The group had only just started to peel away from the tailor's shop when a sharp voice cut through the street.
"I've had enough of this!" a man barked, his tone thick with frustration. He was middle-aged, broad of shoulder, and waving a small vial of cloudy liquid as though it were evidence of a crime. His face was flushed with anger as he stood before the alchemist's door, the bright glass of her display bottles glinting in the sun. "Your draughts are worthless, woman. I'll take my coin to Black Hollow Remedies. At least their potions work."
The alchemist herself stood in the doorway, small of stature but unshaken. Her robes and pointed hat matched in deep violet hues, her short dark red hair spilling untidily from beneath the brim. Round spectacles glinted on her nose as she squared herself against the man, chin tilted in defiance.
"No one knows what they put in that trash!" she snapped, her voice sharper than her size suggested. "Hollow Remedies? They lace their brews with gods-know-what, poisons mixed with blood-binding magic. Snake oil and shadows, that's what they peddle."
The man sneered, thrusting the vial at her. "And yet their potions heal on the spot. Your tinctures take days, if they work at all. People don't have time for patience when they're bleeding in the street!"
At that, Alinda's smile faded. She had lingered half a step behind the others, her crimson eyes narrowing with a sudden seriousness that sharpened her entire bearing. Healing on the spot. Her gaze fixed on the man, weighing his words, while the others continued to move on.
Neo glanced back at her, brow furrowing. "Alinda?" he asked softly.
But she didn't answer. For once her teasing air was gone, replaced by something far heavier, a focus that made her seem almost alien.
The alchemist's voice rose again, her small hands balled into fists. "Quick fixes like theirs come with a price you won't see until it's too late! They bind the body in ways it was never meant to be bound. Mark me no good ever came from Black Hollow."
The customer spat at the cobblestones and shoved the vial back into his pocket. "Better their 'shadows' than your excuses." With that, he stormed off down the street, vanishing into the crowd.
The alchemist stood there a moment longer, breathing hard, her glasses slipping down her nose. She pushed them back up with a trembling hand, her expression twisted with equal parts fury and worry.
Alinda's eyes lingered on her, sharp and thoughtful but her attention slid once more toward the direction the man had gone. That one phrase heal on the spot still gnawed at her like a hook buried deep.
Alinda lingered a moment longer, watching the alchemist retreat into her little shop with muttered curses and the clink of glass vials behind her. That single phrase from the angry customer heal on the spot gnawed at her thoughts like teeth on bone. She had heard whispers of such things before but to hear it spoken so openly in Lions Gate… it was worth investigating.
Her crimson eyes slid sideways, catching Nyra just as she was about to step after the others. Without warning, Alinda slipped closer and hooked her arm firmly through Nyra's, her grip strong enough to stop her in place.
"We're going shopping," Alinda said lightly, her voice carrying that velvet edge she often wore when masking something sharper. She turned her head just enough to flash a smile at the men. "You boys go on without us."
Nyra stiffened at the sudden contact, her crimson eyes flashing as she glanced at Alinda in surprise. "Shopping?" she repeated, her voice edged with suspicion. "Now?"
"Of course." Alinda tilted her head, her dark hair brushing over her shoulder as though this was the most natural decision in the world. "Girls' errands. Dresses, baubles, whispers over perfume bottles. You wouldn't understand." The teasing lilt in her tone was deliberate, designed to keep them from asking too many questions.
Valen blinked once, then smirked. He gave a lazy shrug, clearly unbothered. "Suit yourselves. We're heading to Jason's inn anyway." He stretched his arms over his head, already turning down the street. "You know where to find us when you're done spending coin."
Nyra shot him a glare but Valen only grinned back before falling into step with Luken.
Luken didn't argue either. He merely gave the faintest shrug of his own, staff tapping softly against the cobblestones as he followed Valen without protest. "Don't get into trouble," he said dryly, his hazel eyes flicking once toward Alinda with a knowing edge before he turned away.
