A Debt to Darkness - Chapter 1

Act 1: A Debt in Darkness

Prologue

The air was thick with smoke, its acrid sting burning Lilith's eyes and throat. Every breath felt like swallowing embers. The crackling of flames devouring wood and fabric filled her ears, punctuated by distant screams and the occasional guttural shout from monstrous figures scurrying back and forth on the outskirts of the flickering flames. Shadows danced violently in the firelight, twisting the world into a chaotic hellscape. The once familiar smell of wagon wood and spices that lingered on her family's caravan was gone, replaced by the stench of ash and blood.

Lilith's heart pounded in her chest as she pressed herself against the side of a scorched wagon, its paint blistering from the heat. Sweat trickled down her temples, but she didn't dare move to wipe it away. She crouched low, trembling as she peeked around the corner. Strange figures darted between the wagons, hulking forms that seemed larger than life. Smoke and flame twisted their silhouettes into monsters, their faces obscured by either grotesque masks or painted markings. Their growling laughs chilled her to the bone, sending a shiver down her spine despite the blistering heat.

She had to find them. Mother, Father... Where are you?

Her bare feet slipped on the dirt as she dashed across the open space between caravans, ducking behind the remnants of another wagon. The heat seared her skin, and she pressed her face into her arm to block out the smoke, but it was no use. Every breath felt like fire. Still, she couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop. The raiders moved quickly, their heavy boots thudding against the earth as they stomped through the camp, overturning barrels and tearing through wagons in search of loot--or worse. Lilith's small frame gave her an advantage, allowing her to slip between the wagons and shadows unseen, but every step felt like a gamble.

Just ahead, she saw it: her family's caravan. Her chest tightened at the sight. Flames licked hungrily at the edges of the wooden frame, black smoke pouring from the roof and broken windows. The ornate carvings her father had spent decades perfecting were scarred and charred beyond recognition. Part of the roof had caved in, and the rest threatened to follow.

"No, no, no..." she whispered under her breath, tears stinging her eyes.

Lilith glanced around, her head snapping to every sound, every movement. She couldn't see movement inside, yet her mind still raced with worry that one wrong step would lead to her doom. Pushing herself to keep moving, she darted forward, her heart hammering as she reached the smoldering doorway. The heat was unbearable, but she steeled herself, pulling the edge of her tunic over her nose and mouth before crawling inside.

The smoke was worse inside, thick and choking. She stayed low to the ground, crawling on her hands and knees as she made her way through what was left of her home. The smoke hung heavy and thick, like a wet blanket being draped over her. It was suffocating, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Even that, however, paled when compared to the sight of the destruction that threatened to overwhelm her.

Carefully embroidered curtains that her mother had lovingly stitched were now in tatters, burned and blackened beyond recognition. Shelves that her father had meticulously built lay shattered on the ground, their contents scattered haphazardly. Precious instruments, trinkets and heirlooms that had been collected and cherished by her family for generations were now broken and discarded, as if they held no value or meaning. It was a scene of utter devastation and desolation, a stark contrast to the warm and cozy home she had grown up in. Tears pricked at her eyes as she tried to make sense of the senseless destruction before her.

As she stumbled through the thick, acrid smoke, Lilith's head swam with dizziness. Her hand groped blindly in front of her, barely able to make out shapes and shadows amidst the haze. Suddenly, something warm and wet brushed against her fingers, causing her to flinch and pull back in shock. Her trembling hand slowly came into view, revealing a dark stain that glistened ominously in the dim light - blood. A strangled gasp escaped her lips as her gaze followed the trail to a discarded piece of fabric. Her mother's favorite dress. The pale green fabric was torn and bloodied, the embroidery barely visible beneath the stains.

"No..." Her voice cracked, barely a whisper. Lilith's mind reeled with disbelief and anguish, but she forced herself to keep moving forward. She couldn't afford to break down now - not when there was still a chance to find her father alive. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision as she wiped them away with the back of her hand. With a shaky breath, she pushed through the heavy smoke, determined to see this through until the end. Her father needed her, and nothing would stop her from finding him.Don't fall apart now. Not yet. She had to find her father.

Lilith dragged herself toward the back of the caravan, her lungs screaming for fresh air. Just as she reached the doorway, a heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder. She screamed as she was yanked upwards, her legs flailing helplessly as she was lifted to her feet. The raider's face loomed over her, his features twisted into a cruel caricature of a man in the flickering firelight. He was massive, easily twice her height, with a wild grin that sent a chill down her spine. His skin was painted with crude patterns of ash and blood, and his eyes glinted with cruel amusement.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" His voice was deep and gravelly, dripping with mockery as he studied her. "A little mouse hiding in the ashes." Lilith struggled against his unyielding grip, but it was of no use. His hands were like iron, pinning her arms to her sides as he bound her wrists with rough leather cords. "Let me go!" she cried, her voice hoarse from the smoke.

