Location: Eye of the Beholder
The lingering heat of the fire upstairs clung to Thalia’s skin, a ghostly remnant of comfort that evaporated the moment she stepped into the common room. Undeterred, she descended the last step with purpose, her hazel gaze sweeping across the room. Sya stood near the entrance, poised like a coiled spring, her long tail shifting slowly as she peered through a porthole in the shutters. Whatever she saw kept her attention fixed. Around her, the staff moved with practiced efficiency, securing doors, reinforcing weak points, and speaking in hushed tones.
Lark had followed her—not right at her side, but just close enough to keep her within his sight. His large paws made little sound against the wooden floor, and though his ears flicked at the low murmurs of the patrons, he didn’t break from his stride. His tail was neither raised in alarm nor tucked in fear.
Most of the remaining guests clustered near the bar and hearth, a few of their eyes darting toward the door, toward Sya, toward each other in silent, fevered speculation. Fear thrived in waiting, and the unspoken dread draped over the room like a thick woollen shroud. Thalia had no intention of standing idle beneath it.
Instead, she crossed the room with the confidence of someone who refused to be sidelined. The waiting would only drive her mad.
Sya didn’t turn immediately at her approach, still focused on whatever stirred beyond the walls of the Eye. The lamia’s body language was unreadable, but the way she adjusted her grip on the counter, the way her tail stilled for just a moment—Thalia knew she had been noticed.
Still, she spoke first.
“You seem to know more than the rest of us.” She came to a halt just beside the counter, one hand resting lightly against its edge. “What’s actually going on out there?”