The Untitled One

The morning was gentler than the night had been. Light filtered through the cracked shutters in curling bands, tracing spirals across the floor, while the tavern below murmured softly, a hum rather than the clamor of yesterday.
Tia stretched, letting her arms swing wide until her back cracked with a satisfying pop.

“Ahhh, morning glory,” she declared, rolling onto her side with a grin. “Or is that just me?”

Despite the circumstances she slept like a rock on this surprisingly soft mattress.

Corin lay still a moment, his blanket pulled up to his chin, then let out a quiet snort. “I’d call it just you,” he muttered, voice still husky with sleep. Tia threw her pillow across the room onto him. “Ha! Accepted as canon. Congratulations.”

She looked around, Balthan was already out of bed, so was Vesh. Looking over to the other wall, where next to Corin’s bed was Rika’s. She was still fast asleep, limbs flaying out, blanket only covering half her body.

Heading downstairs, it reminded Tia of old school camp mornings – drowsy feet on creaking steps, the promise of food pulling them on. There was no particular smell to the dining hall, but neat slices of bread and melted butter decorated a table, same corner as the day before.
Balthan sat like a judge before the spread, hands steepled, eyes narrowing at each plate Vesh ferried from the kitchen – cheese, meat, more bread, each trip like some reluctant butler’s duty.

By the time Corin and Rika came down, Vesh was released and sat down next to Balthan and Tia.

Breakfast was simple, but good. There was nothing that could go above the simplicity of bread and supplements. Everyone could combine whatever they wanted with how much they wanted, just a genius meal.

Corin’s eating had changed. He moved with casual, unhurried motion, not the stiff, precise gestures of the day before. He hummed faintly, enjoying the simple act, letting the warmth of the food soak into him. The moment felt domestic, almost tender, the kind that made Tia grin quietly to herself.

Afterward, Tia wandered outside to the side yard. Kethra lifted her head at Tia’s approach, nostrils flaring, tongue flicking. Tia pressed her forehead briefly to the lizard’s warm hide before scratching beneath the ears. “At least you don’t care about IDs,” she muttered. Kethra snorted, nudging her side like she agreed.

The group soon gathered again, the conversation turning to the day’s real plan. The Guild.
Tia bounced on the balls of her feet, practically vibrating with anticipation. Corin shifted beside her, shoulders tight for a heartbeat before relaxing, mostly letting her pull him along. He knew he’d have to navigate the tug-of-war between his obligations and his curiosity – but with Tia leading, he didn’t fight it much.

They set out, the city unfolding around them in layers.
The first terraces were modest. Some cracked tiles, laundry lines swinging gently in the morning breeze, the aroma of spiced bread and simmering stew drifting from open windows. Street vendors hawked flatbreads with honey drizzle, bright fruit stacked in careful pyramids, and little wooden toys were carved right then and there.
Tia reached out to poke a bright wooden duck, earning a look from Corin that was half amusement, half exasperation.

As they climbed, the buildings grew more polished. Stone walls gleamed with age and care, balconies carved with delicate tracery, flowers spilling over railings in bursts of color. Fountains bubbled with clear water, tiled basins glinting in the sun. The sounds shifted too – children’s shouts mingling with the clinking of coins, merchants calling out their wares with a practiced sing-song, the occasional clop of hooves echoing off the stone.

Tia paused on a landing, leaning against the railing, eyes wide. “Look at that,” she breathed. “I swear these fountains are fancy enough to make a dragon weep.” She grinned, but Vesh just sighed, frill drooping.
She nudged Corin with her elbow. “You could actually study magic here and still not run out of inspiration.”

Corin managed a faint smile, his gaze traveling over the gilded roofs and polished streets. Balthan and Vesh scanned the area with sharper eyes, noting potential leads, taverns for notice boards, and alleys that might hide contracts waiting for a willing hand. Rika, arms folded, watched the passersby with interest, curious if someone would reveal scraps of knowledge about magical workshops or hidden mages.

Finally, they reached the upper terraces where the guild crowned the city like a fortress of order..
Intricate marble and greenstone gleamed in the sun, banners rippled on the roof’s poles. Its enormous doors loomed over them, carved deep with scripts Tia couldn’t read.

The air itself seemed to hush as they stepped onto the wide stone stairs, the city disappeared behind them, alive and humming, waiting.

The Guild’s doors swung wide, and air washed over them – cool despite the crush of bodies inside.

The hall was enormous, its ceiling so high the rafters almost vanished into shadow. The space throbbed with motion – scribes hunched at long desks, quills scratching furiously.
Men hauled crates that stank of weird plants across the tiles, mercenaries leaned on spears while bragging too loudly, adventurers in mismatched armor argued over maps spread across scarred tables.

Those tables filled the center like islands. Some were littered with parchment and mugs, others with bloody claws or glittering scales. Around the walls, noticeboards sagged under the weight of quests, wanted posters, and tacked-up maps – some so old the edges curled brown. And at the far end, past all the noise, reception desks lined up in neat order, each one manned, the picture of calm amidst chaos.

