Talking about meeting the Broker, Liliana had been standing in that narrow alley since the dead of night. By now, the sky had brightened with the pale hues of morning. The Drift never changed much same grey clouds, same biting chill but the soft shuffle of people leaving their homes was enough to tell her that dawn had long passed.
She let out a breath, fog curling from her lips. Finally, she had left Scorial Vale. She hadn't passed the test, no. But somehow, with the Master's help, she made it out. That alone put her ahead of the rest even those who had passed.
But freedom had a price.
The Master had set one condition: return with the Shard of Flame. A relic no ordinary soul could ever hope to touch.
Well, wasn't she just lucky, handed a mission that could very well get her killed.
Typical.
Trust the master to dress a death sentence up as an opportunity. And not just any mission, no, hers involved stepping into Ghulvale. The land of the dead. Where the air and silence could bleed you dry.
If that wasn't a message, she didn't know what was.
Liliana shifted her weight from one foot to the other, boots scraping against the broken cobblestones of the alley. The sky above the Drift was still that same sickly grey, but people were starting to move to their daily mundane work.
She clenched her jaw. Her fingers itched at her side, where the hilt of her dagger rested beneath her coat. Not that it would help in Ghulvale. Nothing ever came back from there not in one piece at least. But fear was for lesser creatures. She'd made it out of Scorial Vale without passing their precious test. She was already a ghost in their eyes.
What was one more step into the dark?
Liliana turned sharply, coat flaring behind her as she stepped out of the alley and into the waking street. The cold bit through her clothes, but she didn't flinch. She refused to. Map or no map, she'd find Ghulvale. She'd carve her path with sheer spite if she had to.
She walked fast. Shoulders squared. Chin high. Each step thudding with something she wouldn't call anger but wasn't quite fear either. Something twisted in her chest tight and loud but she shoved it down.
Jasmine stood beside Draven, staring at the towering, rust-eaten gates that marked the entrance to Ghulvale. The air beyond them hung thick and unmoving. Not a single sound stirred, not wind, not birds, not even the usual hum of cursed things waiting in the dark.
Just silence.
The land ahead looked like something out of a nightmare, barren, colorless, cloaked in a kind of darkness that didn't fall like night but bled like oil.
Nothing good came from a place like that.
She swallowed and shifted her weight, trying not to let the chill in her spine show. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, more out of instinct than defiance.
"So," she said, her voice a little drier than she meant, "are we going in there, or just you?"
It was meant to sound casual, but it cracked a little at the edges. Because there was no version of this where she willingly walked into Ghulvale.
She wasn't ready to die.
One day maybe, but not today. Not like this.
Draven didn't answer right away. He just stood there, flicking his lighter open and closed with a rhythm too calm for the place they were standing. The tiny flame sparked to life, casting flickers across his face before vanishing again with a soft click. The movement was casual and careless, like they were about to walk into a tavern, not the land of the damned.
"I'd love to leave you out here," he said, finally glancing her way with that frustrating half-smirk of his. "But that would be troublesome. I need someone to remind me why I'm in there in the first place."
Jasmine stared at him. Was that supposed to be comforting?
"Flattering," she muttered under her breath, the words barely audible. Her eyes flicked back to the gate, heart thudding in a rhythm that didn't belong to her.
Her fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel as if it could anchor her to the living side of the world.
"And how exactly do you plan to go in there?" Jasmine asked, her arms flung out, frustration practically radiating off her. "Because let me be crystal clear, I'm no good with protection spells, wards, or whatever might keep the dead from peeling our faces off."
She paced two steps in front of him, then spun back around. "Heck, I need protection. And you're dragging me into this nightmare, you can't even remember your real name. That's already a problem!"
Draven didn't even flinch. He was leaned casually against the gatepost like they were chatting outside a bakery instead of the mouth of literal death. He flicked the lighter open again, the flame dancing between his fingers like it was mocking her panic.
"Stop reminding me I traded my name, Flame Girl," he said smoothly, a crooked grin tugging at one side of his mouth. "And for the record, I haven't started losing my mind yet so don't worry yourself too much."
He pushed off the gate, strolling a few steps closer to her, hands in his coat pockets. "You've got protection."
Jasmine narrowed her eyes at him.
"Right," she said flatly. "Protection. Let me guess, you're planning to what? Will-reap the dead? As far as I remember, Draven, they're dead. They don't listen. They don't negotiate. They drag you down and keep you."
Draven raised a brow, tilting his head in mock consideration. "Why do I feel like you're... I don't know, against the idea of me going in there?"
Jasmine froze, mouth agape for half a second. She blinked slowly at him, as if trying to confirm whether he was serious.
"My God," she said at last, voice layered with enough sarcasm to fill the valley. "I thought I'd been speaking in volumes. Hello! Kind sir! I am so against the idea of us going in there. You hear me now, or do I need to paint a sign?"
Draven gave a low chuckle, completely unbothered. "Oof. That sarcasm's getting heavier by the minute. You sure you didn't bring a second satchel just to carry it around?"
Jasmine groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Why am I doing this again?"
"Because you're brilliant, reckless, and curious," he said, almost too cheerfully. "And also you need answers. And Ghulvale's got 'em."
Jasmine hated that he was right. Hated more that he knew he was right.
And worst of all… she was still walking into that cursed place with him.
The gates groaned open with a sound like bone grinding on stone.
Jasmine flinched, not from the sound exactly, but from the way it lingered as though the land itself had sighed in disappointment at their arrival.
She stepped in after Draven, one hesitant foot past the threshold.
Cold rushed up her spine like fingers crawling beneath her skin.
The air was different It pressed against her like invisible cloth, as if the entire realm had wrapped itself around her shoulders without permission.