The raider laughed, a harsh, grating sound that made her stomach turn. He slung her over his shoulder like a sack of grain and carried her out of the caravan. Lilith thrashed and kicked, but he didn't even flinch. The world blurred as she was hauled across the camp, the flames casting everything in a nightmarish glow.

"Boss, I found one of the little runts," the raider called out as they reached the edge of the camp. A group of raiders stood in a loose circle, their faces obscured by masks and shadows. At the center of the group was a tall figure, his presence commanding. The leader, she guessed. The raider dropped her roughly to the ground, and she winced as her knees hit the dirt. "Is this the one you're looking for?"

Before anyone could reply, a voice pierced through the commotion - a voice that made Lilith's heart skip a beat in both joy AND terror.

"Leave her alone!"

She whipped her head around, eyes widening at the sight of her father. He was on his knees, hands tied behind his back while another raider stood guard over him. His face was bruised and bloodied, but there was a fierce determination in his eyes as he glared at the leader. "Whatever you're looking for has nothing to do with my daughter. Let her go!"

The leader chuckled briefly in the iciest of tones. "Your daughter is she?" He turned towards Lilith with a menacing sneer. "Throw her in the back of the wagon with the rest of the goods. She's coming with us!"

"Don't you dare touch her!" Her father's voice trembled with fear. Ignoring him, the leader turned to the raider beside him. "Take care of him."

"No!" Lilith screamed as she watched the raider raise his axe. She tugged at her bonds, trying to wriggle out from the steel grip of the man holding her captive, but it was to no avail.

Her father struggled to break free from his captors, but they held him fast. Tears streamed down his face while he fought to compose himself for Lilith's sake. "Close your eyes, Lil. It'll be okay."

Time seemed to slow down as the axe blade descended. Firelight danced along the cruel blade just before she squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would prevent the very horror that was unfolding before her. As darkness enveloped her, all she could hear was her father's terrified cry ringing in her ears...

(Chapter 1)

The nightmare always ended the same way. Her father's desperate cry pierced through the roar of the flames and jeers of the raiders, just before the axe fell. Lilith jolted awake, her heart beating wildly as if it were trying to escape her chest. The haunting echoes of her father's voice clung to the edges of her mind, as vivid and raw as the day it had happened. For a moment, she just lay there in her small bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing.

The familiar scent of wood and oil from her lantern brought her back to the present, grounding her. For now, the reek of blood and smoke had given way to the still air of her modest room. But the memory held fast to her like a second skin, and even though she knew she needed more rest, Lilith couldn't bear the thought of closing her eyes again. With a heavy sigh, she rubbed her face with her hands. Sleep was a battle she lost most nights, but this time felt worse than usual.

The room was dim, lit faintly by the fading rays of the setting sun peeking through the small, smudged window above her desk. Outside, the muffled hum of the city of Bloodmarch slowly stirred to life, as it did every evening. This backward place--where night was day and sunrise marked the end of business hours--still didn't sit right with her, no matter how long she'd been here. She could hear the sounds of merchants setting up stalls for the night markets, the faint clattering of horseshoes against cobblestones, and the distant ringing of bells calling others to wake.

Lilith sat up in bed, her bare feet touching the cool wooden floor below. She took in the simplicity of her room, finding comfort in its unassuming nature. Her bed was pressed against one wall, the mattress firm but not uncomfortable. A small desk sat beneath her only window, papers and a faded journal resting atop it, along with a stubby candle burned halfway down. Her juggling knives and batons lay scattered on the floor next to a coil of thick acrobat's rope. In the corner, her bagpipes leaned carefully against the wall, neatly placed next to a small closet where her few outfits hung.

Her gaze lingered on the journal. She hadn't written in it before she went to bed. The day's errands had been too much, and she wasn't sure what she would even say to the memories of her siblings today. The words usually came easily--small updates, cherished moments, confessions--but some days were just too heavy. Maybe later.

Pushing herself to her feet, Lilith padded over to the desk. Her fingers lightly brushed the edge of the journal briefly before moving on to check the window latch. She jiggled it gently to ensure it was still in place. The wire she'd attached to it earlier remained taut, the small bell hanging peacefully. Content with this, she turned her attention to the door, and ran her hand along the edge to check the second wire she'd strung up. The bell remained undisturbed. No one had attempted to enter her room while she slept--not that she really expected them to, but paranoia had become a constant companion she couldn't seem to shake since her arrest.

