Chapter 4

  The interior of The Siren’s Grace was even more breathtaking than its exterior. The oceanic theme was unmistakable, with hues ranging from tranquil baby blue to the deep, rolling thunder of a stormy blue which adorned the table cloth and walls. White accents, reminiscent of foamy waves, cascaded across the blues, creating an entrancing, almost hypnotic effect.

  Wow…

  Xander’s hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, the fabric suddenly feeling uncomfortably cheap and out of place in such a refined setting. Jor’dan was in front of him—an air of confidence around him that he’d wished he had in this moment.

  A hostess with a tight ponytail approached them, clipboard in hand. Her professional smile revealed a small, shimmering tooth gem as she greeted them. “Do you have a reservation? Currently, The Siren’s Touch is—”

  Jor’dan flicked a sleek blue card from his back pocket and handed it to her without a word. The hostess’s eyes widened slightly, but she recovered quickly, her demeanor shifting to one of polished efficiency. She grabbed two cutlery rolls from a nearby desk and gestured for them to follow her up a spiral staircase that curved around the bar.

  Xander trailed behind, taking in every detail. The soft, wave-like music filled the air, blending seamlessly with the gentle murmur of conversations and the faint clink of glasses. A mosaic dance floor shimmered below, made of tiles in shades of blue and green, like sea glass. Couples moved across the space with practiced elegance, each step perfectly in time with the rhythm.

  They must be regulars. His jaw loosened in awe. How the hell are they moving like that?

  By the time they reached the upper level, Xander stumbled slightly, almost tripping on the final step once he saw the balcony. The open area was far more spacious than he’d expected, with fewer tables, each draped in embroidered wave-patterned cloth. The view overlooked the bustling Vale, he could almost see across the park from this height.

  He shot a suspicious glance at the back of Jor’dan’s head. Just how much does the combat guild pay?

  The hostess handed them off to another server, a young woman in a dark blue dress that shimmered subtly under the light. He fumbled with the soft material of the menu as she asked what drinks they’d like—struggling to find the drink options amidst the seemingly endless amount of food choice.

  Sensing his hesitation, the waitress leaned over and pointed to a small section at the bottom right. “The drinks are here,” she said kindly.

  He offered her a grateful smile and looked over the options as quickly as he could, not wanting to waste her time. Xander raised an eyebrow as Jor’dan announced what he’d be drinking—Snatina. Curious, his eyes darted to the description. Made from the king of cups holder snake venom? Sweet taste? His gaze slid to the price, and he nearly choked. Two gold? For a drink?! Even if the substance was hard to get, two gold for just the drink? No way.

  Xander opted for a more modest SolTiva, a popular refresher made with locally grown fruit—most local places had them on hand. As the waitress nodded and disappeared, Xander turned to his friend, incredulous.

  “What. The. Hell?” He demanded, shaking the menu for emphasis.

  “Problem?” Jor’dan replied, his grin smug. “Can’t a man treat his best friend in peace?”

  “Treat?!” Xander hissed, giving him a light kick under the table. “This is a full-blown feast! And how the hell did you even get a reservation here? I’ve heard it takes months just to get in the queue.”

  “Who’s to say I didn’t queue months ago?” Jor’dan raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed by the kick.

  Xander blinked, caught off guard. A sudden warmth bloomed in his chest, an unspoken emotion tightening his throat. He glanced at Jor’dan, words failing him.

  “Aw, don’t get sappy on me now,” Jor’dan teased, waving a dismissive hand. “It ain’t that deep.”

  But it was that deep. Jor’dan knew it, Xander knew it.

  And he wouldn’t forget it.

  His eyes quickly darted to the menu, hiding the redness that threatened to spread across his face. The endless array of dishes provided the perfect distraction, giving him a moment to steady his thoughts. Jor’dan might’ve been rugged on the outside, but very few got to see the soft side he reserved for his closest friends and family. Xander counted himself lucky—though the man’s insistence on spoiling him like this was almost too much to handle.