Neo lingered a moment longer. His gaze lingered on the two women, curiosity pulling at his expression but not enough to form into words. He opened his mouth once as though to ask, then caught Alinda's sharp crimson stare and thought better of it. He lowered his head and hurried after the others, Tar's massive frame rumbling along beside him.
That left the street quieter, the weight of the afternoon sun pressing down, the fountain trickling steadily behind them. Nyra shifted her arm, trying to free herself from Alinda's grip but the other woman held firm, her smirk fading into something almost serious now that the men were gone.
Nyra frowned. "What are you really planning?"
Alinda's crimson eyes drifted back toward the alchemist's shop, the faint glow of runes shimmering behind its dusty windows. Her lips curved into a sharper smile, one without humor. "Nothing you can't handle," she murmured, voice low. "But I think this city hides more poisons than anyone admits. Let's see what our little potion-maker truly knows."
Nyra followed her gaze, uneasy but unwilling to break free. For once, she could feel the intent behind Alinda's words wasn't mischief it was purpose. Whatever shadows lingered in Lions Gate, they had just stepped into one of them.
Alinda tightened her arm around Nyra's and, without waiting for protest, steered her across the cobblestones toward the alchemist's door. The crowd flowed around them, too busy with their errands to notice two women slipping from the company of warriors and giants. The building itself looked small, pressed tight between the blacksmith's roaring forge and the tailor's colorful banners, almost as though it wanted to disappear into the street.
Above the door, a wooden sign hung on rusted chains, the name painted in faint, weathered strokes: The Violet Measure. It was so humble a name, so understated, that a passerby might think it nothing more than a candle shop or a tea room. The letters had faded nearly to grey, no decorative trim, no gilded paint. A shop designed not to catch the eye but to be overlooked entirely.
Alinda tilted her head back, her crimson eyes narrowing as she studied the sign. "Humble little thing, isn't it?" she murmured. "The best shops often are. The ones that don't want to be found until you're desperate enough to come looking."
Nyra frowned, letting herself be pulled along but not without suspicion. "Alinda," she said, her tone clipped, "what exactly do you expect to find here?"
Alinda smiled faintly, not giving her the courtesy of a straight answer. "Answers," she said vaguely. "Maybe a secret or two." Her voice softened, dripping with a velvet edge as she added, "And perhaps proof that Lions Gate is rotting in more places than its sewers."
They stepped into the shadow of the awning, the air cooling as the street noise dulled. Nyra jerked her arm slightly, testing Alinda's hold but the other woman didn't let go. Her crimson eyes gleamed with quiet intent.
Nyra exhaled sharply through her nose, irritation flashing across her face. "This is about that man shouting in the street, isn't it? People exaggerate. Every charlatan in this city claims their potions heal better, faster. They talk big to sell quick."
Alinda turned to her, cutting her words short without a single gesture. From the folds of her cloak, she drew a slender vial of dark liquid. The glass caught the afternoon light, throwing faint glimmers across her pale fingers. She held it up between them, her expression sharpening, no longer playful but deadly serious.
"This," she said softly, "is mine."
Nyra's eyes flicked to the vial, the memory already pulling at her. She had seen it only days ago, when Thal's body had been torn and bloodied in the wake of battle. She had seen Alinda pour it over wounds that should have left him down for weeks and watched flesh knit itself closed in the span of heartbeats.
Alinda's crimson eyes never left her, pinning her in place as she let the vial turn slowly in her fingers. "Exaggeration?" she asked, voice silk wrapped around steel. "Or something else?"
Nyra's jaw tightened, her crimson eyes hardening, though she had no answer. For the first time, she realized this wasn't about teasing or idle curiosity. Alinda wasn't chasing shadows she was following a trail only she could see and it led straight into the quiet, unassuming little shop with the weathered sign that wanted so badly to be ignored.
