---
The last light of day had vanished without anyone noticing.
Shadows stretched long now, melting across the courtyard stones.
Lanterns hadn't been lit yet—not many. Just a few flickers in the windows above, quiet glows behind closed shutters.
And then—
The old stone door behind the fountain creaked open.
The sound wasn't loud.
But it cut through the quiet like a thread pulled tight.
Finn turned first.
Then Aurora.
And finally John—
who'd been staring into the darkening sky like he was hoping the others might drop from it.
Boots stepped onto the stone.
Jake's boots. Then Sally's. Then King's.
Vey emerged last.
His body language relaxed, his smug grin still intact.
And, walking out like he hadn't been gone at all.
He dusted off his sleeves as if the climb had been inconvenient, but not difficult.
John blinked.
Then stepped forward.
"…Vey?"
Vey looked up.
Eyes bright, unreadable.
He smiled like someone greeting an old friend at the market.
"Oh. Hey."
John didn't move for a second.
Then:
"You just…"
He trailed off.
Finn, however, did not.
He nearly choked on his own breath.
**"WAIT—WHAT?!"
He pointed so hard it looked like his arm might detach.**
"He was MISSING! And now he's just—he's just here?"
Aurora's face went still.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel.
"This feels suspicious."
Jake smirked, stepping down onto the path.
"Yeah. We had the same reaction."
Sally crossed her arms, unimpressed.
"More like déjà vu at this point."
John stepped forward.
He placed a hand on Jake's shoulder.
"Back in one piece, huh.
Jake smirked.
"Good to see you too, john."
Sally walked up next,
She reached out, and john met her halfway in a quick, quiet hug.
John, a little embarrassed.
Then,
King stepped toward Aurora.
He gently patted her head.
"Staying out of trouble?"
"Tried to," Aurora mumbled, "but didn't work out."
Finn threw his hands up dramatically.
"Hey, I'm here too, you know."
Jake snorted.
"Shh. Can't we ignore that a bit longer?"
"Trust me, I tried," King added with a rare deadpan.
That cracked Sally's composure.
She rolled her eyes but smiled as she walked over to Finn.
"Alright, alright," she sighed.
"Come here, you idiot."
She tugged him into a brief, one-armed hug.
He blinked, surprised, before grinning and leaning into it.
"Knew you missed me."
"Don't push it."
King followed after a beat.
He didn't say anything—just held out a fist.
Finn bumped it lightly.
"Glad you're okay, man."
King nodded.
Then Finn leaned back,
arms wide like he'd just won something.
"Now, if one of you could just confirm I was the most missed, I can finally rest easy tonight."
Jake didn't miss a beat.
"Yeah. We missed your voice the most."
He paused.
"Specifically the part where it stops talking."
A second of silence—
then the whole group burst out laughing.
Even King cracked a rare smile.
The tension eased just enough to feel like breathing again.
The sound wasn't loud.
But it felt loud—
rising into a sky that had gone darker than they realized.
Jake glanced up.
"…It's night time already, huh."
Sally blinked. "Hadn't even noticed yet."
Finn rubbed the back of his neck.
"Guess time flies when you're being hunted and possibly haunted."
---
Aurora turned toward Vey.
"And you." She pointed.
Vey raised both hands in mock surrender, grin easy and unapologetic.
"Relax. I didn't betray you or anything."
"See, no handcuffs." He said, waving his hands around.
Finn was still processing.
"Didn't betray—dude, you vanished into the walls like some ghost!"
Vey nodded solemnly.
"Ah yes. Walls."
quite useful, aren't they?" he said mildly.
"They keep things in. They keep things out.
And, sometimes… they open."
"Also, for the record—"
"Is the ghost theory still on the table?"
---
Finn stood there silently,
And, for a while, so did everyone else.
John was staring at vey, unamused.
Questions forming on his mind with every passing second.
He stepped forward,
folding his arms.
"Vey, what were you doing with the workers?"
Their eyes flicked to john,
Sally spoke up,
"...John,
What do you mean?"
"With the workers?" Jake echoed, confused.
"Ohhh... right."
So you did see me, huh."
"Wait, what's going on.
Saw what, john?"
