The car rolled to a stop along a long, straight road where the buildings leaned inward overhead. Old structures of black brick rose on both sides, their surfaces stained by decades of smoke and rain. Iron balconies sagged under rust, laundry hanging limp between crooked railings. Gas lamps burned in uneven rows, their yellow flames trembling against the night wind.
Faded flags hung from poles bolted into the walls—deep crimson cloth marked with silver emblems worn thin by time. Some banners carried the crest of Korveth city, while others bore merchant guild symbols stitched hastily over older insignias. Posters layered the brickwork beneath them, peeling at the corners: recruitment notices for canal laborers, warnings about fight outbreaks, advertisements for miracle tonics promising strength, beauty, or salvation. New sheets had been pasted directly over old ones, creating thick paper scars across the walls.
A pousun merchant sat halfway up a set of stone steps, glass bottles arranged around him in glowing clusters. Amber liquid smoked faintly inside thick vials, while smaller bottles pulsed with soft blue light. He shouted prices into the street, voice competing with the chaos around him.
Across the road, a vegetable merchant argued loudly with a housewife clutching a basket. His young son stood behind the stall, quietly stealing bites from bruised peaches when neither adult looked his way. Nearby windows overflowed with jasmine flowers, their sweet scent fighting a losing battle against the heavier smells of horse dung, engine smoke, damp canal water, and hot iron from nearby workshops.
Cars forced their way through the narrow thoroughfare—boxy model coughing thick black smoke, brass headlights glaring like angry eyes. Horns blared without rhythm. A delivery truck sat stuck sideways at an intersection, its driver leaning out the window and swearing while pedestrians squeezed past with baskets balanced on their hips. A newsboy darted fearlessly between wheels, waving folded papers overhead.
"The Souta company has made a new flavor of paper food!"
Down the center of the street ran a narrow canal coated in green scum. Murky water crawled sluggishly beneath iron grates while rows of heavy bollards kept carts from tipping into the muck. A black carriage waited near one crossing, curtains drawn tight, its driver unmoving beneath a wide hat.
Azrean and Vane stepped out of the car and turned back toward it one last time.
"Thank you for the ride!" Vane called, raising her voice to cut through the street noise.
Inside, Krineka pinched her nose shut with one hand against the smell while waving with the other.
"Thank you as well, and again for saving us today!"
Hermit removed his hat and bowed his head politely.
"Thank you. Let us meet again someday, if fate allows our paths to cross."
He placed the hat back on his head, settled both hands on the steering wheel, and guided the car forward. The engine rattled as it merged into the slow-moving traffic, disappearing gradually into the crowded street.
Vane waved after them. Azrean simply stood still, watching until the car vanished behind smoke and passing carts.
After a moment, he turned to her.
"Ms. Vane… you don't really want to know?"
She looked at him, confused.
"What?"
"About them… and the crow thing," Azrean said.
"Mr. Hermit looked like he wanted to explain, but you kept avoiding it."
Vane smiled faintly, lowering her voice so only he could hear.
"Why would I want to know about something I already know?"
Azrean's eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face, but before he could ask anything else she turned and started walking.
"I'll go buy pousuns and the antidote. Wait for me here."
"Wait—" he began, but she was already moving, heading straight toward the pousuns merchant's glowing stall.
Azrean sighed softly and tilted his head back, eyes drifting upward.
High above the crooked rooftops, Yinzhi and Yurei hung side by side in the night sky, watching silently over Korveth city.
After a while, Vane returned and walked straight toward Azrean. She held out a small glass vial filled with pale green liquid and a tiny white capsule resting on her palm.
"Here you go."
Azrean accepted them without hesitation. He drank the cell recovery pousun first, then swallowed the capsule. Warmth spread through his body almost instantly, washing through his veins like gentle heat. The aching stiffness left his muscles, the lingering poison burn fading until his breathing finally felt normal again.
He looked up at her, expression turning serious.
"Ms. Vane, I think—"
She cut him off before he could finish.
"I know. The symptoms have started. It's almost been one full day since your infection."
Azrean nodded slowly.
"I shouldn't be moving or doing anything now… or—"
Vane reached out and patted his head lightly.
"Don't worry. I'll buy what you need for survival. You should go back to our hideout, lie down, and do absolutely nothing."
Azrean gently moved her hand away, still watching her.
"Yes… but what are you going to buy?"
For a moment, Vane didn't answer. Her eyes stayed on him, quiet and unreadable. Then she spoke.
"Nothing much."
The reply only confused him more, but he chose not to press further. He nodded once.
"I'll see you there then."
She returned the nod and slowly turned away, disappearing back into the crowded street.
Azrean watched her for a few seconds longer before finally turning and walking in the opposite direction.
After some time, he reached a different district where gas-lit cobblestones gleamed wet beneath his feet, reflecting pools of amber light from tall cast-iron street lamps. Four-story stone buildings rose tightly on both sides, their tall sash windows glowing warmly behind thin curtains that softened the night fog.
Horse-drawn carriages rattled along the central road—black enclosed cabs with polished brass fittings shining under the lamps. Drivers hunched beneath heavy topcoats guided restless horses through traffic. A brougham waited near the curb, its horse stamping impatiently while the passenger inside argued loudly over fare prices.
The pavements overflowed with crowds. A gentleman in a bowler hat leaned on his cane, observing passersby with bored curiosity. Another man checked his pocket watch again and again, impatience written across his face. Women in layered bustled skirts and feathered hats wandered between shop windows, gloved hands clutching small purses. A constable wearing a tall helmet patrolled nearby, lantern swinging gently at his side.
Shopfronts blazed with gaslight—tailors displaying pressed coats behind glass, tobacconists stacked with dark wooden cases, and a milliner's shop where velvet hats rested proudly on stands. Hanging signs creaked overhead whenever the wind shifted. Coal smoke mixed with the smell of horse dung and roasting chestnuts drifting from a street vendor's cart.
Far in the distance, gothic spires pierced the foggy skyline. Bells tolled the hour, their sound softened and stretched thin by the mist.
Azrean walked slowly, careful with every step. The medicine had eased the pain, but exhaustion still clung to his body, heavy and persistent.
Suddenly, a small boy wearing a formal black coat and a tiny black top hat came running down the street. He carried a wicker basket filled with small wrapped packets, handing one to every person he passed with bright enthusiasm.
When he reached Azrean, he stopped just long enough to press a packet into his hands.
"Here, big brother! My sister is giving birth to a baby!"
Before Azrean could respond, the boy had already dashed away, repeating the same cheerful announcement to strangers further down the road.
Azrean watched him go, a small smile forming despite his fatigue. He opened the packet while walking and found a medium-sized chocolate donut topped with white cream.
He took a bite as he continued down the glowing street.