Bran, for his part, looked frustrated.
His coat was damp, and his hair was slightly disheveled from the wind.
Zayn had to resist the urge to laugh at the sight — it wasn’t often that Bran looked anything less than composed.
Stepping up beside him, Zayn clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Having trouble?"
Bran turned, startled. "Zayn? What are you doing out here?"
"Looking for you, apparently."
Bran sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I was trying to pick up a few things, but these prices are ridiculous. I swear they mark everything up when it rains because they know people don’t want to leave empty-handed."
Zayn glanced at the items on display — mostly basic supplies, food, and travel gear.
The prices did seem a little high, but he had seen worse.
Especially after visiting Beyrin town yesternight.
"You need help negotiating?" Zayn asked, raising an eyebrow.
Bran scoffed. "Please, I can handle a simple transaction."
Zayn smirked. "Oh yeah? Because it looks like you’re losing."
Bran muttered sothing under his breath but didn’t argue.
Zayn stood beside Bran, watching as he haggled with the rchant over the price of a bundle of ingredients and — unsurprisingly — a new cloak.
Zayn had long since stopped questioning Bran’s obsession with cloaks.
Well he was still wearing one of Bran’s clothes too but if you couldn’t pull a Bro’s legs, could he be classified as a bro?
The guy had more of them than he could possibly need, but if it made him happy, who was Zayn to argue?
Still, he couldn’t help but tease.
"You do know you already own like ten of those, right?" Zayn said, glancing at the dark fabric folded neatly on the counter. "Are you starting a collection?"
Bran shot him a look but didn’t lose focus.
He continued negotiating, his tone firm but polite, and eventually, the rchant let out a defeated sigh and lowered the price.
With a satisfied nod, Bran handed over the coins and gathered his things.
Zayn leaned against the stall, arms crossed.
"Alright, I’ll bite. What’s with the ingredients? Don’t tell you’re taking up alchemy now."
Bran tucked the small bundle into his bag and adjusted the cloak over his arm. "It’s for a brew."
"A brew?"
Bran nodded. "My grandmother used to make it on stormy nights. She always said it helped ward off the cold and kept the body strong. Figured I’d make it for everyone tonight."
Zayn raised an eyebrow.
It was rare for Bran to talk about his family, so he didn’t push, but the idea of the usually reserved axeman preparing a warm drink for them was unexpected.
"That’s... surprisingly thoughtful," Zayn admitted.
Bran shrugged, not making a big deal of it. "It’s not that hard to make."
Zayn smirked. "Yeah, well, considering Kara nearly burned the kitchen down earlier, I’d say you’re already ahead of her in the cooking departnt."
Bran chuckled. "That bad?"
"You have no idea."
The rain continued to fall heavily around them, but Zayn’s soul energy shielded him from the downpour.
Bran, on the other hand, wasn’t as lucky.
His coat was damp, and the hood he had pulled up barely kept him dry.
Zayn glanced up at the sky.
The clouds were thick and dark, and the wind was starting to pick up again though he couldn’t help but wonder what caused it.
It looked like the storm wasn’t going to let up anyti soon.
"We should head back before it gets worse," Zayn said.
Bran nodded, and they started walking back toward the inn.
Zayn smirked. "So, if this brew is so kind of secret family recipe, you think it’ll actually taste good? Or are we about to drink sothing that’ll make Tobias start seeing visions?"
Bran snorted. "It’s not that kind of brew, idiot. It’s just herbs, honey, and a few spices. It’s ant to warm you up, not knock you out."
"Sha. Tobias could probably use a wake-up call."
They reached the inn soon after, stepping inside just as a strong gust of wind slamd the door shut behind them.
The warmth of the interior was a welco contrast to the cold outside.
Zayn pulled back his hood and ran a hand through his hair, shaking off any lingering dampness.
Bran did the sa and plopped down on a chair.
The storm raged on even more as they got inside, the rain hamring against the windows with relentless force.
Thunder rumbled overhead, deep and nacing, like the growl of a waking beast.
Despite the warmth of the inn and the thick walls shielding them from the elents, the cold seeped through the cracks, curling around their ankles, sneaking into their bones.
Zayn glanced toward the fireplace, its flas flickering weakly as if struggling against the growing darkness outside.
He wrapped his fingers around the warm cup of afternoon tea, appreciating the heat.
But there was sothing about this storm... it made him very cautious, there was no way all storms in fantasy worlds were like this.
Kara had stopped mid-sip, her gaze shifting toward the shuttered windows.
Bran, ever the quiet observer, sat still, his hand resting on the hilt of the dagger strapped to his belt.
Even Elisse, who usually brushed off his paranoia, looked vaguely uneasy.
None of them spoke.
And then the scene shifted.
Upstairs, in the quiet of his dimly lit room, Tobias stood by his open window, rain splattering against his face.
"I knew it," he muttered under his breath, like he had made a scientific breakthrough.
He had sensed the disturbance before, the way the sky crackled with an energy that wasn’t just lightning.
And now, looking up, he saw it.
High above, hidden behind thick storm clouds, sothing pulsed.
Sothing enormous.
Tobias narrowed his eyes, pushing his soaked hair back as he leaned out further, ignoring the rain dripping down his collar.
His pulse quickened. "No way..."
The swirling darkness in the sky wasn’t just the storm — it was sothing else entirely.
A faint glow flickered behind the clouds, growing brighter with each passing second.
And then, the winds shifted, pushing aside the veil just enough for Tobias to see it clearly.
A gate.
A dungeon gate in the sky?!
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