By the time they reached The Jade Lamp, Cinder's mood had soured like old milk. The neighborhood was shabby and obviously targeted towards travelers on a shoestring budget. Drab buildings leaned precariously, their windows covered by frayed curtains or boarded over. The whole area smelled of must, sweat, and low tide at the peak of summer.

  "This looks promising," Ember said, though the wrinkle in her nose betrayed her doubt.

  "I imagine we'll be cozy," Ash agreed.

  Cinder stared at them, dumbfounded. "This place looks like a strong breeze away from an outbreak of dysentery."

  "Right, so let's secure lodgings and move on," Ember replied, nudging Cinder towards the door.

  Inside was an improvement, if just barely. Candles flickered in sconces set at random intervals along the walls, casting uneven shadows across threadbare rugs and furniture that looked sturdy but had clearly seen better days. Behind a low counter, an older woman was furiously scribbling in a ledger.

  Madam Segawa, presumably, matriarch and proprietress of The Jade Lamp. A faded, possibly silk dress draped loosely from her wiry frame, and an embroidered shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Cinder was reminded of a once-regal dowager, now fallen on hard times. A pair of silver-rimmed spectacles balanced on her nose, and her steely hair was pulled into a tight bun.

  Ember cleared her throat. "Good day, ma'am. We're travelers in need of lodgings for the night."

  Segawa didn't look up, just pointed a gnarled finger at the board on the wall behind her. "Board costs five silvers for a bed and two meals. Bathroom's communal." She paused and her eyes narrowed as she looked at them from the board she was studying. "That's per person."

  "That's highway robbery." Cinder bristled. "Twenty-five silvers!"

  "Haven't you heard? Robbery's all the rage in the Eridus Valley." Segawa peered at them over her spectacles. "If the price isn't to your liking, I can direct you to several establishments that'll cater to your frugalities." Her tone implied their options would be equally unappealing.

  "That won't be necessary," Ember cut in before Cinder could ignite. "Twenty-five silvers is quite reasonable. Isn't that right, Cinder?"

  The flash of warning in Ember's eyes told Cinder all she needed to know. Grudgingly, she handed over their coins, glaring at Segawa the entire time. The woman just cackled and pocketed the money.

  "I'm guessing that two more of you are wandering about."

  "They're sightseeing," Ember confirmed. "They'll arrive presently."

  "Bet they will," Segawa muttered. "Sign the registry, then. I'll have Rose show you to the room."

  The "registry" turned out to be a tattered book full of smeared and illegible signatures. Cinder made a point of writing their names in crisp, bold script. Let Segawa make of that what she will, she thought bitterly.

  Segawa motioned towards an adolescent girl reading by the fire. "Rose!" she snapped, making the poor girl flinch. "Show our new guests to... Room Four." She flashed a humorless smile. "Since there's five of you, you can share the quintuple."

  "Thank you, Madam Segawa," Ember replied, ever gracious.

  "I'm sure it will be lovely," Ash added, echoing the sentiment.

  They followed Rose up a narrow staircase, dimly lit by flickering lamps set in recessed alcoves. She walked slowly, favoring her right leg, and leaning heavily against the railing. Each step was an effort, but she never faltered or voiced any complaint.

  After what felt like an age, they reached a wooden door at the end of a long, shadowy hall. Rose fumbled with a ring of keys before finding the correct one and clicking open the lock.

  "There you go," she mumbled, barely making eye contact. "Let me know if you need anything." Then she disappeared down the stairs before anyone could reply.

  The room itself was cramped, containing five cots crammed into the tight space. A lone window overlooked the street below, while a rickety table sat by the door with a candle and tinderbox.

  "What a luxury," Cinder sneered, igniting the wick with a snap of her fingers. The flames leapt greedily to life, dancing wildly.

  Ember settled onto one of the cots, only for it to emit a screech of protest. She winced and shifted her weight. "It's no palace, but it's shelter. And that's better than camping in some dank alley."

