The smells hit him first - fresh bread from market stalls, metal and magic from the smithies, salt air from seas that shouldn't exist. Duskreach received its newest visitor with a symphony of sensory input that somehow felt both alien and familiar. Solstice moved through the Western Gate like he'd done it a thousand times before, though he couldn't quite remember any specific instance.

  The guards gave him only passing notice, their twilight-touched armor shifting like liquid shadow as they maintained their watch. Something about how he carried himself must have suggested belonging - or perhaps they were simply used to dreamers finding their way into the city, each one trying to understand this realm between sleeping and waking.

  Market Square spread before him in geometric patterns that ignored normal urban planning. Stalls and shops clustered in arrangements that changed when viewed from different angles, while merchants called out wares that shouldn't exist. A weaponsmith worked steel that glowed with possibility, each hammer strike sending cascades of potential futures into the air. Nearby, a potion vendor's bottles contained everything from bottled starlight to distilled memory.

  Solstice's barriers hummed quietly, responding to the dream-touched power flowing through the city's streets. Each district seemed to pulse with its own rhythm - the Market's energetic commerce, the Guild Quarter's measured purpose, the noble estates' cold hauteur. He found himself automatically mapping defensible positions and exit routes, combat instincts carrying over even in this impossible place.

  "You have a warrior's eyes, dear." The voice belonged to an old woman who somehow hadn't been there a moment before. She sat in the Market's only empty corner, knitting something that seemed to shift colors as her needles clicked. "Always watching, always calculating, even here where physics takes creative liberties."

  Something about her presence reminded him of the Dreamweaver - that sense of something vast compressed into simple form. But where the Dreamweaver had felt alien, she radiated a grandmother's warmth. If grandmothers were secretly cosmic forces.

  "Who are you?"

  "Just an old woman who likes to help lost souls find their way." Her knitting needles never stopped moving. "Though some call me Fate, when they're being formal. Come along, dear. Duskreach waits for no one, not even death's latest returnee."

  She rose with impossible grace, her simple dress somehow more elegant than the finery worn by passing nobles. Solstice found himself following, noting how the crowd parted around her without seeming to notice her presence. Even the merchants' calls dimmed slightly as she passed, though none appeared to see what caused their hesitation.

  The city revealed itself in layers as they walked. Buildings of stone and timber rose three or four stories, their upper floors often hanging over narrow streets. Magic lights glowed in some windows despite the eternal twilight, while merchants set up stalls selling everything from enchanted trinkets to frontier supplies.

  "Duskreach stands at civilization's edge," Fate explained, pausing to purchase fresh bread from a vendor who didn't seem to see her coin. "The last stop before the wilds. Or the first taste of order for those coming in from the darkness. Depending on which way you're facing, of course."

  They passed a smithy where spelled steel sang under enchanted hammers, then a warehouse storing supplies for expeditions into the wilds. Everything seemed to serve dual purposes - practical needs wrapped in magical possibility.

  From shadowed doorways and rooftop perches, other eyes watched their progress. The Thieves Guild maintained careful surveillance of Duskreach's streets, and an old woman who moved like divinity dressed in mortal form warranted attention. Especially when she appeared to be guiding a warrior whose barriers felt older than memory.

  As they reached a wider street, Fate gestured northward toward the mountain base. "The wealthy build their homes up there. They say the view is better, but height has always attracted those who fancy themselves above others." Her voice took on a darker tone. "Particularly that mansion with the black gates. More shadows gather there than simple night can explain."

  She turned to face him, her grandmotherly smile somehow sharper. "But a warrior should always gather strength and allies before confronting shadows, don't you think?"

  Something moved in the corner of Solstice's vision - a figure in blacks and grays, sleek as a hunting cat, watching from a nearby rooftop. The Guild's interest had been piqued. But before he could react, pain exploded at the base of his skull, and darkness took him again.

  His last thought was that at least this darkness felt temporary.

  Consciousness returned with the taste of copper and the sensation of being watched. Solstice opened his eyes to a room that seemed designed for subtle intimidation - comfortable enough to suggest civilization, sparse enough to offer no weapons of opportunity. A single lamp cast more shadows than light, and every one of them appeared to be paying attention.

  "People don't just appear in Duskreach overnight." The voice came from those shadows, smooth as expensive silk. A figure emerged – the rooftop hunter, moving with predatory grace. "They come through gates, leave tracks, have histories." Their eyes caught light like a cat's. "You... you're different."

  "And you're direct, for a thief," Solstice said, testing his bonds. Professional work – tight enough to hold, loose enough to avoid damage. His barriers hummed beneath his skin, ready but waiting.

  A smile flickered across the figure's face. "Wyvern. Second in command of the Thieves Guild. And when Fate herself gives someone a tour of our city, we take notice."

  Solstice stilled. "You could see her?"

  "No. But we saw vendors accepting invisible coins, heard fragments of one-sided conversations, and noticed how crowds parted around nothing." Wyvern settled into a chair that Solstice could have sworn wasn't there before. "The Guild survives by paying attention to such details."

