Erik entered Central through the eastern gate. Behind him, the morning sun caught the stone walls, turning them into golden bricks. His steps were quick, purposeful, carrying him straight toward the Adventurers' Guild.
Inside, Shasa was at her desk, arranging her papers for the day.
"Shasa!" Erik called.
Her head shot up. "Erik, you're back—huh! You're hurt!" She rushed forward, eyes wide.
"It's just a scratch. Shasa, I need your help with something—"
She ignored him, ducking under the table for a medical kit. "Let's stop the bleeding first."
"It won't stop." Erik pressed his hand over hers, forcing her to still. His voice dropped, heavy with the weight of what he carried. Then he told her everything—the Wraith, the memory, the blood oath.
By the end, her face had hardened. She put the kit away.
"Wait outside. I'll be there in a bit."
Erik waited.
When she returned, Shasa wore a travel cloak and carried a basket covered by cloth. "Let's go," she said simply.
"So, how do we find the kid first?" she asked as they walked.
"The tavern," Erik replied.
---
The tavern sat on the edge of the slums, its walls warped with damp, its sign barely clinging to its rusted chain.
The crooked board read Closed.
"Wait here," Erik told her. He pushed the door open.
Inside, the air stank of stale ale and sweat. The bar owner stood behind the counter, his thick arms crossed.
"Can't you read? We're closed," he barked.
"You didn't have that courage when they walked in," Erik said, stepping closer.
"What the hell are you talking about? Get out already!" The man sneered, trying for bravado.
"The woman who worked here. Where is she?"
The bar owner snorted. "That whore? Ran off with some bastard, I bet. Haven't seen her in a month."
Erik's hand flicked. A knife gleamed, then slammed through the man's palm into the counter. The wood shuddered with the force.
The man's scream was cut short when Erik clamped a hand over his mouth.
When the convulsions subsided, Erik let him go.
"What do you want? What the fuck do you want?" the man sobbed, crumpling to his knees.
"How can you lie so easily?" Erik asked, voice calm, almost curious. "Don't you feel even a little guilty?"
"I don't know what you mean! I swear to God—I don't know where she is!"
"I know where she is," Erik said coldly. "I know she was raped and tortured. Right here. In this tavern."
The man's eyes widened. His breath came in ragged bursts.
"And I know you let them do it. You took their money."
The man broke into tears. "No! Please—I was forced! They said they'd kill me if I didn't! I swear!"
"Shh." Erik hushed him, almost tender. "Keep your voice down. Where's her daughter?"
The man blinked, shaking. "Her daughter? She… she was taken to an orphanage."
"Name."
"I don't remember! Wait—there's a paper, a receipt. It's behind the counter—"
"If I take the knife out, you'll pick it up for me?"
"Yes, yes—just pull it out—"
"You know what? Leave it there."
"What—?"
Steel flashed. Erik sliced the man's arm clean off at the elbow. The severed limb hit the floor with a dull thud.
His scream was muffled when Erik stomped down hard on his mouth. Teeth cracked beneath his boot.
When the sound dwindled to pitiful sobs, Erik moved behind the counter and found the crumpled paper. He studied it, then tucked it away.
"You knew she had a daughter. You knew the only reason she worked those nights was for her. You didn't do it because you had no choice."
He looked down at the whimpering heap on the floor. "You did it for the money."
The man whimpered, "Oh, God…"
"No." Erik crouched, voice dropping into a whisper. "There's no God here."
He yanked the knife free. The man's ruined arm collapsed to the floor. Then Erik drove the blade straight into his right eye.
The man convulsed, choking on his own screams. Erik leaned in and, without a word, pushed the knife into the other.
He left it there.
---
Outside, the tavern door creaked shut. Erik handed the paper to Shasa.
"That's where she is. Let's go."
Shasa didn't speak. She simply followed, her steps quiet.
The streets were hushed at this hour. Boots against stone, the faint call of merchants in the distance.
"He deserved it," Erik said at last.
"I know."
"Then stop looking down. It doesn't suit you at all."
Her lips pressed thin. For a while, the only sound was their footsteps.
Then, without warning, Shasa darted ahead. She spun around, blocking his path with a grin stretched wide across her face—the corners almost reaching her ears.
"How do I look now?" she asked.
"Really weird," Erik muttered, brushing past her.
"Hmph! Would it kill you to compliment your sister once in a while?"
He didn't respond.
They walked in silence again until Shasa broke it, her voice softer now.
"Time works wonders, huh? When the time comes for you to leave… someone else will be joining our family."
Erik frowned. "Hey, I'm not leaving the family. I'll be here until I find them. Then I'll come back."
"Okay, okay. I'll hold you to those words." She tiptoed to ruffle his hair.
"Come on, then. Let's go pick up my little sister."
Erik slowed a step. "So she's already family, huh?"
"Of course," Shasa said, smiling.
Erik followed.