The Duskvein swayed gently in the harbor, moored to the crowded docks of Slum City. The faint scent of brine mixed with smoke and iron from the city beyond, carried on a soft night breeze. Beneath deck, the cramped meeting room buzzed with tension as the crew gathered around the heavy oak table, lantern light flickering off their faces. Thalor leaned against the table in the center, arms crossed and posture calm, exuding quiet authority. His dark coat caught the warm flicker of a lantern swinging overhead.
"Listen closely," Thalor began, his voice cutting through the low murmur of shifting waves against the hull. "We're heading into a different district tonight—under Fenrick's lead. We'll be attending a fight club."
"Fight club?" Erin asked as he leaned back in his chair.
Fenrick grinned, stretching his arms lazily. "Oh, you'll love it, Scrap. Fights, magic, betting—think of it like the lifeblood of this city. Dangerous, but that's what makes it fun."
"Sounds shady," Cidrin muttered, adjusting his glasses as if uncomfortable just hearing about the endeavor.
"And you love shady, don't you?" Fenrick teased. "Stick with me nerd, and you might just enjoy yourself."
Ariya rested her chin on her hands, gaze unreadable. "It's not just for entertainment, is it?"
"No," Thalor replied. "Lyric Cairn will be there. A former Tideguard, but she's an information broker now. Powerful, well-connected. If she's as reliable as her reputation suggests, her information will prove invaluable."
Silence followed, thick with anticipation.
Under the stars, Slum City transformed into something surreal—a dance of light and shadow. Narrow streets burned with the glow of magical lamps that hovered midair, casting a golden hue on cobbled paths and casting murky shadows into alleyways. The streets became alive with activity, the people here energized by the darkness. Festivals spilled into the avenues, their celebratory chants and music bleeding into every corner of the maze-like urban sprawl. Vendors called out their wares, offering fried meats sizzling on enchanted grills or strange fruits glowing faintly under the night sky. Acrobats performed impossible flips, their movements traced by luminous dust that glittered momentarily before dissipating. At the same time, taverns overflowed, spilling drunken laughter and raucous shanties into the streets. Small bands of musicians played improvised tunes that blended harmoniously—or chaotically—with the cacophony of the city
Despite the liveliness, the darker underside of Dunnhaven was impossible to ignore. The alleys became the prowling ground for thieves and petty criminals eager to take advantage of the night. Prostitution flourished at the fringes of bustling streets, the Tideguard's presence was both visible and invisible—a pair of officers glaring down from balconies while others walked slowly through crowds, their presence enough to scatter low-level criminals into hiding. Tension simmered beneath every interaction, and it was clear the city didn't merely come alive at night—it also showed its fangs. Murmurs of unspoken rules traveled fast, warning the ignorant: don't stray too far from the lights.
The crew followed Fenrick through the labyrinth of streets, their pace brisk but steady. Fenrick, at ease in this chaotic sprawl, led with a cocky confidence that bordered on arrogance. Erin, though alert, couldn't suppress his growing fascination with the strange harmony of light and shadow all around them. His sharp eyes darted between street performers, makeshift gambling dens, and passing cloaked figures. Narza was close behind him, ever silent but constantly scanning, her autumn-colored hair catching flickers of light. Cidrin stayed near the back, clutching a worn satchel that swung lightly with his every step.
"You'd think this city never sleeps," Erin muttered as they turned a corner into a busier thoroughfare.
"They don't," Fenrick replied, not even glancing back. "Slum City lives off the night. You make your fortune—or lose it—all before sunrise."
Thalor, trailing behind them, listened silently
Eventually, the crowded streets gave way to darker, narrower lanes. The change in tone was immediate. Magical lights dimmed to occasional flickers, their colors dulled as if avoiding the grim ambiance. Signboards creaked above shuttered stalls, their painted glyphs suggesting wares best kept unadvertised in daylight. Soon, the street sounds receded, replaced by muffled voices and distant thuds echoing from underground spaces.
They reached an intersection where two Tideguards interrogated a bruised man, their torchlight casting harsh shadows on the stone walls. Fenrick slowed.
"Eyes down," he muttered. "Don't want them stopping us now."
The crew slipped past without incident, the muffled cries of the detained man fading into the distance.
