Chapter 14: Dungeon
The next morning hit Fin like a slap to the face. His room was quiet, the bed softer than anything he'd ever slept on, but his stomach still twisted with nerves. He sat on the edge of the mattress, boots dangling just above the floor, and let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Alright, Fin," he muttered to himself. "Day one of not screwing this up."
His mind drifted back to Meg. The way she'd shoved that crumpled stack of cash into his hands back in the slums. "You've got a shot," she'd said, her voice sharp but warm. "Don't waste it."
He rubbed his face with both hands. "Yeah, Meg. Working on it. Promise." He could still smell the rot of the slums, feel the weight of her trust. No way he was letting her down—not after everything.
Standing up, he grabbed his vest and the dagger. The blade still had that sad, chipped edge, but it'd gotten him through the wolf fight. "You and me, buddy," he said, slipping it into his belt. "Let's not die today."
He checked himself in the tiny mirror by the door. Same scruffy hair, same sharp jaw, same "I'm trying" vibe. "Good enough," he grumbled, then headed out.
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The Hunter Guild was buzzing when he got there. Dawn barely cracked the sky, but the lobby was packed—Hunters everywhere, some chatting, some sharpening weapons, some just looking grumpy over their coffee.
Fin squeezed through the crowd, dodging a guy with a sword twice his size and a lady yelling about a missing payment.
"Busy day," he mumbled, nearly tripping. "Guess everyone wants to kill something."
"Fin!" Mara's voice sliced through the noise like a knife.