Chapter 28: Echoes of the Abyss

After a few moments of shared silence, the capsule landed with a deafening roar on Amaris Island. The screech of the brakes echoed in the cabin, pulling Livra out of her thoughts.

"It’s time, girl," Balthar said brusquely, as much to remind Livra as to steel himself that he was still on the job.

The two of them stepped off the capsule and wound their way through the narrow, grimy alleys of Amaris. The island reeked of salt, oil, and something sour Livra couldn’t place. The town itself looked as though it could collapse at any moment, propped up by rusted beams and half-hearted repairs.

After some searching, Balthar decided on a shabby bar that doubled as a hostel on the outskirts of the town. It was far enough from the central docks to avoid prying eyes but close enough to make the next leg of their journey convenient.

Outside the door, Balthar turned to Livra and spoke in a low, measured tone.

"Listen, girl. I’m going to take off those cuffs. You’re broken—" his eyes softened briefly before his voice sharpened again, "—maybe just as broken as I was at your age. But don’t think for a second that I’m letting you go. I just don’t want you walking around in shackles, drawing attention to us. It’s not personal. It’s practical."

He paused, eyeing her cautiously. "I don’t have anything against you, but here’s the deal: all the shuttles off this rock are grounded until morning. You’re free to wander for a few hours, but if you’re not back in the room I booked by midnight, I’ll come find you. And believe me, on this tiny floating pebble, I’ll find you in twenty minutes, tops. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be."

Without waiting for her reply, Balthar unlocked her cuffs and disappeared into the hostel.

Livra stood frozen for a moment, stunned by her sudden freedom. Slowly, a small smile crept across her face.

"I knew you were a star, Balthar," she whispered to herself.

She didn’t have much time—three hours at best—but she wasn’t going to waste a second of it. This fleeting taste of freedom, perhaps her last, was something to savor. For a moment, she imagined Calen by her side, sharing this stolen time with her.

But no. She shook her head, dispelling the thought. Calen deserved to live his life far away from her. It would be for the best. Sienna would take care of him. He would be happy.

Wouldn’t he?

The thought churned in her mind like a restless storm. No—Sienna wouldn’t take care of him the way she could. They wouldn’t share the same adventures, the same joy, the same fire.

Another tear slipped from her eye, a lonely martyr falling from the cliffs of her heart.

She couldn’t let her mind linger on him anymore. What they’d shared had been intense but brief. She couldn’t allow it to consume her.

Wandering aimlessly, Livra found herself drawn to a quiet path leading to the island's edge. It ended in a tangle of bushes and a sharp cliff that overlooked the vast, endless void. The scene reminded her of the lookout where she had first met Calen, the festival night when everything had felt so alive.

The wind brushed against her face and tangled her hair, carrying with it the salty vapor from Aeris’ lower levels. She stepped closer to the edge, staring down into the abyss below.

What was keeping her here?

Her heart clenched painfully. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Once. Twice. Again.

She opened her eyes, her body trembling as she leaned forward—

And stopped.

A flicker of movement caught her eye. Just a few meters away, on a narrow ledge, lay a body. Blood pooled around the figure, soaking into the dirt. The uniform was unmistakable—a worker’s jumpsuit, the kind issued to maintenance crews at the LCC. The figure still had a levitation harness strapped to his waist.

Livra’s breath caught in her throat. Her mind screamed a single name.

Calen.

Tears blurred her vision as she scrambled forward, tripping over her feet in her desperate rush.

"No, no, no," she sobbed, her voice breaking as she reached the body.

Her heart stopped.

It wasn’t Calen.

Livra gasped, relief and grief colliding violently in her chest. She collapsed next to the body, cradling it in her lap.

A metal tag dangled from the man’s neck, catching the dim light. Livra read the name engraved on it: Rion Zilion.

Rion. Calen’s friend. His coworker.

Her mind reeled. Lady Miren had ordered her to ensure Calen reported to the LCC that final night. Had Calen shared Rion’s fate?

"No…" Livra whispered, clutching the dog tag tightly. She unhooked the levitation harness from Rion’s waist with trembling hands and also plucked his neck tag.

"I’m sorry, Rion," she murmured.

With the equipment in hand, Livra sprinted back through the winding streets of Amaris. Her chest burned, her heart pounding with desperation. She couldn’t escape Balthar, but she had to convince him. Somehow, she had to make sure Calen was safe.

When she reached the hostel, she found Balthar standing outside, scanning the street. His expression was sharp, but his eyes betrayed concern.

"Livra," he said, his voice firm but tinged with something unfamiliar—relief when he saw the girl.

Balthar grabbed Livra by the shoulders before she could utter a single word.

