Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: Shadows of the Forgotten

Shadows of the ForgottenThe streets of Shadowfen buzzed with the clamor of the night market, a maze of lanterns and stalls draped in mist. Lirien darted through the crowd, her small frame slipping between merchants hawking spiced fish and trinkets. Her dark hair was tucked under a hooded cloak, and her fingers twitched, itching for a pocket to pick. She wasn't just any thief—she was the best in Shadowfen, quick and clever, with a knack for vanishing into the fog. But tonight wasn't about coin. Her latest job had gone wrong, and the weight of it hung heavy in her chest. Tucked inside her satchel was a stolen map, its edges burned, marked with symbols she didn't understand. It led to something called the Ember Crown, and it was trouble she didn't need.Lirien's breath caught as she glanced over her shoulder. The client who'd hired her—a wiry man with cold eyes—hadn't been honest. He'd said the map was just an old relic, worth a few gold pieces. But when she'd snatched it from a guarded vault, the air had turned hot, and whispers filled her head, urging her to run. Now, she was being followed. She could feel it, a prickle on her neck, like a predator in the shadows. Shadowfen was her home, its alleys her playground, but tonight the mist felt alive, watching her every move.She ducked into a narrow street, the noise of the market fading behind her. Her hand brushed the dagger at her hip, a simple blade but sharp enough to cut through trouble. Lirien wasn't a fighter—she preferred to slip away—but she'd learned to hold her own in this city of liars and thieves. The map in her satchel seemed to hum, warm against her side, and she cursed under her breath. Whatever the Ember Crown was, it was more than a trinket. She needed to ditch the map, maybe sell it to someone foolish enough to want it, and get out of this mess.A soft scrape echoed behind her, like boots on cobblestones. Lirien froze, her heart racing. She pressed herself against a damp wall, her cloak blending with the shadows. Her gift, a flicker of shadow magic, let her fade into the dark, not invisible but close enough. She held her breath as two figures appeared at the alley's mouth, their cloaks marked with ash-gray symbols. Cult of Ash, she thought, her stomach twisting. She'd heard rumors of them—fanatics who worshipped fire and caused trouble wherever they went. If they were after the map, she was in deeper than she'd thought.The figures paused, one sniffing the air like a hound. "She's close," he growled, his voice low. "The Crown's call is strong." Lirien's fingers tightened on her dagger. The Crown again. She didn't know what it was, but it was starting to feel like a curse. She edged along the wall, silent, aiming for a side alley that led to the docks. If she could lose them there, she'd be free. But the map's warmth grew, almost burning, and a faint whisper brushed her mind: Keep me. Find me. She shook it off, focusing on escape.Before she could move, a hand grabbed her arm, yanking her into the shadows. She spun, dagger raised, but a girl's voice hissed, "Quiet, or we're both dead." It was Syl, a street kid Lirien had helped once, her eyes wide with fear. Syl was barely thirteen, all bones and bravado, but she knew Shadowfen's secrets. "They're not just after you," Syl whispered. "Something's happening. The mist's wrong tonight."Lirien didn't argue. She trusted Syl's instincts. They slipped through the alley, the mist curling around them like a living thing. The cultists' footsteps followed, closer now. Lirien's shadow magic flickered, hiding them, but it was weak—she hadn't trained it, hadn't wanted to. Magic was a risk in Shadowfen, where Sparkborn were hunted. The map pulsed again, and Lirien's head throbbed. She wanted to throw it away, but something stopped her, like a thread tying her to it.They reached the docks, the air thick with salt and fish. Syl tugged Lirien toward a stack of crates, but the cultists were faster. They stepped from the mist, their daggers gleaming. "Give us the map," one said, his eyes glinting with a strange red light. Lirien shoved Syl behind her, her own dagger ready. "Don't know what you're talking about," she lied, her voice steady despite her fear.The cultist lunged, and Lirien dodged, her blade catching his arm. Syl screamed, scrambling away. The second cultist chanted, and the mist twisted, forming claws that slashed at Lirien. Her shadow magic flared instinctively, swallowing the claws, but it left her dizzy. She couldn't keep this up. The map's whispers grew louder, urging her to fight, to claim something bigger. She ignored it, focusing on survival.A shout broke the fight. Two figures charged from the fog—a man with a chipped sword and a woman with a glowing dagger. The man tackled one cultist, his blade flashing, while the woman sent a burst of flame at the other, who screamed and fled. Lirien backed away, clutching the map. The newcomers turned to her, the man's gray eyes sharp, the woman's dark ones curious. "You're holding trouble," the woman said, nodding at the satchel. "Care to share?"Lirien tensed, ready to bolt. "Who are you?" she demanded. The man wiped blood from his sword. "Kael," he said. The woman smirked. "Zara. And you're not just a thief, are you?" Lirien didn't answer, her mind racing. The map burned in her satchel, and the mist seemed to watch. She didn't trust these strangers, but the cultists were gone, and Syl was safe, peeking from the crates. For now, that had to be enough. But Lirien knew one thing: the Ember Crown was pulling her into something she couldn't escape.