The heavy oak door creaked open, letting in a gust of cold winter air and a swirl of fog. Two cloaked figures stepped into the warmly lit bar, stamping snow off their boots. Behind them, the door swung shut with a hollow thud.

  One of them pulled off his hood, revealing long dark curls, held together by a string at his nape, his dark eyes scanning the crowd - that largely consisted of tourists, merchants and traders in this part of the town. The flickering flames of the dimly lit iron-chandelier added a warm hue to this beautiful stranger’s features. He walked toward the counter at an unhurried pace.

  ‘What would’ ya have?’the stocky man behind the counter asked without lifting his gaze.

  ‘Some ale would do.’ The man answered as he placed the coin on the counter. This finally gained their host’s attention and he nodded at them.

  ‘Will be served at the table.’ He pointed to the hearth. ‘Those are our best ones.’

  The man and his companion had already turned by then and walked with resolute steps toward the raised platform at the end of the bar. They lowered themselves onto the wooden chairs but their unwavering gaze remained locked onto the doors.

  A serving girl bustled toward them, with two tankards in her hands. She stopped briefly at their side, placing the tankards on the table with a soft clink. Her eyes darted between them, curiosity flashing briefly before she hurried away, her hands wiping nervously at the fabric of her dress.

  The hooded man raised the tankard to his lips, his gaze shifting to his companion.

  ‘You see the man walking up the stairs. Don’t look his way.’ The black haired man nodded.

  ‘He is the one Dominion has been tailing.’ The black haired man said nothing. He only nodded in understanding and quietly slid out of his chair. His head dunked low, he filled in quick strides after the man climbing stairs.

  The door swung open again, the creak barely audible over the loud noise inside the bar and three men in royal ensemble entered, looking as out of place as a swan among a murder of crows. Dressed in high-collared coats, straight trousers and polished boots, these men made no attempt at hiding their pursuit.

  As they strode further into the room, the lively hum of conversation and laughter faltered. Patrons exchanged uneasy glances, the festive air thickening with tension.

  The black-haired stranger had barely slipped out of sight when the leader, a man with a sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes, gestured subtly to his subordinates. Without hesitation, they moved to follow, their bootsteps deliberate against the stone floor.

  The signal did not go unnoticed. At the raised platform, the waiting man finally stirred. In one fluid motion, he shoved the chair in front of him, sending it clattering down the steps with a sharp crash. Rising to his full height, he exuded an air of unshakable confidence, his movements graceful yet predatory—like a lion sizing up a challenge.

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  As he reached for his hood, a palpable ripple coursed through the room. He pulled it back slowly, revealing slick, fiery red hair that shimmered under the flickering light. His cold grey eyes pierced through the silence, commanding attention like a spell cast over the room.

  Soldiers in pursuit halted mid-step. The bar, once alive with boisterous laughter and clinking tankards, descended into a hushed stillness. The recognition dawned on them and they all stood in reverence holding their breaths, their revelries long forgotten.

  He glanced at the royal men, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

  "Sebastian Gravels," the leader murmured, his voice faltering ever so slightly as he uttered the name.

  "You’re standing in my territory," Sebastian replied, his tone dripping with venom. "And that name alone should be enough to turn your confidence to ash."

  The leader—Edwin—sneered, trying to mask his unease. "You’re just a prince. We are here on the orders of the Queen - " he began, his voice thick with derision. But his arrogance was swiftly swept away.

  The air around him seemed to ripple, and suddenly the world lurched violently. Edwin's sneer vanished, replaced by wide-eyed terror. A cacophony erupted in his ears, a deafening roar that drowned out every rational thought. The floor beneath him twisted and shifted as though the very earth sought to cast him out. He gasped, clutching his head, his knees buckling under an invisible weight. Veins bulged in his eyes as a sharp, searing pain clawed at his ribs, as if something within him sought to tear him apart.

  And then, just as suddenly, it stopped.

  He collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, tears streaming down his face. The room was silent save for his ragged breathing, the crowd frozen in wide-eyed shock.

  Sebastian took a step forward, his measured gait dripping with menace. "I may be a Prince yet, in Raia " he said, his voice a cold, cutting blade, "but in Vajra, I am the King. You would do well to remember that, Edwin. Not even she can save you here, should I choose to end your pitiful existence."

  Edwin struggled to lift his head, his vision swimming. "I will… I will—" he choked, his words trembling under the weight of fear. His gaze darted to where the black-haired man had disappeared, his expression a mix of desperation and despair.

  "She… will not… like this," Edwin finally spat, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

  Sebastian shrugged, the faintest trace of a cruel smile curling his lips. He moved closer with a predator's grace, his piercing grey eyes locking onto Edwin’s. "Tell her, I don’t care. " he said.

  Standing over the trembling man, Sebastian extended a hand. His fingers barely grazed Edwin's forehead, but the contact was enough to make him flinch. Sebastian’s touch was unnervingly gentle, like the calm before a storm.

  "You don’t have long, Edwin," Sebastian said softly, his voice dripping with foreboding. "If it’s a blood debt you came here to settle, rest assured—it will be paid in full. And soon."

  With that, he withdrew his hand, slipping it back into the folds of his cloak. For the briefest moment, his expression appeared troubled, whatever he had seen in Edwin’s fate unsettling even him.

  The moment passed. Sebastian’s face hardened again, his voice cutting through the tension like a whip. "Get out of my den. NOW!"

  Edwin, still trembling, somehow forced himself to his feet, his breaths shallow and labored. He stared after Sebastian, who walked away without sparing him another glance.

  Edwin clenched his fists, eyes burning with hatred. But he knew better than to stay. He made a broad symbol with his ring, a Silvian Seal, and a portal opened up before him. He stepped through, the weight of Sebastian’s warning still crushing his poor nerves.