Chapter Three — The Gathering of Tools
Morning came gray and hollow, the city stirring with restless breath.
I barely slept.
Liran stood at the workshop window, coat thrown over his shoulder, eyes scanning the quiet street below. His knife glinted faintly at his belt.
"We need supplies," he said. "And information. Before we even think of setting foot in those ruins again."
I nodded.
There was only one place in the city where such things could still be found.
"Greyline Market?"
His mouth twisted. "If it hasn't burned yet."
Greyline—the black vein running under the city's broken heart. Where forbidden relics, lost texts, and outlaw alchemy passed hand to hand in shadow. Where truth could be bought... for a price.
But that wasn't all we needed.
"We'll need someone who can read the vault glyphs," I said softly. "The deeper codes. Neither of us was taught the full script."
Liran's brow darkened. "I know someone."
I turned to him. He wasn't smiling.
"Who?"
He hesitated.
"Ashra Veil."
The name fell between us like a dropped blade.
I felt my stomach knot.
"Ashra's alive?"
"Very. Smuggling for the Eastern Ciphers. Out of Greyline. She still owes me a favor."
I stared at him.
"You trust her?"
"I trust her to want gold and secrets. Like the rest of us."
He shrugged.
"She might help us break the vault's seal. If she doesn't slit our throats first."
I grimaced. "Sounds like an old friend."
"She was," he said quietly. "Before the Guild fell. Before the Purge."
Before the world turned to ash.
Liran moved to the door, tossing me my coat.
"Come on. We find her. We find what's left of the Market. We buy what tools we can. And then..."
He glanced toward the ruins, far beyond the mist-wrapped roofs.
"Then we finish this."
We slipped into the waking city like ghosts.
The streets whispered with the sound of machines—the click of the Order's brass sentinels, the hiss of steam trams, the distant whir of wings overhead. Eyes watched from shadowed doorways. The scent of coal and iron choked the air.
Greyline lay beneath the old cathedral quarter, behind a cracked iron gate no one sane touched.
We found it open.
The tunnels were dark, damp, shivering with old power. Sparks flickered faintly in the gloom—warding runes drawn in gutter ash and powdered bone.
Figures stirred in the market's depths. Traders cloaked in gear-leather. Masked faces. Glass cases glowing faintly with forbidden devices—distillers of essence, quicksilver etchers, memory flasks sealed in wax.
Liran moved with quiet ease. I followed, heart tight.
A hunched bookseller grinned toothlessly as we passed, pushing a bundle of stained parchment toward me.
"Secrets, alchemist? Old formulas? Names of the dead?"
I brushed him aside.
Then—a whisper. Familiar.
"Corwin Vale. As I live and breathe."
I froze.
From the shadow of a ruined arch, she stepped.
Ashra Veil.
Slender, pale, hair cut close to the scalp, eyes like cold glass. A long coat stitched with stolen Guild sigils. A knife tucked behind her back.
Liran tensed.
"Ashra."
"Liran Voss." She smiled without warmth. "Still dragging pretty boys into the dark?"
Her gaze slid to me.
"I thought you dead, Vale. After the fire. Like your father."
I said nothing.
She stepped close, breath sharp with bitter herbs.
"What are you hunting, little alchemist? What secret's worth pulling me from my hole?"
I held her gaze.
"The Fifth Axis Vault," I said softly.
The smile vanished.
The market around us seemed to quiet.
Ashra's pale fingers tightened on her belt.
"You are mad."
"Can you read the seals?"
Silence.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
"For a price."
Liran sighed.
"I told you."
Ashra grinned again, sharp as broken glass.
"I'll help you break your vault, Corwin Vale. But you'll owe me. When this is done... I claim first choice of what's inside."
I hesitated.
Liran's hand brushed my arm.
"Say yes," he murmured. "We can't open that vault without her."
I met Ashra's pale eyes.
"Deal."
The shadows seemed to tighten around us.
Somewhere in the market's depths, a bell tolled—low and hollow.
A warning.
Liran glanced sharply toward the far tunnel.
"Corwin. Someone's watching."
I felt it too.
A weight in the air. A presence like iron behind the eyes.
Across the market, beyond the traders and murmuring relic-hunters, a single figure stood.
Shrouded in black.
Face hidden beneath a mask of polished bone.
Unmoving.
Silent.
Watching.
Ashra's smile faded.
"Carrion Order," she whispered.
We turned as one, but the figure was gone.
Vanished like breath in frost.
The market stirred, restless and uneasy.
Liran's hands found mine.
"We need to move. Fast"
But behind my eyes,the feather's dark glint still burned.
The Carrion Order knew.
And they were waiting .