Alinda let the vial slip back into the folds of her cloak, the faint glimmer vanishing as quickly as it appeared. She smoothed the fabric with a lazy gesture, her expression shifting once more to that casual air she wore like armor but her next words cut through the air with a clarity that left no room for jest.
"This," she murmured, her voice velvet-soft yet edged with iron, "involves you more than you know."
Nyra stiffened, crimson eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about?"
Alinda's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, one that carried the weight of secrets spoken aloud only when the time was right. She leaned closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "You're a berserker, after all."
The words hit harder than any blade. Nyra froze, her breath caught in her throat, her mind flaring with questions she couldn't force to her tongue. Berserkers. The word itself was a chain, a brand she had lived with all her life but one rarely spoken so plainly.
Her thoughts spun. What did these potions have to do with that? With her blood, with the fury that lived in her veins like fire waiting for tinder? The memory of Alinda's draught healing Thal in heartbeats pressed at her mind, now tangled with the possibility that it wasn't just a curiosity it was something tied to the berserker's curse. To her.
Nyra's voice came out sharper than she intended. "How do berserkers come into this? What do they have to do with these potions?"
Alinda's crimson eyes lingered on her, dark and amused, though the smile on her lips was something subtler, more dangerous. She didn't answer directly didn't grant Nyra the clarity she craved. Instead, she tilted her head, studying her like a puzzle with one missing piece.
"I want to see," Alinda said finally, her voice light, almost teasing again, though the seriousness beneath it was unmistakable. "Not from a scholar's eye or a priest's condemnation. From yours. From the way you look at it naïve, honest, untrained."
Nyra's jaw tightened, her crimson eyes flashing as she wrenched her arm free at last. "You're playing games."
Alinda's smirk only deepened. "Maybe but some games are worth playing."
The Violet Measure loomed before them, quiet and unassuming, its weathered sign swaying gently on rusted chains. Inside, faint light glimmered against rows of glass. Answers or more riddles waited in the dark.
And for the first time, Nyra felt the word berserker bind itself to the question of what waited beyond that door.
The door creaked open under Alinda's hand, the faint tinkle of a bell jangling from somewhere deep inside. A hush seemed to fall the moment they stepped across the threshold.
The air was heavy with mingling scents dried herbs, acrid powders, and the faint coppery tang of something stronger, something metallic. Shelves climbed the narrow walls, packed with vials, jars, and bundles of roots strung to dry. A haze of incense hung in the corners, not quite masking the sharper notes of alchemy at work.
Behind the counter stood the shopkeeper. Small in stature, her dark red hair was cropped short beneath a matching pointed hat, the brim slightly askew as though she had shoved it on without care. Round spectacles sat low on her nose, reflecting the glow of lantern light. She adjusted her violet robes absently and raised her head at the sound of the bell.
"Welcome to the Violet Measure," she said automatically, her tone flat, drained of warmth. The words came out more like a recitation than a greeting, the kind given a hundred times a day without meaning. Her eyes slid from Nyra to Alinda, then flicked away again as though they were just another pair of customers to endure.
Nyra hesitated, her gaze taking in the cluttered shelves, the faint stains etched into the counter wood, the half-burnt candles guttering low. She opened her mouth to speak but Alinda was already moving.
The woman in black armor swept forward, her crimson eyes catching what little light the room offered, her cloak brushing against hanging bundles of sage and bitterroot. She leaned her hands on the counter, posture casual yet commanding, a smile curling faintly at her lips.
"We're here to talk," Alinda said, her voice smooth as silk but sharp enough to prick. "Not about your usual wares."
The shopkeeper blinked, her hand stilling on the edge of a ledger she had been thumbing. "Talk?" she repeated, unimpressed, though a faint crease tugged between her brows.
Alinda tilted her head, that knowing smile widening. "About remedies that heal… on the spot."
Nyra stiffened beside her, crimson eyes darting between the two women. Alinda's tone carried no hesitation, no doubt only the weight of someone who already knew there was more beneath the surface.
