Dawn was a gray blur when Emilia slipped out of the mansion, wrapped in a tattered cloak that reeked of mildew and old leather. Her disguise was complete: worn boots, baggy trousers, a tunic that hid her curves, and a wide-brimmed hat that kept her face in shadow. Her hair, too long to go unnoticed, was pinned tightly under the hat, and a leather mask covered the lower half of her face, leaving only her eyes visible. A smear of soot on her cheeks sealed the illusion. She wasn’t Celeste of Varnholt, the pampered noble. She was a nameless adventurer, a nobody in a world that devoured the weak.

  The thousand gold coins, sewn into a pouch inside her tunic, weighed like a sentence. She had swayed Baron Dietrich and Lady Isolde with a mix of arrogance and pleading, but the lie about “supplies” wouldn’t hold up under much scrutiny. Lysa was already suspicious, and the servants whispered about her erratic behavior. Emilia had three days before questions turned into trouble. Three days to reach Port Shadow, find Marcus the Blind, buy a slime, and return without anyone unraveling her deception.

  The baron had insisted(On an escort, but Emilia had haggled it down to a single guard: Torren, the young man who had struck her during training. He was inexperienced but loyal, and more importantly, he didn’t ask questions. Torren waited by the stables, adjusting the reins of two horses. His fresh scar gleamed in the dim light, and his eyes widened when he saw her.

  “Miss… is that you?” he stammered, correcting himself before saying “Miss Celeste.”

  “It’s me,” Emilia said, lowering her voice to sound gruffer. “And to everyone else, I’m a traveler named Elias. Got it?”

  Torren nodded, though his confusion was plain. “Yes, uh, Elias. Where are we going exactly?”

  “Port Shadow,” she replied, mounting her horse with a motion she hoped looked confident. “And don’t ask questions. Just keep your eyes open.”

  The journey began in silence, the road winding through fog-draped hills. The air smelled of damp earth and pine, but there was an undercurrent of rot, as if the dungeons beneath the ground exhaled their poison. Emilia kept her posture tense, alert to every sound. Rumors of rifts in the forest, portals to the dungeons, haunted her. If a creature like the scaled wolf had reached the mansion, the open road was an even greater risk.

  The first obstacle came at dusk, when the path narrowed into a gorge flanked by cliffs. An overturned cart blocked the way, with sacks of grain scattered and a dead horse torn apart at the roadside. The blood was still fresh, mingled with a black ichor Emilia recognized at once: a dungeon creature. Torren dismounted, spear in hand, and she followed, adjusting her mask to ensure it stayed in place.

  “Stay back,” Torren whispered, but Emilia ignored him, drawing a dagger she’d pilfered from the storeroom. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the creak of branches in the wind. Then a low growl echoed from the bushes.

  The creature lunged like a shadow: a feline the size of a wolf, with scales instead of fur and four eyes glowing like embers. Its curved, scythe-like claws tore into the ground. Torren raised his spear, but panic made him slow. Emilia acted on instinct, diving forward and plunging the dagger into the beast’s flank. The blade sank in, but not deeply enough. The creature roared, turning on her with terrifying speed.

  The fight was chaos. Torren finally reacted, driving his spear into the monster’s back, but a claw raked his leg, drawing a scream. Emilia felt the aura surge, a desperate heat that lent her strength. She struck again, this time aiming for an eye. The dagger sank with a wet squelch, and the creature collapsed, blood and black fluids splattering the ground. Emilia staggered back, panting, her mask sticky with sweat.

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  Torren was on the ground, clutching his leg. The wound was deep, with shredded flesh exposed, but not fatal if treated quickly. Emilia tore a strip from her cloak and bound it around the injury, ignoring his protests. “Hold on,” she said, her voice cracked but steady. “We’re heading to a nearby village.”

  She helped Torren mount, leaving the dead horse and cart behind. The nearest village, a dismal place called Gray Hollow, was an hour away. There, a healer stitched Torren’s leg while Emilia paid with a few gold coins, keeping her mask on and her story as “Elias, an adventurer.” Torren, pale but grateful, promised not to speak of the incident. Emilia wasn’t sure she could trust him, but she had no choice.

  Port Shadow appeared at noon on the second day, a maze of rotting docks and buildings that looked ready to collapse. The air stank of fish, sweat, and something darker, like dried blood. Emilia, still as Elias, left Torren at an inn with orders to rest. “I’ll be back before nightfall,” she lied, knowing the black market was no place for an injured guard.

  The port’s alleys were a world of their own. Scarred men played dice in corners, while women in scant dresses called to passersby from doorways lit by red lanterns. Brothels, illegal but brazen, competed with casinos where the clink of coins mingled with shouts of triumph and defeat. Emilia kept her head down, feeling the stares of thugs and drunks. The mask gave her some anonymity, but the weight of the coins in her tunic made her feel like a target.

  Finding Marcus the Blind was no easy task. She asked around in a dive bar, using a handful of coins to loosen tongues. Finally, a man with rotting teeth pointed her to a warehouse on the west dock, guarded by two thugs with short swords. Emilia approached, her heart pounding, and muttered Marcus’s name. One of the guards, with a scar crossing his eye, sized her up.

  “What’s a scrawny thing like you want?” he growled.

  “A slime,” Emilia replied, keeping her voice low. “I’ve got gold.”

  The guard laughed but let her pass. The warehouse was a chaos of cages, filled with creatures that growled, screeched, or simply stared with hungry eyes. Ash hounds, shadow weavers, even a bird with metallic feathers. But in a corner, in a glass tank, were slimes: gelatinous masses in dull colors, moving like living water. They were small, the size of a pumpkin, and lacked the grotesque eyes or sharp teeth of the other beasts. Emilia felt an odd relief. They were… cute, in a pathetic way.

  Marcus the Blind turned out to be not blind at all. He was a gaunt man with gray eyes that seemed to see through her. “A slime, eh?” he said, his voice a hiss. “Five hundred coins for a basic one. A thousand if you want one with some spark.”

  Emilia haggled, using every trick she’d learned in the orphanage markets. They settled on seven hundred coins for a green slime with a glowing core, supposedly more adaptable. Marcus handed her a crystal orb to contain it, along with a scroll of instructions. “Don’t let it die,” he warned. “And if you get caught, you never saw me.”

  Emilia left the warehouse with the orb hidden under her cloak, a mix of triumph and terror coursing through her. She had the slime, but Port Shadow still had too many eyes. As she made her way back to the inn, a hand grabbed her from an alley. It was a young woman, her dress barely covering her body, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Looking for some fun, adventurer?” she whispered, stepping so close Emilia could smell the liquor on her breath. The scene was raw, charged with an energy that screamed danger and desire. Emilia backed away, muttering an excuse, but the woman laughed, her hand brushing toward Emilia’s waist before she broke free.

  “No thanks,” Emilia said, her voice tight, and quickened her pace. The encounter left her trembling, not from fear, but from the certainty that Port Shadow could swallow her whole if she let her guard down.

  Reunited with Torren, Emilia announced they’d return to the mansion at dawn. The slime, secure in its orb, was her first step toward strength. But as they rode beneath a sky bleeding red, she knew the real challenge lay ahead. The mansion, Lysa, the dungeons—they were all waiting, and she’d have to face them with more than a gelatinous creature and a disguise.