  Glancing up, he noticed Jor’dan looking over the menu as nonchalantly as ever, as if nothing just happened at all—another thing he envied about the man.

  The menu itself was an ornate masterpiece, almost as if it were a window into the sea. The edges of the pages shimmered faintly, mimicking the glint of sunlight on water, and the ink swirled like currents in an endless ocean. Each dish was described in painstaking detail, complete with artistic sketches of the food that seemed almost alive. He’d wondered if they’d gotten Eric to do the art—that’d explain a lot.

  His gaze wandered over the seafood section, which unsurprisingly dominated the offerings. Euphoria en écailles caught his eye—more so what it was made of. Made from the scales of ten of cups wild caught fish? How the hell do they even get this stuff? Solari’s supposed to be miles inland—though his geography knowledge was sorely lacking.

  Geography class floated back into his mind—learning about the different regions and cities of Terradin, though only sparsely remembered where they resided. He also vaguely remembered the teacher describing the world before the Divine Hunt. Continents, large disconnected landmasses, once dotted the planet. Now, everything was different. The event had reshaped the planet, uniting the lands under a single vast sprawl, bordered by the oceans.

  His teacher had also talked about rumors—whispers of untouched continents across the sea, unscathed by the event. Xander shuddered at the thought of the creatures that might thrive in those remote regions, lurking.

  Eyes focusing back on the menu, the écailles seemed like a good choice, coming with alot—three sides? Lying would be saying this place wasn’t worth it, but with the majority of the options being over five gold? It boggled his mind.

  A familiar sensation crept into the back of his neck—a whisper to look for the cheapest option. His friend was already treating him to this meal, he should be minimal with his selection. Shaking his head, Xander forced himself back to the menu. He scanned for something cheaper, something that wouldn’t make him feel like a total leech.

  Tidal Tempura for one gold, was the cheapest course on the menu. It came with a modest one side and toast—perfect. Xander appreciated what his friend was trying to do for him, but he couldn’t allow himself to just spend so much of his dime.

  “The Fire Breath Steak sounds like it’d hit the spot,” Jor’dan said casually, barely looking up from his own menu. “What’re you getting?”

  Xander hesitated, eyes glancing at the écailles he’d originally looked at before answering, “Uh I’ll get the Tidal Tempura, sounds pretty good.”

  Jor’dan’s menu lowered slowly, his dark eyes locking onto Xander with an intensity that made him squirm. “So you just happen to pick the cheapest thing on the menu? Are you trying to piss me off, bro?”

  “What? No—it’s just, these prices are insane!” Xander gestured to the menu for emphasis. “I can’t let you spend this much—Ow!”

  His sentence was cut off as Jor’dan’s foot made contact under the table. Xander glared at him, rubbing his shin. “What the hell, man?”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Pick. Something. Else,” Jor’dan said, his tone brooking no argument.

  Xander groaned at his stubbornness but was secretly appreciative—his eyes landed back on the dish he’d wanted and muttered, “Then… then I'll get the écailles.”

  Jor’dan scanned the menu, his expression softening just enough to show satisfaction. “That’s what I’m talking about. One of my buddies hunted one of those things before—nasty buggers, apparently. You’re in for a treat.”

  His ears perked in interest, about to ask for more details when the waitress approached, balancing their drinks effortlessly. Her polished smile seemed practiced but genuine as she placed their glasses before them.

  She gave them both a quick once-over and asked warmly, “Do you need more time to choose? The menu can be a little overwhelming—”

  Jor’dan raised a hand casually, cutting her off with a nod. “Thanks, but we’re ready.” He didn’t miss a beat, pointing toward Xander. “He’ll be getting the écailles, and I’ll have the Fire Breath Steak. Medium rare, please.”

  Xander was surprised when the waitress just nodded along, not bothering to write anything down—as though she’d memorized the entire menu backward and forward. Her eyes glinted knowingly, catching Xander’s subtle shock, and she offered him a playful wink before gliding away with a smooth efficiency. His broken train of thought was reformed, thoughts about the guild making him curious.

