Corynth welcomed them with white stone towers, sun-bleached domes, and a sprawl of statues that watched the sea like silent protectors. Gods, old and new, perched on rooftops, loomed over fountains, and slouched in the shadows of busy streets.

A silver-scaled Caraphian argued with a merchant over spice weights, its chitinous fingers drumming the counter in frustration. A threadwraith drifted past.

Two Earthborn lumbered by, one with pale rock-like skin etched in runes, the other dark brown and smooth.

And towering above all, a Skaarn in full ceremonial armor—stone plates carved with battle records—stood unmoving in the street like Corynth's own statue come to life.

Others they didn't have names for passed by too. A woman with silver antlers and charcoal-black skin. A boy with six fingers and an eye where his throat should be. A vendor whose shadow moved out of sync with her body.

It was a city of strangers, bound together by faith, coin, and the sea.

Kale adjusted the straps on his pack and exhaled. "Honestly? It's been kind of nice. No monsters, no cultists, no ambushes. Just… nice."

Liliana slapped the back of his head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Every single time! Are you trying to make me angry? Or dead?"

Namara laughed, tossing her hair back. "I, for one, am glad he said it. He's probably just as bored as I am from all this peace and quiet. It's been too long since I ripped som—"

She noticed everyone staring at her and cleared her throat. "I just mean we could use some adventure on this adventure. That's all."

"We get enough adventure," Sadek grunted.

Rika tapped a finger to her chin. "I'm not sure we do. I can't remember the last time I smashed someone. Guts is getting impatient."

"Exactly!" Namara threw up her hands. "And you're all so weak. So, so weak. You need the experience."

Rika nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah!" Then blinked. "Wait a minute. Did you just call us weak? I'm not weak."

Namara smiled sweetly. "I mean..."

Rika huffed, storming toward the nearest fully loaded cart. "Weak? No one calls me weak!"

She squatted, got a good grip on the cart, and shouted, "Watch this! I'll show you weak!"

With a "Hup!" she launched the entire cart into the distance like it weighed nothing. There was a distant crash, followed by a sharp meow and someone screaming.

A fat, sweaty man stumbled out from behind a stall, hands on his head. "Me cheese! Why did you do that to me cheese?!"

In the distance, a dog howled. Something exploded.

Kale scratched his head. "Uh…"

"Rika, why?" Liliana asked, confused.

Rika just folded her arms and muttered, "Weak, huh."

"Me cheese!" the man howled again.

Namara doubled over laughing. "His cheese!"

Liliana pinched the bridge of her nose. "Rika… we just entered the city."

She pointed vaguely in the direction of the wreckage. "I would expect this kind of behavior from Namara. Or Kale, even. Not you."

Rika's arms dropped to her sides. "Sorry," she muttered, suddenly sheepish. "It's just… no one calls me weak."

Kale blinked. "Wait. What do you mean you expect this kind of behavior from me? When have you ever seen me throw a fully loaded cart of cheese over a city wall?"

"Me cheeeeese!" howled the sweaty man, hands still on his head.

Sadek stepped past them with a sigh, reached into his coat, and walked up to the man. A few quiet words. A heavy clink of coins.

The man sniffled. "That's… that's enough for at least half me cheese."

Sadek gave a solemn nod and patted the man's shoulder. "It's the best we can do. Your cheese is with the gods now."

The man sniffled again, nodded somberly, and wandered off into the crowd, still muttering about his cheese.

Liliana exhaled. "Alright. If we're done vandalizing cheese, can we move on?"

"You're very strong, Rika," Kale said, patting her on the back.

Namara, still grinning, clapped her hands once. "Honestly? That was wildly entertaining. Truly impressive."

"I know I'm strong," Rika said. "Next time you're getting hupped." She pointed straight at Namara.

Namara took a step back. "I beg your pardon?"

"I beg no pardon," Rika shot back.

Liliana sighed. "It's like I'm surrounded by children."

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Kale cleared his throat. "Alright, fellow adults. Let's head to the port and see if we can—"

He stopped mid-sentence. "Huh."

Liliana glanced over. "What now?"

He wandered toward the nearest statue, planted at the center of a broad plaza where the cobblestones fanned out like rays. It looked familiar somehow.

The statue was massive—easily four times his height—and cast in bronze turned green by years of salt and wind. It depicted three men riding a single cart, drawn by a pair of windswept horses frozen mid-gallop.

The first stood tall at the reins, lean and hawk-eyed. The second sat on the edge of the cart, squat and round, bald head gleaming as he raised one hand to the sky, scrolls spilling from his lap. The last loomed behind them both, enormous and shaggy, beard like a wild thicket and muscular arms crossed over his chest.

Despite their differences, there was something uncanny in the way they were sculpted, as if three bodies carried a single soul.

At the base of the statue, the nameplate was etched deep and clean:

IROH

He Who Delivers

Kale tilted his head. "Iroh? Which one is Iroh?"

Namara stepped up beside him. "Messenger deity," she said absently. "They are all Iroh. It's a single entity. One god, three bodies. Each with their own personality, mind, voice, everything."

"Doesn't look like a single entity to me."

Namara winked at him. "Looks can be deceiving."

Sadek and Liliana exchanged a glance. Neither said anything.

She pointed lazily. "He delivers messages and goods between gods, and sometimes from gods to mortals. If something divine needs moving, Iroh moves it."

"Gods need messengers to talk to each other?" Kale asked.

"Of course they do. You think they just shout across the heavens? Most of them hate each other. Or can't speak the same tongue. Or refuse to step foot in the same realm. Iroh goes where they won't."

Kale considered that, then frowned. "Hold on. How come I've been able to understand everyone we've met? Everywhere we go—different towns, different people—I always understand what they're saying. And they understand me."

