The warmth of the shop's old oil lanterns flickered against faded walls and rolled maps. Nocth stood silent, still awkward with the idea of staying for dinner, unsure what came next. The little girl had run behind a curtain for something she excitedly whispered was a secret gift. Her father remained behind the counter, scratching the side of his stubbled cheek, as if debating what to say next.
Finally, with a slow exhale, the man extended his hand.
"You can call me Relin. I was once called other things... but these days, I prefer names that don't come with weight."
Nocth blinked at him.
Relin gave a faint smile. "I was never one for responsibility. Maps are easy. They don't cry. Don't get hungry. And they always show you where you've been, never where you'll end up. That's how I like it."
As if summoned by the words, the girl reappeared, tiny feet pattering across the floor, carrying something wrapped in an old handkerchief.
Relin reached down and ruffled her hair. "And this little spark is Anni. It means 'Innocent Joy' in Old Vaellic. She's the only thing I've ever let reroute my course."
Anni beamed up at Nocth, hugging the wrapped item close. She didn't offer it yet—only smiled like a sunrise unafraid of clouds.
Relin's gaze returned to Nocth. "And you? What do they call you, boy?"
Nocth hesitated, the name catching on his breath like something living and uncertain.
"Nocth."
Relin repeated it quietly, as though tasting the word. "Nocth… Twilight Between Stars."
Nocth's brow lifted, only slightly.
Relin gave a quiet hum, rubbing his fingers together. "Old tongue again. Rare name. Soft, but cold. It's the space that comes before dreaming and after memory. The place stars go when they die."
"I don't remember where I got it," Nocth answered truthfully. "It was just… there."
Relin stared at him for a moment longer, not pressing, just nodding.
With Anni cheerfully leading the way, Relin waved his hand toward the front of the shop. Spiritual script burst into golden threadwork in the air before him. Symbols spiraled and compressed, layers folding into one another. Lines arced like constellations forming a gate.
Nocth paused.
What he was seeing wasn't a simple lock. It was a spirit formation—but far beyond the kinds taught to initiates. Even beyond anything he'd ever seen among Selun'Thael's city guards or minor aristocrats.
Seven layered halos spun into a sealed core—each inscribed with sigils that shimmered between silver, opal blue, and ashen violet. The structure pulsed briefly before collapsing inward like a mirror folding onto itself.
It vanished.
The shop appeared ordinary again. Door closed. Windows dimmed.
Nocth narrowed his eyes.
"That wasn't grade 7. That was something… beyond."
Relin looked back and caught his expression. He said nothing—only raised a brow and smirked like a man hiding a sword under a cloak of soup spoons.
They turned toward a side path—a shortcut through Mhaerun's older district hills.
The evening had deepened.
Above them, the sun hovered like a bleeding citadel of flame, pouring rays of crimson gold across the cobbled stones. Towers far away stretched like glass fingers, catching the last light and throwing it back in fractured rainbows.
But the beauty was broken.
A strange pressure filled the air.
Five cloaked figures emerged from the alley ahead. Their garments were of a bluish-green hue, glinting subtly like the underbelly of a predatory serpent. Mist coiled faintly beneath their boots.
One among them—taller than the others, his cloak fluttering unnaturally even in the still air—began to laugh.
A cracked, maniacal sound. Like glass scraping across teeth.
Relin stopped. Anni gripped his sleeve.
The man removed his hood only partially, just enough to expose part of his pale mouth curling into a too-wide grin.
"None of you are going anywhere," he whispered—then laughed again, louder.
"Especially you… little orphan boy."
His gloved hand pointed straight at Nocth.
Nocth didn't flinch.
"Velisar Mhaerun," Relin muttered beneath his breath, eyes narrowing.
Velisar licked his lips slowly, a demented predator savoring the scent before the kill.
"You should feel honored, runt," Velisar said. "A rather generous client wants you crippled, permanently. Paid me quite well to make sure you bleed until your veins forget how to hum."
His four cloaked companions stood still, but the air around them shifted.
Their Celestial Sparks became visible—semi-transparent spirals of spiritual essence that pulsed outward, gathering from the surrounding ether like storm funnels feeding into their bodies.
Each one's aura screamed with peak-tier pressure:
134 veins.
And one—142.
All within the Class 4 veined: Woven Core
The spiritual sparks bled a deep white-blue, drifting from their skin like steam rising from cracked divine ice.
Anni whimpered, clutching Relin's hand.
Relin stepped slightly ahead, shielding her. His left palm began glowing faintly.
Nocth said nothing. He only stared.
The man who'd once made a Clown fall silent… now stared at five killers.
But Velisar's smile widened.
"Come then, 'Twilight Between Stars.' Let's see how bright you burn before we snuff you out."