The masochists

The Hollow Veil was alive with murmurs, conversations whispered between figures cloaked in shadow. The air smelled of aged wood, burning incense, and something heavier—something unseen but felt. The weight of countless secrets pressed against the walls, coiling like smoke above the dimly lit bar.

Elara moved carefully, aware of the eyes tracking her every step. These weren't ordinary patrons. Some carried the same aura as her, the unmistakable presence of Soul Bonders. Others were something different—watchers, informants, perhaps even killers.

Rael walked ahead of her, his presence commanding yet unreadable. The bartender, the silver-eyed woman, met his gaze as they reached the counter. She didn't speak at first, just wiped down a glass before setting it aside.

"It's been a while," she finally said, her voice smooth, almost amused.

Rael smirked. "Miss me, Vera?"

Vera snorted, leaning on the counter. "Hardly. But you don't show up here unless something's gone sideways." Her eyes flicked to Elara. "And I see you've brought someone new."

Elara felt the scrutiny in her gaze, sharp as a blade. She squared her shoulders but said nothing.

Rael didn't hesitate. "She needs information on the Eclipse Syndicate."

Vera's expression didn't change, but the air around them did. The conversations in the bar softened, some voices outright disappearing. The very mention of the name sent ripples through the room.

Vera exhaled through her nose. "You don't ask about them, Rael."

"We just did."

She clicked her tongue, glancing toward the far end of the bar. "They already know you're looking."

Elara tensed. "How?"

Vera's silver eyes flicked back to her. "Because they always know."

A prickle ran down Elara's spine. She had expected the Eclipse Syndicate to be powerful, but this was something else. They weren't just an organization—they were a presence, a force that lurked beneath the surface of the city, always watching, always listening.

Rael leaned on the counter. "We need to know who came for her."

Vera sighed, reaching under the bar. She pulled out a small, obsidian coin and slid it toward them. "A marker," she said. "Left for you after your little encounter. They don't leave these unless they're interested."

Elara picked up the coin. It was cold to the touch, unnaturally so. The symbol etched into its surface—a crescent moon bisected by a jagged line—felt almost alive beneath her fingers.

"They've marked you," Vera said. "You don't get to run from this."

Elara tightened her grip on the coin. "Then I don't run."

Vera studied her for a moment before chuckling. "Bold. Let's see if you can back it up."

She turned, gesturing to a shadowed booth in the corner of the bar. "Someone's been waiting for you."

Elara and Rael followed her gaze. A figure sat alone, hood pulled low, fingers tracing the rim of a glass.

Elara inhaled deeply, steeling herself. Whatever answers she was about to get, she knew one thing for certain.

There was no turning back now.