asked. "We need a way that actually works."
They began throwing out suggestions — tracking rumors, interrogating mercenaries, following old battle reports — but each idea crumbled under the weight of reality. It was like chasing smoke.
Then Auren stopped mid-thought. Slowly, a grin crawled across his face — the kind of grin that meant something dangerous had just taken root in his mind.
"Wait…" His voice was low, almost amused. "I think I've been looking at this all wrong."
Both Riven and Lyara turned to him.
"What?" Riven asked. "What did you think of now?"
Auren leaned forward, tapping his chest with two fingers. "My father's belonging… is me."
Riven frowned. "The hell are you talking about?"
"Think about it," Auren said, eyes sharp with excitement. "His blood flows in me. His DNA, my DNA — it's the same. If blood is the strongest anchor for location magic, then I'm already carrying the link we need. I am the key."
Lyara's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "If that's true… then finding him might be far easier than we thought."
Riven sat back, still skeptical but intrigued. "So you're saying we just use your blood, and the spell will lock onto him directly?"
Auren's grin widened. "Exactly. No running halfway across the world to dig up old keepsakes. No guesswork. My body is the map — I just have to learn how to read it."
The air in the room felt heavier now, as if the walls themselves leaned in to hear more. Auren could almost feel the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place.
"This changes everything," he said quietly, almost to himself.
---
The room had been cleared — only the table in the center remained, its surface stained with the shallow cuts Auren had made across his own palm. Thin rivulets of blood pooled into a shallow bronze bowl, the liquid thick and metallic under the dim light.
"This will link me to him," Auren murmured, almost like a prayer. "Blood calls to blood… no matter how far."
Riven leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Let's just hope it calls the right way and doesn't bring him here instantly."
Auren ignored the comment. He began chanting — low, guttural words in a language older than stone. The bowl trembled. The blood began to rise in the air, forming strands that twisted unnaturally before collapsing back in with a hiss. The room's air temperature dropped.
Then — crack. A sudden flash of light burst from the bowl, burning out like a dying spark. The blood turned black and fell still.
Auren's lips pulled into a thin snarl. "Wrong channel… too much noise."
Lyara watched him silently, her eyes studying the strange darkness that lingered in the bowl. Riven took a step closer. "So that was it? First try and it dies out?"
"No," Auren said sharply, lifting his head. "That was just… the warm-up."