Chapter Two
I move like darkness incarnate. If anyone knows how to go unseen and take what they need, it’s me. A daughter of the slums, raised on deception, swaddled in secrecy.
On this side of The Black Stream—closer to the King’s magic-forged barrier that seals the sky and keeps the Starborn in and the Earthbound out—the only people who move freely are Starborn nobles chasing illicit release, far from the prying eyes of their kin.
I tighten my cloak, hiding the threadbare clothes beneath, grab a discarded bottle off the street floor, and nod for Tess to follow suit.
If the streets have taught me anything, it’s this: appearances are everything.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder and start swaying and stumbling, prattling about Stars know what.
Tess looks confused and uncertain, but joins in when she sees the guards’ eyes lingering on her a little too long.
I slur my words just enough to make my performance convincing and call to them, “You boys on offer tonight?”
They share a brief look between each other before eye rolling and dismissing me, “Not tonight, love. Move along.”
Only when they pass do I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I hastily pull Tess into a quiet alcove in The Barrier District’s bustling marketplace. The thin crowd around us dabbles in secret dealings and conversations, but so far, we’ve gone mostly unnoticed.
I knock on the door we rest against, our chests heaving with the intensity of escaping the wagon and evading attention—three sharp knocks in quick succession, followed by two booming knocks spaced three heartbeats apart.
I wait. And wait. And wait.
And just before I move along, the heavy wooden door cracks open just enough to see a sliver of a harsh face looking down at me.
“What could two lovely ladies possibly want in The Underbelly?” he asks with suspicion.
“I’m here to see Gellesk. Tell him Iskara is here and I’ve come to collect on a debt he owes me,” I snarl, all traces of the inebriated fool I’d played gone in a heartbeat.
“Fuckin’ Gellesk and his Starsdamned debts,” the man grumbles.
The door slams in my face. Fuck.
But just as I think the man has shut me out, the door retracts fully to reveal a big-bellied man, strapped head to toe in steel. “Follow me,” he states gruffly with a wave of his hand, and leads us through the abandoned shopfront, and we descend into the bowels of The Underbelly.
If it’s outlawed, this is where you’ll find it.
Navigating these labyrinths underneath The Barrier District is a rare skill.
I have it. The depravity and sheer ruthlessness of the vendors and clients that inhabit this place are enough to make the Royal Guard look the other way.
In The Underbelly, everything’s for sale, and it always goes to the highest—or darkest—bidder.
I can see Tess’s face contorting in discomfort, and her eyes averting from the afflicted nobles high as Stars on moonshade and voidroot stumbling through the corridors.
The deeper we descend into the depths, the darker the deals in shadowed alcoves, and the more clearly I see what the Virellin Kingdom is most afraid of: challenges to their power and threats to the tight leash they have on us.
That’s the thing when you take everything away from people; they will resist, and they will find a way of life that pushes against the cage they get put in. Of course, it doesn’t look like a threat. It looks like hushed voices, secret handshakes and stumbling recipients.
The Underbelly is crawling with contraband: The Lunar Codex, a banned book said to contain forbidden rituals, Obsidian Shards that grant the drinker a temporary ability to hide from magical detection, and Memory Orbs that contain stolen memories, from where, no one will say.
But perhaps the most unsettling are the shadowhound beasts that can be used in battle, but are more often than not used for entertainment and coin in fighting pits.
The relics here speak of histories I’ve never been taught—symbols no one remembers, names that vanish the moment they’re spoken aloud. Sometimes I wonder if we’ve forgotten on purpose. Or if someone made sure we did.
But the real reason this place exists? Every type of state-altering elixir one could imagine—eclipsium, moonshade, voidroot, souldrift.
It smells like regret and shit down here—a heady mix of voidroot smoke, unwashed bodies, and whatever passes for food around here. Tess clings to my side like I’m her last hope, which, in all honesty, I probably am.
I spot Gellesk at his usual stall, haggling over what looks like a pile of moldy fabric and maybe a cursed relic or two. He’s gesturing wildly, his face already flushed with whatever temper tantrum he’s throwing.
Perfect.
I stride up to his table and rap my knuckles on the wood. A few of his precious vials wobble, one teetering dangerously before I catch it. I give it a deliberate once-over before setting it back down.
“Still running this sideshow, Gellesk? I see quality control isn’t your strong suit,” I sneer, an arrogant smirk lifting the left side of my mouth.
He freezes mid-shout, his head swiveling toward me like a startled owl. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Iskara? Stars damn it, what do you want now?”
I smile sweetly. “I’ve come to collect.” My tone is lilting.
His face falls, all theatrics replaced by genuine concern. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I lean forward on the table, dropping my voice so only he can hear. “Oh, but I would. Let me jog your memory: voidroot overdose, no pants, and an angry noble who very much wanted to see your head on a spike. And then there was me, rendering him unconscious, saving your very visible ass.”
He groans, throwing a hand over his face. “For the last time, I wasn’t overdosing. I was... experimenting.”
“You were drooling on yourself and begging for mercy.” I raise an eyebrow, “From the furniture.”
