Serel stuck close to Vera as they neared Marrowfen’s outer gates, stepping onto the moss-veined cobblestone road. The uneven stones bore a worn smoothness that spoke of heavy use, though Vera couldn’t guess how much exactly.

  Up ahead, the cloaked travelers were finishing with the guards. The guard with the halberd was speaking to them beside the loaded cart, while the other rifled through the cart itself.

  “Mommy…” Serel murmured, tugging at the sleeve of Vera’s overshirt. “Will those people let us in?”

  Vera adjusted the satchel on her shoulder. “Well, I don’t know.”

  The girl’s grip tightened.

  “But I’m sure it won’t be a problem,” Vera said, casting her a sidelong glance. “I’m pretty resourceful, you know.”

  To be entirely honest, she found it a little amusing how quickly Serel’s boldness had evaporated. All that excitement and wide-eyed wonder from earlier was gone, replaced with quiet apprehension.

  Not that Vera blamed her. If this was really Serel’s first time approaching a proper city, the nerves made sense. She might’ve never even seen a crowd before, let alone armed guards searching travelers at a gate.

  By the time they closed the final stretch, the cart was creaking past the archway, leaving the two guards’ attention squarely on them.

  Vera had drawn up the hood of her mantle—probably for the first time since acquiring the item. The hood itself had been purely cosmetic in Ashen Legacy, but here it actually got to serve a purpose. With her overshirt concealing the sigil-scars along her arms, she hoped it would be enough to dull any immediate recognition.

  Though the real question was how recognizable Veralyth Mournvale was. Caldrin had implied she carried considerable weight, which made some sense given her prominence in the game, but Vera still wasn’t sure how that would look here. Names, titles, even appearances could mean different things here. And she had no idea if other players existed in this world, or how their presence would affect her own reputation.

  Either way, she preferred the guards not to recognize her outright. They’d probably ask her to lower the hood, but what came after was harder to predict. Recognition might not necessarily be bad, but she’d rather choose the timing of something like that herself.

  “Hail, madame,” the halberd-bearing guard greeted as they stepped forward. Vera stopped, Serel slipping behind her. “Would you mind lowering your hood?”

  A flicker of unease stirred in her gut, but she pulled the hood back without hesitation, silver-gray hair spilling free.

  The guard—a broad, dark-skinned man with a trimmed beard and the stiff posture of someone used to long hours standing still—blinked, brow furrowing slightly.

  Vera shifted her gaze to his companion, a younger man with a sharp nose and narrow frame. The instant her eyes met his, he twitched. His hand shot toward his sword.

  Serel tensed behind her.

  Vera’s expression darkened. “…Is there a problem?”

  The younger guard blinked, as if only just realizing what he’d done. He glanced down at his own hand, then back at her, jaw working uselessly.

  “Fabio,” the older guard muttered, shooting his partner a sharp look as he nudged the hand off the weapon. Then he turned back to Vera, expression smoothing. “Apologies, madame. He’s new. Still learning. Hasn’t met many Kindled.”

  His gaze lingered on Vera, then went briefly to Serel, watching the girl with what might have been something between curiosity and professional caution.

  Vera studied them both, then allowed her stance to ease.

  According to Caldrin, ‘Kindled’ was the blanket term for basically anyone of higher Flamebinding, which was apparently a distinction that applied to anyone of the Fifth Binding or above. Vera had her own opinions about whether that really counted as ‘higher’, but she was the stranger to this world. Not her definitions to set.

  What struck her more was how quickly they’d identified her as Kindled. Maybe the sigil-scars on her hands gave her away, but it felt like more than that. As if they hadn’t seen her power so much as sensed it. Like her presence alone had told them what she was.

  Did she radiate pressure without meaning to? Some kind of aura? If so, that could be a problem.

  “Madame,” the older guard said, tone polite but firm. “Before we allow entry, we’ll need to ask a few questions, if that’s acceptable.”

  He pulled a small slate from a pouch at his hip, stylus already in hand.

  Vera eyed him for only a moment. “Is that standard procedure for all travelers around here?”

  “Kindled follow a separate registration process. No offense meant—but by order of the Boneward Concord, all Kindled must be documented within the city walls.”

  “…Alright. Go ahead.”

  “Thank you. Am I right in assuming this is your first time visiting Marrowfen?”

  “No.”