  The room itself seemed to shift subtly, spaces expanding and contracting according to rules that had more to do with dramatic effect than physics. Every shadow looked eager to share secrets, though whether that was Wyvern's influence or simply how things worked here remained unclear.

  "And what does the Guild want with me?"

  "Information, initially." Wyvern's casual tone carried steel beneath silk. "But after watching you with Fate..." They leaned forward, shadows curling around them like eager pets. "Tell me about the mansion with the black gates."

  The old woman's and the Dreamweavers words echoed: More shadows gather there than simple night can explain.

  "What do you know about it?" Solstice countered, noting how the room's darkness responded to Wyvern's subtle movements.

  "I know something dark has taken root there. Know that wealth flows in but never out. Know that people sometimes enter and never leave." Their casual tone hardened slightly. "Know that it's beyond our usual methods to investigate."

  "And if I told you those shadows were consuming souls?"

  Silence stretched between them. Then Wyvern stood, drawing a key from nowhere. "Come with me."

  The bonds fell away. Wyvern led him through passages that seemed to twist in impossible ways, finally emerging into a vast chamber that hummed with barely contained energy. Racks of weapons lined the walls, each item radiating subtle power.

  "The Guild's vault," Wyvern explained. "And before you protest – everything here was liberated from those who gained it through corruption or cruelty."

  Solstice examined the nearest rack. Simple weapons, well-crafted but not ostentatious. A bastard sword caught his eye – plain steel with perfect balance. The weapon seemed to recognize something in him, humming with quiet purpose.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Basic equipment," Wyvern said, noting his interest. "But reliable. Better gear can be earned as we prove ourselves against stronger opposition."

  "We?"

  "The mansion's guards know every thief in Duskreach. But a warrior with guild support? That's unexpected." Wyvern lifted a bandolier of throwing knives that drank available light. "Besides, someone consuming souls is bad for business."

  Solstice weighed his options. The weapons were stolen, yes, but Wyvern's words about their origins rang true. And facing Morrow's power unarmed again...

  "I have conditions," he said.

  "Of course you do." Wyvern's smile returned. "But perhaps we can discuss terms while you try out that sword? The mansion isn't getting any less dangerous while we debate ethics."

  The blade felt right in Solstice's grip, awakening muscle memory he couldn't quite place. His barriers responded to its presence, protective energy harmonizing with well-forged steel. Like remembering something he'd never actually forgotten.

  "Tell me everything you know about the mansion," he said.

  Wyvern's smile widened. "Welcome to the Guild, warrior. This should be interesting."

  "First, you need to understand how power flows through Duskreach," Wyvern said, shadows gathering as they moved deeper into the vault. "Everything here runs on dreams and bargains. The Thieves Guild? We trade secrets that even shadows whisper."

  Maps spread across a central table, though the city they depicted seemed to shift when viewed directly. Districts rearranged themselves according to invisible tides of power and influence. The mansion with the black gates dominated the higher quarter, its presence somehow staining the parchment around it.

  "Morrow arrived three cycles ago," Wyvern continued, shadows pointing out locations. "Bought the estate with currency that made our best authenticators uncomfortable. Dreams have weight here, you see. Value. What he offered..." A slight shudder. "It felt wrong. Like memories that didn't want to be remembered."

  Solstice studied the maps, his barriers responding to concentrations of power marked in shifting ink. "The soul collection - when did that start?"

  "Two cycles back. Subtle at first. Missing dreamers, lost memories, shadows that moved against the light." Wyvern's casual tone barely masked concern. "Then the disappearances became more frequent. People entering the mansion for business never returning. Guards whose eyes stopped reflecting light."

  The vault's weapons hummed in harmony with their conversation, each artifact responding to mentions of corruption. Solstice's new sword seemed particularly attentive, its steel catching light that shouldn't exist in the underground chamber.

  "Our best infiltrators couldn't breach the outer walls," Wyvern admitted. "The defenses are... unusual. Not just guards and wards, but spaces that reject unwanted presence. Reality itself seems to conspire against intruders."

  As if to demonstrate, shadows gathered to create a miniature of the mansion above the maps. Barriers of pure darkness flickered around its walls while tiny figures of shadow-stuff attempted various entry points. Each attempt ended in failure or flight.

  "The Guild has other interests there as well," Wyvern added carefully. "Our Leader believes Morrow possesses artifacts that could shift the balance of power in Duskreach. Items that shouldn't exist outside the wild dreams."

  "And what does your Leader want with such things?"

  Wyvern's smile carried edges. "Insurance. Protection. The ability to ensure no one else can use them. Dreams have rules, warrior. The Guild helps enforce them."

  Their conversation was interrupted by commotion from above. Voices raised in surprise, followed by what sounded like reality hiccuping. A rainbow-colored cloud descended the vault's stairs, carrying scents of ozone and possibility.

  "Sorry!" called a voice from within the cloud. "Slight miscalculation in the transmutation matrix. Although technically, according to my calculations, that wall shouldn't have even existed in this dimensional plane, so really this is more of a successful proof of concept than an actual accident."

