They didn’t say anything at first.

  The road behind them narrowed into stone, then widened again as buildings began to rise on either side. The air shifted. Not colder, not warmer exactly. Just… different. Lived in. Taren let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  “Finally,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “I can breathe again. Thought my lungs were gonna freeze solid back there.”

  Seris glanced at him. “You complain after we survive.”

  “Complaining is how I survive.”

  Raizō didn’t comment, but the tension in his shoulders eased just enough to notice. As they passed under the outer archway and into the city proper, the noise hit them all at once. Shouts. Laughter. Merchants calling out prices. Children darting between legs, nearly colliding with strangers and laughing as they ran. The smell of cooked meat, oil, sweat, and dust hung thick in the air. It was busy. Alive.

  Taren blinked. “Huh. Looks like Aseran.”

  Seris nodded. “Commerce doesn’t change much. People still need to eat.”

  For a moment, it almost felt normal. Then Raizō noticed the first exchange. A man brushed past a stall, hand dipping into a pouch without slowing. The merchant didn’t notice until two steps later, turning just in time to see the thief vanish into the crowd. A little farther in, two figures stood too close together near an alley. A small leather pouch changed hands quickly. The receiver slipped it away and moved on. The giver leaned back against the wall like nothing had happened. A guard stood ten paces away. He looked directly at them. Then looked away. Another coin passed into his hand. No reaction. Shizume’s gaze followed the exchange, her expression tightening.

  “Don’t stare,” she said quietly. “It draws attention.”

  They walked on. The sound came suddenly. A scream.

  “Please! Don’t take me to the pits! I’ll pay, I swear I’ll pay!”

  They turned just in time to see a man being dragged down a side street, his heels scraping uselessly against the stone. Two men had him by the arms, faces covered with dark cloth, moving with practiced ease. A woman stumbled after them, clutching a child to her chest.

  “Please!” she cried. “He didn’t do anything! Please!”

  Another child ran after her, sobbing. The men didn’t slow. The guards nearby didn’t move. One accepted a coin without even looking at it. Raizō felt his jaw tighten. Seris took a step forward before stopping herself. Taren swore under his breath. Shizume’s voice was low. Flat.

  “The Black Tithe.”

  They all looked at her.

  “They handle debts,” she continued. “Real or fabricated. Once they take someone, that’s it.”

  Seris’s hands clenched. “And the guards?”

  “Paid,” Shizume said. “Or threatened. Sometimes both.”

  The screaming faded as the group disappeared into the maze of streets. No one around them reacted. Life went on. They walked in silence after that, the city pressing in closer with every step. Gradually, the buildings changed. Stone became smoother. Streets widened. The crowd thinned. The noise softened. The air felt cleaner. They had reached the wealthy quarter. Guards stood at regular intervals now, armor polished, eyes sharp. No children ran here. No shouting merchants. The people who passed them wore fine clothes and didn’t look at anyone else for long.

  Taren glanced around, lowering his voice. “Well. That didn’t take long.”

  Seris scanned the street. “Different rules.”

  Shizume nodded once. “Same city. Different world.”

  Raizō said nothing. But as they moved deeper into the quieter streets, he couldn’t shake the sound of the man screaming for the pits. And the way no one had stopped it.

  They didn’t stop walking until the noise dulled behind them. The wealthy streets gave way again, stone softening into uneven brick, buildings leaning closer together. Lanterns hung from iron hooks, casting warm light over shop signs and open doors. This part of the city smelled better. Bread. Stew. Oil sizzling on hot metal. Taren slowed, eyes drifting toward a street vendor turning skewers over a flame.

  “Please tell me we’re stopping,” he said. “If I have to chew another ration I might actually turn feral.”

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  Seris exhaled, just a little. “An inn first.”

  Shizume nodded. “Somewhere busy. Not too busy.”

  Raizō followed behind them, hands relaxed at his sides, eyes moving. Always moving. They passed a few inns before stopping. One was too quiet. Another too loud, packed with laughter and drink and too many eyes. Finally, they found one wedged between a tailor’s shop and a bakery, its sign worn but clean. The place looked… normal. That alone made it stand out. Inside, the air was warm. Wooden tables filled the room, most occupied by travelers and locals eating, talking, arguing softly. A fire burned low in the hearth. Someone laughed too loud near the bar and was promptly told to shut up. Taren took one look and sighed.

  “Finally,” he muttered. “Civilization.”

  They secured rooms quickly. No questions asked. Coin changed hands and nothing else. Food came not long after.

  Real food.

  Bread that tore instead of crumbled. Meat that still dripped with juice. Stew thick enough to stick to the spoon. Taren didn’t wait. He took one bite and closed his eyes.

  “Oh,” he said. “I forgot this is what living feels like.”

