The Weeping Mermaid reeked of stale ale and salt, the air thick with the scent of unwashed bodies and burning tallow. I kept my head down as I wove through the crowded tavern, balancing a tray of drinks in one hand and dodging a particularly drunk sailor's clumsy attempt to grab my wrist.

  "Easy there, sweetheart," the man slurred, grinning with yellowed teeth.

  I gave him a tight smile and yanked my arm free. "Touch me again, and I'll pour your next drink over your head."

  Laughter erupted from a nearby table, drawing the man's attention away. I exhaled and moved quickly toward the bar, where Rogan was already lining up more mugs.

  "Yer holdin' up well," Rogan grunted as I set down the empty tray. "Most new girls either quit or get carried out."

  I wiped the sweat from my forehead. "It's just a job."

  He let out a raspy chuckle. "Aye, but not many got the grit for it. You keep that edge, you'll do fine."

  Before I could respond, the door banged open. The crowd barely reacted—storm-gusted winds and rowdy drunks were nothing new—but I knew better.

  Jax strolled in like he owned the place, his coat hanging open, dark hair tousled as if he'd just rolled out of trouble. His golden eyes scanned the room until they landed on me. With a grin, he made his way over.

  I groaned inwardly. "Not now, Jax."

  "Not even a warm welcome?" he said, leaning against the bar. "And here I thought you'd miss me."

  "I see enough of you as it is."

  He smirked, plucking an unattended mug from the counter and taking a sip. Rogan shot him a glare but didn't bother chasing him off—Jax was a known nuisance, but he had a habit of spending coin when he felt like it.

  "So," he drawled, "how's the honest life treating you?"

  I ignored him, collecting another round of drinks. He followed, sidestepping customers with effortless grace. "Really, Dawn, I'm impressed. Thought you'd last a day at most."

  I set the mugs down at a table without answering.

  Jax leaned in, lowering his voice. "You know, I heard something interesting today."

  I arched a brow. "And?"

  "Word is, the city's getting worse. People are vanishing—more than usual. Some say it's Uromodomiaz, others think it's something worse." He let the words hang in the air. "Thought you might like to know."

  I frowned. I had seen the city's decline firsthand, but now, new anomalies were beginning to surface in this forsaken land.

  The nation of Ara wasn't the only constellation fading from the celestial sphere. Ever since the Goddess perished, the eighty-eight constellations had begun to fall—one by one—erased by malice, hatred, or the death of their gods. The northern hemisphere was in ruins, with only ten of its thirty-six nations remaining. The southern hemisphere fared little better, with twenty-four constellations left, most of them on the brink of collapse, one of them is where I live.

  Esther liked to bring home whatever scraps of news she could gather while working or searching for jobs, but the stories were always the same—death, war, suffering. The world was unraveling, and yet no one was doing a damn thing to stop it.

  Not the Gods, not the imperial kingdom, not the church, nor the so-called holy blessed nations.

  Cowards. Liars. Incompetent bastards, all of them. Sitting in their gilded halls, whispering empty prayers and counting their coin while the rest of us rot.

  I snatched a rag off the counter and wiped down the table, my tone dry. "Wouldn't be surprised if that psycho snake—Uromo-whatever—decided to pick this place clean for more sheep."

  Jax chuckled, unfazed by my sarcasm. "You've got a way with words, don't you?" He took another sip from his mug, leaning against the bar as if he were talking about the weather. "But I wouldn't be too quick to dismiss him. Uromodomiaz might be crazy, but he's got a following. Can't be that bad if people are flocking to him, right?"

  I shot him a glance, annoyed at how easily he seemed to shrug off everything. "Don't make it sound so simple. You're just as much a parasite as the rest of 'em, feeding off whatever you can. At least they have a cause—no matter how insane it is."

  "Everyone's got their cause, Dawn," he said, shrugging lazily. "Doesn't mean it's worth anything. People are desperate, looking for someone to believe in, even if it's a madman with a crown made of lies. Hell, if I were in their shoes, I'd be looking for a savior too. Who wouldn't?"

