Heir to a Fallen Star

Chapter 2

You follow close behind him as he navigates the dark corridor of the tavern. He pushes open a heavy wooden back door, and the icy night air immediately hits your face, carrying the salty, rotting scent of the nearby docks. Rain pours down in sheets, blurring the distant lanterns of the wharf.

Kaelen pulls his hood over his dark curls and turns back to you, his moss-green eyes glinting in the dark. "The foundry is three blocks down," he says over the howling wind, leaning close so you can hear him. "The guards rotate patrols every ten minutes. Once we're at the perimeter, you follow my lead exactly. No rogue dagger-throwing unless I say so. Agreed?"

You stay tight on his heels, moving like a phantom through the dark, damp, and sinister alleys. The shadows are so deep they feel alive, ready to swallow you whole at any moment. The biting coastal air stings your face, turning your pale cheeks and the tip of your round nose a faint, wind-bitten red.

Finally, the looming, ominous silhouette of the foundry rises out of the gloom.

But it’s not silent. From beneath the heavy iron-reinforced doors, you can hear muffled music, rowdy laughter, and the loud clinking of tankards. A sliver of warm, golden light emanates from the crack under the entryway, cutting through the freezing downpour.

Looking at that glow, a sudden, treacherous longing hits you. Despite the lethal dangers waiting inside, all you want is to be warm. Your mind momentarily betrays you, wondering just how warm it would feel to be wrapped within Kaelen's broad shoulders, shielded from the storm...

No. Stop that. You mentally slap yourself, shivering as you force the thought away. Pull yourself together, Iris. You have to have your wits entirely about you if you’re going to pull this off. Distraction means death.

As if sensing your sudden shift in focus, Kaelen presses his back against the cold stone wall just beside the glowing doorway. He looks down at you, his moss-green eyes scanning your flushed, rain-slicked face. His eyes linger on your red nose and cheeks for a beat, a soft, unreadable expression crossing his features before his professional mask snaps back into place.

"They're celebrating," he whispers, leaning his head close to yours so his breath warms your ear. "Which means they're drunk, distracted, and sloppy. But it also means the main floor is packed."

He points up toward a rusty iron fire escape hanging a few feet above your heads, slick with rain. "The vault is on the upper level. We climb up, slip through the high window, and we can bypass the party entirely. But the ladder is rusted shut. I'll have to boost you up so you can release the latch."

He steps in front of you, lacing his strong fingers together to form a step, looking up at you with a challenging smirk. "Ready to show me those skills, gold-locks?"

You place your boot firmly into his laced fingers, using his upward thrust to launch yourself toward the iron ladder. With practiced, fluid efficiency, you catch the rusted metal rungs and pull your body up as if gravity barely applies to you. You don't waste a single motion—reaching the latch, you give it a sharp, silent jerk, freeing the mechanism and letting the ladder slide down smoothly without a sound.

Perched securely on the rain-slicked fire escape, you crouch down and extend your hand toward Kaelen, your grey eyes gleaming in the dark.

"Need a hand, pointy?" you whisper with a knowing smirk, throwing his earlier condescension right back at him.

Kaelen looks up, a flash of genuine surprise crossing his features before it melts into a look of pure admiration. He doesn't hesitate. He reaches up and grabs your hand, his large, warm palm gripping yours tightly. Even with the rain pouring over you both, the friction of his touch sends a jolt of heat up your arm. With a powerful surge, he climbs up beside you, the iron platform groaning faintly under his weight.

He pulls himself over the railing, ending up mere inches from you in the cramped space. He releases your hand slowly, his moss-green eyes locked onto yours, his breath shallow.

"I stand corrected," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough vibration in the stormy night. "You're a menace."

He turns toward the high, grimy window of the foundry, drawing a small, specialized pry-tool from his belt. He works the latch of the window with practiced ease, slipping it open a few inches. The blast of hot air from inside hits your face instantly, carrying the smell of burning coal, cheap tobacco, and roasting pork.

Kaelen peeks through the gap, assessing the rafters inside, then looks back at you. "The upper rafters are clear, but the vault door is just across the cat-walk. It’s got a dual-key lock. I have one key... but the captain downstairs has the other around his neck."

He looks at you, a dangerous glint in his eye. "We can either try to pick a lock that might detonate a trap, or one of us has to go down there into the lion's den and lift the second key off a very drunk, very dangerous bandit captain. What's your play, apothecary?"

"I’m a master at lock picking but I’d rather not take the chance of blowing those pretty green eyes up." I say jokingly, "However, I do think you should go down, they know you and wont suspect anything untoward. What would you like me to do so long?"

A soft chuckle escapes Kaelen’s lips, his chest vibrating against yours in the tight space. "Flattery? Careful, Iris, I might start thinking you actually care about my safety," he murmurs, though the dangerous spark in his moss-green eyes suggests he doesn't mind the teasing one bit.

His expression turns serious as he looks through the window crack, analysing the layout inside.

"You're right. If they see me, it’s just Kaelen coming back late to the party. If they see a gorgeous blonde with piercing grey eyes, we’re dead before we hit the floor," he whispers, his voice dropping an octave as he gives you a deliberate, lingering look.

