By the time I found my way back to my room, exhaustion hit like a weight. I collapsed onto the bed, my mind replaying the day in fragments. Every muscle throbbed, each breath dragging like glass against skin. Why had the Essence felt so unstable back in the forest? Did the Glassfang cause the disturbance, or was something else stirring beneath it?

  I closed my eyes and reached out for the threads around me. For a moment, I hesitated, unsure what I was feeling. The Essence in Etrielle was strange tonight—restless, humming in a way that reminded me of the woods. A faint vibration trembled through the threads, soft and rhythmic, like a plucked string. It echoed the living pulse I’d felt in the forest, similar yet not quite the same.

  I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling as I tried to make sense of it all. I wondered if the others had noticed it too. Shaking the thoughts from my head, I lay back and forced myself to rest, the mattress creaking softly beneath me. The hum lingered under my ribs, steady as breath, until the dark finally took me.

  The last thing I felt before sleep took me was that same low hum, threading through the stillness.

  Morning light spilled through the shutters. When I woke, the city was already buzzing. By the time I met the others outside the Guild, word of the Glassfang and the supposed new Essence Well to the north had spread like wildfire.

  Inside, chaos ruled. Adventurers and workers crowded the main hall, voices overlapping in a dull roar. We pushed our way through to the receptionist’s desk.

  “What’s with all the commotion?” Merric asked.

  “The Guild’s locked down the eastern woods,” she said, scanning our group. “We’re assembling an investigation party as we speak. Ah, perfect. All four of you are here. Guildmaster Kael would like to meet with you. Follow me, please.”

  “Guildmaster?” Merric blinked. “I thought he was just a proctor.”

  The receptionist laughed lightly. “Guildmaster Kael enjoys sneaking into the Guild Exam now and then, to see what kind of talent’s coming in.”

  “Wow,” Elaria said, shaking her head. “He really had us fooled.”

  We followed her down a winding hallway until she stopped before a massive ornate door, inlaid with gold and silver and carved with an intricate map of Etrielle.

  The room beyond was circular, warmly lit, and far more luxurious than I expected. A pair of couches faced one another before a polished table, and behind them, Kael stood at his desk as we entered.

  “Welcome, trainees,” he said, rounding the desk. A faint scent of parchment and metal polish hung in the air. “I heard you managed to slay a Glassfang yesterday.”

  He gestured for us to sit as the receptionist quietly slipped out.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “It was nesting beneath layers of crystal resin deep in the eastern woods.”

  “Interesting.” Kael leaned back against the couch, studying us. “I’m impressed. A Tier-Four Essence beast isn’t something most initiates survive. We may need to reconsider your ranks.” His eyes lingered on me. “Tell me, did you notice anything else unusual?”

  My ears perked up at the question. Did he feel it too?

  “Just the abnormal Essence density,” Lira answered smoothly. “We believe it’s a new Essence Well.”

  Kael nodded once. “Very well. We’ll determine the cause when our investigation team returns. Thank you for the report. For now, complete your remaining two Guild Exam quests, and we’ll discuss your rank afterward.”

  He rose, signaling the meeting’s end.

  “Thank you, sir,” Merric said as we stood. “Let us know if there’s anything else we can do.”

  “Of course,” Kael replied, stepping past us. He clapped a hand on my shoulder with a faint grin. “And good work.”

  I felt like that last line was directed at me as we were ushered out of the room. When we returned to the main hall, the bustle had mostly died down. It looked like the investigation team had already been dispatched. Voices murmured in the distance, low and tired, like the building itself was exhaling after the storm.

  Still curious about what I’d felt last night, I closed my eyes briefly, tying myself to the unseen world around me. The faint pulse was still there; soft, rhythmic, and unsettling. For a moment, the rhythm steadied, almost like it was listening back.

  “You coming?”

  Merric’s voice cut through my focus, sharp enough to make me flinch.

  “Huh?” I blinked at him.

  He frowned. “Were you even listening? We said we’re picking out our next quest.” His tone shifted, the edge fading to concern. “You alright? You’ve been quieter than your already-quiet self, and now you’re just standing there like a statue.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “Just tired from yesterday.”

  If no one else could feel the pulse, maybe it was better I kept it to myself.

  He studied me for a moment, jaw working like he wanted to say more, then shrugged. “If you say so.”