"Am I missing something here or are you two some kind of secret besties?" Finn raised an eyebrow.
John didn't answer.
He looked to vey again,
"You should probably start explaining."
Vey tilted his head, pretending to think.
"I mean, I could.
Or…
I could just let the mood settle a bit first. You're all pretty wound up."
Sally muttered, "You think?"
Before the conversation could spiral further—
Footsteps echoed behind them.
A set of boots climbed up—
followed by another.
Kaela stepped into view first, torch held low, her expression tired but alert.
Bren followed, brushing cobwebs off his shoulders.
He glanced around the small reunion and raised an eyebrow.
"Well.. lookie here.
We've found the rest of you."
Kaela's gaze passed over John, Finn, Aurora.
Her eyes lingered briefly on the satchel in Aurora's arms, then moved on.
Bren let out a slow breath.
"If you're done with the pleasantries and all..
We should probably move from here."
"Can't stay out here too long. Too many corners. Too many eyes."
Jake nodded.
"Agreed."
"Got anywhere in mind?" John asked.
Bren tapped his knuckle lightly on the hilt of the blade at his side.
"Yeah. I know a place."
"It's quiet."
He started down the street, glancing back once.
"And, not that far from here."
---
They moved as a group now.
Each footstep echoed slightly too sharp against the quiet cobbled streets.
The city felt tense.
Like it had taken a breath and forgotten how to let it out.
Most windows were shuttered.
Shops dark.
The usual sounds—street calls, music, chatter—were absent.
John walked beside Bren, the two speaking quietly—
mostly about routes, eyes to avoid, paths that were safer after dark.
The others followed in staggered formation behind.
Vey trailed, hands behind his back, whistling something off-key.
Aurora kept close to finn, arms tight around the satchel.
Finn didn't say much, but he glanced at her every so often, making sure her steps stayed steady.
Sally and King trailed just a bit farther back, heads dipped toward each other in low conversation.
They spoke softly—half theory, half worry, their expressions shifting in the dark with each corner they passed.
Meanwhile,
Jake and kaela,
were chatting the loudest.
"You've definitely got the mouth of a rebel, jake.
Question is—do you have the grit?"
Jake shrugged, mock-thoughtful.
"Working on it. Figured sticking close to you would help."
Kaela snorted.
"Smart kid."
"I'm just saying," Jake said,
"if you taught me how to vanish.. like that messenger did,
I'd be using it every time someone handed me a responsibility."
Kaela raised an eyebrow. "So basically all the time."
"Exactly." Jake grinned.
"Imagine how efficient I'd be at slacking off."
Kaela chuckled, the sound low in her throat.
"You don't need my help for that."
Jake walked backward for a few steps, facing her.
"You could just admit I'm your most promising apprentice."
"Mmm." She gave a thoughtful noise.
"Maybe. If I lowered my standards."
"Rude." He said, mock offended.
"Kaela, mentor of my heart, how could you?"
She bumped her shoulder lightly into his.
"Mentor of your heart, huh?"
"Hey, I've got layers."
"More like volume."
Jake snorted, nearly tripping on the uneven stone. Kaela reached out to steady him—and smirked as she caught him.
"Careful, kid," she said.
"Still a few years too green to be flirting up."
"Not flirting." Jake shot back with mock innocence.
"Just observing how lucky I am to be trained by the best."
She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered.
Up ahead, Bren glanced back once—
then muttered something to John under his breath, and John just shook his head, fighting a grin.
Eventually,
They turned into a narrow lane, tucked between worn stone buildings where lanterns barely flickered.
The sign above the door hung crooked on one hinge, its paint long faded.
It didn't need to be bright. People who needed it already knew where it was.
Bren stopped in front of it and knocked—
once, then twice.
The door creaked open after a beat.
A broad-shouldered man stood there, eyes sharp despite the deep lines carved into his face.
His beard was streaked with grey, his apron stained from the day's last effort.
When he saw who it was, his entire face changed.
"Well I'll be…"
Bren grinned wide.
"You still standing, Daro?"
"And you still dragging half the city behind you?"
They pulled each other into a one-armed hug that ended with a few solid back slaps—
the kind that only come from people who've been through something together.
"You look worse," Daro said.
