I was falling.

  The ground shifted beneath me. I couldn't tell where I was or how I got there, but I could feel the tremor of something ancient stirring, like the very world beneath my feet was coming undone. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

  Why does this feel like... a memory?

  The darkness was suffocating, thick and cold. I tried to scream, tried to move, but nothing came out. There was only the sound of footsteps, soft, measured, like someone walking through the mist. I couldn't see their face, but I could feel the weight of their gaze. Watching. Waiting.

  Who are you?

  I wanted to ask, but no words would come.

  A figure emerged from the shadows. Blurred, indistinct, like a shape made from the very darkness itself. It moved closer, and with each step, the ground beneath me seemed to ripple, cracking open to reveal glimpses of a world I couldn't understand.

  The figure reached out toward me, a hand extended, but it wasn't gentle.

  It felt predatory.

  Like it was coming for me.

  My heart pounded in my chest, my body frozen, rooted to the spot. I couldn't move. I wanted to scream, to run, to do something, anything. But I was trapped.

  The figure's hand brushed the air beside me, and a chill ran through me deeper than any physical cold. It was like it had touched something inside me, something far worse than the surface.

  Who are you?

  I wanted to shout, but nothing came.

  The figure tilted its head, as if it could hear my thoughts. And then, it whispered, the voice distant but clear as gss:

  You've forgotten us. Forgotten the past. Forgotten the truth.

  I gasped, jerking awake in a cold sweat. My heart was hammering, my chest tight. The room around me was still. Esther was humming in the other room, just as she always did. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone. That something was pressing down on me, something that I couldn't name.

  The words from the figure echoed in my mind, a bitter, haunting refrain: You've forgotten the past. Forgotten the truth.

  I wiped my brow, pushing the dream away.

  It lingered at the edges of my mind, but I had no time to dwell on it. There were more immediate concerns. Like getting through another day in a city that felt like it was unraveling with every passing hour.

  I stretched and rolled out of bed, my long crimson hair falling in messy waves around my shoulders as I rubbed my eyes. No matter what I did, my hair always had a will of its own, curling and tangling in defiance of any attempt to tame it.

  I shook off the st remnants of sleep and ran a hand through my hair before grabbing my clothes from the chair. My usual tunic was nothing too nice, nothing too worn. As long as it is functional. I gnced at my reflection in the small mirror above the dresser. My crimson hair was a tangled mess, but it would have to do.

  The faint sound of Esther's voice drifted in from the kitchen. "Morning, sleepyhead! I'm making breakfast. You want eggs?"

  I grinned, still half-asleep. "I'm not that much of a princess, you know."

  She ughed, bright and carefree. "Maybe not, but you could still use a proper meal. Come on, get up! You've got work today, right?"

  I didn't need her reminding me. It had been hard enough getting this job, and I wasn't about to screw it up. I walked into the kitchen, drawn by the scent of warm food and the comfort of Esther's presence.

  She beamed at me as she set a pte of scrambled eggs and bread on the table. "Here you go. Eat up!"

  I sat down and picked up my fork, focusing on the meal rather than the unease still lingering in my chest. Esther, however, was watching me. Her eyes were softer now, ced with quiet concern.

  "You sure you're okay?" she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

  I froze mid-bite, meeting her gaze. I didn't want her to worry. She'd done enough for both of us already.

  "I'm fine," I said, forcing a smile. "Just tired. You know how it is."

  She didn't look convinced, but she didn't press. Instead, she smiled back, though it was a little more subdued than before.

  "Well, you're doing great," she said. "I'm proud of you, sis."

  Something about those words warmed me, even though they didn't quite chase away the weight pressing at the back of my mind. I wasn't sure if I was more exhausted from the te shift at the tavern or from everything else we were dealing with. But it didn't matter. I had no choice but to keep going.

  I finished my breakfast, ignoring the lingering sense of unease. There was no point in holding onto a dream, no matter how real it had felt.

  "Thanks again," I said, my voice firmer now. "But I should get going. Don't want to be te."

  Esther nodded. "Of course. But remember, if you need anything, you can always talk to me. I mean it."

  "I know," I said, offering her another smile, this one a little more genuine. "See you ter."

