The door closed behind David, and Sophie was alone.

  For a while, she just sat there—arms around her knees, gaze drifting across the quiet room.

  She could still feel the stone crushing her leg. Or see the burning inferno consuming the house she was born in.

  She shook herself, dispelling the memories.

  Today, she had time. Maybe she could even help someone.

  Sophie pulled out the little cloth pouch she kept tucked at the bottom of her satchel. Inside was a bunch of melos, the spicy herb she had added to the soup.

  Chewing on it was a pleasant experience and some people were willing to give a good price for it. At least back in Grainwick.

  Marco would have insisted they save them. That they were worth too much to use as spice. So he couldn’t know.

  He was a weird child. A unique one. She had about eight years on him, yet often it felt like he was the older one.

  Maybe that’s because he started learning so early? Aura was kind, but having a former noble for a mother must have been trying.

  At least she’s alive. She bit back the sob that threatened to escape her throat.

  She tied her hair back and stepped out into the corridor, closing the doors behind her.

  The shopkeeper squinted at her as she entered, one brow raised.

  “New face?” he asked, not unkindly, just tired.

  “I’m Sophie. From Grainwick, and you sir?

  “Hello Sophie.” He leaned in, smiled.”They call me Bano. I’ve been to Grainwick a few times. How’s ol’ Brenn doing these days?”

  “Not too well, lying six feet under.” She said flatly.

  “Sorry, sorry.” The man raised his hands. “I didn’t know.”

  Sophie softened her voice, careful to let a bit of tremble into it. “We’ve lost everything.” Parents, home… It’s just me and my little brother now.”

  She didn’t blink. She didn’t look away.

  “Yeah, many a story like that.” He shrugged. “So what?”

  “Maybe you would like to show your kindness and trade some food for…” She pulled out the cloth. “This.”

  The man sniffed, then whistled. “Ho ho ho, and here I thought it would be boring today.” He scratched his chin. “You want bread?”

  “Bread. And maybe… a few boraks?”

  “If you can get more, I’ll feed you for a month, little girl.” He gave her a curious look.

  Good to know people in the city use it too.

  “I’ll try, but don’t hold your breath.”

  She left with a cloth-wrapped bundle, heavy against her chest.

  She briefly returned to cook the vegetables, then left through the city gates.

  Her arms were getting sore from the weight, but her destination was just ahead.

  The refugee camp was a sprawl of makeshift shelters and worn tents. It smelled of ash and sweat and hopelessness.

  She saw them; the children. Huddled near the edges, too thin, too quiet. Some stared blankly, others blinked in surprise when she offered them bread. A few smiled.

  Sophie crouched to hand a boy a cooked borak. He devoured it in two bites, then stared at the empty spot in his hands like it might come back.

  She kept moving. A girl with tangled hair. One by one, she passed out the food until her bundle was nearly empty.

  Then a voice behind her.

  “Miss?”

  She turned. An older man—sunken eyes, rough beard—stood a few steps back. “Do you have any more?”

  Her chest tightened. She nodded slowly and held out half a borak.

  As he stepped closer, she felt it again—panic, cold and sharp at the base of her spine. Another man looked over. Then another. Soon, three… four.

  Too many.

  They didn’t look threatening. Not exactly. Just hungry. Desperate. But they moved closer, and her limbs locked up.

  She couldn’t run. She was surrounded. What were they going to do?

  Then someone barked, “Give her space!”

  It came from an older woman across the path. “She’s feeding the kids, not running a pantry.”

  Another man chimed in. “Back off.”

  The pressure eased. The overeager people stepped back.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The older man looked ashamed. “Sorry, miss,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean nothing.”

  Sophie managed a small nod. Her heart was still thudding in her ears, but the fear had started to fade.

  You're fine, she told herself. You’re safe.

  The woman approached her, hand extended. “Name’s Jina. Thanks for the help.”

  Sophie, still a little shaken, pressed the last half-a-borak into her hand.

  “Hey now, ‘tis not what I’m after. But thanks,” Jina laughed. She took the vegetable and passed it on to a girl that hid behind her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I am now. Thanks to you.” Sophie said as she turned around. “I have to go now… But I’ll see you around?”

  Jina smiled and nodded, and Sophie went back into the city.

  Marco better be back by now.

  The city square was already filling with noise—vendors shouting, carts rumbling over cracked stone, and throngs of people going to and from the opulent merchant guild.

  David circled around the crowds, his pace steady, eyes scanning the faces.

  He didn’t know her name. All he remembered were her… looks. Did he even remember that?

  The harder he focused on the image in his head, the more fuzzy it became. The odds of finding her were not great.

  He stepped closer to the merchant stalls and let his vision shift, focusing inward.

  Threads of mana pulsed faintly around him—mystical hues softly enveloping people.

  He searched for something distinct. Her ‘color’. Everyone had a signature—subtle, but there. Most were indistinct to him, but her presence was much more defined than the typical bystander.

  He saw a similar trace near one of the alley walls. That’s it…

  He followed the source, weaving between bodies, letting the sound of the market fade beneath the hum of mana.