  “I haven’t really thought about it much,” Xander started, twirling the SolTiva in his glass absentmindedly, “but what do all you guys do in the guild? I know you fight the beasts who get too close to the wall—that’s about all I know though.”

  Jor’dan gave a faint shrug, his gaze drifting as if recounting a memory. “Well, that’s part of it,” he said, his tone gruff. “There’s different sections of the guild. Some of the guys are real good at huntin’, tracking the nastier ones before they get anywhere near us. Then there are the couriers—crazy bastards, the lot of them—who live on the road, moving between regions and giving back reports.” He paused, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his glass. “And, of course, there’s the wall defenders. They’re the front line when something big comes knocking.”

  Xander nodded along, listening intently as he went through all of the different guild specializations. When he was younger, everyone at school wanted to get a card—most having big dreams of adventuring all of Terradin. He chuckled at the thought.

  “What about you?” Xander asked, cocking a brow. “From the stuff you’ve told me, it sounds like you do a mix of different things.”

  Jor’dan smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching as if suppressing a laugh. “Eh, guess you’re right,” he said, scratching his chin. “Those with stronger cards get a bit more leeway. We’re not tied down to one role, so I do a little bit of everything.”

  “So,” Xander started, resting his elbow on the table and leaning forward, “What exactly does ‘leeway’ mean in guild terms? Sounds like you’re saying the stronger your card, the more you get to cherry-pick the fun jobs.”

  Jor’dan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Fun? Sure, if you’re into waking up at dawn and fighting off creatures that could bite your damn head off.” He took a sip of his drink, savoring it before continuing. “Nah, it’s not all glory. The stronger cards, yeah, they get more options, but it’s not as cushy as you think. More options just mean more ways to screw up.”

  “What do you mean?” Xander assumed those with the stronger cards had more of an influence, being able to make mistakes without getting backlash for it.

  “Say you’ve got a card with a lot of combat power. Everyone expects you to handle the worst of the worst—protect everyone else. But if you mess up? It’s not just on you—it’s on your squad, sometimes even the whole town you’re supposed to protect.” He took another sip, his expression darkening. “The stakes are higher, that’s all.”

  “Hmm,” Xander took a small sip of his SolTiva in thought, the fruity taste a dichotomy of the more serious tone the conversation had taken.

  The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding.

  His attention was pulled to the side as the sound of heels clicking against the balcony floor sounded. The waitress approached, balancing their plates with a practiced ease that made Xander’s stomach grumble in anticipation. The savory aroma of grilled fish and spices filled the air as she placed his dish in front of him, the shimmering scales practically glowing under the soft light.

  “Enjoy,” she said with a warm smile, before heading off to another table.

  Jor’dan didn’t waste a second, cutting into his steak and giving an approving nod. “You’re gonna love that,” he said, motioning to Xander’s plate with his fork. “They don’t mess around here.”

  As Xander took his first bite, the rich, buttery flavor melted on his tongue, a strange warmth spreading through his chest. He blinked, glancing at Jor’dan, who raised an eyebrow in amusement.

  “Yeah?” His friend asked, smirking.

  “Yeah,” Xander admitted, a reluctant grin tugging at his lips. “This is the best damn thing I’ve had.”

  Jor’dan gave a satisfied nod. “That’s what I thought. Happy birthday, bro.”

  For once, Xander didn’t argue. He just smiled, savoring the moment—and the meal.

  Xander wobbled his way up the stairs to his apartment, the satisfying weight of his meal from the Siren’s Touch settling heavily in his stomach. Each step felt like trudging through syrup, and he let out a contented huff as he reached the landing. The worn metal doorknob was cool to the touch as he twisted it open, stepping into the shadowed warmth of the loft.

  The faint murmurs of his parents’ voices drifted from their bedroom, blending with the soft crackle of a burning incense stick that filled the air with an earthy aroma.

