The sun had long vanished beyond the horizon, leaving behind a shimmering trail of gold and crimson across the ocean's surface. Lanterns lining the harbor's rocky path flickered to life, their warm glow painting circles in the humid twilight air.
The wooden tavern door creaked shut behind them, muffling fading laughter and the clinking of plates. Outside, the world felt hushed, as if holding its breath. The scent of salt, grilled fish, and wet wood mingled with the lingering aroma of spices from closing stalls.
Boats and ships swayed gently at their moorings, their sails neatly furled like sleeping wings. Distant sounds echoed across the harbor—the soft melody of a sailor's song, the sleepy whispers of the port. From somewhere, a faint bell tolled—slow and resonant, carried on the wind like a forgotten warning.
Above, stars pricked the deep blue sky, their reflections shimmering amongst the calm ripples of the sea. They walked in silence, each footstep soft on the stone path, as if the weight of the day slowly lifted from their shoulders.
The harbor felt peaceful—too peaceful, perhaps. Like a story paused mid-sentence, waiting for the next word to break the stillness.
Confused by their location, one of them sharply questioned Arshal's purpose.
"Where are we going now?" Lixs asked, breaking the silence. She stood, gazing at the moon's beautiful light bathing them.
Arshal realized he had forgotten to explain things to Lixs and her friend. Finally, he spoke, revealing everything.
A worn, black book rested in his right hand. He showed them that their journey was to uncover the power within it.
A slight doubt lingered in his heart; he had witnessed strange occurrences linked to Lixs' presence and the book—Zuxsin's book.
But he finally revealed the purpose of their journey.
"To find a solution to the problem you're facing," he sighed, his gaze falling to his own hands.
"What do you mean by that?!" Lixs' eyes widened, startled by Arshal's words.
"Huh?" Lixs's jaw dropped in disbelief.
Lixs didn't understand his vague statement. The lack of detail left her confused.
Arshal glanced eastward, seemingly inviting them to follow. Without hesitation, they nodded and trailed behind him.
Night fog blurred their vision over the water as an old sailing ship docked at the wooden pier. The creak of ropes and the clang of anchor chains echoed between the masts, gently swaying in the sea breeze.
Dockworkers—rough-handed and clad in worn clothes—moved swiftly, unloading wooden crates filled with spices, fabrics, and porcelain from the East. The salty sea air mingled with the smells of fish, human sweat, and coal smoke from a distant steamship.
Once their feet touched the cobblestone streets beyond the harbor, the city of Scive greeted them with its characteristic bustle. Horse-drawn carriages rattled along the main road, kicking up dust and straw.
Vendors' cries filled the air: warm bread, fresh fish, and daily newspapers with news from a rapidly changing world.
Red brick buildings lined the streets, small shops with wide glass windows displaying handcrafted goods—pocket watches, top hats, and striped cotton fabrics.
In the distance, a bell tolled from a tower. This city, though draped in old-world romance, also pulsed with the burgeoning throes of the Industrial Revolution.
Children darted through narrow alleys, while men in long coats and bowler hats engaged in serious conversations in coffee shop corners. Languages from all corners of the globe were spoken—a testament to the port's role as a gateway to the world.
This place was vastly different from the continent of Historia. Though geographically close, the culture here leaned heavily towards a rigid monarchy.
Scive, under a monarchy, placed power firmly in the hands of a hereditary king or ruler.
The people had no say in political decision-making. They were expected to accept the crown's dictates.
A group of people, however, opposed the monarchy due to dissatisfaction with their circumstances.
The fog thickened, obscuring their path. They decided to find lodgings.
A multi-story building, constructed of luxurious stone, was distinguished by its unique lamps. Seeing the inn's sign, they decided to stay there for the night.
Passing through a small doorway, a slight creak announced their entrance. The inn was bustling, with many people queuing for rooms.
Arshal, having paid, now held the key to room number 9. They ascended the stairs to their rented room.
Ancient paintings adorned the walls, creating a welcoming atmosphere. They placed their bags in storage. A single word broke the silence.
"This place is pretty nice," Lixs murmured, admiring the mirror next to the storage closet.
"Yes." After saying that, Arshal excused himself to leave. The three nodded and let him go.
While tidying the room, Zuxsin noticed a pocket watch on the table. Curious, she picked it up and studied its intricate design.
The strange numbers confused her. She turned to her friends and held it up. "Do you recognize this?" she asked.
"Do you know this?" She opened her hand, displaying the watch.
The two friends were initially puzzled by the watch's unique design and numbers. She then gave it to Lixs to see if she recognized it.
Lixs paused and slowly nodded. She had never seen such a design and numbering before.
In her mind, she concluded the watch originated from this place. Not wanting to dwell on it, she passed it to Zaresha.
After handing over the watch, she walked to the bed to lie down for a moment. The burns on her body were slowly healing; some areas were still sore, but her right arm was almost normal, while other parts still ached.
"I'm so tired, I'm going to lie down for a bit." Sighing, she lay down with her right hand on her forehead.
Just as she settled, a knock sounded. The two who were standing turned, focusing their attention on the door.
But… the knocking grew louder. One of them went to open it. Zaresha opened the door to find a figure cloaked and hooded standing before her.
The cloak slowly opened, and from a distance, Zuxsin and Lixs asked who had knocked. Zaresha, meanwhile, remained speechless, waiting for the figure to fully reveal themselves.
Their face became visible, and she instantly recognized them.
"Huh, Arshal, you scared me." She breathed a sigh of relief, having been slightly panicked.
Arshal bowed his head, and without a word, entered the room. Zuxsin, curious, asked where he had been.
Responding with a soft "Yes," and a nod, he sat down, his gaze fixed on his hands.
Feeling something was amiss, the other two asked if anything strange had happened. Arshal shook his head, saying nothing was unusual.
From a distance, Lixs opened her eyes, her head lifting at the sound of their conversation. She looked towards her friends.
Rising from the bed, her right hand on her back, she approached the three.
Suddenly, Lixs drove her small dagger into Arshal's chest—just missing his heart. The other two were shocked.
But, after being stabbed by Lixs' dagger, Arshal smiled, blood trickling from his mouth.
"Since when did you know?" His mouth opened wide, blood splattering his robe.
Panic surged in Lixs's voice. "Jump, now!"
Glass shattered as she leapt through the window. For a heartbeat, the others hesitated—then followed.
Jumping from the second floor, with a jarring impact, Zuxsin twisted her ankle; she couldn't move her left leg at all.
Lixs's heart sank. Guilt gnawed at her—she had forced them to jump. She bit her lower lip, hard.
From the building, they saw a red skull approaching them.