  Cinder sighed, dropping heavily onto her own cot. "You always see the sunny side, don't you?"

  "It's a choice," Ember said, fixing Cinder with a pointed look. "You could try it sometime."

  "Hope things are better on their end," Cinder muttered.

  There was something about a new city, Kindle mused, that brought out the explorer in everyone. Maybe it was the promise of new experiences, undiscovered gems hiding in plain sight, or simply the thrill of the unknown. Whatever it was, the infectious energy had infected Pyra with a particularly severe case of wanderlust.

  "C'mon!" Pyra bounced from foot to foot, her exuberance threatening to boil over into chaos. She tugged at Kindle's arm, jerking her off balance as she darted forward, only to be reined in by Kindle's cautious grip.

  "I'm not a dog," Kindle protested. "Use your words."

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Pyra's pout had the power to melt glaciers. Or set them ablaze. Kindle couldn't decide which was more likely.

  "I just... Look at it!" she exclaimed, flinging her arms wide. "It's like Christmas morning, only the whole city's a present!"

  "That... doesn't actually narrow it down." Kindle chuckled. "But I get the sentiment."

  And she did. Amaranth was a feast for the senses, with its labyrinthine streets, colorful storefronts, and the ambient magic that hung in the air like a heady perfume.

  Plus, everything was just so pretty.

  Everywhere they looked, there was something to marvel at—from the soaring towers of the Magisterium to the simple delight of magically lit lanterns lining the streets. The whole place had a distinctly 'enchanting' feel.

  Just then, a tall, thin humanoid creature passed them, its skin mottled green and blue. Insectoid eyes regarded them impassively, while four gangly limbs moved with an almost boneless grace.

  Kindle watched as the creature vanished down an alley. "Guess humans aren't the only ones calling this place home."

  "Have I mentioned how much I love it here?" Pyra gushed. "It's like a living, breathing storybook!"

  As they pressed deeper into the city, the architecture grew more extravagant. Buildings rose taller, adorned with elaborate stonework and stained glass. Even the cobblestones seemed to gleam with a pearlescent sheen.

  It was like someone had taken the romanticized image of a medieval city and injected it with pure, unfiltered whimsy. A part of Kindle's heart ached at the beauty of it all—and also at Pyra's wonderstruck expression.

  "And you say I'm easy to please," Kindle teased. "Look at you, all moony-eyed over some pretty lights."

  "What can I say?" Pyra replied, draping herself over Kindle's shoulder. "I'm a sucker for ambiance."

  "You're a sucker for anything that catches your eye." Kindle leaned her head against Pyra's. "Speaking of... anything jumping out at you as particularly noteworthy?"

  Pyra tapped her chin in an exaggerated display of thoughtfulness. "Hmm, not yet. It's all too perfect, you know? Like a puzzle with no missing pieces."

  "You're overthinking it," Kindle said, extricating herself from Pyra's grasp and walking on. "Sometimes a street is just a street."

  Pyra kept pace, practically skipping with every step. "I know, but—well, okay, imagine the whole city is a picture." She waved her hand expansively at their surroundings. "And it's this huge, gorgeous oil painting, but there's this one tiny brushstroke that's just out of place. That's what I'm looking for—the anomaly that makes everything else make sense."

  Kindle eyed her sidelong. "Is that your artistic or your narratively-curious side talking?"

  "Both," Pyra replied with a grin. "Art imitates life, and all that."

  "Right." Kindle hooked her arm through Pyra's. "Well then, let's go find us an anomaly."

  They wandered on, arm in arm, following the winding streets wherever their whims took them. Every so often, one would point out an interesting feature—a mural, an ornate shop window, or simply the play of light and shadow in a secluded alleyway.

  Despite her promise, Pyra couldn't help touching, examining, and exclaiming over everything they encountered. Kindle offered apologetic smiles to offended shopkeepers as she dragged Pyra away by the hand.

