The scarf pulled over Devvyn's head fluttered in the wind, occasionally shifting into his face and blocking his view. He kept his head low, casting frequent glances at the people they passed and checking that none of them were the gang boys.
A sudden gust of wind nearly yanked the scarf from around his head.
"Ugh, seriously?" he muttered, grabbing at the cloth and tightening it again around his neck with both hands. "I feel like I'm attracting more attention with this thing on."
Beside him, Aela shot him a dry look. "Then feel free to take it off. You've been complaining since we got on the train."
"I wasn't complaining," he muttered, even as he fidgeted with the knot under his chin. "I was… you know…voicing tactical concerns."
Aela rolled her eyes. "Sure, soldier." She didn't even bother to look back as she said, "I told you to stay back in the Lower City. I could've handled this alone."
"Yeah, and I told you I wasn't going to sit around while you potentially put yourself in danger. You never know what's going to happen." He lowered his voice, "The Unbound might know about the book and might be watching for whoever comes to inquire about Eamon."
"Well then," she said, casting him a look over her shoulder, "square up and get your head in the game instead of complaining about a scarf. We've got work to do."
"Fine," he muttered, tugging his scarf down just enough to breathe properly. The knot still scratched his neck, but he left it alone.
They took a left, turning into a long, winding street that twisted gently uphill toward the city registry. The road here was drier and less kept than the other parts of Eternis—sandy, uneven, with jagged rocks poking through the pale dirt path. It hadn't seen proper maintenance in years, maybe decades. The buildings lining the street were narrow and squat, their brickwork dull with age, windows plain and dusty.
Aela stumbled on a small rock, almost falling but Devvyn caught her before she did.
"Be careful."
"Not sure why the missing registry for all of Sinai is only in Eternis. Would make more sense if we had one in each city." Aela hissed.
"People prefer to report in Eternis anyway. The officers are efficient. Not like those blobs we have in the Lower City."
"Make way for the procession! Make way!" A man announced.
Devvyn and Aela slowed down.
A man in a crimson-trimmed robe came striding down the center of the road, flanked by two acolytes with pale eyes and shaven heads. He held a long silver staff, its head shaped like an open eye, and the faint gleam of runes shimmered along the shaft. His own head was shaved, and a glowing red brand burned into the side of his neck pulsed.
Despite all the other people on the street—merchants, carriage drivers waiting by the side of the road, a pair of guards leaning against a wall—the steward's gaze zeroed in on Devvyn and Aela.
"You two," he said, pointing sharply. "Get off the road."
Devvyn blinked. "Uh, we're walking to the registry."
The man didn't budge. "Then use the sidewalk." He sneered.
Devvyn looked around. The road didn't have a 'sidewalk' because of how bad it was, but they were walking in the middle of the road just like everyone else. Other passersby—cleaner dressed, more polished—were still strolling freely, unbothered. The steward didn't even glance at them.
"You've got some nerve walking through this district like you belong here," he continued, lip curled in disdain.
Aela's jaw clenched. Devvyn could see her shoulder twitch slightly, like she was seconds away from stepping forward and saying something reckless.
He touched her arm gently. "It's fine, we'll move." he murmured, then offered the steward a flat smile.
The man sneered but didn't respond.
Devvyn nudged Aela toward the roadside, and they stepped out of the way just as the procession came into view.
A line of robed figures moved together in near-perfect unison. Their garments were deep crimson, embroidered with golden thread in swirling, primordial patterns. Each person carried something different: a bowl of flame, a carved water mask, a long black staff made of stone, a glass ball with air whirling in it—symbols of the Primordials.
At the front walked a woman with her hands clasped tightly around a golden tome. She wore a loose white robe, her hair braided and looped into a tight bun. Her face was blank, eyes distant. Her mouth moved as she murmured a prayer, but no sound came out.
Aela leaned close. "I know we love the Primordials and want an Echo and all of that stuff, but this is so creepy."
"Borderline cult-like," Devvyn whispered back, still keeping his eye on the steward.
Devvyn and Aela lingered on the edge of the sidewalk, watching as the procession came to a slow halt in the middle of the dusty street. The air had gone still, almost reverent, and the onlookers nearby stood quietly.
At the center of the procession, a robed Priest stepped forward, his hands cradling a glowing orb wrapped in an iron casing—an Echo. The Priest moved with ceremony, slow and deliberate, until he stood in front of a woman at the front of the line.
The Priest extended the Echo toward her.