The ground was dark, dirt and ash, It crunched under her boots with a sound that felt wrong for earth. She glanced down and realized she couldn't see her own shadow.
"How comforting," she muttered, barely louder than her breath.
Draven walked ahead, lighting the path with the flicker of his lighter, its flame unnaturally steady in the windless gloom. He didn't look back, but she saw his shoulders loosen as if this place suited him.
That, more than anything, unnerved her.
Twisted trees lined the path, skeletal and scorched, their branches reaching out like broken fingers. No wind blew, yet they creaked, dry hollow sounds that scraped at her ears. The sky above was a bruised grey, no sun, no moon, just a dull glow that gave no warmth and no sense of time.
"How far in does this go?" she asked quietly, her voice absorbed by the space rather than echoed.
"As far as it needs to," Draven replied, voice low and too calm.
Jasmine glanced sideways at him. "That's not ominous at all."
Draven smirked but said nothing more.
They walked.
And walked.
The path didn't twist, didn't curve it just kept stretching forward, like the land was reshaping itself as they moved. The silence was the worst part.
"Do you feel that?" she asked after a long stretch, her fingers brushing the side of her satchel.
"What?"
"The... pressure. It like we're sinking."
Draven's lighter flared again. "Welcome to Ghulvale." he murmured as they start hearing sounds of creatures starting to come for them.
"Can you move?" Draven asked, his voice low and tight.
Jasmine opened her mouth, but all that came out was a shaky breath. Her feet refused to budge. Her legs were locked in place, like the ground itself had swallowed her ankles.
"I....can't," she whispered. "I'm stuck."
Draven's gaze flicked down to her feet, then to the surrounding terrain. His posture stiffened, there was no smirk this time not even a careless shrug.
"You stepped on a trap," he said, already reaching into his coat, fingers moving quickly. "It's old. You should be fine.....just... don't get bitten."
Her head snapped toward him, heart pounding harder now.
"What does that mean?" Her voice rose, brittle with panic. "What's coming? What are they?!"
Draven didn't look at her this time. He was already rolling his sleeves up his jaw clenched tight.
"Ghouls," he said flatly. "Ever heard of them?"
The sound came then, soft, scratching, almost like nails across bark. Then another. Then many.
Too many.
The realization dropped like ice water in Jasmine's chest.
Ghulvale.
Ghoul-vale.
Her breath caught. "Oh God."
The noise grew louder scraping, skittering, like bones dragged across stone. Jasmine's body trembled, even though her feet refused to budge. The trap held her tight, not with chains. but with something worse, a spell maybe.
"I can't fight like this," she said, voice cracking. "Draven...I'm wide open. I can't move."
"I know," he replied, eyes locked on the shadows ahead. His tone wasn't calm now.....it was focused. Harsh. "Don't panic. Whatever you do...don't scream."
That silenced her.
He stepped in front of her without another word, positioning himself between her and the dark. The lighter flicked once, then again, before flaring to life with a strange, violet flame. It bathed him in ghostlight, casting shadows over the hollows of his face.
He can summon flame? She thought he was just a will reaper, now she felt she was really with a stranger, but now any of that didn't matter, not when she's about to get killed by ghouls.
"They can smell fear," he said softly, like reciting something drilled into his bones. "But it's the sound that draws them."
Jasmine's heart thundered. She wanted to breathe, to run, to do something, but all she could do was clutch her satchel and pray her knees didn't give out.
Then she saw it.
A silhouett, very gaunt looking crawling towards them with eyes gleaming like wet stones in the dark.
The first ghoul dragged itself into view a gaunt limbs too long, skin stretched like leather over bone. Its mouth hung open in a slack, unnatural grin, full of jagged, rotted teeth. No eyes just bleached white sockets that still somehow saw.
Jasmine's breath hitched.
More shapes peeled out of the fog behind it.....three, four, six. Crawling, dragging, some standing, heads twitching, sniffing. The sound of their limbs scraping the dirt scraped straight across her nerves.
Draven didn't wait.
He moved.
The lighter flared in his palm, and with a swift motion, he slashed it through the air. Fire followed not warm, golden fire, but violet-blue flame, cold and hungry. It carved a streak across the path, forcing the ghouls back with an inhuman screech.
The first one lunged.
Draven met it mid-air, pivoting low and driving a curved blade upward through its chest. The thing shrieked, not in pain but fury. He kicked it off his blade, sent it crumpling into the ash.
Jasmine flinched as a second ghoul darted forward on all fours, fast, faster than it should be. Draven spun, dodged, and drove the heel of his boot into its head with a sickening crunch. It twitched, then lay still.
But more kept coming.
"Draven....." Jasmine's voice shook. "There's too many!"
"I see that!" he snapped, sweat already gathering at his brow. His blade whipped out again, slicing clean through a twisted neck.
Another ghoul ducked under his swing and leapt for Jasmine.
She couldn't move.
Her hand flew to the satchel, but it was pure instinct. The ghoul was almost on her she could see the black crust around its gums, the rot in its mouth. She screamed.
Light exploded.
Not from Draven. From her.
A pulse, hot and blinding. The kind of heat that had weight. It rippled outward from her chest like a wave slamming into stone.
The ghoul never made contact. It was thrown back mid-air, spinning like a ragdoll before crashing into a tree and bursting into flame.
Everything went still.
Even the ghouls froze.
Draven turned sharply, blinking against the light. "What the hell was that?"
Jasmine stood there, eyes wide, hand clutching the front of her coat. A faint glow crackled beneath her skin like embers. Her lips parted. "I… I don't know."
Another ghoul hissed. The others began to circle again, more cautious this time.
Draven exhaled, then gave a shaky grin. "Well... looks like you do have protection after all."
He raised his blade again.
"Round two, then."