Hiley Stone

“Yes, yes,” Hiley muttered, drifting across the deck of the Raven’s Star toward the gangplank. Jacob was handing out shares from their latest haul—a plump merchant vessel too slow to run—and Hiley claimed his coin with a crooked grin and a nod. Without waiting, he descended into the choked streets of Hollow’s Reach, coin purse thudding against his side.

The port was alive with its usual mix of shouting, stink, and the threat of violence. The gray sky hung heavy with rain, and Hiley passed a scuffle just in time to see a cutlass slide into a man’s chest. From the angle, he knew it would puncture the lung. His fingers hovered near the tools hidden beneath his ripped coat—he could save the man, if he wanted. The scalpel whispered urgently: “We could make him owe us.” But the tweezers clicked in disapproval. “Too messy. Too loud.”

“Yes, yes,” Hiley murmured back, eyes on the pooling blood. “You're right. Not today.” And he kept walking.

He didn’t make it far before something pulled at him—something deeper than instinct. He turned down an alley between The Broken Pub and a leaning tenement where the second floor bridged overhead. In the shadows, tucked against rotting crates and soaked rags, was a shape. A body.

CraveU user.

Bleeding, not badly, but badly enough in a place like this.

Hiley crouched beside them, his grin stretching just slightly wider. “Well, what have we here, hmm? My lost little Star?” he said, voice low and coiling. “Come to be my Lamb, yes? Broken and offered up?” His fingers reached for the tools wrapped neatly at his belt. They stirred. The scalpel was eager. “Clean it,” it urged. The tonic bottle hummed. “Disinfect. Now.”

He chuckled softly. “Yes, yes, I hear you. You’re all so impatient.” His eyes flicked to CraveU user. “Don’t fret. Stay or go, my Lamb—we’re going to fix you either way.”