Veran walks into their office followed by their well covered guest and takes a seat on one side of a desk on a slightly broken office chair, how is it broken you ask? one of the wheels doesn't work but it's perfectly usable so Veran is adamant about using it to reduce waste and save costs

  Their guest takes a seat across from them and sits in silence.

  “Speak” Echoes out of Veran's mouth, the sound of their command engulfing the room.

  The clothed figure quickly pulls off their head covering revealing a human-like creature that would be indistinguishable from a normal human if it wasn't for the sharp pointy ears and the red hair that seemed to flow like fire itself.

  “I greet the Shepherd of the night, the one who guides those lost, the one who corrects the path, the one who culls the weeds–”

  “I am no shepherd.” As those words escaped Veran's lips it was as if the entire world held its breath until their next “that was a previous lifetime, a previous form, I'm just a human, a human who can lend a hand if it's truly needed, how can I help you? It’s rare that an elemental takes on a human form to come to this realm”

  “I am Iraphen of the divine fire bird clan, you are very correct. We of the elemental planes tend to not enter the mortal realm to avoid influencing the natural balance of wherever we are, however there are exceptions. One of which is our coming of age, where we set out to explore as many realms as possible so we can gain a better understanding of the balance in which we are part of”

  “This usually happens once we have passed our 1000th cycle, however I am very sure that one such as yourself knows that it has nothing to do with time but how much ether we can hold. My sister is only 300 cycles, but a child by our standard however the ether they command is far past the level of an adult of our clan and as such, I was no longer able to refuse our clan elder’s commands to send them to their travels”

  “Can you please get to the point” Veran says listful but also absently as if they had heard this a million times before.

  “I apologise oh shepherd” said Iraphen

  “I’m not a- Oh never mind, carry on” Said Veran Begrudgingly

  “My sister has been enjoying her time in the mortal realm but recently her messages have grown infrequent, which wouldn’t have been a concern if her safety talisman hadn’t been broken and alerted me. I’ve been unable to trace her and the domicile she was using has been ransacked. Oh Shepherd, I am but one of the lost, In the name of the pact of the 12 rea-”

  Veran’s fist thundered against the desk “Stop right there, don’t you dare use that damn pact with me, I was gonna help you regardless. you do not wanna bring the old ways into this, it doesn’t end well for either of us! and secondly. I don’t even know if the pact will work in my current form and unless I am about to turn into a human souffle, I do not wanna find out. Understood?” Veran Stares at Iraphen, their eyes as dark as the abyss itself, the shadows in the room all coming to life and inching closer towards Iraphen

  Iraphen realising the severity of the situation promptly says “yes sir”

  The room and Veran swiftly return to normal “now, I’ll help you find your sister, it shouldn’t be too hard, I’m assuming you still have the tradition of keeping an ember of your family members before they start their journey. Give it to me and stay here, I'll find her before the night is over.

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  Iraphen, visibly relieved but still shaken, reached into his robes and produced a small, pulsating ember. It glowed with an ethereal red, casting dancing shadows on the walls. "This is a part of her essence, entrusted to me before she embarked on her journey."

  Veran took the ember, its warmth strangely comforting against their skin. As they closed their eyes, the world around them dissolved into a swirling vortex of sensations. They could feel the city's heartbeat, its myriad energies thrumming like a symphony.

  Veran spread their will across London, their grace touching all corners of the city. However not long after, a flood of dark energies began to gnaw at Veran’s consciousness, archaic and esoteric evils began to awaken and claw at them but just as they began to make an actual dent on Veran’s psyche, they receded and calmed themselves as if waiting for a command. Veran willed the darkness to search for the traces of who they sought.

  The shadows spread across the city slowly touching and consuming every sensation, pulse and beat of information the city could provide. Amidst this cacophony, a faint but distinct melody called out to Veran - the echo of Iraphen's sister.

  The vision cleared, and Veran saw her: a figure amidst a dimly lit alleyway, her fiery hair a stark contrast against the grime-stained bricks. She was cornered, her expression a mixture of defiance and fear.

  Veran's eyes snapped open. "Stay here" he commanded Iraphen, their voice brooking no argument. They strode out of the office, the ember clutched tightly in their hand, a sense of urgency propelling them forward. The night was still young, and they had a rescue to perform.

  Veran entered the main bar area once again and could see Tati sat by the bar with her laptop open, typing away as they finished up the reports for the night. Veran steps through the space and heads towards the exit, their footsteps firm but traceless as if they could disappear at any moment.

  “T, I'm heading out, I'll open tomorrow instead of you. get some rest and thanks as always” says Veran as they get to the door “also Jonesie, remember to restock the fridges tonight, Lillian is doing their second open tomorrow, make their life easier”

  Jonesie’s head pops up from underneath the bar counter and chimes quickly “yes chef”

  Veran grabs the keys from their pocket and unlocks the door and swiftly steps out into the night.

  Lillian pokes their head out of the barback area with a pondering look “so what does Veran actually do on these consults? their whole vibe changes the moment they start, he g- sorry they get so stern whenever one comes up”

  both Tati and Jonesie both speak simultaneously “you don't need to know, it's not related to the bar” “you'll find out when you're all grown up”

  Ricardo just quietly sips his beer while he preys his old friend has a peaceful endeavour, the scar that runs across his left cheek warming up as if to remind him of the past.

  Veran could feel the cold city air rush up against their skin, their breath creating clouds of hot vapour as they began to walk down the street.

  As they get further away they make a passing glance back towards the bar, their eyes already showing signs of missing the place, the dark blue exterior, the small but elegant windows and the sign they painted themself. ‘The Blind Spot’

  Veran points their gaze forward as they steady themself for the night ahead, they pass the little empanada store that's a few doors down from the bar, the lack of lights and the closed door seemingly reminding Veran that they themselves lacked food for the day too.

  ‘I can already hear Mel's nagging already, I hope she's okay’ Veran walks for a few more minutes before getting to a small door, one of the many nondescript doors to a flat in London.

  Veran uses their keys to enter their flat entrance, they quietly shut the door behind them, so as not to disturb their neighbours. Quickly making their way up the stairs to their flat door and stealthily entering their flat.

  The moment they close the door behind them, they quickly toss off their apron and throw into the living room as they pass it.

  They grab their shirt by the collar and pull it off from their body as they toss it into the laundry bin in the corridor.

  They get to the end of the corridor, passing their bedroom and heading straight to a door with a keypad lock on it. Their expression devoid of compassion as they enter the six-digit code.

  In this stark and sterile room, the atmosphere was cold and unforgiving. A steel table occupied the centre, and black heavy-duty military style footlockers lined the walls, each holding a sinister secret. This room was devoid of warmth, devoid of life.

  Veran moved past the footlockers into an adjacent space, flipping on the harsh overhead lights. They leaned over the sink, splashing water on their face and catching their reflection in the mirror. Their dark brown eyes gleamed with exhaustion, their jet black black hair dishevelled.

  Glancing at the time, they realised it was running out. "No time for a shower” they muttered as they attempted to neaten their hair with wet hands.

  In the adjoining main room, they dressed in a sombre grey jumper and black trousers, throwing on a worn black topcoat. Laced leather boots completed the grim ensemble. Turning to a small plastic case, they uncovered a cache of weapons—throwing knives, handguns, holsters, handcuffs, and bottles of pills.

  With precision born of practice, they concealed the throwing knives within the coat's lining and strapped on the holsters. Pills and handcuffs found their place in their jacket pockets. Checking the time once more, 3:30 am. It was time to leave.