She accepted it with trembling hands and raised it above her head. "Praise be the Primordial," she intoned, her voice low but clear. Then, she removed the Echo from its casing and lowered the orb to her chest and held it tightly as her body stiffened. Her eyes flashed white.
Devvyn felt the hairs rise on his arms as the Echo began to bond with her. She collapsed to her knees, breath ragged. Her entire body shook, limbs jerking as if seized by unseen hands. The Echo slowly dimmed, its light bleeding into her skin.
Minutes passed. Then, the back of her neck shimmered. A deep red mark—the rune of a fire bonded Echo blossomed on her skin.
The Priest stepped forward again, saw the mark, and lifted his arms. "Praise be to the Primordials!" he cried.
The procession echoed him in unison. "Praise be!"
Devvyn swallowed hard, unsettled. Something about watching a person bond with their Echo felt too much like an invasion of privacy. Beside him, Aela grimaced. "This is too freaky," she muttered under her breath. "Let's go. I've had enough of their creepy cult rituals for one day."
He nodded, and they turned away from the crowd, continuing up the uneven street. Soon, they reached a stone building with a tarnished bronze plaque above the door that read City Registry of Sinai.
The interior of the City Registry was cooler and quieter than Devvyn expected, with stone walls that stretched up toward a ceiling laced with wooden beams and narrow windows. The air smelled like ink and dust, and the muffled sound of quills scratching paper echoed through the wide hall.
Devvyn and Aela paused just inside the entrance, scanning the rows of wooden shelves and filing cabinets that filled the space. Clerks moved silently between desks, some buried in records, others filing documents away.
"Well…" Devvyn said under his breath, "I have no idea where to start."
Before Aela could answer, a girl about their age brushed past, a stack of ledgers balanced in her arms. She wore the crisp black uniform of the Golden Academy with the winged sigil of Eternis stitched onto her shoulder. Her dark braids were pinned back neatly, and she moved with the confidence of someone who knew her way around the registry.
"Hey, sorry," Devvyn called. "We're looking for records on missing or deceased people. It's our first time here."
She stopped, adjusted the books in her arms, and gave them both a quick once-over. Her calculating green eyes lingered for a beat on their worn clothes, their scuffed boots. "Section C," she said, nodding toward a corridor off to the right. "Follow the blue markers along the archways. Records are organised alphabetically."
She glanced at them again, her expression unreadable. "Who are you looking for, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Just… a friend," Devvyn replied. "Someone who went missing a while back."
"Missing?" she asked, her voice a little more curious now.
He nodded. "Yeah. Disappeared a while ago."
The girl looked like she wanted to ask more, but then she shifted the ledgers in her arms again. "You know what, I just came from there. Come on, I'll walk you."
They followed her through the rows of shelves, passing by desks where older clerks hunched over thick books. The wood floor creaked beneath their feet as they turned down a narrower corridor lit by lantern sconces.
She spoke again, over her shoulder. "You'll want to check the missing persons ledgers first. Then the death records, if you don't find anything. They're cross-referenced by last name."
Aela didn't say anything, but Devvyn caught her nodding.
When they reached the end of the corridor, the girl stopped in front of a long wall of drawers and labelled compartments. She nodded toward a set of shelves labeled MISSING in faded ink.
"Here you go. Shouldn't be hard to find what you're looking for, assuming your friend was reported."
"Thanks," Devvyn said.
The girl lingered a second longer, then gave them a small nod and turned back the way she came, her uniform's crest catching the light as she disappeared down the aisle.
As soon as she was gone, Aela glanced at Devvyn. "Friendly."
"She definitely judged us."
"Only a little."
Devvyn moved to the shelves and pulled out the first ledger. "Alright. Let's find Eamon Wynstros."
They didn't have to search long.
"Here," Aela said, pulling a file from the drawer and handing it to Devvyn.
He opened it.
Name: Eamon Wynstros
Status: Missing, presumed deceased
Date of Disappearance: 9th Moon, 112th Year
Family: Wife and son; Leonara Wynstros and Soren Wynstros (also missing)
Occupation: Mine Owner
Last known address: 22 Barrenridge Way, Sector Three
Height: 6'1
Eye Color: Gray
Hair Color: Black
Reported by: Leonara Wynstros
Recorded by: Overseer R. Frannick
Case status: Ongoing
Devvyn read the file twice, then looked at Aela.
"Well, this confirms he was real. I should have thought about checking the registry."
She nodded. "And apparently rich. A mine owner. I wonder why he chose to…you know…"
Devvyn read the house address again. "Let's go. I want to check out where he lived."