"You look fatter," Bren shot back.
They both laughed.
The kind of laugh that felt earned.
Kaela, a few paces back, gave the group a slight nudge.
"Come on. In."
Daro stepped aside.
"Get in before someone sees. You've brought more than trouble this time."
"The usual," Bren muttered, holding the door as the kids filed in.
---
Inside,
the restaurant was small—
just three rows of mismatched tables, an old bar counter pushed against the far wall,
and a slow-burning lantern hanging low from the ceiling, its light flickering in amber pulses.
It smelled faintly of smoke and broth and long-ago laughter.
But tonight?
It was nearly silent.
No customers.
No kitchen noise.
No clatter of mugs or music from the corner shelf where a beaten old instrument case rested.
Just stillness.
One person slumped over a table near the back—curled into an old coat, bowl of untouched stew gone cold beside them.
Whether asleep or hiding, no one asked.
Daro wiped his hands on his apron and led them toward a long table near the middle.
"Take that one right there. We just cleaned it."
Kaela motioned the kids forward.
She didn't sit—just stood nearby, arms folded, eyes flicking now and then to the windows.
"We'll be here a bit," she said, nodding at Bren and Daro.
Daro nodded, already moving to pour something warm behind the counter.
---
The group settled.
John slid into a seat, Finn and Aurora beside him.
Jake dropped into a chair with a soft thud, stretching out his legs like he hadn't sat in hours.
King sat near the end, quietly pulling his gloves off.
Sally set her mug down and began pouring tea for the others from a battered kettle she found near the center.
"Fancy," Finn said,
"You want it or not?" Sally replied.
"Yeah yeah.
I do like me some tea."
John glanced around the table.
The low golden light caught all their faces differently—softening them.
"Feels weird, doesn't it" he said finally,
"being so still."
"Yeah," Aurora agreed softly.
"I don't think I've sat down for a while actually."
Finn raised his cup in mock toast.
"To my legs."
"..."
Silence.
Then,
Vey clinked his cup to Finn's without hesitation.
"Cheers to that."
---
The tea was warm.
Not great—but warm.
The clink of ceramic settled between them like punctuation.
No one rushed to speak again.
John glanced toward the windows—
shutters drawn tight, light bleeding faintly through the cracks.
Outside,
the city murmured faintly—
shoes on stone, the occasional rattle of a cart wheel—
but it all felt distant.
Like the restaurant was sitting just slightly out of time.
Sally adjusted her seat, pulling her legs up slightly and resting her arm on the edge of the table.
"Wasn't it just yesterday," sally spoke, voice low.
"When we arrived to this city."
"...It somehow feels a lot longer than that."
They all reflected on it for a bit.
Their stay at Vash'Kael, wasn't long, not really.
But,
it was eventful.
"Yeah," Jake said, eyes half-lidded.
"Gotta say, I do miss—"
"I uh..."
Jake couldn't finish the thought.
---
Finn leaned back, one hand behind his head, the other cupping his drink.
"Y'know…" he began slowly,
"I kept thinking about this exact kind of moment."
Sally raised an eyebrow.
"You thinking?"
"Come on finnie, you're jokes are getting worse every day." Sally added, nudging him.
Finn gave a mock laugh.
"Good one, sal." and continued,
"As I was saying..."
"Just… sitting. All of us together.
Not running. Not split up."
Aurora gave a small nod beside him.
"Been thinking about it all day, honestly."
"Bet Harry's thinking that too right now," Sally said quietly, not looking up from her cup.
John glanced over at her.
"You've worried about him."
"Kind of hard not to be," she said.
"He's probably still buried in those books. Alone."
Vey shifted in his seat, almost imperceptibly.
For once, he didn't say anything right away.
Jake stared into his mug.
"Haz..
is just too smart," he said.
"Too smart to get caught doing anything dumb."
"You really believe that?" King asked, voice low.
Jake hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Yeah. I do."
Aurora's hands tightened around her cup.
"Still. It feels wrong. Us here, together, and… he's just out there. Working his butt off without us."
"Hey, we were doing the same, like, ten minutes ago," Finn added.
"And let's be honest—he's probably loving it."
He tapped the table once with his knuckle.