Namara tilted her head. "Do you know what language you're speaking right now?"

Kale opened his mouth, then closed it. "…Dutch?"

She laughed. "Ilvarian. You're speaking Ilvarian."

"I've never studied Ilvarian."

"Well," she said, "that makes this even more interesting. It's the trade tongue—about half the continent uses it. But still. You should've run into someone you couldn't understand by now. A farmer from the backwoods. A priest. A god."

She gave Kale a sidelong glance.

"Especially gods. They don't meet you halfway. Why would they speak your language when they can speak their own? You bow to them, not the other way around. Obviously."

She paused, then added, "Except Iroh, I guess. He'll speak any language. He's the messenger, after all."

Kale stared at the statue a moment longer. He couldn't shake the feeling he'd seen them before somewhere, sometime. But the memory stayed just out of reach.

He turned back to the others. "Alright… how many languages do you all actually speak?"

Rika held up two fingers, then hesitated. "Wait—does swearing in Thrynn count? Three."

Sadek shrugged. "Three."

"Seventeen," Liliana said.

Kale's mouth fell open. "Seventeen?!"

She met his eyes. "It helps. Understanding magic. Reading ancient scrolls. Talking to things that don't like being talked to."

God, she's smart. I mean—I knew she was smart, but this is something else. Seventeen? That's not smart. That's genius. And here I am with my one language, barely managing that.

"…Could you teach me?"

Liliana smiled at him gently. "I could. But considering where we're going, the time it takes to learn a new language might be better spent improving your skills."

Kale deflated a bit. "I guess you're right."

Rika put an arm around him. "I can teach you to swear in Thrynn though!"

Kale perked back up, excited. "Deal!"

Then he turned to Namara. "Hey—you didn't say how many languages you speak."

She grinned. "Didn't I?"

He waited expectantly, but she didn't elaborate. Instead, she leaned in and whispered. "I could teach you to swear in Halderani, if you'd like. The hells have especially creative curses. You'd enjoy them."

"…They do?"

"Certainly," she said, still grinning.

Liliana gave them both a look. "Swearing in different languages isn't going to help him survive."

Rika looked scandalized. "What? Of course it is!"

Namara scoffed. "It's essential. Some insults only really land in the original tongue."

"Exactly," Rika said, nodding. "Besides, if you swear at someone in their own language, it gets real personal."

Liliana sighed. "You know what, I'm not even going to argue with you over this. Do what you must."

"Oh, we will," Namara said, rubbing her hands like some evil mastermind.

Rika cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted 'Sh'taal kriveth!'—a Thrynn curse that made two tall, skinny, bark-skinned figured snap their heads around in outrage.

Sadek shook his head.

"Rika," Liliana said, "must you really make an enemy of everyone in this town? We only just arrived, and at this rate no one is going to allow us on their boat."

Namara pointed at the outraged Thrynn and yelled "Better keep walking, or she'll come for your cheese!"

The Thrynn hesitated, exchanged a glance, and kept walking—still angry, now slightly confused.

Kale cupped his hands and yelled after them, "Sh'taal kriveth!"

The Thrynn whirled around again, angrier than ever. One of them shouted "Skaveth'nar! I hope your skin peels in the sun, flesh-slug!" while shaking a twiggy fist.

"Kale!" Liliana snapped.

He winced. "Sorry."

Rika slapped him on the back. "That's the spirit, Kaley!"

She and Namara burst out laughing.

***

The port was a sprawl of stone piers and tangled rope, filled with salt, sailcloth, and the sound of shouting dockhands. Crates thudded onto cobbles. Lines creaked. Somewhere nearby, a bell rang twice.

A seagull cried overhead. The breeze rolled in, warm and briny, carrying the scent of the ocean and something sweeter. Roasted almonds, maybe, or candied citrus from one of the market stalls.

Sails snapped in the wind. Flags fluttered high on their masts. And everywhere Kale looked, there was motion—ropes tossed, crates hauled, boats rocking gently in their slips. It was messy. Loud. Alive.

Kale turned to the others. "Alright. Let's find a boat."

They spent the better part of an hour asking around. Most captains didn't look up from their work. Some waved them off before they could even speak. One man spat near Kale's boots and muttered something about "suicidal mainlanders."

Finally, they found a woman mending a net beside a two-masted brig. Her face was sun-worn, her arms scarred. She looked like she'd sailed through worse than most.

Liliana approached. "We're looking for passage."

The woman didn't stop tying her knot. "Where to?"

"Loyrth."

She looked up slowly. "Absolutely not."

"We can pay," Kale offered.

She stood and wiped her hands on a rag. "You don't get it, do you? It's not about coin. No one's sailing to Loyrth. Not anymore."

"Why?" Rika asked.

"Because it's forbidden." The woman nodded toward the harbor watchtower, where a red flag now flew above the bell. "Orders came in last week. No ships to or from Loyrth. Anyone seen coming from that direction gets turned back at cannon range."

"And if they don't turn back?" Sadek asked.

The woman paused. "Then the harbor guard sets them on fire."

Kale stared at her. "They what?"

"Burn them. On sight. It's plague law." She looked them over, suddenly less angry and more tired. "I don't know what business you've got in Loyrth, but it's not worth dying over."

"How bad is it?" Liliana asked.

"No one knows. It started fast. Whole neighborhoods went quiet. Priests fled. Healing circles collapsed. A ship came through six days ago flying no flag. Didn't respond to signals. The guard fired a warning shot." She looked away. "Didn't fire a second."

Kale rubbed the back of his neck. "So... that's it? No one's going in?"

"No one sane," the woman said. "And no one coming out is allowed to dock. No matter what."

"Someone's going to break that rule eventually," Namara said.

"They already have," the woman said. "And they're dead."

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