  I left the warmth of the kitchen behind, stepping out into the crisp morning air, and tried to shake off the remnants of the dream. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets as I made my way to the tavern. The city was already awake, but it felt different today. There was a tension in the air, a sense that things were spiraling faster than I could grasp.

  I had to push the feeling aside, focus on the present. I couldn't afford to get lost in whatever that dream was trying to tell me.

  Not when there were more pressing concerns, like work.

  The Weeping Mermaid loomed ahead, a familiar sight despite the unease gnawing at me. I stepped through the weathered doors, and the familiar scents of stale beer and wood hit me. The tavern wasn't as bustling in the morning, just a few early patrons nursing their drinks or gambling away whatever coin they had left.

  Rogan was behind the bar as usual, polishing a mug. He gave me a nod as I walked in. "Late night?" he asked with a knowing grin, not looking up.

  "You could say that," I muttered, grabbing my apron and tying it around my waist. "What's the pn today?"

  "The usual," Rogan said, shrugging. "Keep the drunks in check. Make sure no one breaks anything."

  I nodded, moving to my usual spot near the back, where I could keep an eye on things without being in the thick of it. As I busied myself wiping down the tables and setting up the area for the day's shift, the faint echo of that figure's voice still lingered in my mind.

  I shook my head, forcing myself to focus on the tasks at hand.

  A few hours into the shift, the tavern began to fill up. The usual crowd of sailors and dock workers trickled in, each one carrying their own stories of the day. I got used to the noise, the clinking of mugs, the raucous ughter. It was part of the routine now.

  I kept to my corner, moving between tables, collecting mugs, and refilling drinks. The routine was almost calming, a small respite from the unease that had pgued me since that dream. I was just starting to get into a rhythm when the door swung open again.

  A man stepped inside, his boots clicking sharply on the wooden floor. He was tall, wearing a long coat that was far too nice for a tavern like this, with a deep red scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. His hair was dark and cropped short, with a streak of silver running through the side, adding a distinguished look to his otherwise unremarkable face. But it was his eyes that caught my attention. They were sharp, almost too sharp, like he saw right through everything.

  He scanned the room with a cold, assessing gaze before his eyes settled on me.

  I felt a chill wash over me, and for a moment, I couldn't look away. There was something unsettling about him, something that prickled at the back of my mind, but I couldn't pce it.

  He made his way to the bar, his footsteps measured and purposeful, never hurried.

  "Can I get you something?" I asked, my tone a little more guarded than usual.

  The man didn't answer right away, instead sliding onto a stool with an almost deliberate ease. He turned his head slowly, fixing his gaze on me again, as if I were the only thing that mattered in the room.

  "Just water for now," he said, his voice low and smooth, almost like it was too perfect to be real. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "And your finest gss."

  I froze for a moment, feeling an odd mixture of curiosity and discomfort as I approached. There was something about the way he looked at me, something almost too intentional.

  "Here you go," I said, handing him the gss of water. "Anything else?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but I could feel my pulse quicken.

  He didn't immediately respond, his gaze drifting back over the room as though he were still measuring everything, calcuting something. When he spoke, it was quieter, but I could hear the sharp edge in his words.

  "Do you ever wonder what happens to people when they disappear?" he asked, his eyes flicking back to mine, holding my gaze this time.

  I blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. "What do you mean?"

  He leaned in just slightly, as though he were about to share some deep secret, but the moment passed too quickly. "Just a thought," he said cryptically, sitting back with his drink.

  I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this man than his calm demeanor let on. There was a tension in the air now, a current that I couldn't quite touch, but it was there, swirling between us.

  "If you're looking for something, you're in the wrong pce," I said, my voice a little more sharp than I intended.

  He smiled that didn't quite reach his eyes. It was small, enigmatic, like he was amused by something I couldn't understand.

  "Perhaps," he said, his voice tinged with something almost amused. "But sometimes, the right thing to look for is exactly where you least expect it."

  Before I could ask him what he meant, a loud crash from the back of the tavern distracted me. Someone had knocked over a table, and the noise echoed through the room, breaking the moment of tension between me and the stranger.