Gellesk glares at me, cheeks reddening. “And you just had to bring that up. Again. I said thank you, didn’t I?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you, Iskara, for saving my life while I was naked and covered in voidroot ash,” I mock, pitching my voice higher. “Thank you, Iskara, for keeping me from being skewered by a noble after I slept with his wife and stole his jewelry.”
He bristles. “I didn’t steal his jewelry. She gave it to me. Freely,” he tries his hardest to convince me.
“While you were naked and drooling,” I remind him, my tone saccharine sweet.
He opens his mouth, then closes it, clearly losing the battle. “Fine,” he snaps. “You saved my life. Once. Are you happy? Now, can we move on to how I’m clearly a reformed man?”
I smirk. “Reformed? Gellesk, you’re still peddling moonshade nectar cut with ash and passing off tin charms as Starforged relics,” I scoff a laugh.
“They’re decorative,” he grumbles. “People should read the fine print.”
“Enough small talk,” I say, leaning closer. “You owe me. I’m here to collect.”
He groans again, long and loud, like I’ve just asked him to chop off his own arm. “Iskara, you can’t just show up and—wait, who’s the kid?”
Tess shifts uncomfortably behind me, and I put a hand on her shoulder. “This is Tess. She needs a place to lie low, and you’re going to give it to her.”
Gellesk’s jaw drops. “Me? Oh, no. No, no, no. I’m a businessman, not a babysitter,” he gestures to his table of knock-offs and trinkets.
“She’s not a baby, Gellesk. And you’re barely a man,” I retort.
He slaps a hand on his chest, feigning indignation. “How dare you! I am the most sought-after trader in The Underbelly. My goods are legendary.”
“Your goods are mostly counterfeit,” I say while flicking a frail piece of tin off his table.
“Details,” he huffs. “The point is, I’m too busy to—”
“You’re not too busy to chug voidroot and gamble away your profits,” I cut in. “You’ll take her. And while you’re at it, you’re going to tell me where Ronyn is.”
Gellesk shifts on his feet, his bravado fading as his gaze flicks to the edges of the corridor. Always the cautious one—when he’s not high on voidroot, of course. He leans forward, lowering his voice.
“Alright, fine. I’ll tell you what I know, but don’t go pinning this on me,” he mutters. “Your arrow-slinging idiot of a friend got himself caught.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Caught? By who? Let me guess—someone smarter than you, which, to be fair, isn’t a high bar.” Fuck.
“The King’s guards,” he grumbles. “Well, not the fancy types. More like the rejects who couldn’t make it to the palace.
They were stationed at The Black Stream depot.
My sources say Ronyn was sniffing around a supply cache during a raid.
He got too close, and they dragged him off to The Tannery before he could wrangle that oversized bow of his. ”
I swallow my panic, and take a step closer, looming over him just enough to remind him who’s in charge here. “And The Tannery? How hard is it to get in?”
He groans, throwing his head back like I’ve asked him to part the Stars themselves.
“It’s a low-level op, alright? Not palace guards—just a couple of Starborn grunts keeping watch.
Bloodbonds, maybe Aetherstrides if you’re lucky.
They’ll sense you, and they won’t stay down for long.
These guys are ruthless and mean. Like you, only with less charm. ”
I smirk. “You think I’m charming? Careful, Gellesk. People might start to talk,” I say with a wink.
He groans louder. “Why do I even bother? You’re just going to storm in there and make a mess, aren’t you?”
“Probably. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure it’s a memorable one,” I say, patting his shoulder. “Unlike your last big mess, which involved no pants, drool and a very angry noble.”
“I’m never living that down, am I?”
“Not as long as I’m breathing,” I reply cheerfully.
I glance at Tess, hovering behind me like a nervous shadow. “Speaking of big messes, you’re going to take Tess here off my hands. She needs somewhere safe.”
Gellesk stares at me like I’ve just told him he’s been conscripted into the Royal Guard. “Me? I’ve got a business to run!”
“This,” I scoff, pointing at his miserable table of trinkets, “is not a business. It’s a scam. And Gellesk,” I look at him with intensity, “her father sold her into The Flesh Circuit.”
Gellesk’s face drops. He may be a shitty businessman running a counterfeit operation, but he is governed by some level of morality.
He refuses to trade in people. He looks at Tess, and for once, his expression softens with something like genuine care.
If there’s one thing I know about this goon, it’s that he draws the line at The Flesh Circuit.
“Come here, love. Uncle Gellesk will sort ya out.”
I tell myself Tess will be safe here, with his counterfeit charms and dusty codes of honor. But I’ve learned not to trust safety—not in Virellin.
As I turn to leave, feeling a modicum of assurance that Tess will be okay, Gellesk’s grumbling follows me. “One day, Iskara, you’re going to push me too far.”
I glance back with a grin. “And one day, Gellesk, you’re going to grow a backbone and a legitimate business. Let me know when it happens. I’ll bring cake.”
I hear him mutter something about Starsdamned women and their impossible demands as I disappear into the shadows.
The Tannery is waiting. And something in my blood tells me this won’t just be a rescue—it’ll be a reckoning.