[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: Alchemy Chambers[/sub][/cell][/row][/table]Knee-deep in snow, Zeph muttered a curse under his breath, each step a slog through the frozen drifts. When he’d reached the nobles' neighborhood, he’d veered wide into the forest. The front of the Alchemy Chambers was a fool’s bet—too many patrols, too much torchlight. So Zeph had stuck to the shadows, hidden deeper within the forest. Not the wisest move—not with a killer blight-born still unaccounted for—but stealth came first. No way the blighter was still hanging around with every guard in Dawnhaven on high alert… probably? Either way, the forest gave him what he needed: silence, and a clean shot at the back of the Alchemy Chambers. He crept deep among the trees until the back wall came into view—dark, unwatched. Light flickered faintly in one of the upper floor windows. The Sage was home. [color=98A869]“Lovely,”[/color] Zeph muttered under his breath. He studied the treeline, then kept low and crossed to the back wall. Quietly, he ran his bare fingers along the stone, feeling for any handholds. The stone was flush—too smooth for easy climbing. Of course it was. Elio never laid a stone out of place. But worse, it was coated in a thin sheen of ice. Still, Zeph wasn’t ready to give up. He stepped closer to the wall, withdrawing a slender dagger from his belt. One glance over his shoulder, then he jammed the blade into the seam between two stone blocks and tried to haul himself up. His boots scraped for purchase, his free hand blindly feeling for anything solid to grip onto. For a second, it held. Then— [i][b]crack[/b][/i] The dagger slipped. One of the stones split with a sharp snap and Zeph lost his grip. The fall wasn’t far, but he hit the ground hard enough to stumble back a step. Jaw clenched, he glared up at the wall like it had betrayed him. A sliver of stone had sheared clean off where he’d driven the blade—an ugly scar in Elio’s perfect work. [color=98A869][i]‘That’ll piss him off’[/i][/color] Zeph thought with a smirk, retrieving his dagger from where it had tumbled into the snow. Then he heard it—boots, armor, light conversation. He froze, crouching against the base of the wall, holding his breath as a patrol passed around the front of the Alchemy Chambers. He didn’t move until their steps faded into the distance. Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. That’s all the time he had before they would circle back. He’d need to make this quick. His eyes swept the area, landing on a snow-laden pine. Tall, its upper branches brushing close to a high balcony on the second floor. He had no idea what that balcony led to. Lab? Library? Bedroom? It didn’t matter. It was a way in. He didn’t stop to second guess it. Zeph hurried to the pine, light on his feet. He tested the lower branches with a firm tug, then began hoisting himself up. The bark was rough, familiar. He’d climbed trees all his life—though it’d been a while. Each branch was tested before he committed his weight. But as he climbed higher, one cracked loudly, sending his heart into his throat as it snapped beneath him. He hugged the trunk of the tree tightly, heart thundering. Once he found sturdier footing, he paused, then laughed—quiet and breathless. When the balcony came to eye level, he studied it for a moment. It was just out of reach. Regrettably, it had looked closer from the ground. He’d never reach it from here. So he climbed higher, with a new plan in mind. As the branches that could support him began to thin, he glanced down. He was twelve feet up now, at least. The balcony sat slightly below him—maybe close enough to drop into. But a roof overhang was closer. No turning back now. Gripping a thick branch, he dangled from it and slowly inched his way out, edging closer to the balcony below. Near the branch’s end, he paused, breath misting the air as he eyed the roof overhang. He drew in a steady breath and let it out slowly. Then, swinging his feet for momentum, he whispered a phrase from his father’s people—[color=98A869]“Varo keth'kai.”[/color]—and leapt. Arms out. Breath held. His hands skated across slick shingles—no grip. [color=98A869]“Shi—!”[/color] He fell, but instinct took over. Fingers clawed for something, anything—then caught on a wooden beam beneath the eaves. Splinters tore at his skin as he caught himself with one arm. Hanging there, in front of a window with its curtains drawn, he let out a slow breath. Hauling his other arm up, he adjusted his grip, and scanned left. The balcony was still too far to reach outright. He cursed softly and began to swing, legs kicking. With a silent prayer to Seluna, he launched himself toward the next beam—and caught it. Barely. Then, he carefully shimmied toward the balcony. One more swing, one final lunge. He landed hard in a puff of snow on the balcony, the snow dampening the sound just slightly. He froze, listening for a few heartbeats. Still, no sounds from within. No clatter of armor coming up the path just yet. Fingers aching with splinters, breath fogging, he crouched at the door and tried the handle. Locked. [color=98A869][i]Who the hell locks their balcony?[/i][/color] He looked around. A small window above the door—too small for his broad frame. Other windows: sealed, curtains drawn. No way in but through. He pulled a silver hairpin from his pants pocket—an old fling’s, long repurposed—and a small pocketknife from his belt. He’d picked a hundred locks with worse. Tools in hand, he set to work. The cold made it harder, but the motion was muscle memory by now. Tension. Turn. Pressure. A soft click. The latch gave. Zeph paused, listening again. Then, carefully, he pushed the door open with a shove of his fingertips. Darkness. He stepped in, trailing snow. The air inside smelled of parchment, dried herbs and ink. He squinted as his eyes adjusted, taking in the scrolls and tomes stacked high along the walls. Across from him, an archway led into another room, and he slowly approached. Floorboards creaked underfoot. He grimaced. Somewhere down a distant hall, voices drifted from deeper inside—quiet, indistinct. He couldn’t make them out, but a glow of firelight flickered just around the corner. He leaned against the edge of the archway, listening. They didn’t sound too close, so his eyes darted around the room beyond. A bedroom. He grinned. Thank the stars. The large bed was a mess, surrounded by nightstands on either side. One held a journal. Another had a stack of papers and open books. He slowly crept to the nightstand and reached into his coat, pulling free the gemstone and parchment. One last look at the stone, his thumb traced its cut edges. Then, gently, he laid the parchment atop the journal and the gemstone onto the paper. An anonymous gift delivered. He turned to begin his retreat. Then— Floorboards groaned in the hallway. He froze. A shadow moved. A soft gasp from down the hall. Zeph didn’t wait. He bolted back to the study. Slipped out the door, swung it shut behind him. His eyes locked on the drop below. No time to plan. He vaulted over the railing, turning his body to reach for the steel supports and— His grip slipped. He fell. Ten feet down, the snow below broke his fall but not by much. He hit hard, wrist-first, a sharp crack shooting through his arm. Pain flashed white-hot, but he bit down a shout and rolled to his feet. Adrenaline carried him forward toward the forest, snow clinging to his coat, breath ragged. Only when he reached the edge of the noble district did he slow and return to the cobblestone path, trying to steady his breathing. Glancing down at his left wrist—swollen, throbbing—he pulled it close, his fingers lightly prodding. Sharp pain shot through the joint. [color=98A869]“Damn it,”[/color] he hissed. It didn’t seem broken, but something wasn’t right. He glanced over his shoulder, back towards the Alchemy Chambers. He wasn’t being followed. He looked forward again, thinking of returning to the Aurelian temple. He’d need to see a healer but— No. He already owed Tia too much. His pace slowed. The Sage knew healing too. And it would be less conspicuous if he showed up there at the front door now… right? He corrected course and returned, in torchlight, toward the Alchemy Chambers. By the time he reached the door, his breathing had steadied and he’d dusted all the snow off himself. He gave a nod to a passing guard—no sign of suspicion yet—then rapped hard on the front door with his right hand. [hr] [sub][b]Interactions:[/b] Charlotte [@SpicyMeatball], Eris[/sub]