  “When was your last visit?”

  “Two, maybe three years ago. Hard to say exactly.”

  The man gave a soft hum as he scribbled something down. “Then, your name, along with your reason for visiting?”

  Vera folded her arms, tapping a finger lightly against her elbow. “Vera Morgans. I’m here to show the little one the sights.” She tilted her head back toward Serel.

  “The sights…?” He seemed to process that for a moment, regarding her closely, before finally accepting it. His eyes shifted to Serel, who shrank further behind Vera at the sudden scrutiny. “Your daughter?”

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  Vera stilled. Just for a beat. Probably not enough for either guard to notice. “Yes.”

  “And her name?”

  “Serel Morgans.”

  “I see.” More notes scratched across the slate.

  She’d thought about using fake names. Logically, it would’ve been the safer choice. But when it came down to it, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Some stubborn, oddly prideful part of her that she hadn’t been aware of refused to hide completely. So she’d chosen a compromise—her real first name, the one Veralyth was based on, paired with her old surname.

  Not ideal if she wanted to stay incognito. But the guard’s lack of reaction suggested it was working. He hadn’t recognized her face either, nor Serel’s name, which was a relief.

  A few more questions followed. Fairly basic things, like where they’d come from and how long they intended to stay. Vera leaned on the outline Caldrin had given her, filling in gaps with her knowledge from Ashen Legacy. Enough, she hoped, to keep from drawing suspicion.

  Serel stayed quiet throughout, clinging to her leg.

  At last, the guard nodded. “Welcome to Marrowfen.”

  His younger companion gave Vera one last wary glance, but said nothing.

  They stepped through the gates, and the first thing that hit her was the smell.

  She’d caught traces from outside, but inside it was much thicker. It was the smell of damp stone, what she guessed was tannin-rich water, and a faint metallic tang just beneath. Not unpleasant, exactly, but impossible to ignore.

  Beyond the gate, a narrow causeway of slick cobblestones wound between squat buildings of sallow timber and darkened stone. Their leaning silhouettes sagged like weary sentries, long shadows stretching across the street in the last rays of sun. White-tinted lanterns flickered from curved iron posts, casting a pallid glow.

  To their left, a narrow canal shimmered black as it threaded deeper into the city, vanishing beneath a low arched bridge. If memory served, that waterway cut straight toward the old quarter, and eventually, the Marrowvault itself.

  Somewhere deeper in the city, a bell tolled. Low and hollow, like knuckles tapping bone. The sound sent a ripple through Vera’s mind, stirring old memories from the game.

  She stood there for a while, simply taking it in.

  It wasn’t the grandest sight she’d had so far, but it felt faithful to the Marrowfen she remembered. And that fidelity gave it weight, grounding her even as it made the whole scene feel more surreal.

  Beside her, Serel had stopped clinging to her leg and was slowly turning in place, wide eyes drinking in the narrow streets and crooked buildings.

  Vera found herself watching the girl’s shifting expression—wonder, curiosity, the spark of something resembling pure adventure—and felt something she couldn’t quite name.

  She pulled her hood back up, shielding her face, and set off down the street, the pale lamplight guiding her way. Exploring could wait until tomorrow. For now, they needed somewhere to ‘spend the night’, then they’d use the Hearthbind Token to return to Sablewatch Hollow. Caldrin would likely be waiting there with a warm meal.

  Serel lingered a second longer, then scampered across the cobbles to rejoin her, gaze still darting to every new detail.

  Vera kept her own eyes moving. Shops and homes pressed close together, signs marked with bone-carved insignias or tanned hides swaying faintly above their doors. Leatherwork seemed especially common here in that section, though she also spotted alchemical sigils glowing in some windows.

  The streets weren’t bustling at this hour, but they weren’t empty either. The few passersby looked ordinary enough—though their clothing styles still felt strange to Vera and her modern sensibilities. No faded jeans or branded hoodies, for one.

  She wondered if this part of the city was younger. It hadn’t occurred to her in the game, but it felt less steeped in the ossuary aesthetic she associated with Marrowfen. But that changed soon enough.

  Just minutes later, they came upon a larger building tucked at a quiet corner by one of the canals. Pale and curved, it rose like something grown rather than built—three stories of smooth white bone, arched doorways, and narrow windows spilling a soft glow onto the street.

  Serel stopped, staring up at it with parted lips.

