Silence stretched in the ruined room, thin and sharp.
Kael stood with his hands raised, every muscle tight, watching the three scavengers decide whether he was worth more alive or dead. The fire between them crackled softly, throwing shadows across cracked walls and broken furniture.
The woman was still studying him. She had sharp eyes and a scar cutting through her left eyebrow, pale against dark skin. She looked like someone who had survived by noticing things others missed.
"You say you can make it worth our while," she said. "That usually means you can't."
Kael lowered his hands slowly. "It means I know what it costs to help someone like me."
One of the men snorted. He was broad shouldered, with a hammer resting across his knees. "Inquisitors ring the bells and you just happen to fall out of the floor into our laps. That's not luck. That's a death sentence."
Kael nodded. "For me. Maybe for you too, if they search this place."
That did it.
The air shifted. Fear crept in, subtle but real.
The third scavenger, younger than the others, glanced toward the ceiling as if expecting armored boots to crash through it at any moment. "They don't come down here often," he said, uncertain.
"They come when something breaks the rules," the woman replied. Her gaze never left Kael. "And something definitely broke tonight."
Kael felt the presence stir faintly at her words. Not hungry. Not aggressive.
Aware.
"I won't stay long," Kael said. "I just need time. Food. Something to bind my shoulder. Then I'll move on."
The woman laughed quietly. "That's what everyone says."
She stood, knife still in her hand, and walked a slow circle around him. Kael stayed still. He could feel lines of weight shifting again, subtle threads tugging toward him and recoiling.
She stopped in front of him. "What did you do."
It was not a question.
Kael hesitated.
Telling the truth could get him killed. Lying might be worse. People like this survived by sensing weakness and falsehood.
"I killed someone I wasn't supposed to," he said finally.
The young one sucked in a breath. The man with the hammer swore under his breath.
The woman nodded once. "That explains the bells."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "And that thing inside you. I can feel it. Like standing too close to a deep pit."
Kael's jaw tightened. "You're sensitive."
"Enough," she said. "Not enough to explain it."
She straightened and stepped back. "Name."
"Kael."
She considered, then nodded toward the others. "I'm Ryn. That idiot is Boros. The quiet one is Ise."
Boros grunted. Ise gave a stiff nod.
Ryn sheathed her knife. "Here's how this works, Kael. You don't stay for free. You don't bring the bells to our door without paying."
Kael let out a slow breath. "Name the price."
Ryn smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "You're going to do something for us."
Boros frowned. "Ryn."
She held up a hand. "Not now."
Her eyes returned to Kael. "There's a man in the underdistricts who calls himself a broker. He sells people to the upper city. Sells information too. Slaves. Runaways. Anyone he can profit from."
Kael already knew the type.
"He's protected," Ryn continued. "Not officially. But guards look the other way. We can't touch him."
Kael felt the presence stir again, slow and interested.
"What do you want," he asked.
Ryn's voice hardened. "I want him gone."
The room felt tighter.
Boros shifted uneasily. "That's not a small job."
"I know," Ryn said. "That's why we're asking him."
All eyes turned back to Kael.
He understood then. This was not just a test. It was a calculation.
If he succeeded, they gained protection. If he failed, the problem solved itself.
Kael did not resent them for it.
He would have done the same.
"When," he asked.
"Tonight," Ryn said. "Before the bells stop ringing."
Kael nodded. "Show me where."
Ryn raised an eyebrow. "You didn't even ask how dangerous he is."
Kael met her gaze. "I already know."
She studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. "Bind his shoulder," she told Ise. "Feed him."
Ise moved quickly, pulling out a roll of cloth and a small jar of foul smelling paste. Kael hissed as the paste touched his burned flesh, but the pain dulled quickly.
As they worked, Kael felt something else settle inside him.
Resolve.
This was not survival anymore.
This was leverage.
They finished in silence. Kael ate stale bread and dried meat, forcing it down despite his nausea. Strength crept back into his limbs, thin but real.
Ryn led him through narrow passages and collapsed corridors, deeper into the underdistricts. The bells faded behind them, replaced by distant murmurs and the drip of water.
They stopped outside a reinforced door set into a stone wall.
"Inside," Ryn said, "he keeps records. Names. Routes. Who he sells to. Who he reports to."
Kael nodded.
She hesitated, then spoke quietly. "If you do this, you don't just buy shelter. You make enemies."
Kael placed his hand on the door.
"I already have those."
The presence pulsed once, heavier than before.
Behind the door, a line of authority burned faintly.
Not noble.
Not sanctioned.
But stolen and rotten.
Kael pushed the door open.