Balthan set his jaw and steered Tia toward the shortest line. His stride brooked no question.
The others scattered almost instantly.

Rika’s eyes darted from board to board, fingers twitching whenever she spotted something with an arcane seal. Vesh stalked the bounty listings, claws dragging faint lines in the wood as he traced numbers. Corin hovered too long in Tia’s wake, then made a show of drifting off to a nearby board – pretending to read all those oh-so-interesting quest papers.

The line moved quickly, and soon a young dogkind man greeted them. His ears were too big for his head, hair so long and fluffy it’s surprising he could see them. His tail beat once against the desk before he noticed Balthan looming. It stilled instantly, curling low.

“Uh – welcome,” he said, voice squeaking. “How can I, um, help?”

“She lost her Guild Mark,” Balthan said, clipped as a blade. “Needs a new one.”

“O-of course.” The boy nearly dropped the parchment he grabbed, fumbling before producing a flat rectangle of wood wrapped in leather trim. A card, but heavier, older. He set it down carefully, as if afraid it might leap away.

“This… this will show your destined profession,” he explained, trying to sound solemn. “All you have to do is lay your hand on the card, and I’ll recite the prayer. Then the mark reveals itself.”

He cleared his throat, tugged open a worn prayer book with too many dog-eared corners. “Simple, really.”

Tia eyed the plain rectangle and shrugged. “Sounds cool,” she pressed her palm flat to it.

The bustle of the hall seemed to muffle, like someone had laid a cloth over the noise. The young receptionist began to chant, voice wobbling but steadying as he spoke:

“L’ile, Weaver of all lives,
let this card bear truth.
Show the path prepared,
reveal the calling sealed at birth.”

The card stirred. A faint glow seeped out from beneath Tia’s hand – white, harmless, like morning mist. Then brighter. And brighter.

Tia blinked. “Ooh~ shiny.”

The receptionist froze. His tail lashed once, then coiled tight against his legs. “It… it’s not – ” His paw hovered, trembling. The prayer book nearly slipped from his grasp. “It’s supposed to – this isn’t – ”

Balthan’s brows knit. For once his carved mask cracked, confusion slipping through. He glanced at Tia, not with disdain or irritation, but something like awe – and a flash of worry.

“..., normally this doesn’t glow so long,” his voice not determined like usual.

Around them, the whispers started. Not loud. Just ripples, spreading. Adventurers leaning toward one another. Heads turning.

The boy stammered, near tears. “Th-this has never– never happened– ” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I have to… I’ll fetch the Guildmaster.” And before Balthan could stop him, he bolted through a side door, prayer book clutched like a lifeline.

Silence clung too tightly to their corner.

“Take it,” Balthan hissed, low, sharp. “Now. We leave.”

Tia’s fingers curled around the still-glowing card. It felt cool against her skin. She stuffed it into her pocket, pulse kicking up.

Balthan shot the others a look that told more than necessary.

They walked – steady, deliberate. Not running. Not yet. The guild hall watched, every step prickling under eyes.

Then the doors closed behind them, and Balthan snapped “Move!”

They broke into the street at a near-run, weaving into the crowd. The city swallowed them before shouts could follow.

And inside the hall, unease lingered like smoke. The blank glow was gone, but its echo remained.
“Did you see that?” hissed a mercenary.
“Never blank before…” muttered another.
“What does it mean?”

No one had answers, only the start of rumors that would spread faster than any fire.

They didn’t slow until the guild’s banners were no longer in sight, their boots slapping the cobbles in uneven rhythm. Tia finally dug her heels in, yanking her arm free from Balthan’s iron grip.
“Okay, wait – seriously, what was that?” Her breath came quick, not from the running but from the knot twisting in her chest. “Why are we running? The guy just – just freaked out. That’s all.”

Balthan kept walking, jaw tight. “Not here.”

“Not here? What does that even– ”

“Later.” His voice cut like a blade, no room for argument.

Behind them, Vesh had caught up, his long strides keeping pace easily. He glanced between the two, brow furrowed. “What happened back there? The boy ran like he’d seen a ghost. Why?”

“I was going to ask the same,” Corin added, jogging to Tia’s side. “What did you do? You barely touched the thing and suddenly we’re fleeing like criminals.” His voice cracked with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

“I didn’t do anything!” Tia snapped. “I just touched it like he told me. It’s this dumb card.” She dug into her pocket, tugging it out. The glow had dimmed little, but it was still a white void, like light trapped beneath the surface. “See?”

Corin leaned in, blinking. “That’s… not what mine looked like.”

Rika tilted her head, squinting. “It’s blank.”

Before Tia could shrug, Balthan was there in two steps, his hand clamping over hers. “Put it away.” The words rumbled low, dangerous. “Do you want to show it to the whole street?”

Startled, she stuffed it back into her pocket, lips pursed.

Vesh’s eyes had locked on the shimmer. For once his expression faltered, scales pale beneath the lantern-light spilling down the street. The color drained from his face, and he drew back slowly, as if from something poisonous.