He turns back to the window, sliding it open just wide enough for you both to squeeze through. He points toward the shadows of the massive, rusted iron rafters stretching across the ceiling of the foundry, directly above the chaotic party below.

"Slip inside and get up onto those beams," Kaelen instructs quietly. "They’re completely dark, and the smoke from the forge will keep you hidden. Navigate your way across to the vault door on the far side of the catwalk. It’s a heavy brass door with an iron crest. Wait for me there."

He reaches into his vest, pulls out a small, intricate silver key, and presses it into your hand. His fingers linger over yours, his touch warm against your chilled skin.

"If I'm not back in ten minutes, or if you hear fighting downstairs... pick the lock anyway and run with your artefact. Don't wait for me." He looks deep into your eyes, his gaze intense, almost pleading. "Promise me, Iris."

Before you can answer, he slips through the window, drops silently onto a lower platform, and disappears into the warm, smoky haze of the tavern below. You can hear the sudden roar of his crew greeting him as he enters the main floor.

A sudden, sharp pang of anxiety hits your chest, tighter than the cold wind outside. A part of you instantly wishes you hadn't just sent him down into the lion's den alone. But you force the panic down, gripping the silver key tightly before slipping it into your tunic.

You climb through the window and onto the massive iron rafters. The air up here is thick, hot, and choking with black smoke from the forge fires below. Carefully, slowly, you place one boot in front of the other, balancing on the narrow beams, trying desperately not to alert the rowdy group beneath you.

Your eyes naturally drift downward, searching the haze. There he is. You see Kaelen step into the golden light. The bandits erupt, slapping his back, passing him a tankard—they are genuinely thrilled to see him. Relief washes over you, but it brings a dangerous distraction.

For a fraction of a second, you lose your focus. Your boot slips on a patch of slick soot.

Whoosh.

Gravity rips your feet from the beam. Your heart leaps into your throat as you plummet, but your instincts kick in. With a desperate, bruising lunge, you slam your hands around the iron beam.

You're left hanging in mid-air, dangling directly over the crowded floor. Your fingers strain against the smooth metal, the heat of the forge rising up to meet you. You grit your teeth, muscles burning as you try to swing your legs up and pull yourself back to safety.

Down below, amidst the roaring laughter, Kaelen's head suddenly snaps upward. It’s as if he felt the shift in the air.

Through the rising smoke, his moss-green eyes lock directly onto yours. His face goes completely pale, his glass freezing halfway to his mouth. The jovial expression is entirely wiped from his features, replaced by a look of sheer, hidden terror. He can't look away, but if he stares too long, the whole room will follow his gaze.

Your muscles scream in protest and your fingers ache fiercely, but with a final, desperate surge of core strength, you manage to swing your legs up and haul yourself back onto the iron beam.

Crouching low in the shadows, you press your chest against the warm metal and take a few ragged, silent breaths. The relief that washes over you is sweet and dizzying. Once your heart stops hammering against your ribs, you peek down through the thick smoke and find Kaelen. He is still frozen, his knuckles white around his tankard. You catch his eye and give him a small, definitive nod.

Down below, you see the subtle, heavy rise and fall of his chest as he lets out a breath he’d been holding. The colour returns to his face, and he smoothly transitions back into his charming rogue persona, laughing at a joke a nearby bandit just made, though his eyes remain fiercely alert.

You don't waste another second. Moving with absolute, hyper-focused precision, you creep along the rafters, balancing perfectly until you reach the far side of the foundry. You drop silently onto the high metal catwalk, landing right in front of the heavy brass vault door with its intricate iron crest.

Pulling yourself into the deepest shadow beside the door, you wait.

Down on the main floor, you watch Kaelen work. He manoeuvres through the crowd with predatory grace, laughing, drinking, and slowly edging closer to the massive, heavily armoured bandit captain. Kaelen claps the captain on the shoulder, leaning in to yell something over the rowdy music. As he does, his hand moves with lightning-fast, invisible dexterity—slipping right under the captain's thick beard.

A moment later, Kaelen steps back, raising his tankard in a toast. The captain roars with laughter, completely oblivious that the heavy iron key dangling from his neck has just been replaced by a clever dummy.

Kaelen turns away from the crowd, his expression instantly going cold and serious. He slips into the shadows near the stairs, bounding up them silently.

Within moments, a tall silhouette appears at the end of the catwalk. Kaelen glides over to you, his breath coming a little fast. He steps into your space, his moss-green eyes scanning you up and down to ensure you’re truly unharmed.

"You're going to give me a heart attack, gold-locks," he whispers, his voice a rough, breathless purr. He reaches out, his hand gently resting on your waist for a brief, reassuring second before he pulls out the second key. "But you're alive. Let's get what's yours."

He inserts his iron key into the top lock, and gestures to you. "Ready? On three. One... two..."

"Three," you whisper back.

Together, you turn the keys simultaneously. A heavy, satisfying CLUNK echoes through the brass door. You throw your weight against it, and it swings open, releasing a cloud of musky, dust-filled air that causes you both to cough softly.