I woke to the soft creak of settling wood and the sounds of a bustling street.

  I furrowed my brows, still drowsy, and opened my eyes just a little, expecting the marble of my ceiling.

  Instead, I found white textured plaster and walls painted a lovely shade of periwinkle.

  My eyes snapped open.

  I lay in a narrow bed, wrapped in a quilt patterned with little stitched flowers. One of the embroidered corners read Tiana in looping red thread.

  Right. Tiana.

  Hana's older sister.

  I inhaled sharply and pushed myself upright. My ribs protested. The memories of the previous night crashed into place with unwelcome clarity: Hana's injuries, the escape, the panic on the road, the taxi, the warm hands pulling me into an embrace.

  My eyes widened. I could not believe I'd had the courage to run away with Hana in the middle of the night.

  I glanced at the window, wondering if Father had already noticed my absence. If Enora had notified him. If one of the maids went to tell him the news.

  I took a deep breath and willed my heart to slow down.

  I would no longer allow my father to dictate what I do.

  Not after all that happened yesterday.

  I swung my legs off the bed. Before I could stand, my eyes found my reflection in a mirror attached to a narrow wardrobe. I was wearing a red cardigan with big buttons and a black wool skirt. Keeping my feet warm was a pair of yellow fuzzy socks.

  I smiled softly.

  I borrowed a brush from a table near the window and put my hair in a simple braid before heading downstairs.

  A delicious waft of onion and spices greeted me before I reached the bottom of the stairs, followed by the sound of quiet clattering from the kitchen.

  Mariel, Hana's mother, stood at the stove, stirring a pot with one hand and setting a knife in the sink with the other. Her curly hair was tied high on her head, a few strands defying the attempt. The room felt impossibly small, but comforting. Cluttered shelves, mismatched mugs and plates, the faint smell of herbs.

  I just stood there, admiring the scene. I couldn't remember seeing anyone cook since my mother.

  Mariel turned, brightening instantly. Looking radiant despite the dark circles beneath her eyes.

  "Oh! Sweetheart, good morning. Or good afternoon, I should say. You slept half the day."

  Her tone was teasing.

  She wiped her hands on her apron and looked me over with a motherly once-over I'd never gotten to experience from my own mother.

  As I approached, I tried to find the source of the soft humming noise I heard, and the repetitive clicking... My ears were stimulated by a variety of new sounds.

  "I must say," Mariel continued with a grin,"Tiana's clothes fit you better than I anticipated. You two have such different builds. She's tiny." She lifted her hand to indicate height. "Well, not that I'm much taller. Or Hana." She laughed, looking up to meet my eyes.

  I found myself smiling, though my chest still felt tight.

  "Thank you for lending them to me." I murmured. "I didn't want to stay in my... uniform."

  Her eyes softened. "You're safe here, darling. Hunger. Pain. Fright. We don't ignore those things in this house." She stated it so confidently, making me wonder how much the generous woman knew about me. "Sit, sit. I made tomato soup with egg. You need to regain your strength. And maybe put on a little weight, while we're at it." She joked while caressing my hair.

  I froze, unsure how to respond to the tender gesture.

  Mariel set a full bowl and spoon on the table. I followed and lowered myself into one of the wooden chairs. The food looked as delicious as it smelled.

  "How is Hana today?" I felt guilty asking. I still felt responsible for her injuries.

  "She... had a light fever at night. I gave her some syrup. And some pills for the pain. She should feel better." She noticed my concerned expression, mirroring her own. She squeezed my hand in comfort. "I'm sure she's feeling better. And she'll be better after she eats. She hates missing meals. Wait here, I'm going to wake her up and we can eat together."

  With one last warm smile, Hana's mother went upstairs.

  I wanted to go check on my friend too. Instead, I sat still, listening to the sound of Mariel's soft footsteps, the creak of the door opening.

  A sharp inhale.

  Just a tiny gasp, strangled at the end.

  My heart dropped. I darted from the chair and up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When I reached Hana's room, her mother was frantically checking her temperature, grabbing bottles and vials from the nightstand.

  I forced myself out of my shocked state. "How can I help?"

  As I approached, Hana came into view. Her forehead shimmered with sweat, her skin a frightening pale color, her chest rose and fell quickly. Her eyes struggled to stay open, almost unfocused.

  My heart started beating erratically.

  "Ice. There should be ice in the freezer. In the kitchen." She noticed my confusion. "The big grey rectangle in the kitchen, the lower drawer."

  I nodded. Then stopped and looked at my hands.

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  "Cold. I can do it." This time it was Mariel's turn to look confused.

  "Thermal manipulation." I raised my hands, as if to explain. "I can do it."

  Mariel stared for a second, then nodded and stepped back to leave room for me.

  I pressed my hands against Hana's burning forehead and cheek. She instinctively pressed against my cool palms.

  I glanced at Mariel measuring some potion-like pink liquid—the syrup—stealing quick curious glances at my hands.

  "Here, Hana, open your mouth." Mariel softly pressed a small transparent cup against Hana's lips and the girl obeyed, gulping it down.