  Merric turned toward the quest board, and the others followed, scanning the papers pinned to the worn wood. The quiet rhythm of the hall returned—the scrape of boots, parchment rustling, faint chatter near the counters. Normal again. Almost peaceful.

  “There’s an escort mission here to Verrinport,” Lira said after a moment, her voice brisk as always. “Merchant wants protection for his cargo.”

  “That sounds easy enough,” Elaria said cheerfully. “And we could use a change of scenery.”

  Merric groaned. “I’d rather fight a hundred Glassfangs than babysit some merchant’s purse strings.”

  “Verrinport borders the dungeon, Cindros,” I said. “Didn’t you once say you wanted to see a dungeon up close?”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  He hesitated, then sighed. “Ah, you got me. I’ll begrudgingly accept—but only if we stop for food on the way.”

  Lira rolled her eyes. “Good. Since we’re all in agreement.”

  She plucked the notice from the board and brought it to the receptionist’s desk.

  We signed the usual forms and headed for the exit.

  “The merchant leaves from the north gate tomorrow at eight,” Lira reminded us, giving Merric a pointed look. “So be there by seven-forty-five.”

  He raised his hands. “No need for the glare. I’ll be on time, I promise.”

  “Most of your promises end up empty,” Elaria teased.

  “That may be true, but this time will be different,” Merric said with a grin, earning a small laugh from her.

  As we stepped outside, the city’s noise washed over us again—vendors calling, wagons rattling, the rhythm of normal life pretending nothing had changed.

  But further down the street, a new sound rose above it all: a single voice, loud and deliberate.

  A crowd had gathered near the square.

  We drifted toward the noise with everyone else, pulled along by the tide of bodies until the street widened into a plaza paved in pale stone. A fountain stood at its center, dry for the winter, its basin turned into a dais.

  People packed shoulder to shoulder beneath the gold banners of the Church of Sight. At the center stood a preacher in white and gold robes, the church’s sigil stitched over his chest—a single eye enclosed in a woven halo. Blue fire burned in the fountain’s brazier, no smoke pluming from the flames, only heat and a faint hum that crawled across my skin.

  The man’s voice carried easily, resonating through the air as if the plaza itself wanted him to hear.

  “The Weft trembles,” he said, his tone solemn but warm. “Its harmony frays where sin invades. The essence swells not from blessings, but from sorrow.”

  The crowd murmured, people bowing their heads, some kneeling.

  Merric crossed his arms. “I’ve never understood this,” he muttered.

  Lira gave a small glance over her shoulder. “That’s the point,” she said quietly. “The church doesn’t teach for understanding, it teaches for guidance.”

  Elaria’s brows furrowed. “You’ve mentioned them before, but… who exactly are they?”

  “The Church of Sight,” Lira said, her tone measured. “They teach the Weft is the divine pattern of existence—threads of creation woven by light. Their most important teaching is that the god of creation blesses the faithful with Sight, which is why they revere Clarity. They also oversee anything involving Essence. The Guild has to be sanctioned by them in most regions.”

  The crowd shifted, the scrape of boots echoing under the preacher’s steady voice.

  Elaria frowned. “And what is the Weft really? I mean… not in their words.”

  Lira hesitated as if weighing how much to say. “It’s the framework that holds the world together. Every element, every thread, every breath—it’s all part of a larger weave. You could call it the foundation of life itself. It’s where all Essence comes from.”

  Merric scoffed. “And some silly people pray to it.”

  “Not exactly,” Lira said. “They pray to the Light that flows through it—the goddess Elarion, and the creator Azurel.”

  Elaria nodded slowly, still watching the preacher. “So this thing they’re talking about… they’re talking about the disturbance in the south woods, aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” Lira replied. “It’s what they call a wound—a cry from the Weft that they need to purify.”

  Merric’s mouth twitched. “Convenient. Gives them an excuse to march wherever they want.”

  “Careful,” she warned. “Speaking out against them is unwise.”

  As they spoke, the speaker’s words threaded through the air, soft but carrying a heavy presence. As he continued, I felt something beneath the plaza: an echo in the threads. The same pulse I’d sensed in the forest—faint but insistent. It wasn’t angry or sad, just there… watching.

  “My followers,” the preacher said, voice rising, “a new essence surge to the east reminds us of our duty. The Weft screams for balance, and we must be there to answer. The Church will send its stewards to cleanse what has been disturbed, that harmony may be restored.”

  The crowd bowed their heads. Guards bearing the same golden sigil moved quietly along the edges, collecting donations in bronze urns.

