*tap! *tap ! *tap!
Elyn's footsteps echoed down the uneven stone path ahead of her, each step a steady rhythm against the silence that slowly overtook the air around her.
The bustling noise of civilians she had left behind began to fade into a background hum, then into hushed murmurs—and soon, only faint whispers remained as the shadows of the lower district swallowed the noise of the outer world.
It was a place untouched by sunlight, where the buildings leaned too close together and the skies looked slightly grey.
Beggars lounged along cracked walls, their bodies hunched beneath tattered blankets and patchwork cloaks—while cloaked individuals drifted like smoke between alleyways, heads down but eyes sharply attentive.
Thugs meanwhile leaned in corners, pretending not to notice her while gripping the hilts of their concealed daggers, as if waiting for a sign to strike.
But none of them moved.
Not one dared to approach her.
They recognized the shape beneath that dark hood, the weight of the presence that accompanied her every step.
They knew that silhouette, the slow confidence in her stride, the promise of death in her shadow.
They knew what lived beneath that hood—the cursed soul, the corrupted essence marked by a divine punishment that was never lifted.
She was a being molded by war and tainted by divine wrath, her body a vessel of decay and defiance.
She had once stood before a goddess and left with a curse strong enough to make lesser men shatter, and now her blades bore the dried blood of both priests and devils—soaked in the memories of battles where no side claimed honor.
Even those with no name to lose knew better than to whisper hers too loudly.
They understood what happened to people who got in her way, or worse, betrayed her.
Snitching wasn't worth the price, not when Elyn had a web of allies scattered through every layer of the city's underworld.
Even if someone managed to run, her connections reached farther than most feet could carry them, and if they didn't, she could always return and finish things with her own hands.
Quick and brutal.
===
She kept moving forward through the grey, secluded zone of the undercity, where even the sun dared not enter.
Her path led her toward a weathered entrance, barely noticeable behind a wall made of large, decaying planks.
From a glance, it looked just like every other worn wall that surrounded this part of the slums, but Elyn wasn't fooled.
She had been here before.
She knew where it led.
A beggar sat close by, crouched near the edge where the wall met a crooked alley.
His hands extended forward, trembling slightly, as if asking for coin.
But Elyn didn't stop for pity.
She kept looking, her gaze fixed on the man until he noticed her presence.
Slowly, his eyes rose, recognition dawning in the tired look of his pupils.
He said nothing, only pushed himself up, bones cracking as he stood.
Without a word, he approached the wooden wall and raised his fist.
He knocked five times in total—the first two came slow, then he paused, followed by two more in quick succession, and finally a fifth knock, loud and deliberate, ending the sequence with a subtle echo that lingered around the air.
It was a code, a silent message spoken through wood, one that only a few understood.
A thin vertical crack opened in the wall, spreading slowly until a sliver of darkness became a doorway.
From within, two fully cloaked figures emerged, their robes dragging softly against the ground.
Their eyes met Elyn's for a brief moment before they turned to the side, parting like the tide, giving her passage.
No words were spoken.
They didn't need to ask who she was.
They already knew.
Elyn stepped forward, walking past them without so much as a glance, the wooden wall groaning shut behind her with a final
*Thud!
that echoed in the silence.
The passage ahead of her stretched into the unknown, lit only by flickering torches fixed at regular intervals.
Their flames cast dancing shadows along the stone walls, creating the illusion of movement even where none existed. Her footsteps once again echoed, louder this time in the narrow corridor.
The air was cold here, and with each step, it felt as though the darkness thickened, pressing in from both sides.
She walked until she reached a staircase, a downward spiral that looked as if it had been carved into the earth itself.
Without hesitation, she descended, her boots tapping steadily against the stone steps as the tunnel swallowed her whole.
The deeper she went, the more the torchlight began to thin, and soon only the memory of warmth remained behind her.
Several minutes passed, the weight of the descent growing heavier until she finally reached a flat surface.
Before her stood a thick red door, slightly chipped at the edges, as if clawed at by time.
A single torch burned at its side, casting an eerie glow across its surface, illuminating the deep crimson like blood catching firelight.
She reached out and pushed the door open slowly, its hinges creaking and groaning like something ancient being disturbed.
*creak...!
Light poured from within the chamber beyond, spilling out onto her figure and stretching across the floor behind her.
As the door widened, several heads turned toward her, eyes peering from beneath deep hoods and shadows.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then, as if on cue, the room returned to motion, people resuming their whispered conversations and careful work.
They were used to her, after all.
Her presence no longer stirred fear in them—but caution always remained.
Elyn stepped inside, her boots thudding softly on the old wooden planks beneath her feet.
*creak! *creak! *creak!
Every board groaned beneath her weight, adding to the hush of the room like the murmurs of spirits.
She moved forward, past a long table scattered with scrolls and maps, past old books stacked unevenly on crates, until she came to another doorway.
Two cloaked guards stood before it, one with his arms crossed.
"What's your purpose, wraith?" he asked, voice low and serious.
Elyn didn't flinch.
"I was called, by Drevyn herself. Make way."
The two exchanged a quick glance, something silent passing between them, before one of them reached toward a small panel on the wall and pressed a hidden switch.
The large door behind them creaked to life,
*grrrr... *Creak...! *THUD!
opening slowly as the old mechanism dragged it aside.
Elyn walked in, the air warmer here, filled with the faint scent of ink, parchment, and something metallic.
Several individuals stood or sat at desks, eyes buried in ancient texts, fingers flipping through scrolls and ledgers.
It was a place of secrets, where history was bought and sold for the right price.
"Welcome back, child," came a voice, old and commanding, with the edge of mischief still clinging to it.
At the far end stood Drevyn, the aged matriarch of the Thieves' Guild, a woman with silver-streaked hair and scars hidden beneath her layered cloak.
Her eyes sparkled with sharp amusement as they met Elyn's.
"How's life? Is it still choking you?" she said with a crooked grin.
Elyn scoffed, lifting one brow in dry amusement.
"What did you bring me here for?" she asked, her voice low, guarded but not unfriendly.
Drevyn ducked beneath the thick oak table, rummaging for something hidden below.
After a few seconds, she rose again, holding a scroll wrapped tightly in a chain adorned with a strange ornament that glimmered in the light.
"Let's talk business, shall we?" Drevyn said, a smirk pulling at her lips as she laid the scroll gently across the table.