The shopkeeper's expression flickered for the briefest instant, a shadow darting across her face before her mask of indifference snapped back into place. She pushed her glasses higher on her nose, feigning boredom. "I don't know what you mean."
Alinda's smile deepened but her eyes hardened. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping low, velvet wrapping steel. "Oh, I think you do."
Alinda didn't bother arguing. Instead, she drew her hand slowly from her cloak and set a single vial onto the counter. The glass gleamed faintly in the lantern light, the liquid inside shifting with a dark shimmer.
The shopkeeper froze. Her eyes widened behind the round spectacles, her breath catching audibly. For the first time, the mask of disinterest cracked.
"What…" she whispered, voice trembling as her gaze locked on the vial. She reached out a tentative hand, stopping short of touching it as if afraid it might burn her fingers. "How… how do you have this?"
Nyra frowned, glancing between them, her unease rising. "What is it?" she pressed, though neither of the other women answered her.
The shopkeeper's lips parted again, words spilling out fast and frightened. "They force the drink on the spot. It isn't meant to be carried, it leaks it always leaks. No one ever… no one ever walks away with one intact." She looked up sharply, eyes narrowing at Alinda, her voice catching on the edge of fear. "Who are you?"
Alinda leaned forward, resting one hand lightly on the counter as her crimson eyes glowed faint in the dim. Her smile was sharp, deliberate. "Alinda," she said, letting the name fall like a blade between them. "And you?"
The shopkeeper hesitated, her round glasses glinting as she flicked a glance toward the doorway and then back to the vial. The street outside still bustled faintly, muted through the walls. Slowly, she reached up and flipped the wooden sign hanging in the window to Closed, the sound of the chain clinking loud in the silence. Then she moved briskly to the curtains, drawing them tight until the shop was cloaked in a dim, flickering half-light.
When she turned back, her expression was different no longer bored, no longer dismissive. The weight in her eyes had sharpened into something wary, calculating. She adjusted her robes with a trembling hand before speaking.
"My name is Sera," she said at last. The name carried no flourish, only the quiet weight of resignation.
Alinda's gaze lingered on her, the faintest curl of satisfaction pulling at her lips as she straightened. "Well then, Sera," she said smoothly, "let's not waste time."
Nyra shifted uncomfortably, the silence of the shuttered shop pressing in on her like a closing fist. She realized with a chill that they had stepped into something far darker than a petty argument over rival remedies.
Sera's breath rattled as she steadied herself against the counter, round glasses sliding dangerously down her nose. Her fingers trembled as she shoved them back up, though the motion did nothing to hide the fear building in her eyes.
"You made it," she repeated, the words barely audible. "That's not possible… not unless " She stopped herself, lips pressing into a thin line, though her eyes never left Alinda. Suspicion burned through her initial disbelief. "What are you?"
Alinda's smile returned, thin and deliberate, as though she relished the question more than the answer. She didn't respond, not directly. Instead, she paced a half-step to the side, letting her fingers brush over the rows of vials and dried herbs along the shelf, crimson eyes glinting in the dim light.
"These potions," she said softly, "aren't designed with normal humans in mind." Her tone carried the finality of a blade striking stone, each word measured and heavy.
Sera's stomach dropped. She shook her head, almost violently. "That's why they make people drink on the spot, isn't it? Gods preserve us they're not remedies, they're… they're poisons."
Alinda turned back toward her, one hand slipping into the folds of her cloak, fingertips tapping lightly against the glass vial hidden within. "Poison or cure. It depends on the blood." Her smile deepened, though it carried no warmth. "These brews were made for those of stronger stock. Bloodlines that can bear what ordinary flesh cannot."
Nyra's eyes narrowed, her voice low. "Stronger blood."
Alinda's gaze flicked toward her, that knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "Exactly."