At least I'm not rusty.

Lilith took a deep breath and allowed herself to relax slightly. For now, there was no danger here. At least, not yet. She refocused her thoughts on her task for the night, preparing for whatever challenges lay ahead. She walked to the small closet and opened the door, pulling out her usual garb. Hers was a mundane routine, but it brought her comfort in its familiarity. First, she put on a white blouse, slightly wrinkled from wear but still clean which mattered most. Next came her sturdy brown trousers with just enough room to allow her to stretch and bend unrestricted. She followed them up with a warm pair of wool socks that made her feel just a bit more comfortable in this drafty city. After that, she slipped into her snug leather boots, taking a moment to wiggle her toes to make sure nothing pinched or bunched wrong while putting them on. Finally, she donned her green leather jerkin that offered just enough protection without hindering her movements.

Lilith stood in front of the cracked mirror leaning against the wall, adjusting the clasps and buckles of her jerkin until it sat just right. She reached for her brush and began tugging it through her unruly curls, wincing as it caught on a particularly stubborn knot. The vivid red of her hair, unique to the halflings that made up her family, stood out even in the dim light. She swept some of it behind her slightly pointed left ear, letting the rest fall naturally to the right. Her curls were short enough to stay out of her face, though they often protested any attempt to control them.

As she set the brush down, Lilith caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. There she was in all her nearly three foot tall glory. Then again, she wouldn't be the last halfling to not pass the yard mark in height. She looked worn. Drained. Her once bright blue eyes seemed duller than they used to be, as if the city had feasted upon some of the spark they once held. She sighed, leaning in closer to examine the dark circles under her eyes before pulling back.

"Good enough," she muttered to herself with resignation as she draped her faded gray cloak across her back.

With a determined grip, Lilith slung her small backpack over her shoulders. The weight of its contents, carefully chosen for their usefulness, provided a sense of comfort and readiness. Among the essentials were the tools of her trade: lockpicks, pliers, and a file. Unusual items for the average city dweller to carry around, but then again, Lilith's life was anything but ordinary at the moment. Throw in a couple flasks and a small knife, and she was ready for most anything the night could toss her way. She stepped to the door, pausing one last time to glance around the room. Everything was as it should be--cluttered, but secure. Taking a lantern in one hand, Lilith used the other to reach for the key hanging on a nail by the door. It slid easily into the lock as she stepped out, where she used it to firmly lock the door behind her.

Stepping out into the hallway, she felt the coolness of the air against her skin. The faint scent of baked bread drifted through the hallway from the kitchen downstairs, making her stomach growl in anticipation. Adjusting the strap of her backpack, Lilith rolled her shoulders as she mentally prepared to face whatever laid ahead that night. The streets of the Bloodmarch awaited, with all their chaos and dangers untold, and she had no choice but to meet them head-on.

The wooden steps creaked softly under Lilith's slight frame as she descended to the main room of The Great Wheel. The faint scent of stale ale and pipe leaf mingled with the more inviting aroma of freshly baked bread wafting up from the kitchen below. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the familiar sight of the old pub came into view: round wooden tables, their polish worn from age, scattered across the floor. Each one was spaced out with just enough space for patrons to move about without bumping elbows--or swords. In the far corner opposite the entrance, a small stage stood at the ready for its nightly performance. For now, it was dark and quiet, but soon enough it would come alive when tonight's performer dropped in to entertain the evening crowd. Lamps mounted on the walls burned steadily casting the whole room in a cozy glow.

Perched behind the bar while standing proudly on her trusty stool, Fayni Brightcloak scrubbed wooden mugs with practiced efficiency. Her pale blonde braid swayed in time with each stroke, a slight smile playing at the corners of her rosy lips. Her red-and-gray dress, paired with practical boots, gave off an air of warmth and made her seem even more welcoming. Her stool wobbled ever so slightly as she moved, but Fayni's keen sense of balance was more than enough to keep her steady. As she scrubbed away at the sticky residue on the mugs, Fayni hummed a tune that Lilith couldn't quite place, but it was cheerful enough that Fayni's smile had become contagious.

"Evening, Fayni!" Lilith called out, making her way toward the bar. "Geez, that looks like a ton of cleaning left over from last night. Who left you that mess?" Fayni paused mid-scrub, lifting her amber eyes to meet Lilith's with a mock expression of exasperation.