  Seris smiled despite herself. Shizume ate slower, careful, shoulders still tense even as the warmth settled into her. Raizō watched them more than his plate, eyes lifting now and then to the room around them. That’s when he felt it. A pressure, faint but present. Not threatening. Not yet. Attention. His thumb knocked once against his palm before he stopped himself. Taren noticed.

  “…We just got here,” he said quietly, setting his spoon down. “Didn’t we?”

  Seris didn’t look up. “We did.”

  Shizume’s gaze flicked toward the door. Then the windows. Then back to Raizō.

  “Someone’s watching,” she said under her breath.

  Raizō nodded once. “Maybe more than one.”

  Taren leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Of course they are,” he said. “Can’t even finish a meal.”

  The innkeeper laughed at something behind the bar. Someone nearby argued over cards. Life went on. But the feeling didn’t leave. Raizō took another bite, slow and deliberate. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t going to rush them. And neither was he.

  The commotion started at the far end of the room. It wasn’t loud at first. Just voices rising over one another. Chairs scraping. A few heads turning. Raizō noticed before anyone said a word. Taren noticed when someone laughed. Not a nervous laugh. Not the kind people used when things were about to go bad. A real one.

  “Hey,” a voice said easily, far too relaxed for the tension gathering around it. “If you’re going to accuse me of something, at least tell me what it is first. I like to know my crimes.”

  Seris turned slightly in her seat. Three men stood around a fourth near the wall. They were dressed plainly, but too clean for laborers, too alert for drunks. One had his hand wrapped around the front of the man’s coat.

  “You don’t steal from the Black Tithe,” one of them said. “Not unless you want to lose a hand.”

  The man being held just grinned.

  “That’s dramatic,” he said. “I borrowed something. Big difference.”

  Shizume’s shoulders tightened. Raizō stood slowly. The man twisted just as one of them shoved him. He staggered forward, still smiling, and collided lightly into Raizō’s shoulder.

  “Sorry,” he said quickly, eyes flicking up for half a second. “Didn’t mean to—”

  Something brushed Raizō’s side. Light. Intentional. The man straightened, already backing away.

  “You boys should really loosen up,” he added. “This city will eat you alive if you don’t learn to laugh.”

  One of the men reached for him. He bolted. Chairs tipped as he vaulted over a table, laughter trailing behind him as he shoved through the door and vanished into the street. The men cursed and surged after him without hesitation. The door slammed open, then shut. Silence rushed back in. A few patrons stared. Someone muttered. The innkeeper shook his head and went back to wiping mugs.

  Taren frowned.

  “…What was that about?”

  Shizume didn’t answer. Seris’ eyes narrowed toward the door. Raizō reached into his pocket. His fingers closed around something that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t pull it out. Not yet. His thumb knocked once against his palm. Whatever that man had just done—

  It hadn’t been accidental.

  The inn had gone quiet. Not the kind of quiet that meant peace, but the kind that settled only after exhaustion finally won. The hallway outside his room creaked once, then went still. Somewhere below, someone laughed too loudly, then stopped. Khareen never truly slept, but it did soften at night. Raizō sat on the edge of the bed, forearms resting on his knees. He hadn’t taken his gloves off yet. He didn’t know why. His thumb tapped lightly against the side of his index finger. Once. Twice. Again. The habit had come back without him noticing. It always did when his thoughts drifted too far.

  Emi.

  The name didn’t hurt the way it used to. That almost bothered him more. He tried to picture her the way she was before everything. Before the summoning. Before the world split open and decided who they were allowed to be. He remembered the way she used to look at him when she was annoyed, like she was already preparing an argument but hadn’t decided if it was worth it yet. He remembered how she always walked a step ahead, not because she wanted to lead, but because she trusted he would follow. He exhaled slowly.

  So much had happened since then. Frostmarch. Verrin. Kaijin. Running. Fighting. Choosing. People looking at him like he was something solid they could lean on. He wondered where Emi was now. If she was safe. If she had changed as much as he had. His thumb stopped tapping. For the first time since Winterhold, the thought slipped in quietly, without panic or guilt.

  I might not be able to go back the same way.

  The realization sat there between breaths. Heavy. Honest. Raizō leaned back, staring at the dark ceiling. The weight he carried now wasn’t just his. It was Taren’s frustration, Seris’s resolve, Shizume’s silence. He had stepped into it without thinking, the same way he always did. Because someone had to. And because, deep down, he knew this was the kind of burden Emi would have taken too, if their roles were reversed. That thought made his chest tighten.

  “I’m still coming back,” he said quietly, not to the room, but to the memory of her. “Just… not yet.”

  The city outside shifted. Footsteps passed. Somewhere far off, metal rang. Raizō lay back fully this time, one arm over his eyes. Tomorrow would come. Khareen would test them. Aseran waited beyond that. The church. The truth. But for a few moments longer, he let himself stay there. Thinking about his sister.

  And the promise he hadn’t broken.