Chapter 23

Chapter 23
Jax's POV

On the way back, Briony wouldn't stop chattering.

"Did you see? The goddess gave you an extra piece of bread! This is divine grace, Jax!" She clutched my arm tightly, as if afraid I might suddenly vanish. "It means the goddess saw your sincerity, she's forgiven you!"

I nodded absently, my mind filled with the image of Celeste gripping that wooden plaque, her knuckles bone-white.

She was scared.

"From today on, you'll come pray every week," Briony continued, her eyes shining with devotion. "You must thank the goddess properly for her blessing. Perhaps she'll continue to protect us, perhaps your father's soul will finally find peace."

At the word "father," something slammed into my chest.

Gideon Donovan. My damned old man.

After he came back alive from the Albatross, he was a different person. The man who used to tell me stories of the sea, who'd laugh and hoist me onto his shoulders—that man vanished completely. In his place was a stranger who spent all day drowning himself in taverns, racking up gambling debts, until finally he disappeared without a trace.

Every time I asked him what happened on that ship, he'd just stare at me with those hollow eyes and say nothing.

What the hell happened on that ship?

I looked at Grandma's wrinkled face, at the near-fanatical devotion in her eyes, and suddenly felt exhausted.

This faith was her salvation, the only thing keeping her alive. But to me, it was just another lie—a tool to numb the bottom-dwellers, to keep them kneeling willingly on the ground.

But I couldn't say it out loud.

Couldn't tell her that the so-called "goddess" was just a poor girl locked in a tower. Couldn't tell her that those "miracles" were carefully orchestrated frauds by the merchant guild.

That would be too cruel for an old woman.

I pushed open the rickety wooden door. Inside was the same dilapidated scene—peeling walls, broken furniture, even the air thick with damp and mildew.

Briony carefully placed today's bread on the table as if handling precious treasure. Those dry, hard pieces of bread gleamed faintly in the candlelight, looking utterly unappetizing.

I thought of the fried fish I'd shared with Celeste last night—crispy skin, tender meat, those coarse grains of salt. That was real food, real warmth.

Two worlds, so utterly divided.

One was false sanctity, maintaining surface order through lies and fear; the other was genuine warmth that, though fleeting, made you feel alive.

As darkness fell, Briony went to bed early, lying on her creaking wooden cot, emitting weak snores.

I retrieved the green jade earring from the old wooden box and put it back on. The moment the stone touched my earlobe, I felt myself transform back into that carefree street thief Jax—not Grandma's "grandson who needs redemption," but the free man who ran across rooftops and moved through darkness.

Before leaving, I left a note on the table: "Grandma, gone to work at the docks, back tomorrow morning. Don't worry. —Jax"

Then I pushed through the door and vanished into the night.

The slum alleys were especially sinister at night. Moonlight stretched my shadow long, like some twisted monster. From the distance came drunken shouting mixed with prostitutes' laughter and the sound of waves crashing against rocks.

The Wind Lighthouse stood on the cliff, flickering weakly in the darkness like a solitary eye, coldly watching over this city.

I took a deep breath and began to climb.

The cracks and protrusions in the stone wall became my footholds. My fingers dug into the crevices, toes finding purchase on narrow ledges, moving upward bit by bit like a gecko. Cold wind blew past, carrying the salt tang of seawater and night's chill, making my coat snap and flutter.

This wasn't my first time scaling this tower, but my heart still raced every time.

One slip, and I'd plummet dozens of meters to splatter my brains on those cold stone slabs below.

But I had no choice. Celeste needed to know about that scarred woman.

Finally, I reached her window.

Through the glass, I saw her kneeling before that ancient weather instrument, body trembling slightly, forehead beaded with sweat. Her white robe looked especially pale in the candlelight, her whole person appearing so weak she might collapse at any moment.

She was performing that damned "prophecy" again.

I tapped lightly on the window.

Celeste's head whipped around. Seeing me, surprise flashed across her face before she quickly moved to the window and opened it.

"Are you insane?" she hissed, voice full of worry. "If you're discovered—"

"I told you I'd come warn you." I climbed through into the room. "That woman with the scar on her neck—I saw her at the tavern. She's dangerous."

Looking at my expression, she seemed to grasp the seriousness and nodded.

