I didn't move. The alley around me felt narrower than it had a moment ago, as if the walls had closed in, as if the shadows had shrunk to make room for what was coming. I felt it first — that light step behind me. Not rushed, not cautious… but calculated.
I turned, but he had already vanished into the crowd.
A figure wearing a long, dark cloak, as if it were made from volcanic ash itself. I didn't see his face, but his movement was different from the others. He wasn't running. He wasn't afraid. He moved with purpose, handing small things to specific people, chosen carefully from among the masses. I saw a woman put something he gave her directly into her mouth, then disappear into the alley as if she had never existed.
I stood still, watching him without getting closer. This wasn't a regular trade. It wasn't theft. What he gave was taken willingly, as if they'd been waiting for it.
When he vanished into a side path, I began to follow him. I didn't have a clear reason for doing so, but in worlds like these, nothing happens by chance. And something in his behavior… it seemed like he was distributing something important, or forbidden. Maybe… a cure.
He moved steadily, and I followed, slipping from wall to wall, hidden in the shadows that had grown used to my presence. He never turned around, never slowed, never sped up. Until he reached an alley that felt detached from the rest of the city — its entrance narrow, its ceiling low, and the smell of sulfur stronger.
He entered.
I followed.
Then… just before I stepped inside, I felt it. A swift, painful strike, slipping past the edge of caution. It threw me back. I hit the wall with my shoulder and slid to the ground, but I didn't lose consciousness.
I stood up immediately, summoned a dagger from the shadows. But the attack didn't stop.
From within the shadows, that cloak emerged. This wasn't an ordinary person. They moved like a fighter — agile — and attacked again. We exchanged blows, each of us testing the other. I was faster, but they were stronger. Or — she was.
Because in the next strike, in a moment of imbalance, the hood fell… and the face was revealed.
A woman.
Her face was sharply contoured, her skin laced with fine red scales, almost invisible but undeniable in origin. Her eyes were orange with a reddish hue, burning with something deeper than anger. Her hair was fiery — short in the front, long and flowing in the back like the tail of a flaming comet. Her ornate red armor looked like it had been forged to fuse with her body.
I stepped back, she raised her chin and said sharply, without hesitation:
"You made a mistake thinking I wouldn't sense you. You'll regret what you've done… you and the higher entities you serve."
I said in a low voice, my hands still in a defensive stance:
"No one sent me. I have nothing to do with the higher entities."
She stared at me for a long time, as if trying to read my soul, then said:
"Then what's a human doing in Ifesto?"
I looked around quickly — the place was empty, only steam rising from the cracks in the ground, and the distant sound of a volcanic eruption.
"I'm looking for something… something that belongs to me."
She was silent for a moment, then asked:
"Why were you following me?"
I took a breath, then answered honestly:
"I felt like you knew what was happening here. I wanted an explanation. You were giving people something, in secret. You acted like someone on a mission, not someone shopping or running. I wasn't spying, I just wanted to understand… who you are, and what your connection is to all this."
She said without blinking:
"I am Elvira. Daughter of Erbeto."
Erbeto — the ruler. The right hand of Tyro. The warrior legends speak of across many worlds.
"Why are you disguised among the commoners?" I asked, still shocked.
She lowered her gaze for a moment, then looked at me steadily:
"Because I am not an heir to a throne — I'm a doctor. My studies were in scale medicine and tissue formation. When the plague hit our people, there was no one to help. The court was busy with fear, and the soldiers guarded a dying palace. I moved alone, distributing the cure in the shadows, away from my father's authority, away from the eyes of entities that care only for their power."
She took a few steps closer, then said in a softer voice:
"We were strong. We didn't get sick. We didn't starve. We were children of the sun, living by it and for it. And Tyro was our only god. We didn't care about the other entities. We refused to yield to their sacred balance. And we thought we were safe from their punishment."
She sighed, and continued:
"But they didn't forget. They created a disease — slow, deadly. It crept through veins like the sun creeps into lava. There was no cure. It weakened the body, disabled our ability to absorb the sun's energy. Our people began to fall. Our strength faded. Warriors collapsed. The commoners died slowly."
I asked, though I already knew the answer:
"And your father?"
She shook her head and said:
"He was the first to devote himself to Tyro. He never once doubted his justice. But he was infected. And now, he lies there, among the magma, unable even to breathe. And we… we have nothing to heal him."
We exchanged silent glances. Not trust, not hatred, not alliance… just an awareness of something greater than both of us.
And within me, thoughts began to stir.
"If Elvira, daughter of Erbeto, walks among the people in search of a cure… if her father is afflicted… and if the disease was created by the higher entities…
Then this might be my chance.
The fifth piece…
Might be closer than I expected."