Under the shadowed shroud of her cloak, Morana blended in seamlessly with the crowds that swarmed the streets of the Lost Abyss. When the darkness of the night was thickest, there would always be drunkards tumbling from taverns and mysterious people sneaking home from their work, but never were there this many bodies to push through. At this rate, the tavern would close before she could get there and the owner would not be happy if she picked the lock of his back door again.

It turned out an undead curse was a vexing cause for entertainment.

Before making her way through the narrow lanes and alleys, the assassin had stitched the wound in her thigh, rubbed healing balm on it despite the fierce sting, and wrapped it tightly in bandages. It wasn't her best work, but it would have to do for now. She didn't have time to waste on an injury when there were bigger matters at hand.

After rounding a sharp corner, Morana finally reached the Defiant Moon Tavern which was thankfully still open for business. She snarled at a young Troll who attempted to trip her up on the way in, sending them stumbling backwards.

The first thing that she was greeted with as she set foot through the open doors was the thick aroma of roasted food and spilt liquor. High, wooden beam ceilings provided ample space for all customers — no matter if they were small in stature or if they had to duck under each support. Flickering sconces were evenly placed along the walls, casting light on the wanted posters that served as decoration. A few even had Morana's name scrawled onto them.

Winding through the tables that customers grouped around tables and ignoring the malicious stares she earned, the assassin made her way to her usual seat. She glared at the frail man who occupied the stool at the bar front and sent him scrambling to find somewhere else to wallow in his drink. It was a relief he was weak-willed and fled at the sight of her — Morana was not in the mood for another fight.

The bartender and owner of the bustling tavern approached her end of the counter as soon as he saw the notorious head of purple hair. Itros was one of several anomalies in the Lost Abyss. Nobody knew what race he was a part of, which was a risky secret to keep, but his knack for keeping peace with everyone he met allowed his head to stay firmly on his shoulders. His dark, curved horns and the eyes that were swallowed by the same darkness were the features that everyone was curious about.

As Morana was a regular, it had allowed her to be well acquainted with Itros which was both beneficial and dangerous. While he was an excellent source of information due to the variety of customers he served, he would sell anything she would mention to other people too.

"Evening, Morana. Are you after your usual?" The horned man reached for a glass under the counter and placed it down, ready for her request.

"Yes, please." She slumped down on the wood, ignoring the stickiness that had built up from spilt drinks. One couldn't hurt. She could hold her liquor, unlike the poor man hurling up his dinner at the entrance. If any of Silas' puppets reported back that she was doing anything but resting, she could just use the excuse that she was looking for pain relief in the form of strong booze.

There were too many thoughts swirling around in her head to rest anyway.

"A molten sour with a side of Dynoite coming right up." Watching Itros work was never dull. The way he spun bottles of alcohol around his arms before pouring the perfect amount of liquid into the glass was a skill that couldn't be easy to master. When it was full of bubbling froth the shade of dawn, he reached into his pocket and retrieved her necklace which he dropped inside the drink.

"What are you thinking?" Morana cried, shooting out of her seat to grab it. She held it close to her chest and dried the gemstone on her shirt, checking to make sure there weren't any other defects. That would be the last time she used him to hide her prized possession.

She changed the location of her necklace every time she visited Silas to keep him and his lackeys on their toes. The assassin couldn't be sure if her hiding places were being tracked and she wasn't about to risk it.

"I said a side of Dynoite, so that's what you got." Itros smiled innocently, a devilish glint lurking in the murky darkness of his eyes.

Dynoite was the gemstone on her necklace. The crystal was unique to the island of Wyrith and formed in a plethora of stunning shades. It was said that depending on where it grew, it would be blessed with a certain essence of magic.

"If you need any intel tonight, you need to make it quick," he continued after the assassin rolled her eyes. "I haven't been able to breathe with all the customers now that the island has a new feature. Everyone has a different story as to what it could be."

Morana arched a brow while taking a sip of her drink. The first burn on the way down at the back of her throat was always the most enjoyable. "What are they saying?"

"A few shifters think it's a new defence mechanism the High Table has put forward. They let a witch join their ranks and they guess it's her doing." He served another customer as he spoke, mixing together a blend of different fruits. "The Vampires think the Goddess of Death has placed a curse on us because of the princess' blessed magic. Everything must come with a price. A miracle must be met with the same strength consequences." Itros mimicked the voice of an old hag, causing Morana's lip to twitch upward.

If only he knew how close that was to the truth.

Itros began to polish a glass but stopped shortly after, narrowing his eyes at the necromancer. "Do you know something about the wall?"

She matched his gaze. "Why do you think I do?"

"Call it an intuition. The new wall is tinted purple and, well," he motioned his hand across her body — from her hair to the tattoo wrapped around her arm, "you're quite purple too."

Morana giggled, swirling the sparkling liquid in her cup around in a mini whirlpool. "What an observation. Unfortunately, that intuition is wrong. Why do you think I'm here? It isn't just for your wonderful company." The half-lie fell perfectly from her tongue. She knew very well about the Necromancer's Curse, but she was still here for information. Silas wouldn't tell her about his plan or what the old twin sovereigns' book held, so venturing to the tavern to see if anyone's outrageous guesses could spark some ideas was the next best thing.

"You wound me, Morana." The bartender held a fist to his chest with feigned pain. "I've told you all of the interesting theories I've heard already. If you hear any more, let me know, alright?"

"I will." Unless she found a clue that would lead to the ruination of her boss' plans, that was. If anyone had a closer guess than the Vampires, they would be meeting their end to a freshly sharpened bone shard.