"He's probably like, 'Oh wow, alone in a magical archive while you guys are being chased by mysterious goons? Living the dream.'"
He mimicked Harry's tone almost too well.
That drew a few smiles. Even Vey cracked a grin.
"Guess he wouldn't be mad," Sally said softly, her gaze distant.
"He'd just want to know what we learned."
Vey finally spoke.
His voice, for once, was quiet. Measured.
"Don't fret,
You'll be seeing him again, real soon."
They all turned toward him.
"And how exactly do you know that?" Aurora asked.
Vey shrugged, swirling his tea like it held the answer.
"Oh, nothing much."
A beat.
"Just my intuition, I guess."
---
There was a beat of silence after Vey's words.
Long enough for the warmth in their cups to fade a little.
Long enough for the comfort to start feeling like borrowed time.
Then—
"Alright, make room."
Kaela's voice cut through the quiet like a spoon tapping porcelain.
She returned from the back with a tray balanced in one hand, steam curling from bowls stacked with care.
Bren followed, carrying a second tray with a bit less grace but no less enthusiasm.
"And here I thought you were feeding us to the wolves," Finn muttered as he straightened up.
"Not yet, kiddo" Kaela smirked,
setting the tray down with a practiced motion.
"But I will feed you something close."
"I don't think.. that, wait..." finn said, confused.
Kaela cut him short,
"Enough with the jokes young man. Time for some grub."
She pulled the lid from one of the bowls with a mock flourish.
"Welcome to Daro's special—root stew with ash pepper and an irresistible garnish."
Bren set his tray down beside hers, dusted off his hands, and collapsed into the seat across from Vey with a grunt.
"Daro said if we're gonna hole up here, we might as well eat like it's the end of the world."
"That's not very comforting, bren." John murmured with a dry smile.
They all shared a small laugh.
---
Sally passed around napkins—well, scraps of cloth with frayed edges—and started ladling stew into mismatched bowls.
The smell was sharp, earthy, just enough to make them all remember they hadn't eaten in hours.
"There's bread too,"
"Don't be shy. Take as much as you want."
Kaela added, dropping a small bundle of cloth on the table.
"Daro makes it with some kind of stonefruit glaze. Don't ask how."
Bowls scraped quietly. Bread passed hands.
The table had taken on that soft, full hum that only comes when people stop carrying about their troubles.
And just try to enjoy the moment at hand.
Jake made a terrible pun about "stonefruit" that had Aurora groaning so hard she nearly dropped her spoon.
Sally swatted his shoulder.
"You're lucky we're indoors. I would've walked away for that."
"What, you didn't crumble for it?" he said, reaching for more bread.
"That's it. I'm switching seats," Aurora declared.
Finn was halfway into a dramatic monologue about his "culinary survival trauma" when King, of all people, chuckled softly.
They all looked at him.
"What?" King asked, still chewing.
"It was kind of funny."
Everyone stared in stunned silence for a beat.
"That's it," Finn said, pointing.
"We've peaked. Pack it up. End the show. King laughed at one of my jokes."
Laughter followed—honest, full. The kind that reached tired bones and stayed there.
---
A sudden bang echoed through the room.
Not a knock.
A bang.
Heavy. Intentional.
Chairs scraped slightly.
Cups stilled midair.
Everyone froze.
Even the quiet clink of a spoon against ceramic stopped short.
Daro turned toward the door, brow furrowing.
"I already flipped the sign," he muttered—mostly to himself.
Kaela was already rising from her seat, hand resting just above the hilt on her hip.
Bren, beside her, didn't move—but his posture changed. Ready.
The kids didn't speak.
They just watched.
The banging hadn't come again.
But it didn't need to.
Daro walked to the door with steady, measured steps.
The whole room held its breath.
He unlatched it slowly.
Opened it just a crack.
Then a little wider.
The lantern light spilled out into the night.
And standing just beyond the threshold—
A lone figure.
Cloaked. Hood drawn low.
The outline of worn boots beneath a dust-slick hem.
He didn't speak right away.
Daro squinted.
"…Can I help you?"
The man gave a slow nod.
His voice was tired, like he had been working all day.
"Apologies for the hour. I was told this place was still serving."