"Yesterday I went to the Sea Breeze Tavern," I said, recalling the scene. "Had some drinks. And then... then I got fucking drunk and started bragging."

"Bragging?"

"I told those people I know the goddess," I said, feeling my face flush. "Said we're friends, said I'd just seen you last night."

Celeste's face went instantly pale.

"Then this woman came over," I continued. "She paid for my drinks. At the time I thought she was just being kind, but then I saw her neck—"

I paused.

"She has this terrible scar on her neck. Not a normal scar—it's... it's what's left after a werewolf's mate mark is carved out."

Celeste gasped, hand flying to her mouth.

"She asked if I could introduce her to you," I said, guilt in my voice. "She was especially interested in the 'goddess.' At the time I thought I'd gotten lucky, found some fool who believed my bullshit. But now, thinking about it..."

"She might be coming for me," Celeste said quietly. "And you inadvertently gave her a way to approach me."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I really didn't mean to. I just got drunk and couldn't control my mouth—"

"It's okay," Celeste interrupted, her voice calm though I could see fear in her eyes. "At least you came to tell me. That's already... that's already more than most people would do."

She fell silent for a moment, then asked, "Do you think... she'll come looking for me?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But if she really wants to get close to you, what I said might have given her an excuse."

Celeste bit her lip, looking uneasy.

"Are you scared?" I asked.

"Yes," she said softly. "I don't know what she wants. I don't know how to deal with this. I've never..." She paused. "I've never really encountered people from outside. Dangerous people with bad intentions."

"What do you mean?"

She walked to the window, looking out at the dark sea.

"You know, Jax," she said quietly, "I've never left this tower. From the day Quillan brought me here, I've been trapped inside. Those people who come to pray—I can only watch them from the high platform. I don't know what they're really like, don't know what the outside world is like."

She turned to look at me, helplessness in her eyes.

"So I have no idea how to deal with that woman. I don't know what bad people look like, don't know what danger looks like. All I know is... being trapped here."

Looking at her, I suddenly had a crazy idea.

"Then let's go see it," I said.

Celeste turned around, eyes wide. "What?"

"Go see the real world," I said. "Not looking out from this window, but actually going out there. Walking on the streets."

"I can't," Celeste shook her head. "If I'm discovered—"

"You won't be discovered," I said. "I promise. We'll just take a look around, and I'll have you back before dawn. No one will know."

Celeste hesitated.

I could see the struggle in her eyes—fear and longing pulling against each other.

"Is it... is it really worth the risk?" she asked.

"You've been trapped here so long, don't you want to know?" I said. "Don't you want to know what those people who come pray every day are really like? Don't you want to know what this city you're protecting actually looks like?"

Celeste was silent for a long time.

"Alright," she finally said, her voice trembling slightly. "I'll go with you."

This might be the first time she'd made a decision that went against Quillan's orders.

I took off my coat and carefully wrapped it around her hair. "Your hair's too conspicuous," I said. "Need to hide it."

She nodded, letting me bundle the coat around her head. Then we quietly left the room, descending the spiral staircase.

The lighthouse was very quiet, only our footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

We reached the cargo lift—used for transporting supplies, rarely used otherwise. I pulled the rope and the lift began its slow descent.

When we successfully climbed over the lighthouse's outer wall, we heard the footsteps of patrolling guards.

"Damn it," I cursed under my breath.

Celeste grabbed my sleeve nervously.

A guard carrying a torch approached. Seeing us, he immediately went on alert. "Stop! Who are you?"

I quickly put my arm around Celeste's shoulders, affecting a drunken swagger.

"Hey, brother, relax," I said with a grin. "Just taking this drunk home. She had too much after the pilgrimage, I'm being a good guy and seeing her back."

The guard frowned, looking us over. Celeste was smart—she immediately swayed unsteadily and let out some incoherent moans.

"Get going then," the guard finally waved us off. "Don't hang around here."

"Thanks, brother!" I dragged Celeste away quickly.

We didn't stop until we were well clear of the lighthouse grounds. Celeste pulled off the coat covering her hair, gasping for breath.

"We... we actually got out," she said, voice filled with disbelief.

"Yeah," I said. "Welcome to the real world, Lady Goddess."