Streets of Ravetham

Kaelen leaned back in the plush leather of his Porsche, fingers drumming rhythmically on the steering wheel as the phone rang. The line clicked, and Don Cappo's gravelly voice filled the car.

"Kaelen, what can I do for ya, kid?" the crime boss's tone was a mix of curiosity and authority.

"I need a lair," Kaelen said evenly. "Know anyone selling?"

Don Cappo let out a deep chuckle. "Funny you ask. Got this club, Black Fang, over in the Shadow Fall district. Been thinkin’ of selling it. Eight hundred grand. Interested?"

Kaelen didn’t hesitate. "Consider it sold." With over nine million still in his account, it wasn’t a hard decision.

Cappo's tone shifted to curiosity. "By the way, who's the pink-haired girl I saw you with on the news?"

Kaelen smirked, knowing the answer would stir interest. "Zagoth’s sister, Sera."

There was a pause before Cappo hummed, impressed. "Well, well. You should drop by the Abyssal Vault when you get a chance. I'll have a little tribute for her ready."

Ending the call, Kaelen hit the gas, the Porsche roaring to life. The engine growled through the docks, reverberating off the still water as he sped toward Cappo’s casino.

He navigated the familiar route from the docks to Shadow Fall. Old Iron Road twisted past decrepit warehouses like silent sentinels. The streets narrowed, the dim streetlights flickering like ghosts. Crossing Shadow Bridge, the neon lights of the district welcomed him. Kaelen turned onto Smoke Alley, a rundown stretch littered with graffiti and stray papers, before reaching Shadow Lane. The Abyssal Vault towered ahead, a looming structure of black and gold, bathed in ominous red lights.

In the car, Seraphis leaned in close to Loren, sniffing her, a devilish grin forming on her lips. "I love the smell of princess fear in the morning," she purred.

Loren blinked, caught off guard, but before she could respond, Seraphis straightened up, pulling out her phone and frowning at the screen. "How does this shiny rock work?"

Loren, recovering, chuckled and showed her how to navigate the device. What surprised Kaelen wasn’t Loren's quick response, but how fast Seraphis adapted. Within minutes, she was calling Valerian.

"I want wyvern hearts," she purred into the phone.

Valerian’s voice on the other end carried a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You’re five hundred years too young to be giving me orders, little one."

Seraphis smirked. "Not your staff."

Kaelen couldn't help but laugh as Valerian, sounding defeated, agreed to get her the wyvern hearts, though it would take six hours because of daylight.

By the time Kaelen pulled up at the Abyssal Vault, anticipation buzzed through him. Inside, the casino was lavish and gothic—crimson carpets, dark marble floors, and golden chandeliers dripping with diamonds. Banners adorned with demonic symbols hung from the ceiling, and patrons in dark finery sipped glowing cocktails.

Don Cappo stood waiting at the entrance, towering in a sharp white suit with golden accents. He nodded at Kaelen before turning to Seraphis, bowing deeply.

"Your tribute awaits, Sera," he said, signaling to a grunt who stepped forward, holding a platinum, diamond-encrusted Cuban link chain. The chain glittered as it was placed around Seraphis's neck.

She puffed out her chest, smirking. "You honor the true dragon kin. I accept part of your hoard as tribute."

Cappo, unfazed, bowed again. "The honor is mine. Let it be known that Don Cappo pays his dues."

Kaelen couldn't help but feel amused at the sight. Seraphis, with the extravagant chain around her neck, looked utterly spoiled. But her smirk told him she knew exactly what she was doing.

"My hoard is bigger than yours, bonded," she teased, a glint in her eye.

The words stung more than Kaelen expected. He remembered Valerian mentioning Seraphis's vast hoard, which rivaled even Mason’s near-billion-dollar fortune. Glancing at Loren, Kaelen wondered how much she had saved up over the years. When he asked, she smiled.

"I’ve got eighty million," she said, as though it were pocket change.

Kaelen's eyes widened. He figured she had been saving for her future, perhaps for kids, given her royal lineage.

With business concluded, Don Cappo handed Kaelen the keys to Black Fang, now officially his. Cappo offered to help manage the club for a modest fee of two thousand dollars a month, covering bartenders, DJs, and bouncers. Kaelen quickly agreed.

Back in his Porsche, Kaelen dialed Elara. "Got a new base. Meet me at Black Fang when you can."

His mind raced with ideas of transforming the club into a headquarters. He glanced at Seraphis, still admiring her new chain, and a half-joking thought crossed his mind.

"How do you feel about forming a rap group?" he asked.

Seraphis grinned. "Sure. All I have to do is dance, right?"

Kaelen blinked in surprise. Seraphis caught onto things quickly, and the idea started growing on him. He pulled out his phone and began searching for an agent. He found the name he was looking for—Nero ‘Fix’ Karloff, a renowned agent who represented the Shadow Syndicate, a group Kaelen admired.

He dialed the number, and Nero’s smooth, professional voice came through. "Nero here. What can I do for you?"

"I want to hire the Shadow Syndicate for a gig at my new club, Black Fang. What’s the price?"

"Five hundred thousand for the night," Nero replied.

"Done," Kaelen said, not skipping a beat. "Also, I want your help forming a new group, with Sera as the lead."

"For ten thousand, I can make that happen," Nero offered.

After wiring the money, Nero gave him an address in the Shadow Fall district. The skyscraper was sleek and modern, its exterior lined with neon lights. Inside, the décor screamed wealth—polished black marble, chrome accents, and avant-garde art.

In Nero’s office, after signing contracts, Kaelen reviewed a list of potential recruits for Seraphis’s group: Try Hard, a tiefling for ten thousand; Shrugger, a goblin for two thousand; Oy Yo, a female kobold for twelve thousand; and Trap Icy, a trans girl human known in the underground scene, for one million.

Kaelen's eyes lit up at Trap Icy’s name. She was a legend, a gay pimp with ties to the Pixie Cartel, and her music had blown up. He immediately wanted her on board.

After paying for both Trap Icy and Oy Yo, Nero warned Kaelen. "Trap Icy is high maintenance—gets involved in shootouts, court cases, you name it."

Kaelen laughed. "Sounds like she’ll fit right in. And welcome to my world."