Page 8 of Sanctuary and Spices

“First month’s covered as part of your signing bonus.”

“My what?”

He tapped his tablet. “Standard contract. Room and board included for the first month, plus basic salary. Unless you’re planning to leave?”

The question hung in the air. Through the window, a vine of Sylnithian teyrith stretched toward the glass, its leaves fanning wide. Ronhar’s markings flickered, though his focus remained on his work.

“No,” I said quietly. “I’m not planning to leave.”

“Good.” Soryn pushed back from the counter. “Finish closing up, then Ronhar can take you to Barou’s. She keeps odd hours—good for folks just arriving on station.”

The station’s night cycle dimmed the artificial lighting, casting the garden in soft shadows. The Jhyra unfurled unexpectedly, their silver petals glowing faintly. Outside, a customer’s laughter rang out:

“...never seen the Jhyra bloom this late...”

Ronhar’s gaze met mine briefly through the glass, his expression unreadable. I turned back to my cleaning, but something had shifted. The weight I’d been carrying for so long felt lighter, like putting down a too-heavy pack.

I had a job. A place to stay. A chance to start over.

And, maybe, something else waiting to grow.

RONHAR

Ieyed the silver pendant Soryn tapped—the mark of a bonded mercenary guild member. Mine stayed tucked beneath my collar, a reminder of past commitments rather than current obligations.

“Take her to Barou’s.” Not a request.

“Fine.” I agreed, surprised at how much I didn’t mind disrupting my usual evening routine. The prospect of showing her more of the station intrigued me in ways I wasn’t ready to examine. “Ready?”

Jani stood, the kitchen lights catching the dark waves of her hair. The Jhyra stretched toward her—temperamental flowers that rarely bloomed twice in one cycle. I couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly they seemed drawn to her, just as I was trying not to be.

“This way.” The garden’s humid air gave way to the cooler, recycled atmosphere of the station’s corridors. Evening on the Veil had its own particular character, one I’d long taken for granted but now saw through her eyes.

The Commons revealed its night personality as we emerged: bioluminescent lights strung between buildings, the soft chime of wind bells crafted by Krythari artisans, the rich scent of night-blooming jasmine from hydroponic gardens. A Lorvathan street musician played a crystalline instrument, its song harmonizing with the Veil’s faint hum. Nearby, dock workers gathered around a Myrathan storyteller, her gill-fins flashing with emotion as she wove her tale.

The market’s transformation for the evening was already underway. A Quarvik vendor juggled glowing fruit, haggling prices with a towering Ulthari. Two Reythrari merchants folded their wing-cloaks as they settled in for night trade, their stalls shimmering with fabrics that caught nonexistent breezes.

The scents washed over us: sweet smoke from a Pel’ax spice burner, the tang of crystal-fermented beverages, something impossibly like rain on warm stone. A young Syrithan darted gracefully through the crowd, offering samples from a tray of delicacies.

The Leyline-infused walkways brightened subtly as artificial lighting dimmed. Crystalline formations glowed softly, reflecting light in ways that made the corridors feel both expansive and intimate. Overhead, transport pods hummed along their tracks, while Flo-Lifts carried residents through shimmering energy fields.

“Watch your step here.” I caught her elbow as she stumbled on a lip between sections. The warmth of her skin startled me more than it should have. I let go quickly but reluctantly.

“Sorry.” She straightened, her composure intact despite the unfamiliar gravity. “Still getting used to station footing.”

I grunted, scanning the corridor out of habit. Three exits. Two maintenance hatches. Miners heading to the Forgeworks. No immediate threats, though plenty of eyes followed her striking figure.

“The Veil’s divided into rings,” I explained as we passed the massive support struts. “We’re in Havenstone now— a residential district. Barou’s is three levels down in?—”

“In what?” Her curious eyes met mine, pulling me out of the automatic tour guide routine.

“The older section,” I said, adjusting my stride. “Before they added the outer rings.”

We passed beneath a crystalline arch, the Leyline currents within it creating a faint resonance. She shivered, and I couldn’t help but notice.

“You feel that?” The question slipped out.

“The... energy thing? Yeah.” She waved vaguely. “Is that normal?”

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