After the long march through Firewatch's bustling streets, the inn felt like a pocket of silence carved out of the city's constant noise. The sign read The Anvil's Rest, its paint peeling but the iron letters still solid.
Inside, the scent of coal smoke and boiled cabbage hung in the air. A few rough-looking patrons hunched over tables, their hands calloused, their eyes tired. There was a quiet murmur of conversation and the occasional clink of cutlery against wood. One wall held a blackened hearth, flames licking at a suspended kettle. Another wall bore an actual anvil mounted into the stone, cracked but still proud.
The woman behind the counter was wiping a mug with an old cloth. Her arms were thick with muscle and burn scars. Her brow lifted slightly as we entered.
"You look like you've either just come from a battlefield, or you're about to cause one," she said flatly.
Helios stepped forward first. "We need a room. Three beds."
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, completely unfazed by his size. "Not a lot of trios passing through Firewatch. What brings you here?"
"Rest," Helios said.
"Hmm." She eyed him a second longer, then looked to me and Aelira. "Apprentices?"
Aelira grinned faintly. "Something like that."
"Name's Gerda. I own the place. And I don't deal with nonsense." She extended a hand without moving her gaze.
I dug into my pouch and counted out the coins. "That enough for two nights?"
She weighed the silver in her palm. "Aye. Third room on the left, top of the stairs. Don't mind the noise my neighbor thinks he's a genius with molten glass. He's not."
We were about to head up the stairs when a tall figure blocked our path.
He was a wall of a man — broad shoulders, thick arms folded over a sleeveless vest. His skin was a deep, rich tone, and his hair was short, clean, and tight against his scalp. Lightning-shaped tattoos peeked out from beneath his collar. He stood casually, like someone used to people noticing him.
"Nice braids," he said with a grin, eyes settling on me.
I blinked. "Uh… thanks?"
He gave a slow nod of approval, eyes sharp but not unkind. "Keep your head high, kid. City can smell fear faster than blood."
Helios instinctively took half a step forward, but the man held up both hands with a lazy smile. "Peace. Just being friendly."
Aelira, behind me, was watching carefully.
"You from Firewatch?" I asked, cautious but curious.
"Grim Haven," he said simply. "We don't get many fresh faces like you. Thought I'd say hello."
He tapped the railing once and moved off toward the bar, his presence leaving an echo behind.
"Who was that?" I whispered.
"Someone people don't say no to," Aelira murmured.
Gerda called from behind the counter, "That's Kwame. Don't get on his bad side. Don't try to get on his good side either you'll lose something."
Helios was still watching the man's back as we climbed the stairs. "We'll keep our distance."
Upstairs, the room was humble but enough. Wooden beds, patched linens, a shuttered window, and a bucket that looked more ceremonial than practical. The city sounds outside were muffled, replaced by the creak of floorboards and the distant clang of someone shaping steel.
Helios sat on the floor near the door, removing his gauntlets. His hands were red from the shield grip.
"You ever been in a place like this?" I asked him.
He shook his head. "No cities. Not before today."
"What do you think?" Aelira asked, tossing her satchel onto a bed and flopping down with a long sigh.
Helios glanced at the walls. "Loud. Too many people. Too many stories at once."
I nodded, kicking off my boots. "It's strange, isn't it? Everything's moving so fast, and no one notices us."
"People in cities don't see unless they want something," Aelira said. "And sometimes even then, they look past you."
I turned toward her. "You really hate it here, huh?"
She paused, then shrugged. "Hate's not the word. Cities are just… fragile. They look strong with all this stone and iron, but one fire, one riot, and everything cracks."
I sat on the edge of the bed nearest the window. "Still, it's kind of exciting, isn't it?"
Aelira glanced at me, eyes thoughtful. "You like it here?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I feel like something's going to happen. Something important."
"Danger feels a lot like purpose to you, doesn't it?" she said quietly.
I smiled. "Is that bad?"
She didn't answer.
Helios, from his corner, spoke up. "Just don't chase purpose into a grave."
The room fell quiet.
I looked at him gently. "You know we're not going anywhere, right?"
He didn't respond right away. Then, a short nod. "That's what I'm afraid of."
Before the silence could turn too heavy, a knock came at the door. A young voice: "If you're hungry, Miss Gerda says dinner's on."
I got up quickly. "Food. Now that's a good reason to stay alive."