Daro hesitated—just a breath too long—
"Bit late to be looking for dinner."
He said.
The figure smiled.
"Oh come now.."
"The nights only just beginning."
---
Daro stepped aside.
"Come in, then."
The man crossed the threshold.
One step.
Two.
And the door shut behind him with a dull click.
---
"Welcome to the establishment. Hope you enjoy your stay." Daro said.
"You're welcome to sit," he said evenly.
"But the kitchen's closed now."
The hooded figure gave a nod.
"...Ohh, that's a shame."
The man moved slowly,
Not like someone trying to draw attention—
but not trying to avoid it either.
He settled into the seat furthest from the group, back to the wall, hands folded on the table in front of him.
No one spoke as he sat.
Only after Daro disappeared into the kitchen did the group slowly start to breathe again.
Jake cleared his throat.
"So anyway…"
He forced a casual tone.
"You were saying, Finn? Something about your tragic culinary past?"
Finn blinked.
Then nodded—grateful for the distraction.
"Right, right. So I'm like five, right? And this innkeeper hands me a bowl of soup that smells like old boots—like an actual shoe. I'm telling you, my soul left my body."
---
John shifted in his seat, the hair at the back of his neck prickling.
He couldn't see the man's eyes.
But he felt them.
Watching.
Or… maybe just listening.
But to what?
Across the room, Finn leaned toward Aurora, voice barely audible.
"Why do I feel like he's looking straight through us?"
Jake tried not to stare.
But he couldn't help glancing back every few seconds.
"He hasn't moved," he whispered to Vey.
At Kaela's table, Bren's fingers tapped an old scar along the wood grain.
Kaela didn't look at the man.
But her leg bounced under the table, slow and steady—like a clock counting something down.
A few minutes passed.
Or maybe just one.
No sound from the stranger.
No request.
No shift.
Just the soft hum of lanternlight, and the low buzz of everyone pretending they weren't being watched.
John's eyes flicked between the group and the counter.
And, Vey..
was watching the stranger.
His head tilted slightly.
Like he was trying to remember something.
They kept talking.
Finn told another story—something ridiculous about a misfired paint ball and a parade of dancing geese.
Jake laughed a little too loud.
Sally smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
The customer didn't speak.
He just sat there.
Hood low. Face still hidden.
Like a statue no one invited.
Daro had stopped pretending to wipe down mugs. His eyes flicked up every few seconds from behind the bar.
Kaela leaned toward Bren.
Whispered something low.
The air stretched thin.
Minutes passed—
slow, syrupy, wrong.
And then—
A chair scraped.
Just that.
A long, deliberate drag of wood against stone.
The customer stood.
His cloak shifted with the motion, but still nothing of his face could be seen.
He didn't look at anyone.
Didn't say a word.
He turned, too quickly.
And walked out the way he came.
The bell above the door rang as he slammed the door.
And just like that—
he was gone.
---
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The soft click of the closing door lingered in the air far longer than it should have—
like even the room itself wasn't sure what to do now.
A chair creaked—just slightly—as someone shifted.
Sally set her cup down with careful fingers.
Her eyes hadn't left the door.
Aurora stared straight ahead, lips pressed thin.
Still. Unblinking.
Finn glanced around the table, trying to read the others.
His joke from earlier still hung in the air, unfinished.
Kaela leaned forward, arms folded tight against the table.
Vey…
was smiling.
Not in a mocking way.
Not even a pleased one.
Just quietly.
Like someone watching a storm pass, knowing another one was behind it.
John finally broke the silence.
"…He didn't order anything."
---
Finn was the first to speak again.
"Sooo…" he dragged the word out, tapping his spoon against his now-empty bowl,
"that wasn't horrifying at all."
Jake huffed.
"Yeah, no big deal. Just a guy sitting in the dark corner of a half-empty restaurant during a citywide crackdown."
"Maybe he forgot his wallet," Sally said.
Her voice was dry, but her smile was trying.
"Or his face," Finn added.
"Y'know, since we never actually saw one."
That got a few snorts.
Aurora exhaled, setting her spoon down carefully.
"He sat there for nearly twenty minutes and didn't blink."
"How do you know he didn't blink?" King asked, tilting his head.