  So focused he didn’t notice the man watching him.

  “Hey!” a sharp voice snapped behind him. “Stop right there, kid!”

  David froze.

  A city guard was walking toward him, his chainmail clinking. The man’s face twisted into something between recognition and irritation. Oh no. It was the same guard as the day before.

  “I told you not to come here.” His voice rose. “This isn’t your place, refugee.”

  David’s blood turned cold. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Didn’t mean to? You think I’m stupid?” The guard stepped closer, looming. “You’re obviously scheming.”

  David backed up, hands raised slightly. “I just wandered. I’m leaving now.”

  But the guard didn’t move aside. One hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.

  “No you’re not. I’ll make sure you don’t forget your place.”

  David’s heart pounded. He considered running—but the man was too close. If he made a move, that sword would be out in seconds.

  Then—

  Someone bumped into the guard. Hard.

  “Watch it!” the man barked, stumbling a half-step to the side.

  David didn’t waste the chance.

  He turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

  Shouts echoed behind him, but quickly got lost in the crowds. He didn’t look back until he was two streets away, lungs burning, heart slamming in his chest.

  David struggled to stay upright in the shadow of an empty alley, fighting the urge to puke.

  Even his regular training couldn’t prepare him for the exhaustion that came after an adrenaline-induced sprint.

  Safe, for now.

  He rubbed at his eyes and tried to slow his breathing.

  David looked up. A woman passed by the alley, her silhouette framed by sunlit dust. Mid-thirties. Black hair, a slightly crooked smile.

  Something tugged at his mind. Something was wrong, like a pressure squeezing on his mind.

  He pushed off the wall and took a step forward. Just a stranger, and yet…

  David kept walking toward her. Then he started running. He finally noticed it. The mana signature. She looked completely differently, but it was her for sure.

  “It’s you,” he said as he ran up to her. “From yesterday.”

  “Oh?” The woman turned to face him. She flashed an amused smile as she looked him up and down. “And who am I, exactly?”

  “Someone who sells…” David said, trying to sound ambiguous.

  The woman’s tone changed instantly.

  “Oh there you are! Let’s go home!” She suddenly said, much louder. She gripped his arm, covering the armband with her hand, and dragged him back into an emptier valley.

  Was she trying to cover for him? David didn’t fight her, but instead sped up to match her tempo.

  Finally, she stopped just out of view and shoved him against the wall.

  David found himself with a knife against his throat. The scary sensation brought a fiery pain of resurfacing memories, but he kept still.

  “Who are you and who sent you?” she said, her tone stern.

  “No one?” David was starting to panic, flailing his hands up. “I just want to sell some herbs.”

  She tilted her head and pulled the knife back. “Wait… you’re that kid who said they’d find me.” She whistled softly. “I guess you did. But how?”

  David wasn’t sure what to say, his ears were pounding from the stress. His arm reached out to massage his throat as the phantom pain reminded him of his suicide.

  “Oh don’t be a wuss, I was careful not to cut you.” The woman chastised him. “Now tell me, how did you see through my illusion?”

  “Illusion?” David jerked. That’s new. “I… I can see mana.” He finally stammered.

  “Come on, seriously?” The woman grabbed his chin and brought her head close. She stared deep into his eyes, then pulled away. “That’s just my luck. At least you’re not a guard.”

  David was getting lost in whatever thought process the woman was going through. He shook his head and went back to his own topic. “I brought herbs,” he offered, reaching under his arm for his satchel. “Can you sell them for me?”

  “Huh?” she paused. “Right. Selling. Let’s see.”

  She grabbed the hem of the satchel and quickly rifled through it.

  “Nice find, kid…” She paused. Her fingers lingered over the tern stems. “But there’s no way you hunted me down risking the whip for just this. What else have you got?”

  David hesitated. “That’s… that’s it.”

  She raised a brow but didn’t argue. Instead, she smiled and slowly knelt down until her eyes were level with his. It didn’t feel predatory or threatening this time.

  “You don’t need to hide anything, I’m not going to steal from you” Her voice had lost its teasing edge. “You bring me a product, I take a cut and we’re both happy.”

  Hearing no reaction, she continued. “This business is all about trust, you see?” She reached into her coat and pulled out a small pouch. Coins clinked softly as she counted.

  “These’ll sell for about this much after my cut.” She handed over a few dull silver coins. “Happy? Then bring me more.”

  David looked at the coins in his palm. Not nothing. But not much.

  Still, he smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Oh, and you can call me Viera,” she said, already turning away.

  “Marco.”

  “Nice meeting you, Marco.” She flashed him a smile. “Next time ask for me at Mason’s retreat in the refugee quarter. Wouldn’t want a new patron getting strung up for ‘wandering’.”

  How does she… Was she the person who bumped into the guard?

  He stood there for a few moments after she was gone, the weight of the coins settling in his hand.

  He wasn’t sure which stung more; The low prices, or how easily she’d seen through him.

  But it was something. A start.

  Time to rendezvous with Sophie.