  Vera’s gaze slid to the sign mounted by the entrance. It depicted a stylized chalice crowned with thorned branches.

  She smiled.

  The Bleeding Chalice.

  She’d thought she recognized the place. She had definitely been here in the game. It was one of Marrowfen’s more notable taverns, and the exact place she’d been hoping to find.

  She started toward the entrance. Serel trailed close behind until the girl stopped just short of the door.

  Vera turned back. “Something wrong, Serel?”

  The girl looked up at the tavern’s facade, then back at her. “Are we… going inside, Mommy?”

  There was a softness in her tone that Vera couldn’t place. A flicker of anticipation, maybe, tinged with uncertainty.

  Vera offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “We are. Come on.”

  She set her palm against the door, its surface carved from the same pale material as the rest of the building, and pushed. The heavy panel swung inward on well-oiled hinges.

  The tavern’s interior was dim but welcoming, lit by white-tinted lanterns that washed everything in a ghostlike glow. The low murmur of voices mixed with the clatter of mugs, while the air carried the scent of smoked herbs, warm broth, and a faint trace of sweetness.

  Ribbed arches of sculptured bone curled overhead, like the inside of some massive fossilized beast, which was probably a deliberate design. The walls were a mix of pale wood and dark stone, oddly enough, worn smooth by years of touch.

  A large hearth burned at the far end, its flames throwing a lazy amber warmth across nearby tables. A handful of patrons sat close, cloaks draped over chairs, travel gear piled at their feet. Most gave only cursory glances toward the door before returning to their drinks.

  Behind a long counter stood a broad-shouldered woman polishing a mug with practiced ease. Her hair was bound into thick coils clasped with copper rings, and one eye gleamed gold while the other was an empty socket. She looked at Vera in a way that was appraising, but not unfriendly.

  Vera stepped fully inside, Serel close at her side. The door shut with a muted thud.

  The place wasn’t exactly how she remembered it from Ashen Legacy, but close enough to stir more nostalgia. Nostalgia, and… something else. Something that felt more like an echo lodged in the back of her mind.

  The woman she assumed was the tavern’s matron watched them as they approached the counter. She set the mug aside, leaning forward with both hands braced on the wood. “Here for a room, I’m guessin’?”

  Vera nodded. “That was the plan.”

  “Well, lucky you—still got a few open.”

  “Lucky us.”

  The woman tilted her head, studying her. “Say… have we met before?”

  Vera hesitated, taking a closer look at her. She couldn’t remember what the NPCs here had looked like in the game, but there was something vaguely familiar about this woman. Was that from Veralyth? Hopefully they weren’t actually supposed to know each other.

  “…Not sure,” she said finally. “Some people say I’ve got one of those faces.”

  The woman gave a dry, amused snort. “If that half-hidden face under your hood’s anything to go by, I doubt it. That your daughter?” She nodded at Serel, who was half-tucked behind Vera’s hip, sneaking glances at the woman’s golden eye—and at the empty socket beside it.

  Vera glanced down. “Yes.”

  This time, she managed not to pause.

  “Well then, unless the father’s dishier than triple-brewed firewhiskey, you’ve handed down more than your fair share. Little one’s cuter than a piglet in boots—and looks about as ready to bolt.”

  Serel’s cheeks flushed a vivid red. She buried herself in Vera’s mantle with a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a squeak.

  Vera herself didn’t really know what to say either, caught between second-hand embarrassment and the vague discomfort at the mention of Serel’s ‘father’. Luckily, the matron just laughed and shook her head.

  “So. Just the one room, yeah?”

  “…Yes. One room.”

  “That’s two silv then. Want a meal on top? Three copps for both of you, if so.”

  Vera blinked, taking an extra second just to translate the words to something she was actually familiar with. ‘Copps’ had to mean copper, and ‘silv’ was clearly silver—the lowest and second-lowest denominations used in Ashen Legacy. Back in the game, she’d been used to dealing with ashmarks and godmarks, which sat four or five tiers above coppers and silvers.

  But Caldrin had stocked her with the smaller stuff too.

  She slipped a hand into the pouch at her belt, sifted through the coins, and set two silver on the counter.

  “The room will be enough.”

  The woman gave both coin and customer a glance, then shrugged and pocketed it.

  “Suit yourself. Come on. I’ll show you up.”