Joren found himself back at the Thistle Inn by the time evening rolled around. The light outside had faded into that soft gray-gold that made everything look dull and depressing.
He stepped through the door and into a world that hadn't changed since they arrived. The same bowl of wrapped mints on the counter, a faded ledger book lying open but untouched. He saw the same innkeeper standing behind the desk, her expression fixed in practiced politeness.
"Evening," she said.
Joren gave a nod but didn't reply, just moved past her toward the stairs.
Upstairs, Gus was slumped in a hallway chair, staring at his hands like a tree might grow out of his palm any second. Willow sat near the top of the stairs, one leg curled beneath her, her shoulder pressed to the wall for support. Her eyes met Joren's, unfocused but alert enough to see that he had returned.
"You're back," she said.
He nodded once. "I need your help. I think I know a way to fix everyone's insomnia"
That pulled Gus from his glazed-over slump. Willow blinked like she was coming back from the dead.
"Tomorrow," Joren said, "I'm going to speak to everyone I can." Joren looked at each of them in turn. "I need you two to spread the word. Gather everyone you can in one place, tell them whatever it takes."
Gus gave a slow nod, his expression blank, but his hands stilled. "Yeah. Yeah, alright. I can do that."
Willow swallowed hard. "What in the world are you planning to do with the whole town watching?"
Joren didn't answer right away.
He leaned against the stair rail, gaze tilted toward the shadows below. The floor creaked faintly beneath them, like the building was listening. "I think Lysaire is the one behind everything that's happening to us. She has the whole town under her control."
Gus sat up straighter, blinking hard. Willow's hand gripped the edge of the stair rail like she needed it to stay rooted.
"She talks like she's helping people," Joren went on, voice low. "But I think she might be an Auspex."
The two of them looked deflated hearing his accusation.
Of course she was.
It explained everything but still felt like betrayal of the highest order.
Gus let out a breath that sounded more like a sigh than a reaction. "No wonder I keep forgetting what day it is."
"She got to us fast," Willow murmured, her grip tightening. "She met us almost immediately after entering the town." She shook her head, jaw clenched. "It felt good, like things were finally calm in a city for once."
"That's what she wants," Joren said. "People who are too worn out to question the quiet."
For a moment, all three stood in silence.
"Tomorrow," he said, "I'm going to tell the truth. Loud enough that people remember what it feels like to want something again."
Gus rose slowly to his feet, like the motion itself took effort. "You can count on us, I trust you completely."
Joren didn't respond right away, but something in his shoulders eased.
Willow stepped beside Gus, her expression still pale, eyes glassy from exhaustion, but steady. "Where do you want them?"
"The chapel square," Joren said. "Lysaire is bound to be there, she always seems to be at the church."
Willow gave a faint nod. "I'll bring whoever still listens."
They started down the hallway together, slow and quiet, but moving with purpose. Their footsteps barely echoed, as if the wood had grown used to silence and wasn't ready to break it.
Joren watched them go down the hall until they turned the corner, then he stepped into his room and shut the door behind him.
Joren had a battle plan to create, and he couldn't let this town suffer any longer.
Late Evening – The Streets
Gus and Willow found themselves on the street, filled with purpose for the first time in days. They walked in the direction of the square, their boots going clunk against the worn cobbles. The quiet had a weight to it now; it didn't feel peaceful anymore. It felt like they were listening for something that had stopped making sound.
They passed a man wiping down a stack of wooden crates, the same crates Gus had seen two mornings in a row.
"There's a blessing for the weather tomorrow, Lysaire would want you there." Willow spoke of pure nonsense and guesswork, but it did enough to convince the man to go there around noon.
Gus raised an eyebrow once they were out of earshot. "Blessing for the weather?"
Willow shrugged while looking at him. "Felt right."
They didn't need to believe the story they were spinning, just to play into the townspeople's belief in Lysaire.
They passed the baker's stall, long closed for the night, where Theo still sat on the step outside, running a thumb along the edge of a wooden crate. His eyes looked clearer than most in town, but he was just as much under the spell as everyone else.
Willow crouched beside him. "Afternoon service tomorrow," she said. "New words from Lysaire that you'll want to hear."
Theo nodded, slowly. "I'll bring the leftover bread."
She touched his shoulder lightly. "That'd be good."
They left him there, sitting outside his shop waiting for the sun to rise again.
The wind tugged at the awnings overhead as they made their way around town to recruit as many people as possible. Then, as they turned down a narrow lane lined with shuttered windows, Gus said, "You think this'll work?"
Willow didn't answer right away.
"I think he's the only one who could even try," she said. "I really don't know what he could be planning, but I believe in him all the same."
Gus gave a quiet grunt of agreement. "Yeah."
They crossed the canal again, retracing the path that they took with Lysaire when they first arrived.
Gus paused. "Do you remember what she said when we first got here? Lysaire."
Willow frowned. "Something about rest, I think. It's hard to really remember anything anymore."
Gus nodded. "She told us people like us end up in Dyer's Crossing for a reason. She knows exactly what people want to hear," Gus said. "That's what makes it dangerous." Gus scratched the back of his neck. "I think she thinks she's helping, or maybe she just got tired of watching people fall apart."
"She's still watching," Willow said. "Everywhere we go, it feels like she's already been there."
Willow slowed as they passed the tailor's shop. The dresses in the window hadn't changed in a week. It was filled with the same pale blue silk, same half-finished hem. Dust was beginning to settle on the display glass, but no one seemed to notice.
"Do you think anyone else suspects her?" she asked.
Gus shook his head. "Not a chance. The people her view her as a kind soul who listens to them, they would have no reason to distrust her. I mean, look at us, we trusted her from the get-go."
Willow folded her arms, voice quieter now. "He's going to stand up in front of everyone and try to cut through all this silence with the truth."
Gus didn't answer right away. He watched the wind stir clothes hanging from lines.
"Saying the truth out loud in a place like this? That takes more than just power, it takes some serious nerve." Gus rubbed the side of his jaw. "You think he's scared?"
Willow gave the faintest shrug. "It's hard to tell with that kid, he's so unreadable sometimes."
Willow looked up toward the darkened sky. "Whatever happens," she said, "he's not alone."
Gus nodded. Gus and Willow believe in their friend far more than words can describe, and they would do whatever it takes to help him save this town.
They finished speaking to as many people as they could before nightfall. The town's quiet swallowed their voices the moment they moved on, but here and there, faces had turned to the messages they had delivered. An amassing crowd would be enough to gather those that they couldn't find in time, so they felt like they had done enough for the night.
By the time they made it back to the Thistle Inn, the lamps inside had already been lit.
The air felt heavier than before, like the whole town was holding its breath for the confrontation that would occur tomorrow. Neither of them said much as they stepped through the door, because they knew sleep would elude them once again.