  "She needs advanced magical care." I noticed Hana was trembling, so I focused my energy on the quilt covering her. The fibers reacted and heated.

  Hana opened her mouth to speak, but we couldn't make out the words.

  "Hush darling, it's okay, don't overexert yourself." Mariel caressed her daughter's legs over the heavy quilt, noticing with surprise how warm they were under her hands.

  "That's—I... It would be ideal but—" Mariel sighed. "It's too expensive. I—"

  The woman was holding back tears. Probably trying not to scare Hana, and maybe me as well.

  I felt the guilt eating me inside. My mind raced trying to find a solution.

  "We should take her to the city hospital." Mariel sniffed.

  "Would they heal her fast?" My eyes fell on my friend. The deep purple bruise on her face had swollen, but that's not what terrified me. Her breaths came uneven, shallow. That made me suspect there was damage on the inside as well.

  "I—I don't know. It depends on how many people they have and how grave their conditions are..."

  I turned toward Mariel, my hands still firmly on Hana's forehead, providing what little comfort I could give her.

  "I—" I stilled. I felt the thin chain of my bracelet move, the ever-present coolness of it giving me an idea. "I'll take care of it. I'll bring the money for the medic. Just wait here!"

  I nodded, trying desperately to convince the older woman standing beside me, looking conflicted.

  Hana looked like she wanted to say something but had difficulty forming the words. I caressed her hair and calmed her, hoping my friend would let me do the only thing I could think of to help her.

  Eventually, Mariel caved. "Alright. Yes. Thank you, dear."

  After slipping into more borrowed clothes from an oblivious Tiana, I grabbed my coat and boots and headed out.

  "Are you sure you know your way around the city?" Mariel asked softly once more, looking uneasy.

  "Yes." The lie came smoothly. "Don't worry, Mrs...?"

  I realized, embarrassed, that I didn't know how to address Hana's mother, if not by her name as the woman had insisted the night before.

  "Just Mariel, dear. Here—" She gave me a folded piece of paper. "A small map of the city, in case you need it to reach your uncle's house."

  A little white lie I'd told to explain the surge of money I was about to get.

  "Thank you, Mariel. Call the medic, I'll arrive with the money shortly. And no, please, you don't have to give it back. I mean it. Please."

  Mariel had tried to convince me she'd repay the medic money once she got her salary next month.

  I had to refuse several times.

  "Very well." Mariel smiled softly, her eyes tender. "Thank you. And Alya?" She took both my hands in her own. "This is not your fault. Don't believe that, even for a second."

  My eyes stung. I nodded, squeezed the kind-hearted woman's hands, and turned.

  I had descended the doorstep when the cold reality hit me.

  I had no idea where I was, or where to go.

  The street stretched in both directions—narrow, paved with worn dark stones, lined with tightly packed houses painted in muted shades of blue, cream, and soft green. Laundry hung from balconies. A bicycle leaned crookedly against a fence.

  Somewhere, a dog barked twice, making me jump, then went quiet once someone hushed it.

  It was all foreign and chaotic.

  I clutched the folded map, but the symbols and lines might as well have been runes from a forgotten language.

  I forced myself down the street. Each step too loud.

  The air smelled faintly of bread, smoke from chimneys, and damp winter leaves.

  Every window I passed revealed life I'd never seen up close—an old couple sitting on a sofa watching TV, two young children playing while two women conversed animatedly, a family sitting at the table having lunch.

  People, I thought, almost startled.

  Not threats.

  Not rebels.

  Not uneducated brutes as my family always insisted.

  Just people.

  Still, my heart drummed hard. I had no crest, no escort. Nothing marked me as a mage, as a member of a prestigious family.

  I was no one here.

  Worse—I needed something from them.

  A man carrying a bag of oranges walked past me. I flinched without meaning to.

  He simply nodded politely.

  I swallowed. I needed to move.

  I reached a slightly busier crossing—three or four shops gathered at a corner, their windows fogged against the chill. A massive vehicle groaned to a stop further down the road, releasing a handful of people wrapped in scarves and thick coats. A mother scolded her laughing son as they hurried along. A middle-aged man swept the front of a bakery, scattering crumbs for a group of pigeons. Noisy vehicles flowed through the streets in different shapes and colors.

  I stopped near a lamppost, eyeing the map anxiously, tucking my face into my scarf for protection. I stared at the lines and names again, trying to match them to the streets. My vision was overstimulated. My eyes didn't know where to focus.

  My breath started coming in short puffs in front of my face.

  "Are you alright?"

  I turned. A bronze-skinned woman, older than me but younger than Mariel, approached carrying grocery bags.

  I hesitated, stomach twisting.

  "Yes, I—" I cleared my throat. "I'm looking for a place where I could... sell something."

  Her eyebrows rose. It didn’t strike me as suspicion, more like curiosity.

  "It depends on what you're trying to sell."

  I paused, old fear surging. What if she recognized me as a mage? What if she got offended and refused to help? Or worse...

  But my mind went to Hana and Mariel, waiting at the house.