With precise and nimble movements, Itros served another drink to an eager customer. Before she could browse the tables to pick a conversation to listen in to, the horned man returned to the assassin. "Say, Silas wouldn't know about the wall either, would he?"

"You think I'll give up my boss' secrets just like that?" She tugged a blade free from under her sleeve, flashing the cool steel in his direction.

Itros held his hands up in defence. "Alright, alright. It was just a question."

While her threat acted as the perfect repellent, finally Morana got a slice of peace. She scanned the tavern while sipping her drink. Living in the Lost Abyss meant coming across a variety of different characters compared to the rich Humans who resided in the parts of Wyrith closer to the castle. It meant that not one night would ever be the same.

Her azure eyes passed over the group of Trolls she had seen when she entered — including the small nuisance who had failed to trip her up — and instead landed on three Sirens.

The fearsome predators of the sea were a rare sight. Their hair trailed down their bodies until it reached the tavern floor, clumped together in various shades of green and blue. The strands appeared to look like clumps of dried seaweed, allowing them to easily blend in with the ocean floor to hide from their unsuspecting prey. It also hid the silver chokers fastened tightly around their necks. A heart-shaped jewel in the centre glowed faintly with the essence of their home, the magic entwined inside granting them temporary Human forms.

"Has there been any word from the Homeland?" the first hissed as she dipped a finger into her drink.

The second shook her head. "Nothing. The wall must be stopping them from getting through to the island's shores." Her words were gurgled, as if there was water trapped in their cheeks.

"All the ships that have wrecked will provide ample food for now if that's the case," the tallest third one pointed out, licking her lips with a forked tongue. "Before we left the water, there were seventeen different bloods I could taste on the waves."

A daunting grin of pointed teeth broke out on the first Siren's lips. "The Homeland will be in contact soon. I'm sure of it."

Morana rolled her eyes. So much for information on the wall. She thought because the creatures were connected to the tepid waters that the wall stood in, they might have had some insight or some unique guesses as to what was happening. Now, she had only lost the desire to continue with her drink.

Itros strolled over with another molten sour in hand, replacing the assassin's near-empty one. "Did you learn anything interesting?" It had only been a few minutes since the bartender had left her side. Perhaps he would be the one to meet her bone shards after all — his usefulness be damned.

"Aside from the gruesome diets of Sirens, nothing much." She reached into her pocket and retrieved a silver coin to slide over the counter in return for the drinks.

The horned man took it and flicked it into the air with his clawed thumb. "It's not related to the wall of magic, but maybe I could interest you in some other information. In return for some news about Silas, of course."

"Depends how interesting this intel you have is. If it's not worth my time, you're not getting anything."

Itros rolled the silver coin over his knuckles, his dark gaze never leaving her's once. He was locked onto a deal and now there was nothing that could deter him from it. "Did you see the royal Vahan ship that entered the dock before the wall appeared?"

"Is that all the information is going to be about?" Morana waved her hand in dismissal. "I was there when it arrived."

"Don't be so quick to ignore this. There's much more to it."

The necromancer hummed in consideration. "You still have my attention. For now."

"There are several rumours going around about King Matthian, but I have an intriguing one from a close and trusted source." Itros smiled, waiting to see if Morana would swipe at the bait he laid out.

She snorted. "What? That the Vahan king is an arsehole? Everyone knows that."

"Not just an arsehole, but a powerful one. He's stronger than this world has ever seen." Before the coin could fall to the floor, he pocketed it. "There's a reason why the previous ruling family made him king when they had no children. He has shown so many violent displays of power that some people call him cursed."

Morana frowned. "That's my title." If the previous intel she had on him hadn't provided enough reason, she hated him even more now. "What does he have that's so fancy? He's a Fireborn! All they can do is throw flames around like they're toys."

"True. But King Matthian is more than that. He's a Fireborn Hybrid. Nobody knows what else he's half of, but it has to be something incredible. He can create firestorms at will, he's immune to poison, he's completely fire resistant, and that's just the start."

Itros' findings held a lot of promising potential. If Silas had plans with the Vahan royals, passing them along to him might make him look over her failure from earlier that day.

"Does this source have any ideas as to what the other half of his heritage might be?" she questioned.

"Unfortunately not. Though, now that the king is on our island, they reckon it will be a lot easier to get an answer. If I hear anything, I'll send a coupon for a free drink over to your place via raven." Itros paused to pour a Selkie a glass of shimmering white liquid before continuing. "Now, what have you got in return for me?"

The assassin could have just said his information wasn't beneficial to her and fled from the tavern without spilling anything, but Itros was a good ally to have. He was a neutral force — a tradesman of concealed secrets — that could be useful at any time. It wasn't worth getting barred from the tavern over something so trivial.

Morana remained silent for a moment, thinking her words over before she spoke. "Silas is planning on cutting down his minions considerably over the next week or two because of his current plans. Anyone who has a duplicate skillset of another lackey or hasn't been called in for a while may not have their head for much longer."

Her boss wouldn't need blackmailed henchmen when he would be the King of Wyrith.

"Interesting." He flipped a bronze coin from another tip he received and placed it into a jar. The fogged glass was enchanted so that it couldn't be stolen or broken in vicious tavern brawls. "Thank you for the intel. A lot of my clients will be needing a warning. Would you like another drink? This one will be on me."

After downing her current drink, the necromancer shook her head. "This will be the last one. I've got an important day with a Fireborn tomorrow."

Chapter Word Count: 2,452
Total Word Count: 14,410