A Glimpse of the Future

The stench of stale ale and unwashed bodies was a constant companion in The Salty Siren. Alice scrubbed a grimy table, the rough wood snagging at her calloused fingers. Oakhaven’s port, a chaotic symphony of creaking ships, raucous sailors, and the ceaseless cry of gulls, had been her sanctuary for the past three moons. Here, beneath a sky that rarely remembered the pristine clarity of her homeland, she was just another face in the milling throng, a girl with dyed black hair and a past she desperately tried to outrun.

Her silver hair, the very mark of her seer lineage, was now buried beneath layers of soot and pigment, a desperate disguise. The Oracle clan, with their insatiable hunger for prophecy and their chilling rituals, had been relentless in their pursuit. The Night of Seeding, a ceremony whispered about in hushed tones even within the clan itself, had been the catalyst for her flight. The thought of it still sent a tremor of ice through her veins.

“Oi, Nightroad! Stop daydreaming and get those tankards refilled!” The gruff voice of Barnaby, the tavern’s owner, jolted her back to the present. Barnaby, a man whose belly preceded him like a herald, was as rough as the dockside ropes, but possessed a surprising, if gruff, fairness. He didn’t pry into her past, and for that, Alice was eternally grateful.