She looked at him.
"…You know what? I don't. Which probably makes it worse."
They laughed.
Not loud.
Not long.
But it happened.
For a moment, it almost felt normal again—until the silence crept back in like fog beneath a door.
Vey was sipping his tea,
still watching the door.
"Sometimes," he murmured,
more to his cup than to anyone else,
"they come just to listen."
That chilled whatever was left of the warmth.
John leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers knitted tight.
"We should get some rest."
No one argued.
---
Kaela stood,
her chair scraping softly against the floor.
Her voice was calm, but carried weight.
"Alright. Fun's over."
They looked up—some halfway through a bite, others already restless in their seats.
"I know you're tired," she said,
"but if anyone else walks through that door and sees nine people gathered at one table, it'll raise more than a few flags."
Bren nodded beside her, arms crossed.
"Better to split up. Two or three to a table. Quiet. Keep it casual."
"We're not exactly blending in as it is," John muttered, already pushing back from the table.
"You'll blend better in pieces than as a crowd," Kaela replied.
There was no protest—just the sound of chairs moving, spoons clinking, half-finished bowls being nudged aside.
Jake stood, stretching with a sigh.
"Guess the group dinner was too peaceful for too long."
"It was suspiciously cozy," Finn agreed, already sliding into a smaller table with Aurora and King.
Sally joined John at a quieter corner, her eyes still trailing the door.
Jake lingered, then flopped down next to Vey, of all people.
"Great. Just me and the walking mystery."
Vey grinned, offering him the bread basket.
"Try not to unravel too quickly."
---
At their smaller table near the window, Finn leaned back in his chair just enough to teeter—but not fall.
Aurora was seated across from him, her satchel placed safely at her side, while King sipped quietly from a steaming mug.
Finn nudged Aurora's boot with his own.
"So… still no sign of big mossy?"
Aurora looked up from her tea, eyebrows raised.
"You're calling him big mossy now?"
"What? It fits," Finn said, gesturing vaguely.
"Tall. Grumbly. Unkillable. Like moss, but with better posture."
King set his mug down and tilted his head.
"That one guy who saved you two?"
"You miss him?"
Finn paused.
"…Yeah. Kind of."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I mean, the guy did smash a wall for us and then vanished. Feels rude not to at least say thanks."
Aurora smiled faintly.
"He told us to hold onto the book for him. Said he trusted us."
"Which is crazy," Finn said.
**"I barely trust me."
He looked at King.
"Do you trust me, king?"
King didn't answer right away.
Then:
"You've got good instincts."
Finn blinked.
"Wow, you must be in a good mood today."
"Yes," King said, sipping again.
Aurora smothered a laugh into her cup.
---
At the table nearby, John sat with Sally. Their conversation was quieter, more thoughtful.
She was idly tearing a piece of bread apart, her gaze flicking between the counter and the group around them.
"Feels weird," she said.
"Being here. Eating. Talking. After all that."
John nodded, folding his arms on the table.
"Still not sure about the whole rebellion thing, sal."
"Neither are we," Sally said, without looking up.
"But.. we can't just ignore it.
Besides, helping them would be the right thing to do."
"Don't you think?"
---
Jake leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Vey with an expression halfway between suspicion and mild annoyance.
Vey was busy buttering a piece of bread. Perfectly. Precisely.
Vey held out the perfectly buttered bread.
"Want it?"
Jake stared.
"Why would I—" He sighed and took the bread anyway.
"Thanks, I guess."
They sat in silence for a moment. Jake chewed.
Then:
"You're not gonna answer anything straight, are you?"
"Only the things you already know," Vey replied, folding his napkin neatly.
"And even then, I like to make it a little fun."
Jake smirked, despite himself.
"Remind me to stop trusting children."
"You're a children."
"No—I'm not," before he could finish his rebuttal,
"And, besides.."
"I'm not a child," Vey said, his tone lilting suddenly softer—almost serious.
"I'm just shaped like one."
That made Jake pause.
He looked at Vey longer this time.
And said nothing.
---
Jake didn't push the silence.
He just nodded once and leaned back,
watching Vey as if seeing him for the first time again.
Across the room, the low hum of conversation resumed in patches—soft laughter here, a cough there.
