Time ran on the edge of a blade. If the remaining demonic souls broke loose, entire realms could fall. Finding Roaring Storm Bell was only half their task. They also had to rip the unseen puppeteer from the shadows and sever the demon plot at its root.

The pair left Roaring Storm Mountain behind and arrowed straight toward Breeze Town. Tucked in Jared’s robe lay the token Alice had gifted him, a master key to Whispers Tower, one of the few information houses on level six willing to traffic in every faction’s secrets, for the right price.

They touched down at the eastern alley of town, before a weather-worn wooden shack whose lintel bore a tiny gear marking, the discreet charm of Whispers Tower.

Flaxseed reached for the door, but Jared lifted his hand to stop him. He then gathered spiritual energy on his fingertips and etched Alice’s token into the iron knocker.

The hinges answered with a long, weary creak. Ink-scented air drifted out. Inside, a woman in teal leathers and a silken veil sorted scrolls beneath lamplight. Her gaze flicked to the token in Jared’s palm, then back to their faces.

“Whispers Tower honors tokens, not persons,” said, voice flat. “State your quarry. Anything tied to secrets regarding Celestia or core Celestial Palace strategy costs high-grade celestial gems, and even then, we guarantee nothing.”

“Three nights ago, Roaring Storm Bell vanished from Roaring Storm Mountain,” Jared replied, laying the token on desk. “We want every trail. Factions prowling the mountain that night, anomalous spiritual energy signatures, and any trade records mentioning demonic souls or seals.”