"I've got it," I said.
Muir frowned. "Got what?"
I looked down at the ash again, rubbing it between my fingers. It smeared easily. Covered. Changed.
"A way into the harbor."
Revik didn't hesitate. "Explain."
I wiped my hand against my pants and stepped back into the center of the ring, already thinking it through as I spoke.
"They're watching for us," I said. "For people like us. Armed. Clean. Out of place."
Muir crossed his arms. "That's not new."
"No," I agreed. "But this is."
I dragged my sleeve across the edge of the fire pit again, darkening the fabric further. Then I ran my hand through my hair, loosening it from its tie until strands fell free.
"Dock workers aren't clean," I said. "They're not polished. They're not—" I gestured vaguely at all of us. "—this."
Revik's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're suggesting we walk in covered in dirt and hope no one looks twice?"
"I'm suggesting," I corrected, "that we stop giving them something to look at."
Muir tilted his head. "You think blending in is enough to get past increased guard?"
"No," I said simply. "But it gets us close enough to listen."
Silence settled between us.
Thinking silence.
Good.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice slightly.
"We don't go in as fighters," I continued. "We go in as people who belong there. Laborers. Runners. People no one bothers remembering."
Revik huffed. "You think you can pull that off?"
I shrugged. "I've tried harder things."
That earned a flicker of a smirk from him.
Muir wasn't smiling.
He was watching me—serious now.
"Lyra," he said slowly, "that harbor isn't just workers and merchants. If what we think is happening is true—"
"I know better than most exactly what's happening," I cut in.
His jaw tightened.
The thread pulsed.
Sharp.
Watching.
I ignored it.
"This doesn't replace Orenda," I added, glancing briefly toward the direction of the tents. "It supports her."
Revik shifted. "Or it puts her in more danger."
"It keeps her from having to go deeper," I shot back. "We take the risk instead."
"You mean you take the risk."
Muir ran a hand through his hair, pacing once along the edge of the ring.
"You're assuming they won't recognize you," he said.
I held his gaze.
"They won't."
A pause.
Then—
"I've done this before."
That slowed him.
Not stopped.
But slowed.
Revik's expression shifted—less skepticism, more calculation.
"Stealth alone won't be enough," he said. "You'll need behavior. Accent. Timing."
"I know."
His eyes flicked over me once more, assessing.
Then he nodded once.
"Alright," he said. "That could work."
Muir stopped pacing.
"That part—maybe."
Revik glanced at him. "What other part are you thinking of?"
Muir looked back at me. "How are you getting out?"
The thread pulsed again.
Stronger this time.
Interested.
I exhaled slowly.
"We don't stay long," I said. "We move, we listen, we leave. No heroics."
Revik snorted. "You? No heroics?"
"Try to keep up," I shot back.
That earned a quiet laugh from him.
"Who goes?" he asked.
I didn't hesitate.
"I do."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"No."
The word came immediately.
Flat.
Final.
I blinked at him.
"That wasn't a discussion."
"It is now."
The air shifted.
Not playful anymore.
Not light.
The thread tightened slightly.
I felt it—
like a breath held too long.
I stepped closer to Muir.
"You're being watched," I said quietly. "You said it yourself."
His jaw clenched.
"That doesn't make this a good idea."
"It makes it the only one."
Revik looked between us. "He's not wrong about the risk."
"I know the risk."
Muir's voice dropped. "Do you?"
"Yes."
The answer came without hesitation.
Because I did.
Because I'd lived it.
Because I knew exactly what it meant to disappear into places like that and come back out—
—or not.
Silence stretched.
Heavy.
Then—
"I'm coming."
Revik.
Of course.
I looked at him.
"You'll stand out more than I will."
"Then I'll stand out where it matters," he said easily. "Edge of the docks. Not inside."
Muir exhaled sharply through his nose.
"And me?" he asked.
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
Because this was the part that mattered.
"You stay," I said.
His head snapped up. "Absolutely not."
"You stay," I repeated, firmer now. "If something goes wrong, we need someone who can move through official channels without raising suspicion."
His expression darkened. "You mean someone with the right name. One that still means something there."
"Yes."
The truth landed between us.
Ugly.
Necessary.
The thread pulsed again.
Not annoyance.
Approval.
I ignored that too.
Muir held my gaze for a long moment.
Then looked away first.
"…I don't like this," he muttered.
"Good," I said. "That makes two of us."
Revik pushed off the post, already moving.
"When?"
"Tonight," I said.
No hesitation.
No time to second guess.
The sooner we moved, the less time there was for word to spread—
the less time there was for Orenda to be the only one walking into that harbor.
Muir cursed under his breath.
Revik just grinned.
"Finally," he said.
I glanced once toward the tents.
Toward where a small girl with no voice had chosen to fight anyway.
My grip tightened slightly on the practice blade still in my hand.
"Yeah," I murmured.
Behind my ribs—
the thread pulsed.
Steady.
Aware.
Waiting.
Good.
Let him watch.
Tonight—
I step into the dark.