Well, Dad's been missing for nearly ten years now. Mom's dead. My business is going under and I don't have anything else in this city.

Being back in Rhy"Din was like opening a book of fairy tales, alongside several others and having them all read at once. The sights and sounds were thrilling to behold for someone who hadn't laid eyes on them in many long years. From the technological marvels that dominated Stars End to the more medieval inspired buildings nearest the heart of the sprawling city. Men and women walked down the streets, toting swords, guns and cellphones without batting an eye at one another while enormous winged creatures soared through the skies overhead. It was as if someone just dumped fantasy and reality into one big pot and mixed it all together with a spoon to see what would happen.

To be honest, he missed Rhy"Din. He'd never been very close with his father's family, but the city itself was such a step away from the mundane world he'd grown up in that being there was nearly enough to keep his mind off the most recent tragedy to affect his life. His mother's unfortunate passing didn't weigh him down as much here, and he was able to consider the good fortune she had of passing away in relative comfort. The last few years had been difficult on her, full of doctor and hospital visits and sickness from a plethora of medications that Eliot was secretly sure were causing her more harm than good. Now she was gone and though he missed her dearly, a part of him was glad for it. She wasn't in pain any longer.

He hadn't sent word to the Grangers of his mother's death, deciding that it was something best discussed in person with what few he could round up. Whether there were many left in Rhy?Din or not, he had no idea. The first order of business was finding an apartment and he had arranged that before ever making the trip. Now that Eliot was in the city and moved into the apartment he decided to wander the markets for a spell and came upon a small, vacant building that drew his eye and made him pause. He peered through the dusty glass at the empty space stole a glance at a sign on the window with a realtor's name and phone number. Maybe business wouldn't be so bad here.

His hand dove into his pocket for a cellphone and he saved the number before turning to wander off in search of lunch.

Sleep that night did not come easy. Then again, sleep didn't come easy at all these days. His closed eyes opened his mind to visions he simply didn't want to see, but the treacherous thoughts in his head insisted on showing them to him each night. The first was a man, tall and slender with black hair and green eyes. He looked like Eliot, only a little older. A boy of six years walked hand-in-hand with him and they looked happy. Then they turned the corner and the man's face went cloudy and the boy let go. He disappeared as though made of smoke and caught up in the wind and the boy ran away. His father's disappearance was something Eliot never really got past, even today it unsettled his unconscious mind.

Sleeping was a fitful ordeal. He woke up off and on throughout the night, disturbed by dreams of his father, haunting memories of the darkest times in his life and the more recent image of his mother in pain.

Eliot used to go out looking for Jackson Granger with a flashlight, thinking to find his father lurking around the corner in an alleyway somewhere with a big grin on his face like he'd fooled the world as he so often claimed to do when they played a game. Each night was the same. Cold, dead ends and his mother calling down the street for him to come back because he'd wandered too far again. She seemed to harbor no hope that Jackson would ever return and did her best to stamp out what little remained in the young man's heart early on. She kept a tight leash around him after that and he suffered for it in more ways than one, something she didn't realize until it was nearly too late.

It nearly cost Eliot's life.

He woke to a fading image imprinted in his mind of a bathroom door splintering open and a bright light flicking on overhead. The white tile beneath him was stained red with blood that flowed from open wounds in his wrists. Pale as Eliot always had been, he was more so as he laid there with the life draining from his body and his mother's pale, horror stricken face hovering before him.

The alarm was an atrocious sound that grated on his hears and made the pain of his pounding head worse and worse with every beat. He reached over to slap the button that would turn it off and cursed when it tumbled to the floor and broke into a handful of plastic fragments. With a groan Eliot climbed from his bed and padded off for a shower and some clothes. He blinked around at his new bedroom as though he didn't recognize any of it, the light shining through the windows making him squint and lift his arm for cover. The air was cold and he shivered.

When he was washed and dressed and able to move with more confidence, he stepped out of his apartment and locked the door behind him, turning just in time to barely avoid running into the large red man again.

"Morning," he mumbled quietly.

"You screamed last night," the man's voice sounded like a rockslide, all grating and harsh.

"Did I?" Eliot asked, only mildly embarrassed. "Sorry if I bothered you."

"You need to move on," the red man grunted and shouldered past him to march down the stairs.