  I clenched my jaw, wiping down another table with unnecessary force. "I'm not the one looking for salvation."

  He raised a brow, his grin still in place. "Really? Then why're you working here? You could be out there taking what you want, like always. Instead, you're wasting your time serving drunk assholes. Seems to me like you're looking for something too."

  I didn't answer immediately, the weight of his words sitting heavy in my chest. It wasn't so much the truth of them that bothered me—it was the fact that he could so easily see through me.

  Instead, I wiped my hands on the rag and leaned back against the counter, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. "I'm just trying to survive. That's more than enough."

  He smirked, leaning in closer, his voice quieter now. "And you think the rest of us aren't? The world isn't going to hand you anything. If you want to get ahead, you gotta take it."

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  I didn't respond, but the unease in my gut twisted tighter. He was right about one thing—the world wasn't going to hand me anything. I had learned that the hard way. But I wasn't about to fall into whatever trap he was trying to lure me into.

  "Remind me again why you're bothering me while I'm at work?"

  Jax, still lounging against the bar as if he owned the place, smirked. "You know, you're a hell of a lot more interesting when you're annoyed. Most people just let me ruffle their feathers and move on."

  I rolled my eyes. "You're not special. You just know how to push buttons."

  "Well," he shrugged nonchalantly, "I guess I'm just that charming."

  I didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, I glanced over at a group of rowdy sailors who had spilled their drinks all over the floor. This is just my second day. Please, Gods, wherever you are, give me the strength to survive this, or I might just strangle someone.

  Before I could deal with the mess, Rogan slammed a fresh tray of drinks onto the counter, sloshing ale over the edges of the mugs. "Quit standin' around. Got paying customers."

  I bit back a groan, grabbing the tray and weaving through the crowded tavern. Jax, of course, followed, keeping pace with an infuriating ease.

  "You really gonna ignore me?" he mused, sidestepping a stumbling drunk without missing a beat.

  "That was the plan."

  "Cold, Dawn. Real cold."

  I reached the table and dropped the mugs down harder than necessary, earning a few grumbles but no real complaints. The sailors were already too deep in their cups to care.

  Jax leaned casually against the chair beside me, watching me work with lazy amusement. "So, tell me something."

  I didn't answer. Didn't even look at him.

  He pressed on anyway. "If you're so dead set on scraping by in a place like this, why not pack up and leave? You and Esther could find a cleaner city, one that's not rotting from the inside out."

  I stilled for half a second before forcing myself to move again. "Not everyone has the luxury of running away."

  "That's the thing, though." Jax took another sip from his stolen drink, unfazed. "It's not a luxury. You just have to know how to do it."

  I turned toward him fully, locking eyes with a sharp glare. "Oh, wow. Didn't know that. What a brilliant idea. Golly, why didn't I think of that years ago? Thanks for the sage advice, wise sir."

  Jax chuckled, unfazed by my sarcasm. "Don't mention it," he said with a lazy grin. "Just trying to help you out."

  My fingers curled around my raggedy shirt, grip tightening. "This city isn't a loss. Not yet."

  Jax watched me, that easy smirk of his fading just a little, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. For once, he didn't have a snarky retort ready.

  A chair scraped loudly across the floor, breaking whatever moment had settled between us. One of the sailors stood, his movements sluggish, his eyes glazed.

  I knew the look. He was looking for a fight.

  He wasn't the only one. Across the tavern, another group was getting rowdy, voices rising, the tension crackling like a storm about to break. Rogan was already making his way around the counter, rubbing at his knuckles like he was hoping for an excuse.

  Jax sighed, setting down his drink. "Well, this just got interesting."

  I shot him a look. "Try not to get involved."

  He grinned, already stepping back into the shadows. "No promises."

  And then, like clockwork, the first punch was thrown.

  ~

  The brawl that followed was chaotic, but it didn't last long—drunk men weren't known for their stamina. By the time Rogan had made his way through the chaos, fists flying and curses laced thick in the air, the sailors had been dragged apart, shouting threats, but nobody had really been hurt. Not enough for anyone to care.