Sera shook her head again, panic edging her words. "But they're handing them out to anyone. To farmers, to soldiers, to children with scraped knees. You can't just " She cut herself off, pressing a hand against her mouth as the implications hit harder. "Gods, no wonder some of them never come back…"
Alinda leaned forward, her voice velvet and sharp all at once. "And yet, the crowds keep buying. They don't care what it costs them, as long as the wound vanishes in front of their eyes."
Sera's knuckles whitened on the counter, her breath coming quick. "If what you say is true, if these things are made for bloodlines stronger than men's, then the rest of us are just… fodder. Test subjects."
Alinda tilted her head, the faintest glimmer of satisfaction flickering across her crimson eyes. "Now you're beginning to understand."
Nyra's chest tightened, the truth pressing down on her like iron chains. Stronger blood. Berserkers and yet, here in Lions Gate, they were being poured into the hands of anyone with coin.
Sera's lips parted, the shape of another question trembling on her tongue one that might have cut straight to the heart of Alinda's words but before it could form, a sharp knock echoed through the shop.
Not from the front door.
From the cellar below.
The sound froze Sera mid-breath. Her eyes went wide, her face blanching as though all the blood had drained from it. The trembling of her fingers returned, this time clutching at the counter as if she needed the wood to anchor her.
Alinda's head turned slowly toward the source of the sound, her crimson eyes narrowing. "From the basement?" she murmured, more observation than question. The edge of curiosity in her voice carried a dangerous weight, as though she had already decided what the answer meant.
Nyra stiffened, her hand inching toward the hilt of her blade out of habit. "You're hiding something."
Sera shook her head quickly, too quickly. "No no, you can't "
But Alinda was already moving. Her boots clicked against the worn floorboards as she crossed the narrow shop, her hand sweeping aside a rug in one smooth motion. Beneath it, a small wooden hatch sat flush with the floor, iron-banded and worn smooth with use. The knock came again, softer now, frantic in its rhythm.
Alinda crouched, her black armor shifting with a soft creak. With casual strength, she pulled the hatch open.
The sight that greeted her was enough to silence the room.
A child. Thin, dirt-streaked, wide-eyed. His skin was pale beneath layers of grime but his features carried the unmistakable markers: the sharpened lines of the jaw, the faint ridges around the eyes, and the small, curling horns that marked him as Kruu'Strata.
One of the undercity's lost children.
The boy's crimson eyes darted around the room, locking on Alinda first, then flicking to Nyra, then to Sera behind the counter. Terror blazed across his face, and with a choked gasp he scrambled backward, trying to vanish down the steps.
"Wait " Sera stammered, her voice breaking but it was already too late.
Alinda's hand shot forward with inhuman swiftness. Her fingers caught the back of the boy's collar before he could retreat. He yelped, kicking and flailing but her grip was unyielding, her arm steady as steel. With an effortless tug, she pulled him up and out, setting him on the floorboards as though he weighed nothing at all.
The child froze, chest heaving, his eyes flicking between them all like a cornered animal.
Alinda straightened slowly, crimson eyes locked on him, her expression unreadable. "Well," she said softly, her voice carrying a razor's edge of amusement. "What do we have here?"
The boy stood frozen in Alinda's grasp, his small chest heaving, violet eyes wide with fear. He tried to twist free but Alinda's hand held him with effortless control. His gaze darted to Sera, desperation flashing there like a plea.
Sera's face collapsed into something stricken, her round glasses slipping down her nose again as she whispered, "Please… don't hurt him."
Alinda arched a brow, her crimson eyes cutting back to the child. "So," she said, voice low and steady, "what were you doing creeping up from the cellar of this little shop?"
The boy swallowed hard, words tumbling from him in a rush, as if speaking quickly enough might save him. "I I wasn't stealing! I just… I came to pick something up!"
Alinda tilted her head, the corners of her lips twitching with interest. "Pick up… what?"
His small hands fumbled at the hem of his shirt, his voice cracking. "Healing draughts. For the undercity. Sera she she gives them to us. My people. That's all!"