  "A bracelet. I need to sell a bracelet." I raised my wrist to show her.

  The woman nodded. "A pawn shop, then. Yes, there's one a few blocks away. Garel's Pawn."

  She set the grocery bags on the pavement and traced a finger on the map I was holding. I stopped breathing for a second. When I unfroze, I noticed that the woman smelled clean and citric.

  "You're headed almost the right way. Look—here. See? You go straight down this road, then left at a bakery that smells like paradise. You'll see a small sign shaped like a diamond."

  Her finger traced the route on the paper, slow enough for me to follow.

  I watched, grateful but stunned. "You're... helping me."

  The woman smiled, small but warm. "Well of course. Everyone gets lost sometimes."

  I blinked. She had not shown a single flicker of fear, disgust or awe. No ulterior motives.

  Her eyes held mine with simple kindness.

  It disoriented me more than the streets did.

  She doesn't know me. I'm a stranger. I'm no one.

  "Thank you." I managed, bowing my head slightly without thinking.

  "Be safe out there." The woman waved before retrieving her heavy bags and continuing on her way.

  I took a steadying breath and followed the directions. My chest felt lighter, knowing I had a destination with a clear route.

  The street widened the farther I walked, opening into a small marketplace. I wondered if this was where a six-year-old Hana had tried to buy two kilos of bees. The memory brought a smile to my lips.

  Stalls stood half-assembled for the day, workers chatting as they arranged crates of vegetables, cloth rolls, and trinkets. The sweet scent of fried dough drifted from a food cart. Children ran past me, chasing one another with harmless shouts.

  I wondered for a second if my mother had ever roamed streets like this. Maybe with me.

  I walked through it all as if wading through an unfamiliar current—my senses overwhelmed, my beliefs crumbling one brick at a time.

  I'd always been taught non-magical people lived in filth and ignorance, and that's why they needed mages to guide them.

  But the woman was well-dressed, smelled good, and more importantly—had been kind to me. And knew things I didn't.

  Children were laughing.

  Vendors were haggling, joking.

  Life moved with community, with color, with complete normality.

  They're nothing like what we were taught.

  Do they not deserve a voice?

  The realization tightened my chest.

  Hana and her mother weren't exceptions in a sea of corrupted, immoral people. The nulls—no, the unbound. Isn’t that what Sirius called them…? They were just people. Just like mages.

  I felt shame—how childish, to believe that a whole group of people, millions of them, would all be the same. What a simple lens to see a complex reality.

  I turned left at the bakery—the smell indeed mouthwatering—and there, just as the woman said, hung a wooden sign with a simple diamond painted on it.

  Garel's Pawn.

  As I approached the shop, my pulse thudded. I clutched the bracelet hidden in my coat sleeve.

  The single piece of warmth Father had ever offered. The only evidence he’d ever cared.

  He had given it to me silently, days after I'd arrived at the manor, still mourning deeply the death of my mother.

  The metal trembled against my palm, cold and familiar.

  I was about to give it up.

  For Hana's sake.

  For my first real friend.

  For the first home I'd felt welcome in in more than a decade.

  I stepped forward, pushing open the door.

  The door opened with a jingle, making me look around in alarm.

  The inside was brightly lit by buzzing lights on the ceiling. The room looked like a long corridor with glass cases filled with all sorts of objects—cameras with smudged lenses, watches in different sizes and styles, non-magical pieces of technology I couldn't name, and at the end of the corridor, near the counter, shining brightly under smaller fluorescent lights, jewelry.

  My boots made no sound on the wooden floor, softened by black carpet that lead all the way to the counter.

  "We both know that's not enough, man," complained the only customer at the counter.

  The shopkeeper, looking mildly annoyed, retorted something about resale risk.

  "3000 Liraen, that's my final offer."

  The young man thought for a second before agreeing, taking his money and leaving.

  "Good afternoon, young lady. What can I do for you?"

  The shopkeeper glanced at me, his smile small and functional. I wondered if this was how people greeted each other in non-magical shops: with efficiency rather than ceremony.

  I undid the delicate clasp of my bracelet. The finely cut diamonds shone in the bright light. "I'm here to sell this."

  I held it out for him to inspect.

  The man took it gently, turning it in the light. His eyes widened in recognition. He turned it over, inspecting the tiny engraving in the clasp, then put it in a small metal machine.

  "Veyra & Co," he whispered, almost to himself.

  He looked at me again, noticing my boots and coat. His expression shifted.

  I shoved my fear deep under the mask.

  "Indeed." My voice stayed poised. "It's a family heirloom."

  "It's a fine piece. Very fine. Retail, I'd say... twenty thousand, maybe more." He paused. He set the bracelet down on the black mat beside the counter. "But I can't give you that. You know how it is. Resale, risk, market conditions."

  I nodded once. I didn't know.

  "I offer you eight thousand. Cash, today."

  I wondered if that would be enough to cover Hana's medical bill.

  My silence pressed against him.

  "We... both know that's not enough." I raised my chin.

  The man and I stared at one another until the shopkeeper nodded.

  "Ten thousand. Final offer."