  I moved to intervene, but the man at the bar didn't look phased by the commotion. His gaze never wavered from me, and I couldn't help but feel that it was more than just idle curiosity in his stare.

  Rogan had already begun shouting at the brawlers to break it up, and I quickly joined in to help, pushing my way through the chaos. As I tried to calm the situation, I kept gncing over my shoulder at the man. He had never moved, still sitting calmly at the bar, sipping his water as though nothing was happening.

  When the brawl was finally broken up and the tavern settled back into its usual murmur, I returned to the bar to find the man gone. He had left without a sound, as if he had never been there at all.

  I stared at the empty seat for a long moment, the unsettling weight of his presence still hanging in the air. The whole encounter felt... wrong, like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit.

  The tavern was back to business, and the noise of the day had returned, just as it always did.

  That stupid rando didn't even pay his water.

  I needed to focus.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur of dull routine, I busied myself with wiping down the tables, refilling drinks, and keeping an eye on the unruly patrons.

  But no matter how hard I tried to focus, the unsettling feeling from earlier refused to let me go.

  "You look like you've seen a ghost, Dawn."

  I blinked, looking up to find Jax leaning against the doorframe, his usual smug grin in pce. He was dressed in his typical loose, comfortable clothes, barely hiding his lean build, with that ever-present mischievous glint in his eyes.

  "You again?" I muttered with a sigh, brushing a strand of tangled hair out of my face. "You sure seem to have too much free time if you're showing up here this often."

  "Free time's retive," he said, a pyful wink following his words. "I've just been making sure you're not getting too comfortable with your 'honest' little life here."

  I rolled my eyes but didn't respond immediately. I wasn't in the mood for another lecture, and I knew where that road led.

  Instead, I shifted my weight, looking at him with a mixture of exasperation. "What is it?"

  He spread his arms wide in mock innocence, a gesture that only made his smirk wider. "Can't a guy check in what you're up to? See how the city's treating you?"

  "The city's treating me the same as always. Not that you care."

  "You're right," he said, his tone turning a bit more serious, though it was still ced with that trademark amusement. "I don't really care about the city. But I care about you."

  I blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. The words hung in the air, but something about them felt… off. He wasn't the type to suddenly drop a line like that. Sure, he liked to mess with me, but that? That felt too intentional, too rehearsed.

  I narrowed my eyes, studying him more closely.

  I knew him, despite his obscurity.

  I knew his teasing, his games, his way of twisting words just to get under my skin. But this? This felt unprovoked.

  "Are you on dust?" I asked, the words dripping with suspicion. I couldn't help myself. "Or are you just bored and looking for something to mess with?"

  He raised an eyebrow, a ugh escaping him like he was waiting for the punchline. "Aw, Dawn, you wound me. Can't I just show a little concern for my favorite troublemaker?"

  I didn't buy it. I could see through the act. It was a mask. I'd seen him wear it enough times to know that whatever he'd said a second ago was just part of the game.

  He was trying to get a rise out of me. And if I let him, it would only lead to more distractions.

  I sighed, stepping past him toward the small table by the window, "Don't waste your time. I'm not in the mood for your games today."

  He followed, that ever-present smirk still firmly pnted on his face, his voice taking on that pyful, casual tone again. "What? Can't take a little sincerity from an old friend?"

  "Sincerity from you? Please, I know better. And besides, we are not friends"

  "Alright, alright. You're no fun when you're suspicious." He shrugged like it didn't matter to him, but I could see the flicker of something in his eyes.

  Something that I didn't trust.

  The sound of footsteps approached the bar, sharp and quick. A moment ter, a tall, nky figure appeared in the doorway, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch longer than it should.

  I knew him immediately.

  Irah.

  He wasn't quite human, and his appearance gave that away in an instant. His unkempt brown hair stuck out in every direction, wild as if he had rolled out of bed te. Again.

  But it wasn't just his messy hair or rumpled clothes that set him apart. The cat-like ears that poked from the top of his head were a telltale sign of his race. A rare and mysterious people, Irah's kind had long, slender features with sharp eyes and enhanced senses, giving them an almost predatory elegance.