  Merric muttered, “That’s bullshit. It’s impossible to cleanse an Essence Well. What they mean is they want control over it.”

  “Enough,” Lira hissed.

  He didn’t argue, but his jaw stayed tight.

  Elaria spoke next. “Do you believe any of this?” she asked softly. “About the Weft being alive.”

  Lira exhaled. “I believe it’s a gift from the goddess of light. I disagree with their petty views on Clarity and strength. I think the strong should help the weak, not rule them.”

  Merric shrugged. “I believe in what I can swing a hammer at.”

  Elaria chuckled and glanced my way, waiting for my answer.

  I hesitated. “I believe the world is listening,” I said finally. “I just don’t know what it’s trying to say.”

  That earned me a round of confused stares.

  The preacher’s final words washed over us like a cool breeze. “Walk in Clarity. See in faith. Trust that the light threads through all things.”

  The blue flames dimmed to embers, and the crowd began dispersing.

  As we turned to leave, I noticed the Church’s motto etched into the fountain’s stone rim:

  PURITY OF SIGHT, OBEDIENCE IN LIGHT, HARMONY IN WEFT.

  For some reason, it made the back of my neck prickle.

  “Come on,” Lira said, already moving toward the street. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow. Remember the north gate at seven forty-five.”

  Merric fell into step behind her. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there on time… most likely.”

  “Don’t make me drag you,” she muttered.

  Elaria lingered a moment, still staring back at the plaza. “They make it sound so certain,” she said, “like they already know the answer.”

  “Maybe they do,” I said quietly. “Or maybe they just talk loud enough that no one questions it.”

  We walked on, boots clicking softly against the stone, the last echoes of the sermon fading behind us.

  Behind us, church bells began to ring. And under that sound—so faint I almost missed it—the threads pulsed once, then stilled.

  We parted ways in silence, each heading back to our place of rest.

  My walk home was quiet, filled with the lingering echo of the sermon. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the threads had been speaking to me, trying to tell me something. The thought clung to me all the way to my room.

  By the time I reached my bed, exhaustion had swept the questions aside. Whatever it was, I could figure it out tomorrow.

  Morning came quickly.

  A soft birdsong and a cool breeze drifted through the open window, stirring me awake. I slid out of bed, dressed, and headed toward the North Gate. This mission should be simple enough—no need for a morning training session.

  To my surprise, Merric was already there among the gathered escorts, hands planted on his hips, a grin plastered on his face.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” he called. “Someone’s late today.”

  I rubbed my eyes, still half-asleep. “You show up on time once, and suddenly you’re punctual royalty. It’s not even seven-thirty—I’m not late.”

  Merric chuckled. “You look late, though.”

  Elaria stepped out from the front of a large wooden carriage, her braid catching the light. “You look a mess,” she said, amused. “Didn’t sleep well last night?”

  “Not at all,” I admitted. “Too much on my mind.”

  Lira’s voice cut through the morning air, cool and sharp. “Then make sure it doesn’t interfere with the mission.”

  I muttered under my breath, “Well, good morning to you too.”

  We stood before a four-carriage caravan, each wagon stacked with crates and bundles of goods. These—and the merchant’s life—were what we’d been hired to protect. Escort missions usually ranked on the easier side, especially those departing from Etrielle. No sane bandit wanted to tangle with a caravan sanctioned by the Guild.

  A small, round man with slick jet-black hair waddled up from behind the line of carriages.

  “The name’s Tobrin Vell,” he announced proudly. “I’m the man who hired you—and the most important person to you until we reach Verrinport.”

  Merric snorted under his breath, earning an elbow from Lira.

  “We look forward to working with you, Mr. Vell,” she said smoothly.

  “Ah, polite and professional. I like that,” Tobrin said, adjusting the golden sash straining across his midsection. “If all goes well, you’ll find me generous at the end of the road. But if you dent my wagons, I’ll have your Guild cut you out of your pay slip faster than a knife through butter.”

  Merric’s grin widened. “Charming fellow.”

  Tobrin puffed out his chest, clearly pleased with himself, then vanished into one of the forward carriages.

  We fell into formation at the rear, following behind the last wagon as the caravan began to roll forward.

  The road ahead gleamed faintly with morning light, and for a heartbeat, I caught what looked like the glint of a spyglass on the horizon. A ripple of unease ran through me.

  I’d warn the others, just in case.