Eliot blinked after his neighbor and looked up and down the hall, wondering just what the red man was talking about as he stepped away from the door and rocked on his heels. He decided to wait for a bit, letting the man get farther away from him before going down the stairs and out into the cold morning himself. He didn't want to chance another encounter with him out in the streets, where he might not be as cordial. The morning was pale and cold and a thin layer of fog hung in the air and made it hard to see down the street. His shadow was barely more than a specter tailing him as he walked down the sidewalk and crossed the avenue to the other side where a little coffee shop waited, bustling with business in the early hours.

He got in line once inside and stood behind a woman in a brilliant pink sweater that made him squint when looking at it. He decided to look at the ceiling and traced the lines that spread like spiderwebs overhead. Without thinking he reached for the camera that hung around his neck nearly all day everyday and brought it up to take a few quick snapshots of the ceiling, pausing as he peered through the lense. He thought he saw something moving overhead, like the cracks were spreading slowly, but when his eyes left the lense the ceiling seemed perfectly still.

He took the picture.

The woman in front of him turned at the sound of the shutter and tilted her head curiously at him.

"Are you a photographer?" she asked pleasantly.

"I am," he replied, still staring through the lense at the ceiling.

"That's great! I'm a model, looking for work."

"Of course you are."

She frowned at the tone in his voice and turned away, muttering something under her breath. He realized his mistake and looked down at her, jolted back to reality from his distraction. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

She hunched her shoulders and didn't look back.

The sun was beginning to set, it cast a distorting light on the dirty windows of the store he'd just purchased in the market. He stood amidst the thick layers of dust that coated the floor and hung heavily in the air with his hands on his hips and a replacement camera hanging from around his neck, smiling to himself as he started working out how to begin fixing the place up and getting it ready for business. With a twist Eliot turned and started for the door, spinning the key on its ring around one of his fingers. When he locked it up and tucked the key away, he snatched his phone and paused as something slipped from his pocket and fell to the sidewalk.

A lean brought him down and he scraped up a card he'd gotten from Summer Daniels and tucked it back into his pocket, already knowing who his first clients would be. Fingers snatched the camera from its awkward hang around his neck as he started walking down the street and he flicked through the images he'd taken in during his morning trip to the Red Dragon, which included many random snapshots of people who hadn't expected it.

"That one's Summer," he told himself when he found her picture. "That's Colt," and he continued muttering off names as he flicked through the pictures until there were none left.

"Wonder how many of them there are," according to Summer, they were attempting a non-hostile take over the city. That meant a lot. He snickered at the thought and at the image of the Daniels and the Grangers duking it out over who got control first, maybe he'd write a play about it and send it to one of Rhy"Din's many theaters.

The hour was getting later and later and he was still tired from the poor rest he'd gotten the night before and so he decided to skip dinner, letting his feet carry him with the harsh push of the wind back toward his apartment building. It was a long climb up the stairs and he had to stop halfway due to a sudden wave of a dizziness that made him stumble and slip, but he caught the railing and stopped himself from falling. When he stood upright again he felt something slick in the palm of his hand and looked to see a long cut that dug right into the palm caused by a rough bit of metal jutting out from the old, poorly maintained railing to his right. Blood trickled down and fell in tiny droplets to the floor.

Cursing, he tugged his sleeve down to try and keep the blood back and hurried up the stairs. The door opening into his hall was blocked by a mass of people on the other side who seemed transfixed on a scene taking place farther down.

"Excuse me," he mumbled, trying to slip through the crowd. "Excu-ow, hey!"

"Excuse me!" an impatient snap was barked up as the red man stepped in his path and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Get out of the way," the red man said, giving him a shove to the side as paramedics came rushing by.

"What's going on?"

"Someone broke into Eleanor's apartment."

"Is she alright?" he asked, a sickening feeling twisting a knot in his gut.

"She's been stabbed."

Down the hall several officers from the Watch were escorting a lanky looking man with dark hair and a scratchy beard. The crowd of onlookers parted like the sea for them when they approached and Eliot caught the man's eye when he took a photo. The man sneered at him and jumped to the side, trying to wrench himself free of the officers" hold to lunge at Eliot who yelped and stumbled back. They slammed the man into the nearby wall and hoisted him up to drag him out of the hall.

"Who's that?"

"That's the man that stabbed her, apparently," the red man said as he turned to lumber back to his apartment.