The clink of a spoon against ceramic. The scrape of a chair leg.
From the outside, it might've looked like any other late-night dinner at a quiet, tucked-away place.
Then—
Ding.
The bell above the door gave a soft chime.
Just a soft sound.
But it landed hard in the middle of their conversation.
Laughter died out.
Mugs lowered.
Eyes lifted.
The door opened.
Lanternlight flickered as the cold crept in for just a second.
---
Four figures stepped inside.
They wore deep brown and muted green cloaks.
Dusty boots. High collars.
Nothing flashy—but too precise.
Too… clean.
Their shoulders were straight.
Movements quiet.
Disciplined.
They didn't look around like strangers.
They didn't hesitate like customers.
The newcomers glanced around once.
Not searching. Just… observing.
One of them tilted their head, and greeted Daro with a nod.
"Evenin'."
"Evenin'," Daro echoed, voice steady but clipped.
They chose a table up near the front.
Spoke in low tones to each other as they sat.
They spoke quietly to each other, whispering now and then.
One of them leaned over to whisper something to the other, who nodded.
John, from his table with Sally, leaned slightly forward.
Sally's eyes flicked toward the newcomers, then back to her cup.
"Normal people," she said quietly.
John didn't answer.
Across the room, Aurora stared into her tea, no longer drinking it.
King subtly turned his chair, not facing the new arrivals directly but angled enough to watch.
Finn drummed his fingers against the table, slow and rhythmic—but there was no smile this time.
He whispered,
"How many random customers does this place usually get anyway?"
Kaela and Bren shared a glance.
Jake raised an eyebrow toward Vey.
"Friends of yours?" he muttered.
Vey only sipped his tea.
---
No one spoke now.
Not at the group's table.
Not across the room.
Even the strangers at the front had gone silent, their head, hoods drawn, were looking down at the table.
Waiting for something.
Not a sound.
Not a word.
Just... silence.
Which kept growing.
John's hand hovered near his side. Not reaching for anything—just there, tensed.
Sally stared at the reflection in her tea. Not drinking. Not blinking.
Finn had stopped tapping.
Aurora had stopped fidgeting.
Jake leaned forward, forearms on the table, like he was bracing for something.
King sat the same way he always did—calm, composed.
But his eyes weren't still.
They flicked between faces. Between exits.
Kaela had stopped pretending.
Her chair angled slightly, hand resting over one knee, fingers lightly curled—not tense, not ready. Somewhere in between.
Bren's eyes never left the front table.
The four strangers sipped water and started speaking quietly to each other.
A chair creaked.
Soft. Subtle.
But it cut through the air like a blade.
One of the men from the front table stood.
He didn't rush.
Didn't say anything.
Just… rose to his feet.
And the room held its breath.
---
Kaela shifted—barely. Just her fingers curling a bit tighter around the edge of her chair.
Bren's eyes locked onto the movement. He didn't speak.
The man adjusted his coat with a smooth motion.
The fabric rustled softly, the only sound in the room besides the faint clink of cutlery somewhere far off.
He turned.
And began walking.
Not toward the exit.
Not toward Daro.
Just—through.
One step at a time.
Measured. Intentional.
He passed the table where Finn, Aurora, and King sat.
Aurora went still, her breath catching just briefly.
Finn's hand moved closer to his belt.
King tracked every step with a silent gaze.
But the man didn't look at them.
He didn't look at anyone.
He just walked.
Past Vey and Jake, who had gone dead quiet.
Vey's eyes followed the man with unusual focus, his expression unreadable.
Jake barely blinked.
The man paused once—just slightly—when passing Kaela's table.
Kaela didn't flinch.
Didn't acknowledge.
He moved on.
Each step was soft but final.
Until—
he stopped at John and Sally's table.
The silence thickened.
He stood there for a moment, not speaking.
Just letting his presence settle.
Then—
He raised a hand.
Not in threat. Not in warning.
Just a formal gesture.
The kind that felt old.
Like a message being delivered the way it always had been.
He bowed his head, just slightly.
And then he spoke.
Calm. Even.
"The Governor invites you to speak with him."
---
[TO BE CONTINUED IN EPISODE 14]