The journey toward Blackros was uneventful at first—nothing more than the crunch of boots on frost-hardened earth and the whistle of wind through the trees. The company moved swiftly, the rhythmic sound of their steps matching the pulse of Ava's thoughts. Each step carried them closer to something she couldn't outrun, no matter how fast she moved, no matter how far she traveled.
Her companions were quiet. Nicholas, Ash, Sil, and even Adam kept their distance, knowing she needed space to gather the fragments of her past, the pieces of herself that had scattered in the wake of that voice—the voice from Luthis, the one that called her by a name that hadn't been spoken in centuries. Avarielle.
Ava could feel it now, like a shadow in her chest. The weight of it. The weight of a life that she had tried to bury and the guilt that had festered beneath the layers of her new identity as Queen of the Dark Reach.
But Blackros was ahead. And whatever it was that had called her—whatever had whispered that name in the dark—was following. It was getting closer. And it would stop at nothing to reclaim her.
---
By the time the sun began to set, the group had reached the outskirts of Blackros. The city loomed before them, an ancient place steeped in mystery and forgotten power. The high walls of Blackros gleamed under the blood-red sky, and the spires of the city's towers seemed to scrape the heavens themselves.
They stopped at the outer gates, where a pair of armored sentries stood, their eyes wary but respectful. Ava didn't speak. She didn't need to. She had once been here before, a lifetime ago—before her rise to power, before the betrayal that had torn the Ashen Circle apart.
The sentries didn't question her. They merely stepped aside and let her pass.
---
The streets of Blackros were shadowed, as if the city itself hid its secrets beneath layers of forgotten memories. The buildings were old, weathered stone that had been worn smooth by time, each one carrying a different mark of age and history. The air smelled faintly of incense and salt, as though the city had been built atop an ancient sea.
Ava's steps were measured as she moved through the city, the others falling in line behind her. She could feel the eyes on her, hidden in darkened alleyways, from the windows of long-abandoned homes. Whispers followed her like an invisible cloak, but none dared approach. They knew her. They remembered.
She didn't need to look to know the path she was on. She had walked these streets once, long ago, under a different name. Avarielle.
---
They reached the central square, where a massive stone fountain stood, its waters flowing in an endless stream, shimmering under the moonlight. The Gilded House's emissary was waiting for them there, dressed in the regal robes of a high-ranking noble. His face was pale, his eyes cold and calculating.
"Ava," he said, bowing slightly. "It's been a long time."
Her name hung in the air like a bitter taste, and for a moment, she allowed herself to feel the weight of it.
"You've been waiting for me," she said, her voice low, but with a sharpness that made the air around her crackle.
"Of course," he replied, his smile thin and unpleasant. "The Gild has its interests. And you... well, you are still of great value to us, Avarielle."
At the sound of the name, a tremor ran through Ava's body, but she masked it quickly.
"Don't call me that," she said, her voice a command rather than a request. "Ava is enough."
The emissary's smile faltered, but he recovered swiftly, his posture straightening as he handed her a scroll sealed with the mark of the Gild.
"We have the vault transport ready for you," he said. "You and your companions are to escort it through the Eastern Gates, to the High Treasury. Once there, your payment will be delivered. All of it."
Ava took the scroll without hesitation, her eyes scanning the seal before she tore it open. She skimmed the contents—details about the vault, the route they would take, the expected hazards along the way. It was nothing she hadn't seen before. Nothing that suggested danger... at least not on the surface.
But the name that had been whispered through her mind, the one that had stirred from the depths of the earth... it had to be here, in Blackros.
Ava's thoughts were interrupted as the emissary spoke again.
"There's something else," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "The vault contains more than gold and jewels. It holds knowledge. Secrets. The kind of power that—"
"I don't care about your secrets," Ava interrupted, her voice icy. "You're paying us to deliver a vault. And that's what we'll do."
The emissary's eyes flickered, but he said nothing more. He turned to leave, his footsteps echoing against the stone pavement as he disappeared into the shadows.
---
Ava stood in silence for a long moment, her eyes flicking to her companions.
"We'll take the job," she said finally, her voice steady. "But be prepared. Something is off about this."
Nicholas stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with his usual mischief. "If it's bait, we'll snap it up before it even knows what hit it."
Ash nodded. "I agree. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that when you're dealing with the Gild, you never trust the gilded edges."
Ava's lips curled into a thin smile. "Exactly."
She turned toward the winding road that led deeper into the city, her companions falling into place behind her.
As they moved toward the vault's transport, Ava felt the presence once again—the weight of something ancient and powerful drawing closer. And this time, she couldn't outrun it.
It was here.