  It was near a fountain shaped like a stylized flame (which Pyra declared "totally their aesthetic") that they overheard a conversation that caught their attention.

  "—third contract this week from the Guild," a man in practical armor was saying to his companion. "Pays better than city patrol, that's for sure."

  "Adventurers always claim the best jobs," his friend replied with a snort. "Meanwhile, we're stuck chasing pickpockets and settling tavern brawls. It's a thankless task, I tell you."

  "Maybe I should apply," the first man mused. "Guild membership means operating outside regular restrictions. No more filing reports in triplicate."

  Pyra swiveled toward Kindle, her eyes aglow. "Did you hear that? There's an adventurers' guild here!"

  "Let's not get ahead of ourselves..." Kindle cautioned, but Pyra was already bounding over to the two guards.

  "Excuse me!" she chirped, tapping the taller of the two on the shoulder.

  The guard startled at the tap, whirling around with one hand already moving to his sword hilt. When he saw Pyra—perky, excitable, and about as threatening as a basket of kittens—the fight drained out of his posture.

  "Yes, miss?" he asked, his tone polite but wary. "Is something amiss?"

  "Not at all!" Pyra gave a sunny smile, as if charming suspicious guardsmen was an everyday activity for her. "I overheard mention of an adventurers' guild. Could you point us in the right direction?"

  The guards exchanged glances, the universal language of 'who's going to deal with this one?'

  The shorter of the two scratched at his beard before replying. "If you insist. But, and I mean this kindly, young miss—adventuring is no game. It's bloody, dangerous work. The Guild isn't a tourist attraction. They're licensed professionals who handle dangerous contracts."

  "Like monster extermination? Ancient tomb exploration? Rescuing kidnapped royalty?" Pyra's eyes widened with each suggestion, her hair turning ablaze until Kindle discreetly pinched her elbow.

  The taller guard snorted. "More like collecting overdue debts and escorting merchants through bandit territory." He eyed her flame-colored hair. "You some kind of fire mage?"

  "Something like that," Kindle interjected before Pyra could launch into their complicated backstory. "Would fire magic be useful for Guild work?"

  The short guard shrugged. "Depends on your control. Wild flames are common enough, but targeted work? That's valuable."

  "Oh, we can be very targeted," Pyra assured him with a grin that should have sent rational people running for safety. "Super precise. Laser-like, even."

  Kindle resisted the urge to cover her face. "What my sister means is that we have practical combat experience. Where might we find this Guild?"

  "Third tier, east quadrant," the taller guard replied, pointing toward the inner city. "Green dome with bronze fixtures. Can't miss it." His eyes narrowed. "Though fair warning—they don't take just anyone. Testing's rigorous."

  "We love tests!" Pyra bounced on her toes. "Especially the kind with practical demonstrations!"

  The guards exchanged another glance, this one carrying notes of 'not our problem anymore.'

  "Just remember to register with the Magisterium first," the second guard added. "Unregistered magic use is—"

  "Punishable by fines, imprisonment, or expulsion," Kindle finished smoothly. "Yes, we've been informed. Thank you both for your help."

  As they walked away, Kindle bumped Pyra's shoulder with her own. "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

  "What? I was gathering information." Pyra's innocent expression wouldn't have fooled a nearsighted toddler. "Besides, did you hear what he said? An actual Adventurers' Guild! With contracts and everything! This is exactly what we need!"

  "We need to find the others and discuss it," Kindle countered, steering them toward a less crowded street. "Plus, we should probably locate this Chronicle House where we can contact the Mnemosynes."

  "But Kindle!" Pyra protested, dragging out the vowels. "Adventurers! Danger! Excitement!"

  "Tomorrow! We gotta tell the others, then find that Mnemosyne to see if they can help with our uh, merging issue. Then we can visit the Adventurers' Guild."

  "Bor-ing." But Pyra fell in step beside her. "Okay, first things first, I guess. Then we're storming that guild!"