[table][row][cell][img]https://i.imgur.com/a825ja7.png[/img][/cell][cell][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/241207/12cf164eb0204fbd7bfe1f9acec90dc5.png[/img][/cell][/row]
[row][cell][sub]Location: Zeph's Home (Northeastern Neighborhood)[/sub][/cell][/row][/table]Hands buried in his coat pockets, Zeph absently turned the gemstone over in his fingers. The cold night air nipped at his face, the warmth of the Sun temple fading faster than he would’ve liked, but he hardly noticed. His thoughts were too loud. Too vivid. 

So when another guard passed him on the road—an Aurelian archer he didn’t recognize—Zeph only half-registered him. Briefly, somewhere between bites of his cookie, he considered stopping him. Asking who this “Hawthorne” person was. But the urge fizzled out just as quickly as it came. His new trainee had been waiting this long, she couldn’t wait longer. 

His mind circled elsewhere now. 

On Tia.

He could still see the wide-eyed, confused look she’d given him. So caught in whatever inner storm she carried that she’d hadn’t even noticed him in her space. The memory made him grin to himself, just a little. 

But she’d looked so exhausted, too. 

He’d seen it. The way she moved. The wince when she stepped. The blood at the edges of her robes. He should’ve asked about it. Maybe—hopefully—the blood was someone else’s. She was a healer, wasn’t she? Probably nothing, right? Probably... 

Yet the memory of her straining to get to her feet stuck with him more than it should’ve. It unsettled him more than he would’ve admitted. And he wondered just how much she had drained herself in the effort to save Ivor and himself from bleeding out. Healers had their limits—especially Aurelian ones, these days.

Still… she was a High Priestess. You didn’t get to that position out of luck. She was far from helpless and could take care of herself. So he shoved the thought down. 

Besides, she’d given him a task. Something exciting, secret, and maybe even a little bit important. And that, Zeph could handle. 

Under the cover of perpetual night, slipping unnoticed through Dawnhaven’s streets wasn’t exactly difficult. He’d been sneakier under worse circumstances. He just needed the right approach. The right timing. The right lie, maybe.

But first, he turned north.

Home wasn’t far. He pushed through the front door into stillness, struck a match, and lit a few candles lined up along the kitchen table. Their flickering glow filled the room as he dropped into a chair, the wood creaking beneath him.

From his pockets, he emptied everything out onto the table. The prayer book, the gemstone, the folded parchment, and the small silver bell he’d swiped from the temple.

Carefully, he unfolded the letter and began to reread it. Slower this time. Without Firefly there to [i]distract[/i] him—hovering just outside the space between his legs, pink-cheeked and watching him with dark eyes full of wonder and worry. 

Idly, he turned the little bell between his fingers as he read, his brows slowly drawing together as he took her words in more thoughtfully. 

Not a nightmare—a vision.

Of course, he’d heard about the Aurelian Priest who’d delivered the so-called prophecy—the whole reason Dawnhaven existed now, as the Sun Prince’s dying wish. But… was Tia like him? Some kind of seer? Or just another fraud? But what reason would she have to lie? 

Maybe she was crazy. 
He always did like the crazy ones best.

But he’d seen how strongly she reacted when she touched the gemstone. As if the thing had actually spoken to her. The stone had felt completely ordinary in his hands, but she didn't seem to be lying. He was inclined to believe her… he supposed.  

Or at least suspend disbelief long enough to see where it led. 

Setting the letter aside, he picked up the [url=https://i.imgur.com/ww8zY5w.png]gemstone[/url] and held it up to the candlelight. Faint light bled through, splitting into pale purple lines across the walls that shifted when he moved. It reminded him of the crystals they’d seen in that [url=https://i.imgur.com/CFFjzrW.png]cavern[/url]. But this one wasn’t raw. It had been shaped. Cut by someone. Crafted with care. Made for something.

But what?

He leaned back in his chair, hazel eyes shifting from gem to parchment. 

Tia had trusted him with this. [i]Trusted him.[/i] And she didn’t even know him. Didn’t know what he might do with her words. 

He smiled, slow and thoughtful.

If this was as important as she seemed to believe, then yes—she was probably crazy.  
Which was... fun.

Nonetheless, he owed her a debt. And he wasn’t in the habit of disappointing pretty, doe-eyed Priestesses—especially not ones who looked at him like that. Not right away, anyway. The disappointment would come later. It always did.

For now, he had planning to do. 

He knew the Sage—Hightower. Had met her plenty of times. Played watchdog while they held their blight-born interviews. He’d even been invited inside, warming himself by her fire. He knew the ground floor layout well enough. Knew that her living quarters were on the upper levels—though he’d never seen them for himself. 

Hightower was kind, in a distant sort of way. She was often so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she’d rarely offered much in the way of conversion, but she’d always been nice enough to take pity on a poor, cold guard—offering him and his watch partners a warm drink or a break beside the fire. 

Still, it wouldn’t be easy to enter unnoticed. Too many of the other Sages passed through. Too many people that might find the parchment, or recognize him. Too much risk. 

And if he intended to keep Tia’s message a secret… 

There was only one other way in. 

[i]Up.[/i]