The stench hit her full force. Reek of muck, rusted metal, and human waste. Ruby pressed the crook of her arm against her mouth to choke back a gag. Her eyes struggled to make out more than faint bluish glimmers filtering through the grates above. Stagnant water slid in viscous rivulets down the stone, tracing black streaks.

  She moved into the tunnel, a distant torch casting just enough light to make warped shadows dance. Every sound echoed: the slap of her steps, the trickle of water, hollow reverberations. It felt like she was being followed by her own footsteps.

  Panic clawed up her chest, but she forced herself to breathe slow. She knew this feeling: in dense woods or caves, noises twisted by the dark made the mind see enemies everywhere. Observe. Look for signs. Every living thing leaves a trace.

  At a fork, she crouched, pressed her fingers to the wet flagstones. To the left, the stone was layered with powdery, sticky grime. To the right, it was wiped clean, polished by use. Overlapping boot marks pressed into the muck. Ahead, a cobweb dangled, broken at shoulder height, disturbed by a phantom breath. Ruby straightened: this tunnel was traveled.

  She advanced, following the clues as one follows tracks in snow. Each branching path became a riddle: one side, air cold and still; the other, a warm draft tinged with smoke and stale drink. She took the latter.

  Once, her foot slipped on a cracked stone. The floor opened to a gaping hole. She pitched forward, one hand catching the edge just in time. Nails scraped, arms screamed. With a grunt, she hauled herself up and rolled aside, panting, heart pounding. From the black depths rose the steady drip of water, echoing like a clock.

  She pushed herself up, trembling. Falling here wasn’t an option. Not now.

  Ruby pressed on, step by step, until she faced a heavy wooden door, iron-bound. Unlike the others, it wasn’t swollen or rotted. The handle, polished smooth, gleamed faintly. The floor before it, was swept clean of dust. Her gut screamed: this was it.

  She inhaled, laid a hand on the latch, and pushed.

  The door groaned open onto a low-vaulted chamber. No tavern din. Just a few lanterns swaying, their flickering glow doubling shadows across crates, iron-hooped barrels, an empty table.

  The air was drier, smelling of wood, sour wine… and the dust of a place where nothing joyful happened.

  Ruby stepped forward twice. Too late.

  A hand shot from the dark, seized her collar, and slammed her against the table. The blow ripped the breath from her chest. A cold blade pressed to her throat.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Wrong hole to crawl into, girl,” hissed a sharp voice.

  Ruby looked up. A hard-faced woman, blonde strand plastered to her temple, glared without blinking. Her stare, as sharp as the dagger, shimmered with cruel irony.

  “I… I was just looking for the Ragged Flagon!” Ruby stammered, voice strangled.

  A short, humorless laugh burst out. The blade pressed harder against her skin.

  “And what, you thought you’d get in by pushing the first shiny door?”

  Footsteps echoed in the hall. Ruby turned her head just in time to see a drenched figure fill the doorway. A Bosmer, blade already drawn. His eyes lit with fury when they met hers.

  “You…” he hissed.

  He lunged, dagger raised, ready to pin her to the wood. Ruby recognized him instantly: the man she had knocked out and robbed. Her gut clenched.

  “It’s her!” he spat. “Told you, Vex. Find her again, I stick her.”

  The woman -Vex- didn’t flinch, but her predator’s grin widened. Her eyes gleamed with a vicious spark.

  “So, Niruin, you want the first cut?”

  Ruby tried to speak, but her throat locked. Each breath rasped against the blade’s edge. Still, she forced out one desperate word:

  “I just wanted… to find the~”

  “The Ragged Flagon, yeah, I caught that,” Vex sneered. “But you don’t get it, sweetheart. Pick the wrong door down here, you pay up front.”

  Niruin’s grip tightened on his dagger. Ruby, pinned to the table, understood: no flight, no excuse.

  The whole room had shrunk around her. Nothing left but cold steel, jeers, and the taste of fear.

  “What’s all the noise?” called a new voice, curious more than threatening.

  Ruby didn’t dare turn her head. Vex and Niruin didn’t budge.

  “None of your business, Rune. We’re takin’ care of a rat,” Niruin growled, eyes locked on his prey.

  But the young man stepped in anyway. His lantern lit the scene: Ruby on her knees, blade at her throat. His gaze caught hers; she threw him the most pleading look she could. He stiffened… then turned on his heel, and Ruby’s heart sank.

  “Better get Brynjolf before you hack her up,” he tossed over his shoulder, disappearing down the hall.

  The name struck Ruby like a gasp of air. Brynjolf. If he came, maybe… maybe~

  “So what now?” Niruin snarled, dagger still high.

  Vex tightened her hold, yanked Ruby by the braids. Pain folded her to her knees.

  Footsteps approached. Heavy. Even. Then a voice, mocking:

  “Knew I heard some racket.”

  Brynjolf filled the doorway, arms crossed, smile tugging his lips. His gaze swept the scene, lingered on Ruby -blade at her throat- then flicked to Vex and Niruin. And he laughed.

  “By the Nine… you’re serious? This girl?”

  The laugh rolled through the room, insolent, cutting. Ruby, frozen, felt it slap her like a hand. She was the public’s joke.

  “You think this is funny?” Vex snapped, jaw tight. “She was nosin’ where she didn’t belong.”

  Brynjolf’s grin didn’t falter. His eyes sparked with that trademark irony.

  “I told her to find me at the Flagon. Alright, so she picked the wrong door… but she found me.”

  Another laugh. Then his hand lifted, calm but unyielding:

  “Put the toy away, Vex. I sent her.”

  A heavy silence. Vex’s teeth ground. She hesitated… then shoved Ruby aside and sheathed the blade with a snap. Niruin seethed quietly.

  Brynjolf shook his head, amused.

  “Yeah… some potential there. We’ll see.”

  He stepped back, arms spread theatrically.

  “Welcome to the Thieves Guild, girl. Well… not quite. This here’s the storeroom. But you weren’t far.”

  That laugh again, light, mocking, like it was all a game.

  Ruby, shaking, pressed a hand to her throat where the blade had marked her. The words echoed heavy inside her, like a sentence.

  The Thieves Guild.

  Ice pooled in her gut. She’d crossed an invisible line. And there was no turning back.

  What had she gotten herself into?