Nyra's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening instinctively on the hilt at her hip. "The undercity…" she muttered, her crimson gaze cutting to Sera. "You're trading with Kruul."
Sera's breath hitched but she forced herself to meet Nyra's stare. Her voice was unsteady but there was iron buried under the fear. "Yes. I sell to them. Always have. It's the only way I keep these doors open. The nobles don't buy from me, not when they can flaunt Black Hollow's miracles in the square but the Kruul… they don't care about spectacle. They care about survival."
Alinda's crimson eyes gleamed faintly, catching every tremor in Sera's tone. She lowered the boy gently to the floor but her hand lingered on his shoulder, holding him still as she looked back to the shopkeeper.
"Interesting," she murmured. "So while the city spits at you, it's the Kruul that keep your shelves empty."
Sera pushed her glasses back up, her voice growing sharper now that the secret was out. "They pay, they heal, and they don't ask questions. I don't make a fortune but I make enough. Enough to stay open. Enough to matter." Her gaze flicked between Nyra and Alinda, daring them to judge her. "You think the city guards care if Kruul bleed out in the alleys? They don't but I do."
The child's crimson eyes darted to Sera, then to Alinda, fear giving way to a flicker of trust. He nodded quickly, confirming her words.
Alinda finally loosened her hold, stepping back. The boy rubbed his collar, still trembling, though his gaze lingered on her with wary fascination.
"Well," Alinda said, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips, "now things are becoming much more… complicated."
The boy still trembled where he stood, his small hands clenched tight at his sides, crimson eyes darting nervously between the three women. The black sclera framing those eyes made his fear seem even sharper, like a wounded animal waiting for the next strike.
Alinda's expression softened, her crimson gaze losing its predatory edge. She crouched slightly, one hand reaching to rest against the boy's neck, rubbing gently where her grip had held him moments before. "Easy, little one," she murmured, her voice low, smooth. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Forgive me."
The child blinked, startled at the change in tone. His breathing slowed, though his eyes still glimmered with caution.
Alinda looked up then, her attention sliding to Sera. "You needn't fear us," she said, voice steadier now. "Neither I nor my companion will tell anyone. What you do for them…" she gestured faintly toward the boy "…stays here. Between us."
Sera stared at her, lips parted, spectacles glinting in the dim. She looked from Alinda to Nyra, as if waiting for the strike of judgment.
Nyra exhaled, her hand falling away from her weapon's hilt. "She's right," she said quietly. "No one else needs to know. At least someone is helping." Her crimson eyes softened as they lingered on the boy. "The city would leave him to rot. You haven't."
Relief washed over the child's features, the trembling of his shoulders easing just slightly. He cast another glance at Sera, then at Alinda, his lips parting in a shy, almost whispered, "Thank you."
Alinda's hand lingered on his neck a moment longer, her crimson eyes studying the strange glow of his own, that dark sclera, those blood-rich irises. A reminder of what he was, of what blood ran through him but for once, she said nothing more.
The shop was quiet again, the curtains still drawn, the air thick with herbs and unspoken truths. The fragile trust built in that moment hung between them like a fragile thread, one that could snap with the slightest pull but for now, it held.
The boy's gaze lingered on Alinda, those crimson irises rimmed in black sclera shimmering in the half-light of the shuttered shop. For the first time since she had pulled him from the cellar, he no longer looked afraid just curious, even a little awestruck.
"You…" he said softly, his voice carrying the hesitant weight of a child trying to place a half-formed thought. "You've got the same eyes as me."
The words slipped into the air, fragile yet direct. Nyra stiffened at them but Alinda only tilted her head, her lips curling into a faint chuckle that rolled low from her throat.
"Sharp little thing aren't you?" she murmured. Her hand rose briefly to brush a strand of silver hair from her face, exposing the full gleam of her crimson eyes. They burned softly in the dim, a mirror to his own. "Yes, child, I do. Beautiful, are they not?"
