"Is there anything specific that you're looking for?" the man asked, his tone gentle as his deep navy-blue eyes met Zay's.
Zay paused for a moment, unsure how much to reveal. He released a quiet sigh. 'This is the library that man mentioned... on the train. But what's the connection between the False Threads, this place, and the Sinners Night Market?' The question repeated in his mind as his gaze dropped briefly to the sheath at his side, then rose again to meet the librarian's.
"I'll be honest. I heard from someone that this place is supposed to have a connection to the Sinners Night Market. Is that true?"
The librarian froze. His gaze flicked toward the windows, then slowly scanned the room. After a moment, he blinked and turned back to Zay.
"Follow me," he said simply, stepping out from behind the polished wooden counter.
Zay's hand instinctively rested on the hilt of his katana as he followed. The librarian moved toward a staircase nestled between two towering shelves, its steps crafted from smooth white marble veined with silver. Each step reflected the warm amber glow from lanterns hanging in glass sconces embedded into the library walls. The light flickered gently, casting elongated shadows across the bookshelves as they ascended.
They reached the second floor, where the air felt slightly warmer, more enclosed. Tucked away in the far corner was a modest door made of dark wood, worn smooth by time and frequent use. The librarian reached out and touched the panel beside it, then slid the door open to reveal a small, cramped room.
Stacks of parchment and yellowed papers cluttered nearly every surface. A single oil lamp sat on a desk in the center, casting a golden pool of light that barely reached the corners of the desk. The walls were lined with cracked shelves stuffed with scrolls, ink bottles, and ancient texts bound in twine. The scent of dust, ink, and aged leather hung thick in the air.
The librarian settled into an old chair near the desk, its frame creaking beneath his weight.
"The Sinners Night Market, huh? Who told you about it?" he asked, raising his deep navy-blue eyes to Zay again.
"It was... an old acquaintance. He said there's an auction going on—one that includes Resonance Shards. I'm in need of some," Zay replied, standing tall, watching the man carefully.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Max Vinstone," Zay answered without hesitation.
The librarian exhaled through his nose and gave a slow shake of his head. "Haven't heard of that name before. But if it's through someone you know, that's not surprising."
He reached beneath the desk and produced a small, golden object. It was star-shaped—six points with fine etchings curling along the edges, and a tiny circular indent at its center. Light from the oil lamp glinted off its surface, revealing Venlic inscriptions. The object pulsed faintly with a dull warmth as he handed it to Zay.
Zay took the object, and placed it into the pockets of his leggings.
"This is your key. Come back tonight at 8. That's when I'll open the door to the Night Market."
A few seconds passed before the librarian stood up and looked over at Zay. "There are also a few rules I'll need to tell you tonight before I open the door."
"Understood," he said quietly.
Zay stepped out of the room and began his descent down the marble staircase, the quiet footfalls of the librarian echoing softly behind him. As he reached the first floor, the warm scent of old paper and burning oil lamps greeted him once more. He made his way toward the door, pushed it open, and stepped outside.
A short staircase of seven stone steps led down from the library's entrance. He descended them slowly, both of his hands rested inside of his pockets, the morning sun casting warmth to the street below. The cobbled path was busy, filled with students heading toward the academy. Their chatter blended with the distant toll of a bell.
"Cindra Academy uniforms," Zay muttered as he looked up at the sky and spotted an airship departing from Cindra, drifting east in the distance.
'I have some time to kill... but I can't afford to waste it, not really. I need a way to make money. Fast.'
He ran through several possibilities in his head before letting out a quiet sigh. 'There's getting a job, threatening people for coin, robbery, human trafficking to sell at the auction, or selling information... there's also the whistle I got back in the first sequence, but I don't want to part with it. It has immense value.'
He weighed each option, standing still for a moment, then sighed again and turned into one of Cindra's shadowy alleyways.
'The only way I can make the kind of money I think this person will be sold for is through the Nox group. Loan sharks, human traffickers, elven traffickers... gods know what else. But it's the fastest way. I hate the idea of being in debt or owing anything to those bastards... but if it gets this task done and grants me access to the fourth sequence, then so be it.'
Zay swallowed hard, the thought of owing scum made his stomach tighten. But then his eyes dropped to Evershade at his side, and an idea surfaced.
'That's... an idea, for sure.'
—
Five hours had passed while Zay sat inside Dravik's Repairs, a local forge renowned throughout Cindra. Dravik was a master blacksmith, famed not only for his skill but for the legendary weapons he created. He worked with wood, stone, steel, obsidian, coal, marble—but his most famous creation was Dragtic, a blade forged from the tooth and scale of a dragon. It was the only known weapon in all of Gyro made from a dragon, and only the third in all of Akser to hold that distinction.
Dravik stepped out from behind a curtain. A patch covered his left eye, and his right arm was a heavy construct of metal. His beard was long, unruly, and tangled, and his bald head glistened with sweat. Standing 6'4", the man was a wall of muscle, his only clothing a pair of black trousers.
"It took a while. But it's done," he said between labored breaths as he laid the items out on a worn oak table.
Nine stone daggers, each tipped with venom extracted from the fangs of a Spider Wolf. A black mask, enchanted for stealth. Boots crafted from black leather and raven feathers. Gloves designed to leave no fingerprints.
Zay examined the items and gave a curt nod. "We still have the same deal, right?"
Dravik nodded and dropped into a wooden chair, exhaling deeply as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his left hand. "The price is double. You've got one month. If I don't get paid... I put a bounty on your head. That's the deal."
Zay extended his hand without hesitation.
Dravik took it and gave it a firm shake. "I won't ask what you're hunting. But whatever it is... must be a big bastard with some unique traits."
"It definitely has some... uniqueness to it," Zay replied with a small smile as he stood and slipped on the gloves. He removed his old boots and pulled on the new ones, the soft leather and feathers quiet against the floor. The mask, more of a bandana in shape, rested loosely around his neck.
Zay lifted the nine stone daggers and placed them into custom-made sheaths, each designed to attach securely to his leggings along the left side of his waist.
With one final glance at Dravik, Zay gave a nod, then turned and walked out of the blacksmith's shop, heading toward the place where he knew a branch where Nox operated.