“Girl, we need to leave. Now,” the mercenary barked. “I’ve received news from the Earthlands… and they’re worse than you could imagine. My job doesn’t matter anymore. We’re leaving. I’ll figure out what to do later—I’ve got contacts in—”

He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed her face. It was flushed red, tears streaming down her cheeks. His instincts as a mercenary kicked in, taking in the details of her appearance. She was filthy, with dirt smudged across her face and arms. Her legs were scratched and bruised as though she’d been crawling on the ground. Around her waist was an expensive levitation harness, the kind reserved for trained specialists. And clutched in her trembling hand was a metallic tag with a name and number engraved on it.

Where in the stars had this girl gotten all of this in the span of half an hour? She was nothing but trouble.

“Balthar!” Livra cried, interrupting his thoughts. “You told me once that if I ever had the money, I could hire you to help me, right? Well, help me now! I’ll give you everything I had, everything I have, and everything I will ever have. I need you! I have to fly—not because someone told me to, but because I have to reach the sun!” she sobbed, clutching the tag even tighter.

Balthar’s patience snapped. He gripped her shoulders again, more forcefully this time. “Shut it, girl! Stop causing a scene in the middle of the street,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “Come with me. We’ll talk.” He dragged her inside the inn without another word.

In the cramped room he had rented, Balthar shoved Livra onto the bed and stood over her, arms crossed. “Quiet. Listen to me. I’m not sugarcoating this,” he began, his voice grim. “Your father is dead. That means my contract is null and void. I’ve got no one left to pay me. I could hand you over to Lady Miren, but guess what? She’s dead too. Something serious went down in Tharvannis, but I don’t know the full story yet. My contacts are looking into it.

“For now, both you and I are in danger. We both know things that certain people would rather bury—along with us, if necessary. That makes us targets. We’re going to lie low in the satellite islands south of the continent. No one will look for us there. But first, you’re going to tell me—” he gestured at the harness and the tag, “—what in the Void is all of this?”

Between sobs, Livra recounted the horrifying discovery she had made near the cliffs of Amaris. She told him about the bloodied corpse, the name “Rion Zilion” on the tag, and the levitation harness she had taken. She explained the mission Elenora Miren had given her and the fear that now consumed her heart.

Balthar clenched his fists as her words sank in, his knuckles cracking with restrained fury. So the girl had been blackmailed and hunted? That explained a lot, but it also raised new questions.

The corpse she had found—it couldn’t be a coincidence. It had to be connected to the larger conspiracy surrounding the festival. If this was as big as it seemed, he would need to alert both Valtheris and Vosca.

“Wait a moment, gir—Livra,” Balthar said, his tone softening unexpectedly. He glanced at her trembling form, her grief raw and overwhelming. For the first time, he found himself hesitating, unsure of what to say. But he knew one thing for certain: they were in deeper than either of them realized.

After a brief call, Balthar ended the transmission on his communicator. He had spoken with Magistrate Vosca. The orders were crystal clear: someone would rendezvous with them the following evening at this very inn. This person would act as their guide through the Rainshadow Isles, an ideal place to vanish off the grid.

“Girl,” Balthar said after a long silence, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ve got until tomorrow night before we move. Someone’s coming to take us through the Rainshadow Isles. That’s where we’ll lay low.”

“No!” Livra exclaimed, her voice trembling but resolute. “As I told you before, I’m hiring you. Now that I’m the sole legitimate heir of Aelith Shore, I have money. My father is dead, so that makes me your boss now!”

Balthar’s expression darkened. Without a word, he delivered a sharp slap to her cheek—not hard enough to hurt, but loud enough to echo in the small room.

“You’re not the boss of anything, girl,” he said, his tone cold and cutting. “Learn your place. At least your father understood that better than you do.”

Livra’s eyes brimmed with fresh tears, but she stood frozen as Balthar leaned closer, his voice lowering into something rough but strangely sincere.

“Listen to me. I’ll help you, but not because of what you have or who you are. I’m doing this because I’ve got my own damn goal—to make this wretched world into a place where the birds can choose to fly, or not. Got it?”

Livra stared at him, her lips trembling as her tears spilled freely. For the first time in her life, she felt the firm presence of something she had never known—a figure that felt like a parent, unyielding but protective. Without thinking, she threw herself into Balthar’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably against his chest.

“I knew you were a star,” she whispered between hiccups. “Please, take me to Calen.”

Balthar sighed, his stern gaze softening as he rested a hand on her head. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “That scatterbrained fool will find his way to us. Like some badly written story, it’ll all fall into place. Now sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

He gave her a couple of gentle pats on her head, his gruff exterior hiding the growing warmth he felt for the girl. It had been a long time since he’d cared about anyone—but this scrappy, stubborn kid had wormed her way past his defenses. As she began to drift off, Balthar positioned himself by the door, his hand never straying far from his knife on his lap.