The two of them walked side by side through the streets of Alfra.
The crowd pressed around them like a slow, noisy river, yet it parted with an ease that was anything but natural. It wasn't respect, nor conscious fear—it was something instinctive, like animals recoiling after catching the scent of predators. People looked away, shortened their steps, pressed themselves against walls and stalls. Aken and Clark did nothing to provoke it. But there was something about the two of them that gave away what they were.
"Tell me what you really came here to do," Aken said, his voice low and firm. "You're not the type to wander around places infested with nobles and bureaucrats."
Clark shrugged, his dark hood resting over his shoulders. His yellow eyes swept across the street with amused calm.
"Besides the prostitutes? I came to investigate some cults that have been gathering around here."
Aken let out a small, bitter smile.
"What kind of cults? The ones screaming about the end of the world? Or the ones gathering to talk about how the Kingdoms are becoming oppressive?"
The street was crowded. Wooden stalls were squeezed along the sidewalks, carts passed close enough to brush the walls, and the smell of spices and sweat mixed with the damp air. Even so, wherever the two of them walked, space opened around them.
"Honestly, I wish it were one of those," Clark replied, sarcasm biting into every word. "But it isn't."
"Then what is it?"
Clark bit into an apple.
Aken frowned, his eyes dropping to the fruit. He hadn't seen it before. He had no idea where Clark had gotten it. Yet Clark chewed with irritating naturalness, as if the apple had simply appeared in his hand.
"Cults practicing dark magic," Clark said, his mouth still full.
Aken sighed. The air left him heavily, dragging an old weariness along with it.
"Witches," he said, and the word came out uncomfortably, as though it had thorns.
"We don't know yet if what they're doing involves them." Clark made a vague gesture with the apple. "The Kingdoms made sure to eliminate every witch who got involved with that kind of thing."
Aken looked ahead. The stalls passed like colorful stains through the fog.
"Eradicating them doesn't mean dark magic disappeared," he said. "It's very likely these cults have some connection to those same witches."
"It's not just that."
Aken turned his head.
"There's more?"
Clark took another bite, his jaw moving slowly.
"There are rumors about a group of vampires moving through the shadows of nobles in the Palace."
For a moment, Aken stared at him, trying to decide whether the more absurd part was the information or the fact that Clark was eating an apple in the middle of an investigation.
"Vampires disguised as humans?" he asked at last.
"Interesting, isn't it?"
"Depends on what they want."
"The government sent a report to the Order," Clark continued, lowering his voice. "The Order, in turn, sent a few Hunters to investigate. After a while, they realized the Hunters had simply disappeared. Two weeks ago."
Aken felt the weight of the words settle.
"Disappeared?"
"Gone. No trail. No bodies. No message."
"And the Order?"
Clark chewed slowly, his eyes fixed on some distant point in the street.
"After seeing the situation, the damn Order ended up sending me here with another Hunter."
The cold wind passed between them, carrying the smell of smoke and rotten fish.
Aken turned his gaze toward the crowd. People continued to move away. A vendor pulled his stall aside. A woman grabbed her child by the arm. No one looked directly at them.
"Who's the other?" Aken asked.
Clark tossed the apple core into a gutter.
"Someone you won't like."
"They always send me those."
Clark laughed quietly, a dry sound.
"This time it's different. Not a rookie."
"Then a veteran."
"A female veteran."
Aken stopped.
The crowd divided around them.
"Who?" His voice came out harsher than he intended.
Clark stopped as well, turning to face him. His yellow eyes were serious now, the mocking glint gone.
"You know her. And she definitely knows you."
The silence between them carried the weight of years that would never return.
"Where is she?" Aken asked.
"In the city. But we're not in a hurry."
"I am."
Clark tilted his head, studying him.
"You really want to see her again?"
Aken didn't answer.
The street continued around them, loud and alive, yet it seemed distant. The fog thickened, swallowing the façades and towers. The sky remained the same heavy gray, like a lid over the city.
"I need to get back to Ian," Aken said.
"He's still at the Guild."
"You were there. What else did you see?"
"I saw a handsome boy with the face of someone who's going to inherit his father's problems. And I saw you standing in the middle of the hall, pretending you didn't recognize me."
Aken clenched his jaw.
"I wasn't pretending. I just didn't want to draw attention."
"And now you're walking through the street with me. That draws more attention than anything you could've done in there."
"If you wanted discretion, you should've stayed in the alley."
Clark smiled.
"The alley stank."
"And the street doesn't?"
"The street has wind."
Aken let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Still the same idiot."
"And you're still the same stone. You just talk more now."
"Maybe I realized silence doesn't solve anything."
Clark studied him for a moment.
"That's growth."
"It's exhaustion."
"Sometimes they're the same thing."
They started walking again.
The street sloped gently toward a square, where a fountain poured dark water and several vendors shouted their prices. The smell of fresh bread mixed with wet wood. Aken kept pace, his thoughts circling around Clark's words.
Cults. Dark magic. Witches. Vampires. Missing Hunters. And now a veteran of the Order he would rather not meet again.
All of it in Alfra.
All at once.
"Clark," he called.
"Hm?"
"If this is as big as you're making it sound, what does the Order expect to find?"
Clark didn't answer immediately. He walked a few more steps, his eyes scanning the square.
"The Order doesn't expect to find anything," he said at last. "It expects to understand. And, if necessary, eliminate."