  I'd ducked out of the way early on, keeping my head down as I grabbed the mess tray and hurried to clear the tables. The floor was sticky with ale and blood, the air smelling even worse than it had before. My hands were raw from scrubbing at the stains that had soaked into the wood, my shirt clinging to my skin in the damp heat. My shift had barely ended, but it felt like I'd been working all day.

  Jax had disappeared back into the shadows, no doubt finding someone else to bother, and I couldn't be bothered to look for him. My head pounded from the noise and the tension; the last thing I wanted was his cocky grin staring back at me.

  The mess wasn't going to clean itself, though, and that was my responsibility. I hadn't signed up for this, but I sure as hell was going to finish it.

  As I worked, wiping down the counters, refilling mugs where they'd been knocked over, I tried to push out the thoughts swirling in my mind—thoughts of the city's rot, of Jax's words, of my inability to get out. The harder I scrubbed, the more I felt like I was just cleaning up a mess that was bigger than any one person could fix.

  Rogan had moved on to another task, but he shot me a glance over his shoulder, his eyes softening for a moment. "Yer a good kid, Dawn," he muttered, wiping his hands on his apron. "Most wouldn't have stuck around this long."

  I didn't respond. Didn't need to. I just kept working, my mind too tangled to care.

  By the time the tavern had cleared out—sailors stumbling off to their ships and a few drunks still draped over tables like ragdolls—I was bone-tired. My legs ached, my hands trembled from the strain, and my eyes stung from the lack of sleep.

  The air was cooler outside, but it did nothing to ease the ache in my body. The streets of Araes were quiet now, the chaotic energy of the tavern and the brawl still buzzing in my ears as I walked through the darkened city. The only sounds were the occasional scuff of my boots against the cobblestones and the distant murmur of the waves.

  I gripped the small leather pouch containing the copper coins I'd earned tonight. It wasn't much, but it would help. I had promised Esther I'd do whatever I could to cover our share of the rent. Mona's deadline was closing in, and I wasn't about to let her take our home.

  When I finally reached our little apartment, the door creaked open with familiar reluctance. The faint smell of stew lingered in the air, and I could hear the sound of Esther humming. She was always so cheerful, so full of energy, it was like the weight of the world never touched her.

  "Dawn!" she exclaimed, rushing over. "You're back! How was your shift?"

  "It was… long," I said, trying to hide the weariness in my voice as I dug into my pocket for the coins. "But I made enough for the rent this time. Here." I pulled out the coppers, holding them out to her.

  But Esther's smile only widened as she put a hand on mine, stopping me. "You don't need to worry about it, sis!" She beamed, practically glowing with excitement. "I paid the rent already!"

  I blinked, taken aback. "What? How? You don't—"

  "I got a bonus!" she interrupted, her eyes twinkling. "My boss gave me a bonus for the work I've been doing! Can you believe it?" Her voice was practically bubbling with joy, and I couldn't help but smile despite myself.

  "Esther, that's amazing!" I felt a rush of relief flood through me. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't on the edge of survival. We had enough. We could breathe for a while. "You deserve it."

  "Right?" she said, winking. "Now, the fun part. We're going out tonight! I was planning on cooking, but you know what? Tonight, we're getting something nice. You deserve it!"

  I raised an eyebrow at her. "Wait, you're not cooking?" I asked, a little amused.

  She shook her head, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "With you getting a job and me getting extra pay, I figure it's time we celebrate a little. It's not every day we get to do that." Her grin widened. "So, how about we head to the tavern, or maybe somewhere even better?" She nudged me playfully, already reaching for her coat.

  I laughed, feeling the weight of the day finally slip off my shoulders. "I'm in. Lead the way, Essie. I'm not about to turn down a night out with my favorite person."

  She winked, grabbing her purse. "Then it's settled. Let's go make tonight a good one, yeah?"

  With that, we walked out of our little apartment, side by side, heading toward whatever small joy this city still had to offer us. But for tonight, I didn't care about anything but being with Esther, celebrating a small victory that felt huge. A victory that was ours.