Below, the tavern grew loud. The Drowned Ember was never refined, but tonight it buzzed with a strange tension. A new presence had entered. One that didn’t quite fit. Polished. Armored. Disciplined. Lady Christyana Durell, Christy to only a select few (none of whom dared say it within earshot)stepped into the warmth of the tavern with the solemn weight of a judge entering court. Her armor gleamed emerald beneath the firelight, unmarred by dust or drink. Her gaze scanned the room like a sword cutting through fog. Silence rolled in around her. She strode to the bar. “Wine. The dry kind. And information,” she said, not waiting for acknowledgment. The barkeep raised an eyebrow, slid over a glass, and leaned in. “What kind of information?” Christy placed a sealed scroll on the counter. The wax bore the sigil of the Northern Orders—an ancient blade over a coiled flame. “I’m tracking a figure tied to forbidden conjury,” she said. “Name’s Velkrin. Heard it last in whispers from a ruined village north of here. Something unnatural was left behind. I need names. Eyes. Rumors.” The barkeep hesitated just long enough to confirm she knew more than she let on. “Strange,” the woman said, polishing a mug. “You’re the second one tonight asking about that name.” Christy’s posture stiffened. “Who?” “Didn’t give one,” the barkeep replied smoothly. “Took a room. Looked like she'd been through hell. Fox-eyes. Red hair. Walked like a wounded blade.” Christy’s jaw tightened. “What room?” The barkeep didn’t answer immediately. But she didn’t say no either. Instead, she picked up the mug and nodded toward the stairs. “End of the hall. If you’re going to knock, do it softly. She earned her rest.”

Christy turned without another word.

Chapter 2, pt1 https://yodayo.com/posts/7830af30-6874-4a01-b065-017a4618f719