As the spires activated, Elijah focused on the swirl of ethera. He could just make out the spell’s complex lattice of ethera before he was whisked away, only to reappear hundreds of miles away. He wasn’t entirely certain how far he’d traveled, but the change in the weather made it clear that Hafnarfjörður was practically a different world. Sheets of freezing rain descended upon him, obscuring his sight for miles around. Thankfully, he only needed to step into the adjacent building to receive some solace. There, he found a situation that reminded him of every time he’d been forced to visit the Department of Motor Vehicles. The same sorts of bored faces looked up, only to decide that he wasn’t really worth notice, before those people returned their attention to whatever they’d chosen to occupy their wait. A musty smell of rain and mud and the slight musk of body odor wafted into his nose as Elijah found an empty seat next to a truly hulking man clad in dense furs. His red beard was absolutely magnificent, and to the point where Elijah wanted to ask if it was all natural or the result of alchemical assistance. By comparison, Elijah’s own beard was a truly pathetic thing. But then again, most other beards fell into the category. Or maybe that thought was an attempt to make him feel a little more secure in his bearded masculinity. On the other side was a blonde woman who looked the very picture of a valkyrie, complete with an iron cap, chainmail that smelled of oxidation and oil, and a leather skirt featuring silver filigree. She was also almost five inches taller than Elijah himself, and with plenty of muscles to support that frame. A warhammer leaned against her thigh, and a roundshield rested against that weapon. She was obviously a Warrior, and not a low-level one, either. Elijah suspected she was at least level one-forty, so long since ascended. The fur-clad man was similarly leveled, which put the pair a good deal ahead of nearly everyone else in the room. Perhaps they were adventurers. Such thoughts occupied Elijah’s mind as he waited for the rain to abate. He didn’t intend to immediately set off for the Hollow Depths, and instead, wanted to take a little time to acquaint himself with the region. After all, Sadie’s message hadn’t insinuated any real urgency. Just frustration at the way things were going. By all rights, he should have waited for the others. Thousands of fighters from Ironshore, Svetogorsk, and even Philadelphia – among others – were meant to join Sadie’s current forces in the Hollow Depths. However, they wouldn’t even begin to gather for a few weeks yet. Elijah wasn’t willing to wait that long. In the end, the storm outlasted his impatience, so he decided to leave the waiting Conclave compound behind and race toward the nearby city of Hafnarfjörður. The frigid rain was truly biting, and the clouds obscured any hint of starlight, which cast the jagged terrain in dark shadow. Thankfully, he was more than capable of navigating the dark, and the city had carved a very high-quality road between the spires and the city. Not surprising, considering its reliance on the spires as a means of transporting its main export and the reason for the city’s existence. Sometimes, it was easy to forget just how valuable salt was. Not only was it the backbone of any Cook’s seasoning strategy, but it was also extremely useful for food preservation. With electricity still being a lot less available than it had been before the world’s transformation, that was necessary. And Hafnarfjörður produced the best salt in the world, infused with dense ethera that practically made it a natural treasure on its own. It was also near a tower, which meant that it featured higher-than-average atmospheric density. The combination was a perfect situation for rapid growth, and the people who called the city home had taken that opportunity and run with it. It certainly wasn’t as important as some of the major cities like Ironshore or Seattle, but it was a thriving place that had found its niche. That meant that Elijah wanted to take its measure. Fortunately, the sprint to the city’s gates went by fairly quickly. The spires were less than ten miles away – a distance Elijah could cover in about fifteen minutes. He didn’t even bother transforming. In a way, the run was invigorating. The driving rain pricked his skin like frozen needles, but it would take far more severe weather to truly affect him. Mostly, it reminded him of those cold mornings he’d spent with his mother in his youth. Back then, she’d made a habit of venturing out into the wilderness to gather mushrooms. He’d loved going with her, partly because it gave him the opportunity to see things so few people got to see, but also because it let him spend time with his mother. In any case, during the winter, those mornings were often devastatingly damp and cold. The first few times he went, he was miserable, and it never grew comfortable. Not exactly. But there was a distinct joy in that kind of discomfort. Being cold and wet, but knowing that it wouldn’t last – it was an oddly satisfying feeling that he struggled to describe. Not pleasant. But not unpleasant, either. It was like he took joy in challenging nature and surviving. Of course, those were the thoughts of a child who could always return to the comforts of a warm fire. He’d also been bundled up in so many layers that he wasn’t forced to endure the true wrath of a cold, wet winter morning. And those forays into the wilderness were always followed by a hot meal. Usually something greasy and satisfying. Support creative writers by reading their stories on NovelHub, not stolen versions. So maybe it was just the entire experience, not the cold itself. Whatever the case, that nostalgia colored Elijah’s thoughts as he approached the city. Like many settlements in the post-World Tree paradigm, it was surrounded by a thick wall that bristled with ethera. Idly, Elijah wondered if he could infiltrate the city under stealth. There was no way the city had defenses like Kalki. Why would it? And it certainly wasn’t like the war elf encampment. So, despite the fact that Guise of the Unseen had taken a relative step back, it was still a powerful ability. Not that he intended to use it. After all, why would he bother? He just wanted to visit the city, get