  Wyvern's professional demeanor cracked slightly. "Catalyst. I might have known."

  "Oh! Wyvern." A figure emerged from the cloud, wearing robes that seemed to shift colors with each movement. "I didn't expect... I mean, this isn't... I can explain the hole in reality. Probably."

  Solstice watched their interaction with interest. Wyvern's carefully maintained composure showed hairline fractures, while the woman – Catalyst – seemed to be trying to look anywhere but directly at him.

  "We were just discussing how to infiltrate the mansion with the black gates," Wyvern said, recovering. "Perhaps we could use someone with your... unique approach to physical limitations."

  "The mansion?" Catalyst's eyes lit up. "With the weird energy readings that shouldn't be possible according to any known thaumaturgical principles? I've been trying to get close enough for proper measurements, but the guards are surprisingly resistant to scientific inquiry. Also, surprisingly resistant to being turned into frogs, but that was an accident. Mostly."

  Solstice felt something click into place. Like pieces of a puzzle he hadn't known he was solving. "We need a way in. You need access to whatever's causing those energy readings."

  "And I need both of you to not completely destroy my city's power structure," Wyvern added. "Though I suspect that ship has already sailed."

  Catalyst studied her readings with unusual focus. "These energy patterns... they're familiar somehow. Like something I've seen in another..." She trailed off, frowning.

  Before Solstice could respond, Catalyst was already spreading scrolls across the table, somehow producing an impossible number of them from her color-shifting robes. "I've been tracking these energy signatures for months," she explained, gesturing at patterns that somehow glowed and hummed. "Most magical energy here flows like water – predictable patterns, measurable currents. But then I detected something different."

  "The artificers' workshop where you're supposed to be right now?" Wyvern suggested dryly.

  "Technically, I am there. Sort of." Catalyst waved away residual rainbow smoke. "I developed a method of quantum displacement that allows me to be in multiple probable locations simultaneously. Though sometimes it makes doors... optional."

  She and Wyvern shared a look that suggested history – experiments gone wrong, property damage discussed over drinks, the kind of friendship forged through repeated catastrophe and mutual bail-posting.

  "We met when she blew up one of our safehouses," Wyvern explained to Solstice. "Apparently, it was occupying space she needed for an experiment in theoretical impossibility."

  "The explosion was entirely intentional," Catalyst protested. "Mostly intentional. The singing furniture was a surprise, but in my defense, reality was being particularly stubborn that day."

  Their familiar banter carried undertones of professional respect. The Guild's master thief and the chaos-touched artificer – an unlikely partnership born of shared curiosity about power that broke normal rules.

  "The artificers fund my research," Catalyst continued, her expression growing serious. "But lately, the funding's been coming from... specific sources. Questions about my energy detection methods. Pressure to focus on certain frequencies." She glanced meaningfully toward the mountain where Morrow's mansion waited. "Started around the same time the shadows got thicker up there."

  Wyvern nodded. "She came to us six months ago. Wanted information about who was really backing her work."

  "The Guild has been surprisingly helpful," Catalyst agreed. "Though they still won't let me experiment with their shadow-walking techniques. Something about 'catastrophic dimensional instability' and 'we like reality where it is, thank you.'"

  "The last attempt turned all our lockpicks into theoretical mathematics," Wyvern said. "We're still finding equation-based lockpicks in strange places."

  Solstice studied the energy patterns in Catalyst's scrolls. The measurements showed power flowing through Duskreach in ways that shouldn't be possible, all of it somehow connecting to Morrow's estate. "You think he's using your research?"

  "I think he's using everyone's research," she replied. "The artificers' workshop gets more funding requests every cycle. Always for projects involving energy transfer, consciousness studies, the mechanics of dream manipulation. And always with very specific parameters we're not supposed to question."

  "Parameters that match activity we've detected at the mansion," Wyvern added. "Soul energy being processed into something else. Something that affects the fundamental structure of dreams themselves."

  Catalyst's robes shifted through darker colors. "I built devices to measure dream resonance. To understand how consciousness interacts with this realm's unique properties. If he's corrupting that research..."

  She was interrupted by one of her measuring crystals achieving consciousness and demanding citizenship rights. While she negotiated with the unexpectedly sapient equipment, Wyvern drew Solstice aside.

  "She doesn't know about the missing artificers yet," they said quietly. "Three in the past month. All working on projects Morrow showed interest in. All disappeared right after reporting breakthrough results."

  Solstice watched Catalyst convince her crystal to pursue a career in theoretical physics instead of immediate revolution. Her chaos might seem random, but he recognized the careful observation beneath it – the same kind of focused awareness he'd seen in another scientist, in another world.

  "So," Catalyst said, returning after successfully redirecting her crystal's existential crisis. "Fancy breaking into an impossibly defended mansion with a thief and an artificer of questionable stability? I promise to only accidentally reshape reality if absolutely necessary."

  "Or if reality is being particularly stubborn," Wyvern added with familiar resignation.

  "Or that," she agreed cheerfully. "But first, we need to deal with these energy readings. Also, I think I just accidentally proved several theories about unified consciousness. Again."