They didn’t give him a chance to breathe. One minute Emrys was frozen in the stale, musk-heavy air of his apartment, and the next he was being shoved bodily out the door, his shoulder clipping the shattered frame on the way through. The hallway was a blur, wet concrete and flickering fluorescents rushing past as heavy hands guided, dragged, and manhandled him down the stairs like a stolen suitcase. He barely had time to grab his satchel, the strap slung over his shoulder at the last second, the canvas thudding against his hip with every jarring step.

Outside, the world was soaked in the aftermath of the blast. Sirens howled in the distance, their pitch rising and falling through the rain-slicked streets. The stink of smoke still hung in the air, mingling with ozone and oil and fur. Parked in a rough semicircle outside the building, a pack of Harley Davidsons growled like beasts held on too-short chains, each one painted in some gaudy wolf motif. Flames, snarls, silver eyes. One of them had actual teeth embedded into the fuel tank.

They shoved him toward the bikes, and that was when he saw it. Quill. The familiar's cage was stuffed into a saddlebag, mesh reinforced with hasty copper wards, sloppy ones, twisted too tight and uneven. They wouldn’t hold forever, but they didn’t have to. Just long enough. The little bird was fluffed up in alarm, feathers tight against the bars, watching Emrys with sharp, frantic eyes. Still alive. Still here. Relief hit so hard it almost staggered him.

Jack mounted his bike with a grunt and jerked his head for Emrys to follow. The young mage climbed on with all the grace of a man trying not to throw up, fingers gripping the worn leather behind the werewolf’s back like it might keep him tethered to something solid.

Jack turned slightly, shouting over the idling engines. "Where to, Harry Potter?"

Emrys didn’t answer right away. The rain hit his face, warm and sudden. It plastered his hair to his forehead, streamed down the back of his neck, soaked through the threadbare collar of his shirt. But it was the question that froze him.

[color=6ea8d6][i]Where were they going?[/i][/color]

His mind scrambled. Elandros never mentioned a vault. No diagrams, no maps. Not even a whispered hint. For all Emrys knew, the man had kept his secrets buried in a coffee tin behind a diner. And they wanted him to take them there now. Not later. Not after research or prep or divination. Now.

Panic climbed up his spine, clawing for his throat. But he couldn't show it. Not here. Not in front of them. He forced his breathing steady, shoved the fear down deep. Let them see calm. Let them see control. Even if it was a lie.

Then, a flicker of memory. Years ago, Elandros had taken him north of the city. It had been raining then, too. The road had been narrow, trees leaning in from both sides, and they'd stopped by a rusted gate tucked into a hillside. Beyond it stood a decrepit old observatory, half-eaten by ivy and time. Elandros hadn’t explained. He’d just left up to the building leaving Emrys standing with his hand resting on the gate, before they turned around and left. Emrys never thought to ask why. But now? It was the only thread he had.

He swallowed hard and raised his voice, keeping it firm. [color=6ea8d6]"Old observatory,"[/color] he said. [color=6ea8d6]"North of the tracks, rusted gate off the tree line. You’ll miss it if you’re not looking."[/color] No hesitation. No qualifiers. Make it clean. Make it sound like gospel. [color=6ea8d6]"If he kept anything important, it’ll be there."[/color]

Emrys stared at the cage one more time, jaw set, heart hammering. He had no idea what waited at that ruin. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. But it was a start, and he’d take that over nothing.

[hider=Synopsis:]Emrys is forced out of his apartment and onto a waiting bike, bluffing his way into buying time by naming the only possible location he remembers, despite having no idea what truly lies there.[/hider][@Penny]