  He trudged down the narrow hallway to his room, tapping the wall a few times to turn on the light and kicking off his shoes with a satisfying thud. His jacket landed haphazardly on the growing mound of clothes in the corner. The room was its usual chaotic sanctuary—art supplies strewn across his desk, sketches pinned to the corkboard, and the faint scent of acrylic paint lingering in the air.

  Xander turned, scanning the space. Something felt…off. His eyes landed on the empty spot behind his desk where his latest painting should’ve been. His brows furrowed in confusion. The hells?

  Stepping back into the hallway, he padded toward his parents’ room, the soft carpet muffling his steps. He knocked a few times, opening the door when a muffled acknowledgement came from the other side.

  “Hey, have you guys seen my painting?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

  Inside, his parents were sprawled out on their bed, each absorbed in their respective books. It was quite cute actually—they each had on a pair of reading glasses, though he was sure they didn’t really need them.

  His mom, Mary, lowered her glasses slightly and gave him a knowing look. “Oh, right! You know Sally—the one who did your prints last time? We thought you’d want some prints, so we sent it to her for you.”

  Xander blinked, the tension in his shoulders easing. That actually made sense. He’d been meaning to get prints made but honestly had forgotten about it.

  “Cool,” he nodded. He liked sharing his work in the shop’s downstairs lobby and reading rooms—usually just hanging up the prints next to the customized wall art they had. Customers occasionally complimented the pieces, surprised when they learned he’d made them. He’d assumed they were just being polite, but he liked offering prints anyway. Apparently his parent’s friends liked his work as well so they’d ask.

  “That piece was beautiful, boy,” his father said, giving him a faint smile. But as he spoke again, the warmth in his expression dimmed. “Though I can’t help but ask…is that how you really feel? Like you’re being forced to work here?”

  Xander hesitated, caught off guard.

  His mom chimed in immediately, her tone gentle but firm. “You know we’ve always supported you. If this isn’t something you want to be doing, we’d never force you.”

  He shook his head quickly, stepping farther into the room. “No, no—it’s not like that. It’s just…more about me feeling like I’m not in control of my life.” His voice wavered, the words spilling out faster than he meant. “I don’t know what I want to do, and that’s the problem.”

  Mary set her book aside and stood, crossing the room to cup his cheek in her hand. Her touch was warm and grounding, her gaze steady.

  “Don’t be in such a rush to grow up,” she said softly, her words carrying an undercurrent of something deeper. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Enjoy the present—the normalcy, the stillness. One day, you might find you’ll miss these moments. So, just for a little while longer, be a kid.”

  Her words struck a chord deep within him, triggering something he didn’t fully understand. After a beat of silence, he nodded—murmuring, “Yeah…you’re right.”

  She smiled gently, patting his cheek before glancing down at his stomach. “Someone had a feast,” she teased, her tone lighthearted, clearly trying to lift the mood.

  From the bed, Jermaine snickered. “Looks like you ate the whole damn menu!”

  “Hey!” Xander scowled, though a grin tugged at his lips. “Jor’dan took me to the Siren’s Touch. He practically forced me to stuff myself.”

  His dad let out a low whistle. “Damn, must’ve been nice. Honey,” he turned to Mary, “when’s the last time we went there?”

  Mary settled back onto the bed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Had to be a few years ago—our anniversary, I think. Definitely set the bar.” She looked back at Xander, a soft smile curling her lips. “That Jor’dan is a good boy. You’d better bring him around the shop next time you two get together—I haven’t seen him in ages.”

  “I will, Mom,” Xander said, shaking his head as he started to leave. “Night, guys—and…sorry about earlier. I had a great birthday.”

  They both gave him matching looks of understanding.

  “Of course, son,” Jermaine said softly.

  Xander nodded, retreating to his room. He flopped onto his bed with a contented sigh, the full weight of the day sinking into him. His stomach was full, his heart warm, and the comforting scent of sandalwood still lingered in the air. Within moments, he drifted off into a deep, satisfied sleep.