The woman walked off, leaving the group standing in silence.

"Well. That complicates things," Kale said.

"No one's going to take us willingly," Liliana said. "Not to Loyrth."

"Not at all," Sadek said. "The orders are clear. It's death on sight."

Namara clapped her hands, delighted. "Well, well, well."

Liliana narrowed her eyes. "Don't say it."

She grinned. "What? I'm just thrilled that reality has finally aligned with my vision."

Kale closed his eyes. "The barrel again?"

"It's a very flexible plan," Namara said. "The barrel, however, is non negotiable."

"I'm not getting in a barrel," Kale said flatly.

Namara turned to Sadek. "Start prepping the barrel."

"I just said—"

"I heard you," she said sweetly, then leaned closer to Sadek and whispered behind her hand, "He's absolutely getting in the barrel."

Sadek didn't respond.

Liliana's voice turned sharp. "This isn't a joke. If Xeroth is behind that plague—"

Namara shrugged. "Then we're walking straight into a cursed, corrupted city with a high chance of death and divine contagion." Her grin widened. "It's about time."

Rika cracked her knuckles. "So we sneak in. Like always."

Kale turned to her. "You haven't snuck into anything in your life. None of us have."

Rika shook her head. "Yes, Kale, that's the joke."

Liliana cut in. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but… let's go with Namara's plan. Minus the barrel. We try to find some smugglers first, before we resort to anything drastic."

"We could go around," Sadek offered.

Liliana shook her head. "Too far. This is the shortest route to Eldruin. We can't afford to lose time."

Sadek nodded. "Just putting options on the table. In case things don't go our way."

Liliana exhaled through her nose. When have things ever gone our way? she didn't say. Instead, she straightened. "Let's just find the smugglers."

***

So they found the shadiest-looking tavern they could find.

It didn't disappoint. The ceiling was low, the lighting was worse. The air was thick with old smoke, spilled ale, and the unmistakable stench of sweat. Somewhere in the back, something was either rotting or cooking. Hard to tell.

Half the patrons looked like they'd stabbed someone over a game of cards. Today. Judging by the stains on their sleeves and the sticky footprints on the floor, they might've done it twice.

A one-eyed man sat in the back, nursing a drink. A jagged scar curved from brow to cheek like a crescent moon.

"Him!" Namara pointed, triumphant.

Kale stared. "No way."

Of course he had one eye. Of course he had a crescent moon scar. This was exactly what she said would happen.

Did she know he'd be here? Did she scout ahead while the rest of them were sleeping? Or… was this just how smugglers tended to look? One eye, ominous scar, brooding expression, drink always half-full and never empty. Maybe it was part of the uniform—some secret code of shady aesthetics that all back-alley criminals followed.

He glanced at Namara, who looked very pleased with herself. Kale squinted. No. She didn't know. Had to be a coincidence.

Rika squared her shoulders and strode toward the one-eyed man.

"Hey," she said, loud enough for half the tavern to hear. "Are you shady?"

The man didn't even look up. "Fuck off."

She turned and walked back, unbothered. "He said no."

Kale sighed and stepped forward. "Let me try."

He approached, did his best non-threatening smile, and said, "Hi. Are you a smuggler, by any chance?"

The man glanced up, deadpan. "No."

Kale returned to the group. "He says he's not a smuggler."

Liliana closed her eyes and facepalmed. "You really asked him if he was a smuggler? Could you sound more like the harbor watch?"

"I don't know!" Kale said. "I've never needed a smuggler before!"

Namara chuckled, tossing her hair back. "Bless your hearts. Really. Adorable effort. Now let the professionals handle it."

She winked, adjusted her hips with theatrical flair, and sauntered toward the table like she'd already sealed the deal.

The one-eyed smuggler didn't look up when Namara slid into the seat across from him.

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"You look like a man who appreciates discretion," she said smoothly, placing a small pouch of coin on the table. It jingled just enough to sound serious.

