Chapter 13: The Places You Don’t Go

For a few days after the rumor reached her, Kaelira Voss did what she always did when something didn’t fit—she worked.
Not harder, not faster, just… steadily. Transactions, negotiations, small adjustments in pricing and stock. The market had already adapted to the Tower’s inconsistencies, and she moved with it, neither resisting nor questioning more than necessary.
On the surface, nothing had changed.
Underneath, something had.

It wasn’t about the shard anymore.
That had been set aside, both physically and mentally, wrapped and stored in her bag where she didn’t have to think about it. It hadn’t given her answers, and right now, it wasn’t the question that mattered.
Riven was.

Kael had never liked how he showed up unannounced, leaning against her stall like he belonged there, talking more than necessary, lingering longer than he should have. He disrupted her routine in small, irritating ways—interrupting transactions, commenting on things she hadn’t asked for, making observations that didn’t always matter.
She had told him that.
More than once.

But he had stayed anyway.
And at some point, without her noticing when it happened, that presence had stopped being an interruption and started becoming… expected.
Not required.
Not essential.
But familiar.

She didn’t say that out loud.
Wouldn’t have, even if someone asked.
But the absence of it—of him—was starting to stretch too far to ignore.

A week passed.
No sighting.
No message.
No confirmation.
Just the same quiet absence that had begun to settle into something heavier.

Kael adjusted.
Again.

This time, it wasn’t about ignoring it.
It was about understanding it.

“You go deeper than most,” she said casually, handing over a bundle of cloth to one of her regular suppliers.
The man glanced up, weighing the item in his hand. “Depends on the week.”
“Mm.”
Kael brushed her hands lightly, as if the conversation didn’t matter much. “You hear anything about that missing climber?”
He hesitated, just slightly.
“Which one?”
“Twelfth Floor,” she said, tone even. “Recent.”
He frowned faintly. “Still just rumors.”
“Rumors come from somewhere.”
“They do,” he agreed. “But they don’t always come with names.”
Kael nodded once. “Ask around next time you’re in.”
He looked at her more directly now. “You interested?”
“In knowing what affects supply,” she replied without pause.
That was enough.
It always was.

She didn’t mention Riven.
Didn’t ask directly.
Didn’t tie anything together in a way that could be traced back to her.
Because she realized something, somewhere between the fifth and seventh day—
She didn’t actually know anything about him.

Not where he lived.
Not who he knew outside the Tower.
Not whether he had family, obligations, connections.
Nothing that existed beyond the space he occupied near her stall.

It should have been strange.
It wasn’t.
That was how most things worked here.
People intersected where they needed to and didn’t go further unless there was a reason.

Now there was one.

By the eighth day, the answers she received—indirect as they were—hadn’t changed.
Still no name.
Still no confirmation.
Just repetition.
A missing climber.
Twelfth Floor.
No return.

By the ninth day, Kael had stopped asking casually.
Not because she had lost interest.
Because she had reached the limit of what the market could tell her.

On the tenth day, she closed her stall early.

It wasn’t a dramatic decision.
No announcement.
No explanation.
She simply packed up faster than usual, secured what needed securing, and left before the evening crowd fully settled.
A few people noticed.
Dain raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.
Lera watched her go, expression thoughtful but quiet.

The path to the guild wasn’t one Kael took often.
In fact, she had never taken it for herself.
Only seen it from a distance, a place where climbers registered, where licenses were issued, where records were kept in a way the market never bothered with.
Official.
Structured.
Not her kind of place.

It stood closer to the Tower than most buildings did, not directly beside it, but near enough that its purpose was clear.
Stone walls, clean lines, guarded entry—not heavily, but enough to make it known that not everyone walked in without reason.
Kael approached without hesitation.
She didn’t belong here.
But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enter.

Inside, the space felt different from the market.
Quieter.
More controlled.
Voices were lower, movements more deliberate, like everything operated on rules that didn’t need to be spoken out loud.
Kael paused just long enough to take it in.
Then stepped forward.

A clerk sat behind a long desk, sorting through records with practiced efficiency. He glanced up as she approached, eyes flicking over her briefly—assessing, categorizing, placing her somewhere between familiar and unnecessary.
“Yes?” he asked.
Kael rested one hand lightly against the edge of the desk. “I’m looking for information.”
“On?”
“A climber,” she said.
He gestured slightly. “Name?”

Kael hesitated.
Just for a fraction of a second.

Then—
“Riven.”

The clerk turned slightly, pulling a ledger closer, flipping through pages with steady precision.
“Last name?”
Kael didn’t answer.
Because she didn’t know.

The pause stretched.
Not long.
But long enough.

“…Just Riven,” she said.
The clerk’s expression shifted—subtle, but noticeable.
“That’s not enough.”
Kael held his gaze evenly. “He’s registered. Climbs regularly. Twelfth Floor routes.”
“That still doesn’t narrow it down.”

Of course it didn’t.
Why would it?

The clerk closed the ledger partway, studying her more directly now.
“You’re not listed as an associate,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“Then why are you asking?”
Kael didn’t change her posture.
“Trade,” she replied. “He supplies me. He hasn’t returned.”

It was close enough to the truth.

The clerk considered that, then opened the ledger again.
Slower this time.
Less certain.

“There have been reports,” he said, almost absently. “Missing climbers.”
Kael’s attention sharpened, though her expression didn’t.
“More than one?”
He didn’t look up. “Records are still being updated.”

That wasn’t an answer.
But it was something.

Kael exhaled quietly, her fingers pressing lightly against the desk before easing again.
“…If you find him,” she said, tone even, “let the market know.”
The clerk glanced up. “We don’t report to the market.”
“You report to someone,” Kael replied. “It reaches us eventually.”

A brief pause.
Then—
“Maybe,” he said.

Kael straightened slightly.
There was nothing more to ask.
Not here.
Not without more information than she had.

She turned and walked out without another word.

The Tower loomed just beyond the guild, as it always had.
Unchanged.
Unmoving.

Kael didn’t stop.
Didn’t look at it for long.

But this time—
She didn’t ignore it either.

Because for the first time—
The distance between her and it didn’t feel like a choice.

End of Chapter 13