Arin followed Kaelith through the maze-like streets of the slums, keeping a careful distance. Her movements were fluid, purposeful, and utterly confident—the kind of confidence that came from knowing you were more dangerous than anyone else around.


    “So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Arin finally asked, his voice dripping with skepticism. “Or is this one of those ‘trust me and I’ll show you’ situations?”


    Kaelith glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “Patience, kid. We’re almost there.”


    Arin rolled his eyes but kept following. He didn’t have much choice, not with the Crestborne sniffing around like hounds. Still, he wasn’t about to let his guard down. Kaelith might have saved him, but trust was a currency he didn’t spend lightly.


    The two of them slipped into a narrow alley that opened into what could barely be called a plaza. It was more of a clearing between buildings, filled with rickety stalls and people haggling over everything from food to questionable relics. At the far end stood a building that looked like it had been pieced together from scraps of wood and metal—but it was sturdy, and it had a roof.


    “Home sweet home,” Kaelith said, pushing open the creaky door. “Well, for now.”


    Arin hesitated on the threshold. The inside was dimly lit, with mismatched furniture and a large table in the center covered in maps, documents, and strange tools. A fireplace crackled in the corner, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The room had the air of a place that saw plenty of secrets shared and plans made.


    “What is this place?” Arin asked, stepping inside.


    Kaelith closed the door behind him and shrugged. “Let’s call it a safe house. For people like you.”


    “People like me?” Arin raised an eyebrow.


    Kaelith walked over to the table and leaned against it, arms crossed. “The kind who get in over their heads and need a little…guidance.”


    “Gee, thanks,” Arin said dryly. “Really boosts my confidence.”


    Before Kaelith could respond, a voice cut through the room. “You’re late.”


    Arin turned to see a man emerge from the shadows. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a scruffy beard and piercing green eyes that seemed to see right through him. He wore a battered leather coat and carried himself like someone who’d seen plenty of fights.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    “Had to pick up a stray,” Kaelith said, nodding toward Arin.


    “Stray?” Arin repeated, bristling. “I’m right here, you know.”


    The man’s gaze settled on Arin, and he frowned. “You’re the one the Crestborne are after?”


    “Apparently,” Arin said. “Though I’m still not entirely sure why.”


    The man’s eyes flicked to Arin’s satchel. “It’s what you’re carrying. Isn’t it?”


    Arin hesitated. He didn’t trust these people, but he wasn’t stupid enough to lie outright. “Maybe.”


    Kaelith rolled her eyes. “He’s not the most forthcoming, but he’s got potential.”


    “Potential?” Arin snorted. “That’s a nice way of saying I’m in over my head.”


    The man stepped closer, his expression serious. “Listen, kid. If the Crestborne want what you have, it’s either incredibly dangerous or incredibly powerful. Or both. Either way, you’re not going to last long on your own.”


    “And what? You’re offering to help me out of the kindness of your heart?” Arin asked, folding his arms.


    Kaelith chuckled. “Not exactly. Let’s just say we have a mutual interest in keeping that shard out of the Crestborne’s hands.”


    Arin tensed. “How do you know about the shard?”


    “Because I’ve seen one before,” the man said. “And if it’s anything like the last one, you’re sitting on a piece of something that could change everything.”


    “Change everything how?” Arin asked, his curiosity piqued despite himself.


    Kaelith exchanged a glance with the man before answering. “Let’s just say the shard isn’t just a relic. It’s part of the Crown of Origin.”


    Arin’s heart skipped a beat. He’d heard the stories, of course. Everyone had. The Crown of Origin was a legendary artifact, said to grant immense power to whoever wielded it. But it had been shattered centuries ago, its pieces scattered across the world.


    “You’re kidding,” Arin said, though his voice lacked conviction.


    “Do I look like I’m kidding?” the man replied.


    Arin didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into his satchel and pulled out the shard. It glowed faintly in the dim light, its runes pulsing gently. The room fell silent as everyone stared at it.


    “Well,” Kaelith said after a moment. “That settles it. You’re definitely in over your head.”


    Arin sighed. “You’re not exactly helping my confidence here.”


    “We’re not here to boost your ego,” the man said. “We’re here to make sure you don’t get yourself killed. Or worse, let the Crestborne get their hands on that.”


    Arin looked at the shard, then at Kaelith and the man. He didn’t trust them, not entirely. But if they were right about the shard—about the Crown of Origin—then he couldn’t afford to face this alone.


    “Fine,” he said. “But if I’m sticking around, I’m going to need some answers.”


    Kaelith’s smirk returned. “Oh, don’t worry. We’ve got plenty to tell you. But first, you’re going to need to learn how to survive.”


    The man nodded. “Welcome to the resistance, kid.”


    Arin groaned. “Great. Just what I needed. More problems.”