Kaelen blinked up at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite his earlier fear. He nodded quickly, almost eagerly, as if to confirm her words. "They are. Most people don't say so. They… they look away."
Alinda's chuckle deepened, softer this time, touched with something that almost resembled warmth. "Then they're fools. Let them look away."
The moment held there, fragile yet resonant, before Sera's sharp voice cracked through the quiet.
"Kaelen!" she snapped, her face tightening, a flush rising high on her cheeks. Her round glasses slipped forward as she leaned over the counter, hands gripping the edge until her knuckles whitened. "What were you thinking, coming up here without my word?"
The boy flinched at the sharpness in her tone, his earlier courage shrinking back into unease. "I… you had the shop closed. I thought it meant you were finished. That I could come in." He shifted on his feet, small fingers wringing the hem of his tunic. "I wasn't trying to cause trouble."
Sera froze at that, the anger in her face faltering. Her mouth opened, then closed again. For a beat she looked away, pressing her lips together, as if ashamed of how quickly her temper had flared. She knew he was right. She had closed the sign herself, thrown the bolt, pulled the curtains. It was her own carelessness that made the boy think the way was clear.
Her shoulders slumped a little, and she sighed, pushing her glasses up with an unsteady hand. "It was still reckless," she muttered, softer this time, though the bite of her earlier tone still clung. "Not every door you walk through is safe, Kaelen. You should know that by now."
The boy lowered his eyes but didn't look afraid anymore. He just nodded, subdued but stubborn in the way children often were when they knew they weren't entirely wrong.
Nyra watched the exchange in silence, her crimson eyes flicking between Sera's weary frustration and Alinda's strange amusement. The weight of it all pressed around her secrets layered on secrets, bloodlines, poisons, remedies, and now a Kruul child speaking so freely in the heart of Lions Gate.
Alinda leaned back against the counter, her smile faint but edged. "So it seems the fault isn't his alone," she said smoothly, her gaze flicking toward Sera with quiet accusation. "Closing your doors while keeping the under cellar open? That's an invitation if I ever saw one."
Sera's jaw clenched, shame and irritation twisting together in her expression but she didn't refute it.
Kaelen, meanwhile, looked between them with wide eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean harm. I just came for what I always do."
The truth of it settled into the room, thick as the scent of herbs and powder hanging in the air.
Sera stood behind the counter, her hands still braced against the worn wood, the lines of her face tight with frustration and something deeper guilt. Her round spectacles caught the lantern light as she glanced from Kaelen to Alinda, then finally to Nyra.
The fight seemed to drain out of her all at once. Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a long, uneven breath. "You're right," she admitted quietly, her voice stripped of its earlier sharpness. "This was my fault. I should've made it clear to him. I shouldn't have lost my temper." Her eyes flicked to Kaelen, softening with reluctant tenderness. "He doesn't deserve that."
Kaelen shifted nervously on his feet but the tension in his small frame eased a little at her words.
Sera pushed her glasses higher, steadying herself. "I… owe you both more than I can say. You could've walked out of here and told the guards, told the Church, told half the city what I've been doing." Her gaze lingered on Alinda, cautious but edged with sincerity. "But you didn't. Instead you kept my secret and you didn't hurt him."
Her eyes moved to Nyra, lingering for a long moment as if searching her face for judgment. Finding none, Sera's lips pressed into a thin but genuine smile. "Thank you. Both of you. Truly."
Alinda tilted her head, crimson eyes gleaming faintly, her lips curling into the faintest smirk. "No need to thank us," she said smoothly. "We're not here to break what little good still exists in this city." She gave Kaelen's shoulder a light pat, her tone softer but still carrying that strange, commanding warmth. "Besides, he has sharper instincts than most men twice his age. He'll learn."
Nyra crossed her arms but there was no hostility in the gesture. "At least someone's doing something for them," she said simply. Her voice carried a quiet weight, the kind that left no room for argument.
