Everyone looks up. Then they lower their heads. As if I’m not worth their attention. “Bukh,” someone mutters. “You’re drunk again.” “Always,” Bukh says, with a drunken slur. “Always.” He walks past them. Slaps someone on the back. Steals some bread from the table. Sits down. Drinks. Sera stops in the middle of the room. “This is a refuge,” she says. “Under the tavern. Under the port. Under everything. No one knows about it. No one talks about it. And no one will get here without me or Buk.” The woman with the scar looks up from the map. “A fragment,” she says. “The one that fell. He wasn’t alone.” Sera freezes. “What do you mean?” “Two more. On the eastern side. Near the docks. Made of the same metal. With the same smoke.” Silence falls over the room. Buk stops drinking. For a second. Then he takes another sip. “They’re testing us,” the woman says. “The range.” Time. They're not aiming yet. But they will start soon." Seraph looks at the map. On the marks. On the red lines. "Then we won't have time. This city is on the verge of war. And we're sitting on a powder keg." She looks at me. "You. The new guy. You opened the door. You brought the shard. Now you're part of it too." "I didn't want that." "No one wants to. — She points to the people. — They didn’t want to. Buch didn’t want to. I didn't want. But here we are. Bukh drinks. Wipes his mouth. “She’s right,” he hiccups, “” Sera turns to the others. “We’re moving.” Tonight. “Shelter, weapons, everything. This place is compromised.” The woman with the scar nods. The man with the hook stands up. The guy with the knife sheathes it. “Where to now?” someone asks. “North. To the old watchtower. It’s empty there. It’s easy to defend. And it’s far enough from the port.” She looks at me. “You’re coming with us. You opened the door.” “You’ll finish what you started.” “I didn’t start anything.” “You answered the call.” She smiles. Fangs. “This is just the beginning.” Bukh gets up. Staggers. Leans on the table. “Then let’s go,” he says, and hiccups. — let's go.