Eileen Wilson and Zena

"The Codex was last seen here," the librarian said, his voice low and urgent. "It was on this very desk before it vanished into thin air."

Lila's eyes scanned the crowded room, picking up the heavy smell of old books and the faint whiff of something else - a smell that didn't quite want to belong. Magic? Perhaps. But it was faint, almost as if the thief had tried to cover his tracks. "Are there any special safety precautions here?" she asked, leaning forward.

The librarian's expression grew troubled. "Only the most basic," he admitted. "We rely on the honor of scholars and the vigilance of our acolytes. But this thief... they were no ordinary burglar. They knew what they sought and how to bypass our wards."

"Suspects?" Lila pressed, her eyes narrowing as she studied the man's face.

The librarian sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Only one that stands out. A young scholar by the name of Zena. She's been here every day for the past week, asking questions about the Codex. But she's not our usual type... she's got a sharp mind and the support of a wealthy patron. Why would she risk everything for this?"

Lila's curiosity was piqued. "A wealthy patron, you say? Do you know who that is?"

The librarian leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Rumor has it she's backed by Eileen Wilson herself. But I dare not speak such things too loudly. Her name carries weight here."

"Eileen Wilson," she muttered to herself. "Can you tell me more about her?"

The librarian leaned closer, his voice barely above a murmur. "Eileen is a recluse, a woman of immense wealth and influence. Some say she's involved in... unorthodox practices. But nothing has ever been proven. She's known for her fascination with the arcane, and it wouldn't surprise me if she sought the Codex for her own purposes."

Lila nodded thoughtfully, her eyes scanning the cluttered room once more. "What can you tell me about Zena?" she asked, her voice low and focused.

The librarian hesitated, then spoke in a hushed tone. "She's young, ambitious, and... different. Her eyes, they're an eerie shade of gold. Some say it's from her mother's lineage. She's been coming here since she was a girl, eager to learn. But in recent months, her questions have become... darker."

Lila nodded, her mind racing. "Where can I find her?"

The librarian scribbled an address on a piece of parchment. "This is where she's been staying, in the university district. It's a modest place, but she's had no shortage of funds." He handed it to her, his eyes pleading. "Please, find the Codex. Its knowledge could be catastrophic in the wrong hands."

With a firm nod, Lila tucked the note into her pocket and stepped back into the labyrinth of bookshelves. The Library of Worlds felt eerily quiet without the librarian's presence, the whispers of pages turning echoing through the corridors like a ghostly choir.

As she left the library, she thought about the information she had received. „So there are two people involved, at least that's how it seems so far. One is Eileen Wilson, a rich and influential person with a known interest in arcane and the other is Zena, a special young lady who was probably hired by Eileen Wilson for this task.

„The only question is why? Well, the only scenario I can think of is, that they both benefit from each other. Eileen Wilson is rich and can offer Zena a good life and good opportunities. In return, Zena can offer her unique characteristic, whatever it may be... I can't come to a final conclusion from the description.

„Zena is definitely special. The book wasn't in an open section and yet she managed to sneak in unnoticed and stole it... There were hardly any clues, except for small remnants of magic, which are useless... But what I wonder is, why she frequently asked about the book... It doesn't really make sense. It immediately throws all suspicion on her in a case of theft. That's the only thing I don't understand yet."

....

Back in Eastwind Alley, Aldwyn found himself standing in front of a building that was anything but inconspicuous. Above the door hung a wooden sign, painted with the silhouette of a nightingale in mid-flight. The crimson light that spilled out of the windows cast a seductive glow on the cobblestone street. It was a "relaxation house", or so it was called, a place where weary souls could seek solace in the arms of paid companions. But Aldwyn knew that beneath the façade of velvet and lace, there could be more than just carnality. It was a place where whispers often turned into screams, where secrets were bought and sold, and where the true face of the city was revealed.

Aldwyn took a deep breath. „If that's not a good first place to look for a missing son..." He thought in a sarcastic tone.

As he stepped through the crimson-lit doorway, the warmth of the place hit him like a wall, a stark contrast to the cold outside. The scent of incense filled his nose, trying to mask the underlying odor of sweat and despair. The walls were lined with velvet, the floor with plush carpets that had seen better days, and the air was thick with the smell of ale and cheap perfume.

The receptionist was a vision of temptation. Her hair was a fiery red, cascading down her back in waves. She had a figure that could make a saint question his vows, her breasts barely contained by a corset that pushed them up and out. Above the corset, her skin was pale and unblemished, a canvas for the intricate tattoos that swirled around her neck and shoulders like a necklace of thorns. Her eyes were a piercing green, the same color as the emeralds that dangled from her earrings, and they met his with a knowing look that seemed to strip him of his secrets.

"Welcome to The Nightingale's Embrace," she purred, her voice as sweet as honeyed wine. "What brings such a handsome man to our humble abode?"

Aldwyn's gaze remained unwavering. "I'm looking for someone," he said, his voice cold as steel. "Randall Teague. He was seen in Eastwind Alley a few days ago."

The receptionist's smile remained in place, but her eyes hardened slightly. "Ah, Mr. Teague. He's a regular here, but I haven't seen him around for a couple of days. Is there something I can help you with, or perhaps one of our lovely ladies?"

Aldwyn's gaze narrowed slightly. „So he's a regular..."

Aldwyn leaned in, his voice dropping to a murmur that was just for her. "This isn't a social call. There have been kidnappings in the area. Have you noticed anything... unusual?"

The receptionist's smile didn't falter, but her eyes narrowed, the playfulness replaced with something more cautious. "Kidnappings? In Garanom?" She feigned surprise, but the way her eyes flicked to the side told him she knew more than she was letting on.

„So there is someone who is clearly in charge here... Otherwise she wouldn't react like this." He added mentally.

Aldwyn leaned on the counter, his elbows pressing into the wood. "I'm not with the city watch, and I'm not here to cause trouble. But I am here to find Mr. Teague, and I suspect he might be connected to whatever's going on here."

The receptionist's smile remained fixed, but her eyes grew colder. "I'm afraid I can't just give out information about our patrons," she said, her voice still a purr, but now with a hint of steel beneath it. "But perhaps if you were to... engage one of our lovely companions, you might find that your stay is more... enlightening."

„Of course..." He thought to himself.

Aldwyn's eyes narrowed. "Which of your employees has had the most contact with Mr. Teague?"

The receptionist's gaze flickered to a door at the back of the room. "Perhaps a word with Siora might shed some light on the matter," she suggested, her voice a coy whisper. "But remember, dear, what happens in The Nightingale's Embrace stays in The Nightingale's Embrace."

She paused briefly before continuing. "One hour costs you two hundred lexus. All other fantasies must be discussed with the girls themselves. We make a point of allowing each of them to have their own boundaries."

He slid four fifty-lexus banknotes across the counter. "One hour with Siora."

The receptionist's eyes gleamed as she took the money. "Very well," she said, her voice a siren's call. "Follow me."