Tia frowned. “What? What’s the problem? It’s just… empty.”

“Exactly,” Balthan muttered. He pushed forward again, stride lengthening, as if walking faster could smother the conversation.

The rest trailed after him in silence, the city suddenly too loud around them – the calls of merchants, the clip of hooves, the chatter of strangers, all a wall of noise that pressed in.

By the time they reached the tavern, Tia’s shoulders were tense with a dozen questions that had nowhere to go. Maressa looked up from polishing mugs as they came in, opening her mouth to greet them. Balthan didn’t even give her the chance. He pushed past, muttering something indistinct, and the group climbed the stairs two at a time.

With a heavy thud the room door shut behind them.

The room felt too small once the door shut.

Balthan didn’t wait long. He stood with his back to them, braced against the window frame, shoulders tense. “You need to understand,” he said finally, voice low. “This isn’t just strange. This has never happened before.”

Vesh sat on the edge of the bed, claws worrying at the wood frame. His usual poise seemed to crumble as he muttered, “Not once. Not in record, not in tale, not in faith. There is no song, no prose, no whisper of a destiny card returning blank.” He looked up, his eyes steady but grim. “Do you grasp what that means?”

Tia shrugged, half-defensive. “It means your magic card doesn’t work on me? Big deal.”

Balthan turned, and for the first time since she’d met him, there was no certainty in his eyes. Only something like unease. “It could mean you have no destiny at all. No guidance. No place chosen by the gods.”

The words hit heavier than she expected, like a boulder sinking through her chest. No destiny. No guidance. She wanted to laugh, say that’s fine, I didn’t ask for one anyway – but something in the way Vesh stared at her stilled the words.

“To be cut off from L’ile’s threads,” Vesh murmured, “is… unthinkable. It is as though you were left outside the loom itself. As though the gods refused to weave you.” His tail twitched sharply. “Even heretics still have a thread. You… you do not.”

Tia bit her lip. “So… that’s bad?”

“That’s impossible,” Balthan corrected, his tone clipped. “And impossibilities make people nervous. Nervous people make you disappear.”

She swallowed hard, glancing down at her pocket where the faint glow still leaked through the fabric. “…I think I’ve seen him, you know. L’ile dude. Or at least I talked to him once.”

The silence in the room sharpened.

“What did you just say?” Balthan’s voice was flat.

Tia fiddled with her sleeve. “Back when I woke up here. There was this white void, and this bratty boy with way too much attitude. Said he was ‘a god at my disposal~’. He showed me this card then too. I thought it was… a dream.” She hesitated. “Guess not.”

Rika’s eyes darted between them all, tail too afraid to wag. Corin sat restlessly on his bed, his hands shuffling the bedsheets nervously.

But Balthan and Vesh exchanged a glance – one that said more than words. Whatever this meant, it was far beyond the simple mishap Tia had thought it was.

“Maybe I can just choose whatever I want then.” The room had gone quiet after Tia’s words. The sentence hung there, fragile, daring.

Balthan pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his teeth. “You don’t understand. That’s not how this works.”

“Maybe it should,” Tia muttered.

Vesh rose, pacing slowly. His tail dragged like a heavy chain across the floorboards. “If we sit idle, we invite danger. Rumors do not die in silence. Even now they are spreading – about the girl who defied the loom. About the untitled one.”

The phrase made Tia shiver, though she covered it with a grin. “Don’t make it sound so epic.”
‘Untitled girl’. Sounded like a title from a comic book, not something whispered with dread.

Balthan straightened. “We need information. Answers. Something to measure this against.” He glanced at Vesh. “Priests, scholars. Anyone who can tell us if the gods have ever allowed this.”

Vesh nodded. “And I know a few old keepers of song and scripture.”

“Good.” Balthan looked at Rika. “You’re with him. Mages’ texts, old wizards’ mutterings – if anyone’s been obsessive enough to catalogue divine oddities, they’ll be in those archives.”

Rika pursed her lips, but agreed.

Balthan’s gaze flicked to Tia, stern. “You stay here. Out of sight. No wandering.”

Her smile twitched but she gave a mock salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

The three of them didn’t linger. Tia leaned out the window, watching them. Coats drawn tight, hoods up, slipping out into the streets one after another, vanishing into the hum of the city.

The moment they were out of sight, Tia let her shoulders drop. The silence lasted a whole three seconds before she turned to Corin.

“Soo~,” she drawled, leaning back on her palms, “you still up to go get you that pointy hat?”

Corin froze mid-step, halfway to pulling out a chair. “…You’re joking.”

Her grin widened. “Nope. The others are going to drown themselves in dusty scrolls and cryptic sermons. We, meanwhile, are going shopping.”

He tried for a protest, but it fizzled under her expectant look. At last, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “…You’re impossible.”

“And you’ll love it.” She was already tugging at his sleeve.

Together, they slipped out the tavern door, the streets of Ssarradon sprawling ahead of them, their gaze leading toward the mage district.