The walls, built of moonstone and well-crafted redwood beams with intricate carvings, made up most of the building's outer structure. The large, curtained windows allowed little to be seen from outside, but the cheerful hum of voices and music drifted through.
Zephyr pushed open the heavy, metallic door. The cheerful voice of a young maiden singing mixed with the rich aroma of fire-roasted meats. The bartender, though busy, managed a short wave in greeting.
Rounded, stone beams support the upper floor and the lanterns attached to them. The walls are littered with so many travel souvenirs of different places and missions commissioned by the guild.
The tavern itself was packed with hunters. Several long tables were occupied by them and judging by their laughter, they were either telling jokes or great, perhaps embarrassing, tales of their adventures. The other, smaller tables were occupied by people who were dancing, occasionally pulling a waitress amidst their dancing group.
Across the crowded hall, Zephyr spotted the man he was searching for. Shoulder-length brown hair, neatly styled. A chiseled face, radiant in the lantern light. And those amber eyes—watching the singing maiden with a warm, distant gaze.
As he saw the man, memories of him flashed before his eyes. Both were brothers by blood, actually half brother, sharing the same father.
He weaved through the crowd, reaching for the chair opposite the man.
"Dantes, are you sure you should be here?" Zephyr leaned in, keeping his voice low.
Across the table, Dantes didn't react immediately. His amber eyes stayed fixed on the singing maiden, reflecting the flickering lantern light. For a moment, it was as if he hadn't heard.
"Is it wrong to entertain myself after a long day?", Dantes chuckled, his eyes still on her.
"Not at all, but for a married man like you, it should be.", Zephyr snapped his fingers, forcing to look at him.
Dantes exhaled, finally breaking his gaze from the stage. "Strange, isn't it?" His voice was quieter now. "Feels like I got married just yesterday. And yet, a whole year has passed."
Zephyr didn't respond. Instead, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a dagger. It hit the wooden table with a dull thud, its rusted blade catching the light—red-tinged, almost as if it was stained with dried blood.
"Tell him. The job is done. Just as he intended it to be."
Dantes collected himself together and studied the dagger in silence. After thinking for a while, his brows furrowed deep in thought.
He could still remember it clearly—the day he pushed Sparrow down the path of the 'Seekers'. The same day their father refused to acknowledge Zephyr as his own blood.
He originally planned to let Zephyr go on his own. However, he had no choice but to take him under his wing.
The so-called Seekers were never meant to exist.
That was what the world believed, the holy scriptures preached, the kings and scholars whispered to the masses.
Dantes knew better. He had seen one. He had made one.
Power was never given—it was taken, stolen, bargained for. And Seekers paid in ways no ordinary man could understand. Some gave their names, their memories, their very existence, leaving nothing but whispers in the wind. Others sacrificed their humanity, their flesh, until they became something else entirely.
And they still existed within the shadows of the light, fighting against the ever-ending threats that grow with each passing day.
Zephyr had made his sacrifice long ago—desperate to prove himself, desperate to be acknowledged. And Dantes… Dantes had been the one to push him toward it.
He wondered if his half-brother ever resented him for that.
"Make sure not to die out there"
"I will keep that in mind" Zephyr waved his hands as he got up from the table.
It was already late at night. The hunters gathered in the tavern slowly dispersed except for a few nightwatchers.
Dantes stepped out of the tavern, which remained quiet as the night winds breezed past him, sending shivers down his spine.
He adjusted his cloak, taking a slow step forward- then stopped. Something felt... off.
A faint shift in the alleyway caught his eye. He turned his head slightly, pretending to adjust his collar, just enough to catch a glimpse. But disappeared the moment he turned.
Dantes quickened his pace, but before he could slip into the winding streets leading home, a voice—calm, regal, and unmistakably commanding—cut through the night.
"Dantes."
He stilled. He turned his head just slightly, letting his gaze settle on the figure emerging from the shadows.
Draped in deep crimson, embroidered with golden patterns that mimicked brushstrokes, the man looked entirely out of place in the damp, narrow alley. His presence was effortless, like a portrait perfectly set within its frame. Even here, where filth and secrecy reigned, he seemed untouchable.
Dantes exhaled slowly.
The one who had commissioned the mission.
"You shouldn't be here," Dantes said, his voice low.
The man smiled, stepping further out of the dark. "Neither should you."
Dantes didn't move. His fingers twitched at his side, but he kept them still. "Why are you here?" Dantes asked, keeping his voice even.
The figure took a slow step forward. Up close, his presence was suffocating. Not in size or strength, but in sheer weight—like a statue carved by hands that had never known hesitation.
"To ensure my investment does not go astray."
Dantes stiffened, fingers brushing over the dagger's hilt. The man tilted his head slightly, watching him with something between amusement and warning.
"You completed the task. That is commendable," he said.
"It was a simple job", Dantes' voice was flat, controlled.
A chuckle, quiet yet sharp. "Nothing is ever simple when you need a Seeker."
At the mention of the word, Dantes felt a chill at the back of his neck. He kept his face unreadable, but inside, something coiled tight.
"Walk with me," he said. "There is much to discuss."
Dantes considered refusing. He considered turning and walking away.
But the noble's gaze held him there—steady, expectant, unshaken.
He sighed, letting the tension settle in his chest. Then, without a word, he stepped forward, falling into stride beside the man.
The night swallowed them both.