"The lass who worked behind the bar last night had to go home early this mornin', and left me with this." Lilith raised an eyebrow. "Wait, I thought you worked last night."

"Aye, it was me," Fayni admitted with a chuckle, dipping another mug into the wash basin. "But my wee bearns needed their mum more than the Wheel did, so I decided to leave this chore for the evenin'. You wouldn't mind givin' me a hand, would ya?"

Lilith couldn't help but grin. "You know I can't say no to you. Hand me a towel." Fayni chuckled again and handed her a clean cloth. "Atta lass. I knew I liked you for a reason."

Balancing deftly on a stool of her own, Lilith gingerly reached for a clean mug from the basin and began drying it with the towel. It felt like ages since she had worked behind the bar with Fayni--her new routine of performing every other night had taken over--but the familiar motions came back to her as naturally as breathing. Together, they fell into a comfortable rhythm, chatting lightly as they worked. Fayni told her a funny story about her youngest child trying to sneak a frog into the house the day before, while Lilith shared an embellished tale about a similar time when her sister had tried to sneak a goat onto their caravan.

As they worked, Lilith took a moment to appreciate how gracefully Fayni navigated about the bar. Even with her diminutive height in a human-sized world, she handled the towering shelves of glassware and barrels of ale with an efficiency that would put any seasoned bartender to shame. Her warm demeanor and effortless charm made her beloved by regulars and newcomers alike. A pang of longing hit Lilith as she thought about her own sister, Maebh. Fayni shared quite a few similarities with her--both stubborn, but loving, quick to tease but always read to lend a hand.

"Do you think the bard coming in tonight's any good?" Lilith asked as she stacked a row of clean mugs on the shelf.

"Supposedly," Fayni rolled her eyes ever so slightly as she replied while setting another mug down on the bar. "Some guy with a lute who was recommended. Word is he's decent, but the till will decide whether he can hold an audience or not."

They both laughed for a moment before Fayni continued. "Ah, well, if he's a flop, at least we've got you tomorrow night. You'll show him how it's done." Lilith smirked and gave Fayni a sisterly nudge.

The brass bell above the front door jingled, its chime filling the air and drawing the attention of the two women behind the bar. The pair turned to see Tilmend stepping inside, his solid frame hard earned through his years as a stevedore down at the docks. The stout man, dressed in a simple tunic and patched trousers, greeted them with a wave as he made his way to the bar. A regular at The Great Wheel, Til was a fixture of the early evening crowd, always popping in for a quick breakfast before heading off to work.

"Evenin', Fayni, Lilith," Til said with a friendly smile, sliding onto one of the stools at the bar. He scanned the menu board hanging behind Fayni's head. "What's fresh tonight?"

"We've got a lovely tourte just coming out of the oven, Til," Fayni replied with a wink and a smile.

"Really now? I'll have that and a bit of cheese if that's alright," Til said, leaning an elbow on the bar. His eyes drifted over to Lilith who was working on one last mug. "Oy, Lilith, are you performin' tonight?"

"Not tonight, Til," she replied, as she set down the mug and stashed the drying cloth behind the bar. "There's a bard coming in from the next town over who's supposed to be pretty handy with a lute. I'll be back on stage tomorrow night if you want to pop in, though."

"Aye, I'll have to do just that," he said with a hearty chuckle. "It's always a treat to see you jugglin' knives like it's nothin'."

Lilith gave him a small, but genuine smile, her cheeks warming slightly at the compliment. For a moment, it almost made her feel like she was a real performer again. "Thanks, Til." She quickly took a glance towards the stage, briefly wishing that she didn't have other plans for tonight.

As Fayni set the plate of bread and cheese in front of Tilmend, Lilith stepped down from the stool, placing it back where it had been stored before she borrowed it. Her stomach growled audibly, drawing a laugh from Fayni.

"Go on, lass," Fayni said, gesturing toward the kitchen. "Get yerself somethin' to eat before ya keel over."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Lilith said, grinning. She ducked into the kitchen and quickly assembled a plate of warm bread, a perfectly cooked egg, and a savory piece of sausage. Returning to the bar, she perched on one of the stools and dug in eagerly as Fayni continued to tidy up around her.

For a brief moment, the pub was quiet. The calm before the storm. Soon, the night's patrons would flood in, bringing their noise, their laughter, and their coin. But for now, Lilith savored the simplicity of the moment--the warmth of the food, the comfort of Fayni's presence, and the fleeting peace that The Great Wheel offered before the chaos of the Bloodmarch beckoned her back into its clutches.