Oakhaven did not live up to its peaceful name. As the trio crested the final ridge of the Borderland foothills, the city revealed itself not as a sanctuary, but as a sprawling, soot-stained industrial beast. Massive walls of iron-reinforced timber loomed over a moat of stagnant water, and the sky above the central district was perpetually choked by the grey plumes of smithy fires and mana-foundries. This was the gateway to the Central Provinces—a place where gold was God, and the Adventurer's Guild acted as its high priesthood.
"Keep the wrap tight," Ria whispered, her hand hovering near the dagger at her belt.
Kaelen adjusted the heavy, oil-treated canvas bandage that covered his right arm from fingertip to shoulder. It was thick enough to mask the blackened scales, but it couldn't fully suppress the heat. To anyone passing, he simply looked like a veteran who had taken a nasty burn or a rot-curse. He kept his hood pulled low to hide the occasional, involuntary flicker of gold in his irises.
"Next!" a Warden shouted at the North Gate.
The queue moved with agonizing slowness. At the front, a massive brass archway spanned the entrance—the "Echo-Grip." It was a standard security measure in major cities, designed to detect high-level artifacts or unstable mana-bonds that might threaten the populace.
"Elara," Kaelen muttered, his voice tight. "That arch. If I walk under it, is the dragon going to scream?"
Elara bit her lip, her eyes scanning the magical ley-lines woven into the brass. "It's a passive scanner, Kaelen. It looks for 'peaks' in the ambient Echo. If you stay calm—if you keep the fire pushed deep inside—it might just read you as a mid-tier combatant with a lingering enchantment. But if Ignis reacts..."
"I DO NOT HIDE FROM BRASS TRINKETS," the dragon hissed in his mind.
You do today, Kaelen thought back with a ferocity that surprised even himself. If we get caught, there's no more feeding. No more Lens. Just a cold cell and an executioner's axe. Sit. Down.
To his surprise, the dragon actually ebbed. The vibrating heat in his arm softened to a dull thrum.
"Purpose of entry?" the Warden asked as they reached the front. He was a bored-looking man with a clipboard and a "Sun-Stave" leaning against his chair.
"Registration," Ria said, stepping forward with a confidence she didn't feel. She held out a small leather pouch containing the shimmering dust of the Echo-Lens. "We're here to charter a Bronze-Tier Company. The Ember Spark."
The Warden peered into the pouch. His eyebrows shot up. "High-purity residue. Scavenged or earned?"
"Found in a ruin south of the Crevice," Ria lied smoothly. "My friend here took a curse from the Guardian for his trouble." She gestured to Kaelen's wrapped arm.
The Warden glanced at Kaelen, then at the brass archway. "Step through. One by one."
Ria went first. The arch hummed a low, neutral blue. Elara followed, the light shifting to a slightly brighter teal, acknowledging her status as a trained, albeit poor, mage.
Then came Kaelen.
As he stepped beneath the heavy brass, the air seemed to thicken. He felt the "Echo-Grip" reaching out, trying to clasp onto the energy in his chest. The brand over his heart burned like a hot coal. The archway's hum began to rise in pitch, moving from a low drone to a sharp, vibrating whistle. The blue light began to flicker, tinged with a dangerous, bleeding violet.
"Wait," the Warden said, standing up. "The resonance is spiking. You, the big one. Stop."
Kaelen froze. His heart hammered against the dragon-brand. He could feel the "Hunger" reacting to the scanner's probe, wanting to reach out and devour the brass archway itself.
"Is there a problem?" Elara asked, her voice high and nervous. She stepped toward the Warden, intentionally stumbling and dropping her small bag of herbs. "Oh! I'm so sorry, I'm just so exhausted from the road—"
The distraction worked for a heartbeat. As the Warden looked down at Elara, Kaelen took a deep breath. He didn't push against the archway's probe. Instead, he did what he had done in the Crevice—he imitated the stone of the city walls. He made himself cold, silent, and empty. He imagined the fire inside him being buried under a mile of damp earth.
The archway's whistle died down. The violet tint faded back into a steady, dull blue.
The Warden looked back up, scowling. "Glitchy piece of junk. Probably the residue in your pouch causing a feedback loop." He waved them through with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Go on. Get to the Guild Hall before the afternoon rush. And tell your friend to get that arm seen to; he smells like a chimney."
They didn't stop until they were three blocks deep into the city, lost in the chaotic noise of the Merchant's Row. Only then did Kaelen let out a breath that came out as a literal cloud of steam.
"That was too close," Ria whispered, her face pale. "We can't do that again."
"I know," Kaelen said, his hand clutching his chest. "But we're in."
The Adventurer's Guild Hall was a cathedral of commerce. Hundreds of men and women in various states of armor and finery crowded the floor, shouting over one another at the bounty boards. At the far end, behind a long counter of polished mahogany, sat the Clerks—the true rulers of Oakhaven.
They waited for an hour before being called to a station manned by a middle-aged woman with spectacles perched on the end of her nose.
"Ember Spark Company," she read from the form Ria had filled out. "Bronze-Tier. Founders: Ria of the Borderlands, Elara the Weaver, and... Kaelen?"
"Just Kaelen," he said.
"Very well. The residue you provided covers the registration fee and the first month's tax. You are officially recognized by the Central Guild." She stamped a piece of heavy parchment with a magical seal and slid three copper-and-brass badges across the counter. "These track your 'Contribution Points.' Complete jobs, rise in rank. Fail jobs, and we revoke the charter. Clear?"
"Clear," Ria said, pinning her badge to her leather jerkin.
"One more thing," the Clerk said, looking over her glasses at Kaelen. "The Gilded Lilies filed a report this morning. Something about a rogue 'unauthorized channeler' in the Crevice. Description was vague, but they mentioned a boy with a 'fire-blighted arm'."
The air around Kaelen's boots began to shimmer with heat. Ria stepped in front of him, leaning on the counter. "Lots of blights in the mines, Clerk. My friend here got his from a leaking mana-pipe. Is there a bounty on this rogue?"
The Clerk shrugged. "Not yet. But Lysa of the Lilies has a long memory. If I were you, I'd take a job that gets you out of the city quickly. There's a contract for the Iron-Mine outskirts—something is harassing the supply lines. Low pay, but it's far from the Lilies' usual haunts."
"We'll take it," Kaelen said, reaching out to grab his badge.
As his blackened fingers brushed the metal, the badge didn't just stay copper. For a split second, the etched flame in the center of the badge glowed a deep, incandescent orange.
The Clerk didn't notice, but as they walked away, Kaelen felt the dragon stir again.
"THEY LABEL US 'BRONZE', ECHO," Ignis whispered. "THEY DO NOT REALIZE THE EMBERS HAVE ALREADY STARTED TO SPREAD."
Kaelen looked at the badge in his hand. He had a name. He had a team. And he had exactly six days and four hours before the hunger returned.
"Let's go," Kaelen said to his friends. "We have a job to do."