something hot to eat, then set out in the morning – which was precisely what Elijah told the guards on duty. They were clearly equipped with some sort of identification abilities, because the second he stepped into view, they stiffened in fear. Or maybe wariness was the proper term. They didn’t bar his way, so he decided to count that as a win. In moments, he was striding into the city. The familiar smell of the sea was the first thing he noticed, followed by the unmistakable aroma of fish. That was not surprising, consider that Hafnarfjörður remained on the coast, and aside from salt, their primary industry centered on fishing. The city itself was a mix of old and new. For the most part, it followed traditional, coastal architectural principles common in Iceland. That meant simple, gabled roofs, stone foundations, and corrugated metal houses painted in bright colors. However, Elijah also saw shrines to the “hidden people,” known throughout the region as huldufólk. From what Elijah knew of their mythology, it was based on a combination of fae and elven legends, which he’d found quite interesting when the subject came up during one of his college electives that centered on European mythology. But even amidst the cozy atmosphere, the docks were clearly the city’s most prominent feature. Abutting a truly impressive artificial seawall made of basalt, the docks were like the city itself – a combination of tradition and modernity, but with a clear backbone of ethereal help as well. Hundreds of ships, large and small, stood moored at the docks, with plenty of massive warehouses and other associated infrastructure only blocks away. In some ways, it reminded Elijah of Ironshore’s docks, but aside from scope, it was dissimilar enough to create some dissonance in his mind. Where Ironshore clearly favored wood construction, both for their ships as well as the docks themselves, Hafnarfjörður’s system of piers and jetties used concrete and local stone. Some of the ships were made of wood, but many were metal as well. Elijah spent a while just meandering around town. The city’s streets were mostly deserted, owing to the driving rain, so he had the place to himself. It almost felt like visiting one of the many abandoned cities he’d encountered during his travels, though the ethereal lights and occasional pedestrians broke that illusion. All in all, it was an eerie, almost ephemeral atmosphere. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭⚫𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦⚫𝘯𝘦𝘵 For a while, Elijah half expected something to go wrong. Maybe he would be attacked. Or the city’s elites would show up to challenge him. But that just didn’t happen. Instead, he was left to his own devices, barely noticed even by the few guardsmen he passed along the way. Eventually, he found his way to an inn called the Mosslight House, where he discovered why the streets were so barren. The common room was packed, with most of the patrons well into their cups. Music blared from an old jukebox, and Elijah even recognized the song – Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer, which he only really remembered because he and his sister had spent an entire summer watching She’s All That on loop. Inevitably, Elijah found himself humming along because it was impossible to hear that song and not want to sing the lyrics. It also served to further buoy his mood as he approached the bar. There were only a couple of stools unoccupied, so Elijah didn’t have much choice but to slide onto one. “What can I get for ya?” asked the bartender – a stout woman who spoke with an accent. “You serve food?” he asked, his voice barely perceptible amidst the din of conversation, laughter, and music. It wasn’t the loudest bar Elijah had ever visited, but it was far from a sedate tone. Obviously, the people of Hafnarfjörður had taken the storm as an excuse to get drunk and have a good time. Elijah could understand that. The woman nodded, saying, “We have kjötsúpa.” When it was clear that Elijah had no idea what that was, she elaborated, “Lamb and vegetable stew. It’s good.” Elijah told her he’d take that, and it wasn’t long before he had a huge bowl of said stew before him. The woman had paired it with a hunk of crusty bread that looked perfect for dipping into the hearty broth. He took to it with gusto, and he was unsurprised to find that it tasted even better than it smelled. Which was saying something. The bartender also gave him a mug of local beer, which had more of a kick than he’d expected. In the end, Elijah asked for seconds and thirds before he’d satisfied his hunger. The stew also served to warm him up after spending so long out in the cold rain, and he was once again reminded of those mornings with his mother. In short, it was as nice a meal as he’d experienced in a long time, and it was another reminder of what he’d missed while under the influence of his oft-ignored trauma. Thankfully, the new framework of his mind would help mitigate some of those effects. After he finished his meal, he got the bartender’s attention and arranged to rent a room for the night. By that point, some of the crowd had begun to disperse, but Elijah remained in the common room for another hour, just listening to old music – most of which came from the nineties – and trying to relax. It wouldn’t be long before he plunged back into the fray, where he would be expected to repeatedly risk his life. There was always some joy to be had in those sorts of situations – like seeing rare sights or overcoming some obstacle or another – but it was often difficult to remember to pay attention to them. So, for now, he wanted to focus on enjoying what he could while he could. Eventually, though, he headed up to the room he’d rented. There wasn’t much to it. Just a simple bedroom, with a communal bathroom down the hall. But it was clean, and the bed looked comfortable enough. So, after undressing, then washing his face with a provided pitcher of water, Elijah settled down to sleep for the night. For a while, he just lay there, listening to the pitter-patter of rain on the metal roof. However, after only a few minutes, the hypnotic sound sent him into unconsciousness. The last thought that crossed his mind centered on the earworm lyrics of Kiss Me, looping gently with the sound of falling rain.