He eyed it. "Depends on the job."

"Loyrth."

He laughed. "You suicidal?"

Namara smiled. "Just determined."

The smuggler leaned back, considering. "No one goes there. Not unless they've got a death wish or a damn good reason."

"We've got both," she said sweetly. "You'll be paid triple. Half now. Half when we arrive."

He whistled low. "Triple's still not worth getting burned out of the water."

Namara pushed another pouch forward. "This says otherwise."

A pause. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Alright. I'll take you. But if things go bad, we turn back. We won't wait for you."

Namara stood, then paused, turning slightly. "Oh—one more thing."

She pointed across the room to where Sadek stood, arms folded, jaw tight, wearing the kind of scowl that suggested he was always on the verge of violence.

Which, to be fair, was just his face.

But the smuggler didn't know that.

"You see that man? If you double-cross us, if you so much as think about betraying me—he'll eat your heart."

The smuggler leaned back, shocked. "He'll what?"

"Eat. Your. Heart."

Sadek didn't move. Didn't blink.

Namara smiled. "He says the heart is his favorite part of the human body."

The smuggler looked at Sadek again.

Sadek didn't blink.

"...Right," the smuggler said quietly. "Tonight. After sundown. Be at pier twelve. No delays."

Namara gave him a sweet smile. "Wouldn't dream of it."

She turned on her heel and sauntered back to the group, hips swaying.

Kale leaned in. "So?"

Namara flipped her hair. "You're welcome."

Kale squinted. "That doesn't answer my question."

"We have a ride," she said brightly. "Leaves after sundown. Pier twelve. Oh, and the smuggler insisted you travel in a barrel."

Kale frowned. "He did not."

Namara pouted dramatically. "I'm afraid he said the only way he'd take us was with you in a barrel. His words, not mine."

Kale's brow twitched. "What the hell is it with you and this barrel obsession? I'm not getting in a barrel!"

Namara blinked, caught off guard. "Whoa. Okay. Sorry. I was just messing with you. Thought you were playing along. I didn't mean to—"

Liliana cut in. "Namara, you should know by now that Kale doesn't understand these kinds of jokes. Especially when they're not funny."

Kale muttered, "Thank you."

Namara held up her hands. "Alright, alright. No barrels. Promise." Then quieter, to Rika, "He'd look adorable though."

"He always looks adorable," Rika agreed, cheerfully pinching Kale's cheek.

Kale batted her hand away. "Would you stop—? God." He shot Liliana a look. "This is your fault."

Liliana shrugged.

Kale gestured vaguely between Rika and Namara. "Yeah? Well?"

Namara gave him an exaggerated pout. "Aw. Look at him sulk. He really would fit in a barrel."

Rika chuckled. "A tiny little grumpy barrel."

Kale groaned and started walking. "I hate this group."

"You love this group," Namara called after him.

Liliana nodded, lips twitching into the faintest smile. "He does."

***

Sadek moved through the dockyard. Not aimless. Never aimless. His eyes swept over rooftops and catwalks, under carts and coils of rope, memorizing every exit, every blind spot, every scaffold high enough to drop a man from. He counted guards. Noted weapons. Traced every sound to its source. Catalogued.

He paused beside a fishing boat and checked the straps on his armor. Adjusted the polished steel of his bracers. Smoothed his beard with deliberate care, straightening a few errant strands until the whole thing was flawless. His spear gleamed beside him.

If tonight was the night he died, he'd die looking like a goddamn monument.

***

Not far off, Liliana sat cross-legged on a crate, face tipped toward the fading sun. Her eyes were closed. Her fingers moved in delicate patterns—blood sigils dancing red across her skin before vanishing like mist.

She wasn't meditating. She was sharpening.

Each pattern was a ward. A tether. A weapon.

Valtharion, she whispered silently. Bear witness. I will bleed for you again soon.