"Eliminate what?"
"Whatever made Hunters disappear without leaving a trace."
Aken felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.
"And you think two Hunters can handle it?"
Clark looked at him, his lips curling into a dark half-smile.
"That's why I'm talking to you."
The sound of the fountain seemed louder. The entire square fell silent for a moment, as if the city itself had held its breath.
"Don't drag me into this," Aken said.
"You're already in it, Noar. Ever since you followed me into that alley."
Aken said nothing.
The wind swirled between the stalls, lifting dust and dry leaves. The crowd moved around them, oblivious, hurried, blind.
And in the middle of the square, beneath the leaden sky, the two Hunters stood still, staring at one another.
Neither backed down.
Aken didn't move.
He remained standing in the middle of the square, his hands loose at his sides, his eyes locked with Clark's. The dark water of the fountain poured behind him, its sound seeming distant, muffled beneath the weight of what had been said. Around them, the life of the city continued its blind flow—carts, shouts, stalls being dragged into place, the smell of bread and wet wood—but to Aken, that moment had stopped.
"No," he said.
Clark didn't seem surprised.
"It was an offer, not an order."
"And the answer is no."
"I heard you the first time."
Aken looked toward the crowd. A woman was pulling two children by the hand. An old man rummaged through a coin stall. A soldier ate a piece of meat skewered on a splinter of wood, his face sweaty and bored.
"I'm not part of the Order anymore," Aken said. "I owe it nothing."
Clark tilted his head.
"I didn't mention the Order. I mentioned missing Hunters."
"And what do you think I can do?"
"What you've always done. Observe. Understand. Survive."
Aken let out a short, bitter laugh.
"Survive. That's what you're asking me to do? Survive?"
"Among other things."
"Listen, Oris." Aken took a step forward, his voice low and firm. "I don't know what you expected to find in Alfra. Maybe you thought the boy who left the Order was still available to be dragged back. But I'm not."
Clark didn't retreat. His yellow eyes remained calm, but there was something behind them that wasn't indifference.
"I didn't come to drag you back," he said. "I came to warn you."
"And you've warned me."
"And I have."
They stared at each other.
The cold wind swept down through the square, lifting the edges of their cloaks. A bell rang from some distant tower, three short chimes. The sound cut through the fog like a warning, and for a moment the two of them seemed to realize at the same time that they were standing in the center of a city too large to go unnoticed.
Clark took a deep breath and broke eye contact first.
"Fine," he said, his calmness carrying no anger. "If that's what you want."
"It is."
"Then go. Your brother should be leaving the Guild now."
Aken hesitated.
"You're staying here?"
"For now."
"And the investigation?"
Clark gave him a faint, humorless smile.
"I'll continue. With or without you."
Aken nodded slowly.
"Be careful in the alleys," he said.
"Be careful around nobles."
Aken turned and began walking. The crowd swallowed him within a few steps, but he could still feel Clark's eyes on his back, like an ember that refused to die. Only after he turned the corner and the square disappeared from view did the weight begin to lessen.
The walk back to the Guild felt far too long for the actual distance.
The streets were more crowded, the air heavier, and the gray of the sky seemed to have descended another inch. Aken walked with his shoulders tense, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword without realizing it. Clark's words hammered inside his head.
Cults. Dark magic. Vampires. Missing Hunters. And a veteran.
He knew most of the Order's female veterans. Some had been instructors. Others had trained alongside him. One or two had become something close to allies. But there was one in particular he didn't want to meet again. One who carried the past like an iron chain.
For a moment, her face tried to take shape in his mind, but he pushed it away.
The Guild's façade appeared ahead.
Ian stood outside, leaning against a pillar, his arms crossed and his face turned toward the street. When he saw Aken, he straightened.
"You're late," Ian said, his eyes sweeping over his brother.
"Had something to deal with."
"Something or someone?"
Aken stopped a step away.
"Why?"
Ian glanced toward the side street where Clark had disappeared among the pedestrians.
"That man," Ian said. "He was in the Guild when we arrived. And he was in the square a little while ago. Talking to you."
Aken didn't answer immediately.
"An acquaintance."
"What kind of acquaintance?"
"An old one."
Ian clenched his jaw.
"I didn't like the way he looked at you."
"He's always looked like that."
"I'm not joking, Aken."
"I know."
Ian pushed away from the pillar and took a step forward.
"Who is he?"
Aken held his gaze. Around them, the street continued to move, but an invisible fence had risen between the two of them.
"Someone I knew before the Levis," Aken replied.
The sentence settled between them with exactly the weight it carried. Ian understood. He ran a hand over his face, his jaw tense.
"What did he want?"
"To talk."
"About?"
"Things that no longer belong to me."
Ian fell silent. Then he took a deep breath.
"And you believe him?"
Aken looked away toward the street.
"I want to."
They remained there for a moment, side by side, without touching. The fog descended over the façades, washing the city's colors away. The scent of rain held back in the clouds grew stronger.
"Let's go back," Ian said at last.
Aken nodded.
They began walking.
Neither spoke. The sound of their boots against the stones filled the silence, steady and hard. The city stretched around them like a gray, indifferent animal, and for the first time in days, Aken felt that every step was carrying him farther from a conversation that, deep down, still hadn't ended.
At the last intersection before the Iron Gate, he glanced back.
Clark wasn't there.
But the feeling of being watched remained, as silent as the fog.