Fenrick led the group through winding streets first, taking them deeper into the maze of the city. But when Erin thought the route would stick to ground level, the lanky guide shot a mischievous grin back at them and scaled a ladder bolted to a wall, waving for them to follow.
"Keep up!" he taunted.
Grumbling, Erin followed, his feet finding purchase on the rickety metal. One by one, they reached the rooftop, which offered a whole new view of the city's nightscape.
From their vantage point, Erin's breath caught as a burst of fireworks painted the sky above one of the wealthier districts. Splashes of violet, crimson, and green blossomed like flowers in the void. The sensation—pride and yearning—tugged at him, unfamiliar and bittersweet.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" a rare murmur from Narza, who had paused beside him.
Erin nodded, feeling words catch in his throat. "Yeah."
The moment didn't last; Fenrick whistled for them to move. He darted ahead with easy precision, treating the rooftops like a natural highway. Soon, they wove through parts of the city that most people never noticed—cutting over bridges, sliding through worn industrial pipes, and prowling deserted service tunnels. It was as exhilarating as it was disorienting, leaving Erin's senses buzzing.
Finally, after an hour's journey, they descended into a stretch of alleyways so close and dim that the air felt oppressive. Fenrick stopped before an inconspicuous wooden door, marked only by a glowing red rune painted onto its surface. He knocked three times, sharp and deliberate.
The door opened. A man nodded curtly, stepping aside to let them in.
Inside, the air throbbed with heat and noise. Chandeliers made of jagged crystal reflected a mix of torchlight and magical flares, and the scents of sweat, alcohol, and adrenaline burned Erin's nose. They had arrived at the Red Alley Pit—a subterranean arena buried deep in the city's veins.
The Red Alley Pit exuded an intensity Erin couldn't ignore. Around them, conversations merged into a thunderous undercurrent of shouting, betting, and laughter. As he followed Thalor and the others into the heart of the crowd, his senses were assaulted from every direction. The air itself buzzed with magic, heightened by proximity to the ongoing matches. Stray wisps of light, fire, and energy danced overhead like wandering specters, the byproduct of unrestrained power unleashed in the pit below.
Erin's first impression was that of chaos carefully disguised as luxury. The fighting pit sat sunken in the center of the room, a vast circular space rimmed with enchanted railings to shield spectators from stray magic. High above, a gilded balcony overlooked the action below, where affluent figures lounged on velvet cushions and sipped from gold-plated chalices.
Around the pit, men and women of all kinds milled about, exuding power and menace. Crime lords in tailored suits watched beside gang enforcers adorned with weapons. Mystic gamblers rattled dice or tokens etched with runes of luck. Even a few Tideguard officers loitered, faces obscured by hoods, drinking heavily as if on illicit business.
Erin caught himself staring. Fenrick, seeming to notice, clapped him on the shoulder. "Impressive, huh? This place is the city distilled—beautiful, dangerous, and full of opportunity if you're smart enough to seize it."
"This place is insane," Erin muttered, his gaze fixed on the pulsing energy emanating from the ring below. The pit roared with life as two combatants stepped forward. The crowd surged, howling bets and pounding the air with fists or sigils of glowing light.
Down in the ring, the first combatant stepped into the glow of arcane torchlight. A young woman—muscular and confident, with a scar that ran diagonally across her face—extended her arms to summon magic. With a flick of her wrist, fire erupted, licking at the air in fiery tendrils. Another motion, and a deep rumble sounded from beneath her as the ground cracked, rising into jagged shards of earth. As if this wasn't already enough to draw gasps from the spectators, lightning sparked to life in her other hand, electric arcs splitting the gloom.
The crowd roared. Erin couldn't look away.
"That's… more than one element," he muttered, barely able to breathe.
"No kidding." Cidrin adjusted his glasses, speaking more to himself. "Most people struggle to master even one. To command three? You'd need an unnatural level of control. She's practically rewriting the rules."
The second combatant wasn't as flamboyant but stepped forward with unwavering confidence. A hulking figure swathed in crude armor, his every movement crackled with pent-up power as lightning surged over his fists. Though his use of only a single element seemed unimpressive by comparison, Erin couldn't help but notice the focus in his eyes and the sharp economy of his movements—this man wasn't here for theatrics. He fought to win.
When the match began, the first strike came fast and brutal. The brawler unleashed a wave of rock spikes, forcing the brute to sidestep and retaliate with a blast of lightning that cracked like thunder in the enclosed space. Erin flinched as energy coursed through the air, making the metal railing hum beneath his hands.
