The pass Amelia had given me was a flimsy scrap of paper in my sweating palm, a pathetic defense against the iron-studded gate that loomed over me. A guard, a mountain in city armor, materialized from the shadows of the gatehouse, his presence casting a sudden chill.

“Pass,” he commanded. His voice was the grating sound of stones grinding together.

My eyes remained fixed on the dusty cobblestones as I offered the document. He didn’t take it so much as snatch it, his gauntleted fingers crinkling the paper. A dismissive glance was all it earned.

“You have until the third bell for roll call. Don’t be late.”

I gave a single, sharp nod, my throat too tight to speak, and hurried past him. The pass vanished into a pocket of my borrowed skirt just as the gate boomed shut behind me. The final, metallic clang of the bolt sealed me outside with a miasma that made me wince—the stench of old blood and cold iron. This place was a world away from the sun-warmed stone I remembered, a lifetime from the mornings my mother would sneak us out into streets filled with the yeasty promise of fresh bread.

Here, the streets were a tomb. The few souls who scurried along the edges were specters, their faces angled toward the grime, their shoulders hunched as if bracing for a blow that never came. A heavy, oppressive silence had swallowed the familiar sounds of laughter and commerce. A damp chill seeped from the very walls, a pervasive sorrow that clung to my skin. Faded posters clung to every surface, the smiling, rain-streaked faces of the missing a cruel gallery of a happier time.

The only real movement came from the armed patrols, their helmeted glares sweeping over the emptiness. I accidentally met the eyes of one, and the open hostility in his look sent a jolt of pure terror through me. I flinched, turning away so quickly my neck ached. Become a shadow, I commanded myself, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. Become nothing.

This was going to take forever. Seeking cover, I slipped into the first narrow alleyway I found. Something rustled in the deep shadows—a rat. Further in, huddled in a doorway, two men exchanged hushed, frantic words.

“…any word from the outside?” one of them breathed, his voice a ragged whisper.

The other shook his head, casting a nervous glance down the alley. “Nothing good. They say Glen’s Crossing was attacked. Say there are creatures on the main roads now, picking off travelers.”

“And the king does nothing,” the first man spat, his voice thick with venom. “He sits on his throne while our neighbors vanish—”

“Shhh!” his companion hissed, grabbing his arm.

As if summoned, the rhythmic clank-scrape of armored boots echoed from the street. My own breath hitched. The armored figure passed the alley’s mouth, his gaze sweeping the shadows for a moment before moving on. He didn’t stop. I slipped past the two men, who were frozen against the wall, their argument forgotten in a moment of shared terror.

“Watch your mouth,” one whispered harshly as I passed. “Or we’ll be the next faces on a poster.”

Their frightened whispers faded as I reached the alley’s end, where it met the towering outer wall of the palace. Glancing both ways to ensure I was alone, I pressed my palm flat against the cold, weeping stone. A familiar warmth spread from my touch as my mana sank into the wall like water into parched earth. I focused, willing the energy to remain invisible, a silent probe. I sent out delicate, questing tendrils of power, feeling along the barrier’s invisible surface for a fracture, a thin spot, any kind of weakness. There was nothing. The magical ward was flawless, a smooth, unyielding shield. A clumsy attack would shatter it, but the resulting shockwave would act as a sonic boom, alerting every guard within a mile.

There has to be a weak point. Frustration tightened its icy grip around my gut. I pulled my hand away and stepped back onto the street, my resolve hardening.

Amidst the shuttered storefronts, one shop dared to show a sliver of light from its door, a small act of defiance. A steady trickle of people slipped inside, their movements quick and furtive. My curiosity, a dangerous and familiar spark, was piqued. I followed.

My hand closed around a cool brass handle, and the door opened with a low groan. I stepped into the dim interior and froze. The shop was utterly vacant. A moment ago, four people had walked through this very door, yet the dusty tables were empty, the chairs neatly tucked in. The air hung thick and stagnant, the silence absolute.

From a dark hallway at the back, a woman emerged, wiping her hands on a stained apron. “Can I help you, dear? The lunch service hasn’t begun.” Her voice held a practiced, brittle warmth.

“I was just… looking,” I stammered, my gaze sweeping the empty room again.

“You don’t belong here,” she stated, the warmth vanishing. She moved closer, her eyes sharp and assessing. “You have the wrong look about you.”

Thinking fast, I dug into my pocket and produced a gold coin, offering it to her on my open palm. It was a gesture that usually solved problems. She gave a thin, pitying smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sorry, dear,” she said, not even glancing at the coin. “Gold doesn’t work that way here.”

My mind raced. If not money, then what? “What about information?” I offered.

Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of information?”

“News from the outside. What’s happening beyond the city walls.”

For a heartbeat, genuine interest flickered in her eyes, but the mask of indifference slammed back into place. “Not interested. Please leave.”

Before I could argue, a young man’s excited voice burst from the dark hallway. “Mom, we found her! She can get us out of the city with the others!”

My eyebrow shot up. The woman’s face went white, her composure not just cracking but shattering. I saw my opening.

“Tell me about this place,” I pressed, my voice low but firm. “I swear to you, no one else will hear of it. This is for me alone.”

Her eyes were wide with suspicion and fear. “I don’t know you. How can I possibly trust your word?”

“You can’t,” I admitted softly. “But you don’t have a choice now, do you?” I reached into my pocket again, not for a bribe, but for something more. I pulled out all the gold I had left—six heavy coins. “I know this has little power here. But it will out there.”

I pushed the coins into her trembling hand. “This is for your journey. Don’t stop at the nearest town; go further. And find someone who can fight. The roads aren’t safe.”

She stared at the gold in her palm, utterly stunned. The unexpected generosity, the practical advice—it disarmed her completely. Her suspicion warred with a desperate flicker of hope.

“The secret is out either way,” I said, my voice gentle but unyielding. “You can trust me, or you can hope I don’t tell the guards. Your choice.”

A long, shuddering sigh escaped her. The fight drained out of her, leaving her shoulders slumped in defeat. She turned a panicked glare on the young man in the hall. “Get back in the room,” she hissed.

“Mom, I’m sorry—”

“It’s too late for sorry! Go!”

The young man vanished. We were alone. “It seems I have no choice,” she whispered, her voice hollow. “North side of the city. A house with red curtains in the rightmost window, flush against the main wall. Inside… use your magic. There’s a hidden passage. It bypasses the gate. The barrier is weak there.”

A hot surge of triumph shot through me. The weak spot. The final piece.

“Thank you,” I said, giving her a respectful bow. After a final, cautious peek out the door, I slipped back into the oppressive silence of the street.

I had only taken a few steps when a preternatural chill snaked up my spine. From an intersecting alley, I saw it: a flash of impossible silver hair. My head snapped in that direction just as he turned the corner.

Ice-blue eyes—the color of a frozen sea, sharp and unforgiving—locked directly onto mine.

Panic, cold and absolute, flared through me. I dropped my gaze to the cobblestones and quickened my pace, a desperate hope on my lips that he would let me pass. It was useless. A figure in dark leather stepped directly into my path, blocking my way. I didn’t need to see his face. I already knew.

A low, resonant voice commanded, “Look up.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. Slowly, I lifted my head.

Kaelen.