***

Namara, meanwhile, moved through the city like it was hers. She leaned against a lamppost to flirt with a bored guard, sampled figs from a flustered vendor who offered her the whole basket, and helped chase off a particularly bold seagull from a stall she had no intention of buying from.

She laughed lightly, touched arms in passing, leaned close during conversation. By the time she returned to the meeting point, half the port was in love with her, a quarter wanted to be her, and the rest weren't sure what had just happened, but hoped she'd come back.

***

Kale leaned against a crate, summoned a blade, and fired it straight at Rika's face.

She grinned, pivoted, and swatted it out of the air with a single lazy swing.

"Try again, barrel boy."

Another sword. Another swing. Faster this time. She deflected it, spun, and crushed it mid-flight before it could reach her.

"You know," Kale said, summoning another, "I think we should go a little harder."

Rika gave him a nod. "I think that's a great idea."

He flicked three blades at once. She laughed and met them head-on—one with her hammer, one with her elbow, and one she just let hit her shoulder with a clink.

"Was that supposed to hurt?"

"I was aiming for your ego."

She launched the next one skyward with a full swing. It vanished into the clouds.

There was a distant shriek, then silence. Both of them looked up. A seagull plummeted from the sky like a feathered comet, splatting onto the dock.

"…Shit," Kale said.

"That's on you," Rika muttered.

Another seagull swooped down and dropped something wet and white directly onto her forehead.

She wiped it off slowly, and turned to Kale.

"Okay," she said, "Now it's on them. Summon every sword you've got."

Kale summoned every sword he could. A storm of steel took shape—hundreds of blades hovering in the air, all pointed straight at her.

Rika grinned. "Now we're talking."

He fired.

She stepped forward, warhammer raised, and exploded the whole volley.

Steel met steel. Sparks flew. Blades ricocheted off her strikes, bouncing upward like shrapnel shot from a cannon.

Seconds later, the sky turned into a warzone.

Dead seagulls rained down in droves. Feathers floated like ash.

One bird crashed into a fruit cart. Another landed squarely on a merchant's head. A third spiraled through an open window, followed by a very undignified scream.

And then came the droppings.

White splotches splattered across crates, sails, boots, everywhere.

Someone slipped. Someone else cursed. One sailor dropped to his knees and shouted, "I prayed for rain, not this!"

Kale and Rika stood in the middle of it, surveying the carnage.

"…I think we may have gone overboard," Kale said.

Rika wiped a smear off her shoulder and muttered, "I think they got off easy."

***

The sun kissed the edge of the horizon as the group reconvened at the docks. The air smelled of salt, smoke… and something foul.

Sadek arrived first, his boots crunching across the planks. Then a wet squelch. He stopped and looked down at a dead seagull.

Another lay nearby. And another. A dozen more scattered the pier like the aftermath of some feathery apocalypse. White splotches streaked the dock. One poor soul was still wiping his face with a stained rag.

Sadek frowned. "What the hells happened here?"

Liliana appeared beside him, took one look around, and sighed. "Kale."

Kale immediately pointed at Rika.

"I was avenging us," she said, completely unrepentant.

Liliana pinched the bridge of her nose. "You two had one job. One. Wait quietly."

Namara strolled in last, eyes wide as she took in the chaos. "Oh, come on."

"You missed the war," Rika said, hefting her hammer.

A low whistle cut through the air. The smuggler stood at the end of the pier, arms crossed, silhouetted against the setting sun.

"That's our cue," Liliana said.

The group straightened, and they walked toward the ship.

The smuggler stood in front of the ship, blocking the gangplank. Arms crossed. Expression smug. "Time for the rest."

"That's not how this works," Namara said. "You get the rest when we arrive."

He gave a slow shrug. "I'm altering the deal."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're making a big mistake."

He whistled.

Torches flared to life along the docks. Shadows shifted. Boots hit wood. Steel rang.

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