"So you got attacked by Bone Dogs, had to climb a bunch of coral pillars to escape the Dark Sea," the young man drawled, "and one of your buddies sacrificed himself so this kid could get away?" He took another casual bite from the cooked monster leg, grease running down his fingers as he chewed. "Doesn't sound like a worthy trade-off to me."
The words landed harder than any blow.
Varkass' hands clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening. The faint shimmer of gathering light flickered around his fingers, instinct overriding reason. For a split second, it looked like he might actually do it—blind the man, blade or no blade, consequences be damned.
Jahness stepped in front of him before the thought could become action.
"Where exactly are we?" he asked, voice tight but controlled. "And who are you lot?"
The question cut through the tension. The Hunters glanced at one another, mildly surprised but not offended.
It was the woman tending the fire who answered. She prodded the embers with a stick, sending sparks spiraling upward. "We're Hunters," she said plainly. "The ones who go out into the City to kill things and drag food back for the rest of us poor bastards stuck in the Castle." She glanced over her shoulder at the others. "Our leader's a guy named Gemma. Or he was. Lately, that title's… debatable."
A few of the Hunters chuckled, exchanging knowing looks that carried more weight than humor.
Lina's gaze lingered on the monster carcass roasting over the flames. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, hunger carving sharp lines into her already pale face. Even so, her posture stayed guarded, ready to spring back at the slightest provocation. "And this 'Castle'?" she asked. "What exactly is it?"
"The Bright Castle," the woman replied. "That's where the Bright Lord and his lieutenants live. Most of the strongest people in the Forgotten Shore, too." She poked at the fire again. "Food. Warmth. Walls that actually keep things out."
She paused, then smiled without warmth. "Of course, none of that's free."
The Hunter with the skewer picked up the explanation without looking up. "There's a daily tax. And an entry tax if you want in." He took another bite, then finally glanced at the trio. "Can't pay? You don't live in the Castle. You live outside. In the Settlement."
His eyes swept over them, taking in their torn clothes, limps, dried blood, and hollow faces. "If you'd shown up two years ago looking like that, you'd have been dumped there without a second thought. No Soul Shards, no leverage, no nothing."
He shrugged. "Now, though…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
The Hunters fell quiet, the crackle of the fire suddenly loud in the gap he left behind. Jahness, Lina, and Varkass exchanged uneasy glances. Something had changed. Something important. They could all feel it, like a missing piece hovering just out of reach—but none of them dared ask outright.
Jahness cleared his throat, deliberately steering away from whatever unspoken history hung in the air. "You said the strongest Sleepers live in—"
"The Forgotten Shore," the Hunter with the skewer corrected lazily.
"Right," Jahness said. "The strongest in the Forgotten Shore all live in the Bright Castle? Anyone in particular we should know about?"
The woman barked out a laugh. "Look at this kid," she said, grinning broadly as she eyed Jahness. "Already thinking about snagging a spot inside?"
Heat crept up Jahness' neck, and he dipped his head in embarrassment, lips pressed thin. He hadn't meant it like that—hadn't meant to sound ambitious, or naive, or hopeful.
The Hunters' laughter wasn't cruel, exactly. But it carried the unmistakable edge of people who had seen enough to know how rare such hopes truly were.
The Hunter gnawed the last scraps of meat from the monster leg, teeth scraping bone, then tossed it aside with a careless flick. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a satisfied burp before leaning back against a chunk of broken masonry.
"Well," he said, voice lazy, "suppose there's no harm in telling you."
He raised a finger, counting as he spoke.
"Least important faction is the Handmaidens. Almost all women, though there're a few younger boys mixed in. They're led by Seishan of Clan Song—yeah, that Clan Song. Daughter of Ki Song herself." He snorted softly. "In the grand scheme of things, the Handmaidens don't matter much. But nobody fucks with the Witch. Got it?"
His eyes flicked pointedly toward Varkass and then Jahness. "In other words, keep your hands to yourselves. If you don't, you lose them."
Lina stiffened slightly at that, jaw tightening, but said nothing.
"Second," he continued, holding up another finger, "the Artisans. Folks with constructive Aspects. Builders. Crafters. The ones who know how to make things work instead of just break them." He shrugged. "Not flashy, but they keep the Castle standing and give everyone the illusion we're still civilized."
The woman by the fire smirked. "They're treated pretty well, too."
"Right," the Hunter agreed. "So if you're smart enough, feel free to try your luck. Their leader's Aiko. Plant manipulation, alchemy, that sort of thing." He grinned. "She makes some pretty killer drugs, if you're into that. Price'll gut you worse than a Bone Dog, though."
Varkass swallowed, eyes flicking briefly toward the fire, then away.
"Third," the Hunter said, his tone shifting slightly, "the Guards. Biggest group in the Castle. Anyone with a combat Aspect or just raw brutality tends to end up there." His expression darkened. "A year ago, they were led by a real piece of work named Tessai. Back then, the Guards were basically unleashed."
He spat to the side. "Rape. Theft. Murder. No consequences."
Silence hung for a beat.
"That's changed," he finished, shortly.
No one asked how.