The shop settled into silence again, the only sounds the faint clink of glass vials and the boy's steadying breath. Sera stood straighter, a touch of pride mingling with her gratitude, though the unease in her eyes hadn't fully vanished.
"Still," she said, her voice steadier now, "I'll not forget this."
Alinda let the moment of quiet stretch just long enough for Sera to think it was over. Then she leaned forward, crimson eyes narrowing with that sharp gleam that always seemed to surface when she was about to cut through someone's guard.
"Now," she said, her tone smooth but deliberate, "tell me something useful."
Sera blinked, caught off guard. "Useful?"
Alinda's lips curved into a faint smile. "Where is Black Hollow Remedies?"
The name seemed to drag the air down. Even Kaelen flinched at the words, his small frame tensing as though a shadow had passed over him. Sera's fingers curled against the counter, and for the first time since she'd closed the shop, she looked as though she wished she could bolt the door again.
"Why?" she asked carefully, her voice low. "That's not a place you want to go wandering into."
Alinda tilted her head, her smile never faltering. "That wasn't the question."
Sera sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose beneath her round spectacles. For a long moment she said nothing, her breathing uneven, before finally lowering her hand and fixing Alinda with a tired stare.
"They set up near the southern markets," she admitted reluctantly. "Not far from the old amphitheater. They wanted the crowds, and they got them. Stalls stacked with bottles, barkers shouting promises, the works. They always have someone ready for the 'demonstrations.' A knife, a hand cut clean, the miracle regrowth." She shook her head bitterly. "People eat it up, don't even ask what it costs them afterward."
Kaelen shuffled closer to Sera, his voice a whisper. "Don't go there… it's bad."
Alinda finally straightened, crimson eyes alight with something dangerous, something hungry. "Bad for them, maybe but not for me."
Nyra shot her a sidelong look, arms still folded. "And what exactly are you planning?"
Alinda's smile deepened, sharp as a blade. "Oh, nothing yet. I just like to know where shadows gather."
The shopkeeper fell silent again, unease written plainly across her face. Kaelen clung lightly to the hem of her robes, his crimson-black eyes wide, as though even speaking the name of Black Hollow had stirred something foul into the room.
Alinda was the first to move, her cloak shifting as she turned toward the door. She gave Sera a look that was neither cruel nor kind but something heavier an acknowledgment of shared secrets now binding them together.
"Thank you, Sera," she said smoothly, her voice low but carrying. "For your honesty. For your work. You've done more than most in this city would ever dare."
Sera blinked at her, surprised, her lips parting as if to respond but no words came.
Alinda crouched slightly as she passed Kaelen, her crimson eyes softening just enough to unsettle the boy's wary stance. With a casual, almost affectionate motion, she rubbed his head, her fingers ruffling through his dirt-matted hair. The boy froze at first but then his lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, his crimson-black eyes glimmering up at her.
"You were right to call it poison," Alinda told them both, her tone velvet but sharpened with intent. She straightened again, her gaze flicking to Sera, then back to the boy. "Half right, anyway. It is poison for normal people."
Sera's stomach dropped at the phrasing, her round glasses slipping slightly down her nose as the weight of those words sank in. Kaelen's smile faded, replaced with confusion but he said nothing, clutching faintly at the hem of Sera's robe.
Alinda's smirk returned, subtle and deliberate, as she rested a hand on the door. "I'll be back," she promised. "And if you need help before then me and a large friend of mine will answer."
Nyra caught the flicker of amusement in her tone, though she alone understood who that friend was. Sera and Kaelen could only stare, a mix of wariness and curiosity tightening their faces.
The door creaked open, spilling the noise of the street back into the quiet, herb-thick air of the Violet Measure. Alinda stepped out first, Nyra following a beat later, her expression still clouded with unease.
Behind them, Sera slowly walked towards the windows to see them leave, though her hands trembled faintly as she did, while Kaelen's eyes lingered on the door long after it shut, as if waiting for the woman with crimson eyes to stride back in.