  In Celestia, creatures like Irah weren't uncommon, but they remained enigmatic. His kind were known for their agility and heightened senses, traits that made them both feared and admired, and also often seen as wanderers.

  Irah's sharp eyes scanned the room, his cat-like ears flicking slightly as he noticed Jax being... Jax. His tail swished behind his in silent irritation.

  "There you are," he snapped, striding over to Jax with long, angry steps. "What the hell are you doing here? We've got a job to finish, and you're out here messing around in a tavern?"

  Jax, not at all fazed by Irah's annoyance, fshed him a zy grin. "Taking a break, mate. Rex. We've got time."

  Irah's gaze flicked toward me, his irritation softening just a little, though his frown didn't disappear. "Oh. Dawn. You're here too." His tone wasn't exactly warm, but it was less hostile than it had been moments ago. "Great."

  I waved, unsure of what else to do. The st thing I wanted was to make things worse, so I stayed quiet, avoiding his piercing gaze. Irah never had the most... welcoming energy.

  Without giving Jax a chance to respond, Irah grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away from the bar with surprising force. "No more of this," he growled, dragging Jax toward the door. "We're getting back to work. Right now."

  Jax didn't resist, but he shot me a pyful look over his shoulder. "Hey, Dawn, you won't mind if I take off for a bit, right? Irah's in one of his moods again," he called out, his smirk wide and unbothered.

  I gave a small nod, though I felt the usual awkwardness creeping up as I watched the two of them. It wasn't like I had much say in the matter anyway.

  Irah grumbled under his breath as he pulled Jax closer to the door.

  "I swear, Jax, you're impossible. Every time we've got something to do, you decide it's time for a drink instead." He shot me an apologetic gnce over his shoulder, as though it was somehow his fault for not keeping Jax occupied. "Don't mind him. He's always like this. I'll drag him back before he gets himself into trouble."

  Jax let out a mock sigh. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

  With that, Irah half-dragged, half-guided Jax out of the tavern. Jax didn't seem to mind at all, still looking as carefree as ever, but Irah's frustration was evident in the way he practically shoved Jax out the door.

  I watched them leave, a little bemused. Irah always had that intense, serious aura around him, and Jax's carefree nature only seemed to annoy him more. I guess that's what made them work together. Somehow.

  Once the door swung shut behind them, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

  Being caught in the middle of their back-and-forth was never easy.

  Still, I figured it was better than being dragged into whatever trouble they were bound to find themselves in next.

  ~

  I entered the apartment with a heavy sigh, the exhaustion of the long day pressing down on my shoulders. The door clicked softly as I closed it behind me, and I peeled off my worn boots, setting them down with a soft thud. The dim light of dusk filtered through the curtains, casting the room in a muted glow.

  Esther was usually home by now, her cheerful voice filling the air with stories of her day. But tonight, there was only silence. No sound. No sign of her.

  I set my satchel down by the door and made my way to the small table in the corner. There, a single piece of parchment sat, folded neatly. The sight of Esther's familiar handwriting made my heart skip a beat, the weight of the letter suddenly feeling heavier in my hands.

  Dawn, I've gone out to the outskirts again. The farm needs me, especially with the season changing. Don't worry about me. I'll be back before long, but until then, take care of yourself. I left some of the savings I had tucked away for us by the bed. I'll write as soon as I can. I love you, be safe, and remember what we talked about. Don't take any risks.

  -Essie

  I sighed, pressing the letter against my chest for a moment. I could almost hear her voice in my head, trying to sound casual, as if it was just another routine thing. But I knew it wasn't. I knew how much she hated leaving me alone. How much she worried about me, about what my curse could mean if things got too far out of hand.

  I stood there, holding the letter in one hand, the other gently pressing against my temple. It wasn't fair, this whole situation. But I didn't have time to sit around feeling sorry for myself.

  There was no choice. I needed to keep going.

  I folded the letter neatly and set it down on the table, gncing around at the empty room.

  "Guess it’s just me for a while," I murmured, the words barely more than a whisper. "Again."

  The quiet didn’t answer. It never did.

  And as the st light faded through the blinds, the hush of the room settled over me like a shroud—familiar, unyielding, and cold.