The combatants traded blows in a stunning display of raw elemental might. Lightning bolts splintered rock barriers, while whirling tornadoes of fire roared around the ring, threatening to engulf anything within their path. The multi-elemental brawler demonstrated impressive creativity and precision, seamlessly weaving earth, fire, and lightning together into an offensive tapestry that left even the most seasoned spectators spellbound. She built towering walls of rock only to set them ablaze moments later, forcing her opponent into increasingly desperate evasion.
The brute, while powerful, lacked the same level of finesse. Though his strikes hit hard and were often well-timed, there was a wildness to his movements that left him exposed. A surge of lightning struck true at one point, crackling across his opponent's side and sending her staggering back. But instead of panic, she smiled—a feral grin full of firelight as she summoned all three elements at once. A fiery meteor punched through the ground, electricity dancing over it like veins of lightning, as it barreled straight toward her opponent.
The brute dodged the attack by a hair's breadth, but the crowd erupted in cheers.
"Incredible," Erin murmured, feeling the rumble in his chest as the earth trembled from her attack. He hadn't even realized he was gripping the railing, knuckles white. "I didn't know magic could be this..."
"Overwhelming," Ariya finished for him, sounding awestruck.
The fight surged on, until at last, the brute's endurance faltered. His opponent surged forward in one final flurry, slamming him against the pit's enchanted barrier with a searing blaze of fire and lightning that left him slumped, defeated.
The announcer declared her victory to uproarious cheers. As she raised her hands in triumph, the crowd's chants shook the walls.
"People like her are the reason this place thrives," Fenrick said, leaning over to Erin with a smirk. "Everyone loves a show. Doesn't matter who wins or loses; it's all about the story."
Before Erin could respond, Thalor's voice pulled him back to focus. "Keep moving. We're not here for the fights."
The crew slipped through the press of bodies, searching the rows of chairs, alcoves, and private viewing lounges for Lyric Cairn. It was slow going—the crush of people turned every step into a challenge. Erin couldn't help but notice the sheer variety of those around him. Wealthy merchants and highborns wore fine cloaks and whispered quietly in their private booths, far from the roar of the common crowd. Seedy underworld figures clad in leather armor or tunics loitered near the betting stations, their dealings accompanied by hard-edged laughter. Magic users sat among the gamblers, their runes glowing faintly, fingers twitching in idle focus.
"Would she really be hanging out here?" Erin muttered as they paused by a corner stall.
"If Lyric's smart, she'll blend in," Thalor replied. "Keep looking."
The group pressed on, weaving through dense throngs of onlookers and waitstaff. Erin caught glimpses of fortune tellers offering charms for success, hooded figures conducting quiet trades, and Tideguard defectors laughing louder than seemed wise. Above them, the gilded balcony teemed with opulence, its occupants throwing their bets down to the pit below in careless abandon.
"Here she is," Thalor finally said, gesturing to a tall woman leaning against a far pillar. The crew followed his gaze, but before Erin could get a closer look, Fenrick suddenly stepped away from the group and vanished into the crowd.
"Where the hell's he going?" Cidrin asked sharply.
"He can handle himself, Stay here," Thalor instructed. He approached her alone, his words inaudible amidst the arena's deafening roar. Her sharp gaze flickered toward them, analyzing them with a hunter's focus. Her Tideguard cape, tattered yet unmistakable, hung draped over her shoulders like a relic of a life she'd left behind.
Whatever she said, Erin couldn't hear. The loud rumble of conversation, cheering, and the next match drowned everything else out. Thalor leaned in close, speaking quietly, and Lyric listened with a smirk, tilting her head. She spoke, then Thalor replied, his voice low enough to vanish completely amidst the chaos.
Lyric gestured casually, her hand glinting with magic as she traced a symbol in the air. Thalor straightened and motioned for the others to stay back, his expression unreadable.
"Any idea what's going on?" Erin whispered to Ariya.
She shook her head, but her attention snapped to the ring as the next fight was announced. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she grabbed Erin's arm, pointing.
"Holy shit!" she exclaimed.
Erin turned just in time to see Fenrick, grinning like a maniac, leaping into the fighting pit to the sound of the crowd's roaring approval.