The Bazaar of Forgetting was thinning, like mist retreating before a rising sun. Stalls packed themselves away into suitcases, merchants slipped through cracks in the cobblestone, and laughter — bright and brittle — echoed once before vanishing altogether.
Rue adjusted the strap of her pack, casting one last look toward the Inkwell Prophet's empty stall. Nothing but spilled ink remained, slowly crawling back into the ground like living shadows.
Ashwen walked ahead, her cloak brushing past displays of crumbling books and melting coins. She hadn't spoken much after retrieving the memory-lantern. The thing sat now inside Groat's metallic frame, muffling a soft, persistent heartbeat.
Ilyan trailed behind, unusually quiet. He kept touching the sides of his coat, as if checking for something he'd lost — or perhaps something slipping away unnoticed.
Only Monsieur Loup retained his maddening cheer, whistling an off-key tune and occasionally tossing pieces of forgotten bread to invisible pigeons.
"You think you can bribe the local fauna?" Rue asked.
"But of course, mademoiselle," Loup replied, twirling his mustache. "In every city, the rats and pigeons rule the shadows. Better to befriend them early, non?"
Groat clicked inside Rue's pocket. "Better to avoid feeding mutant pigeons if you want to keep your fingers."
They wound through broken alleys until they reached the Exit Gate — a towering arch of bone-white stone stitched together with golden thread. The gate pulsed faintly, reacting to their presence.
A figure leaned lazily against it.
At first, they thought it was a guard. Then they noticed the rips in his clothing, the glassy, absent look in his eyes, and the way his shadow pointed the wrong way.
"You there," Ashwen called. "We have the lantern. We need passage."
The man blinked. Or rather, one eye blinked, the other remained disturbingly still. He pointed a skeletal hand at Ilyan.
"You," he rasped, voice like a dull blade scraping wood.
Ilyan frowned. "Me?"
The figure nodded. "You forgot. It will forget you."
Before anyone could react, the stones beneath Ilyan's feet gave way. A sudden circle of shimmering symbols flared into life — runes so ancient they felt like the first words ever spoken.
Ashwen lunged forward, but the magic crackled, shoving her back. Rue swore, grabbing Groat, whose casing began rattling violently.
"Ilyan!" Ashwen shouted, but his form was already dimming, as if he were a drawing being erased.
Loup dropped his hat, his grin faltering. "Merde."
The last thing they saw was Ilyan's hand reaching out — not in desperation, but in quiet acceptance — before he was pulled downward, swallowed by the gate's magic with a sound like a page being torn.
The portal snapped shut. Silence crashed around them.
Ashwen stumbled forward, slamming her fists against the stone. "NO!"
Rue swore again, louder this time, kicking a loose brick across the square. It clattered uselessly against a nearby wall.
Groat clicked mournfully. "Well... that's an unexpected plot twist."
Monsieur Loup, recovering quickly, picked up his fallen hat and dusted it off. "So. Shall we panic now or later?"
Ashwen spun around, her eyes fierce. "We find him."
Rue nodded grimly. "We don't even know where he's been taken."
"Then we split," Ashwen said through gritted teeth. "We search. Whatever it takes."
Monsieur Loup gave a theatrical bow. "Ah, a scavenger hunt for the missing ghost-boy. Très bien."
Rue hesitated, her fists tightening. "He'd do the same for us."
Ashwen met her gaze — a rare flash of raw emotion passing between them. Then she turned toward the gate, jaw set.
"I'll go east," she said. "Rue, you take south. Loup—"
"North," Loup said, twirling his cane. "Always did prefer colder climates."
They nodded, a silent agreement formed in the ruins of their panic.
As they moved to leave, Groat's voice piped up, almost sheepishly. "Uh... and me?"
Rue snatched him up. "You're coming with me, you loud little tin can."
"Excellent," Groat said. "I can't wait to criticize your navigation skills."
And just like that, they scattered — fragments of a broken story, each heading into the sprawling madness of Valeight with only one mission:
Bring Ilyan back.
If they still could.