The scream cut through the street like a blade.
Aerin turned just in time to see magic snap out of control. Blue light exploded from the center of the market—raw, unstable, cracking the air itself. People scattered instantly, stalls overturning, glass shattering as a spell misfired and slammed into the cobblestones.
Someone shouted, "Contain it!"
Aerin didn't think. She moved.
A young boy stood frozen at the edge of the blast radius, eyes wide, hands glowing uncontrollably as magic spiraled out of him in violent pulses. Power like that wasn't meant to be loose. It was tearing the space around him apart. Everyone else backed away.
Aerin ran forward. "Hey," she said, voice steady despite the chaos. She dropped to her knees in front of him, ignoring the heat licking at her skin. "Look at me."
The boy's breath hitched. "I—I can't stop."
"I know," she swallowed. "But you're not alone."
She didn't grab him. She didn't shout. She simply placed her hands over his shaking ones, grounding him with touch and presence, like she'd done a hundred times in a life that suddenly felt very far away.
"Breathe with me," she said. "Just for three seconds."
The magic faltered. Once. Twice. The air snapped—
—and then a force slammed between them. A body moved fast, too fast. Strong arms pulled Aerin backward as a shield of runes flared to life, swallowing the remaining magic in a violent flash.
Silence crashed down.
Aerin's heart pounded as she found herself pressed against someone solid, warm, very real. One arm was still locked protectively around her waist.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" a low voice snapped near her ear.
She looked up. It was him—the man who had just arrived to stop the chaos. Up close, his eyes were darker than she'd thought. Not cold. Controlled. Like someone used to disasters and already calculating the next one.
"I was helping," she said quietly.
He stared at her. The boy behind them collapsed into sobs as guards rushed in, binding magic-dampening cuffs around his wrists. The threat was over.
But the man didn't let go of her.
"You're untrained," he said. "Unregistered. And you walked straight into a wild surge."
"Yes."
"You could've died."
"Yes."
Something dangerous flickered in his expression. Not anger. Something closer to shaken.
"You didn't hesitate," he said.
Aerin met his gaze. "Neither did you."
For a moment, the city seemed to fade—the noise, the guards, the watching crowd. His grip loosened slightly, as if he'd only just realized he was still holding her.
He stepped back. "What's your name?"
"Aerin."
A pause. Then, "You don't belong in the outer districts."
"I know." That earned her a sharp look. Then, unexpectedly, a breath of quiet laughter—barely there, gone as soon as it appeared.
"I'm Caelan," he said. "And you just made my job much harder."
She raised an eyebrow. "Sorry?"
"No," he replied, eyes still on her. "You're not."
Around them, people whispered. Some looked at her with curiosity now. Others with relief. The vendor whose stall had been destroyed nodded at her once, respectfully.
The city had noticed.
Caelan followed her gaze and frowned slightly. "Come with me."
"Is that an order?"
He hesitated. "It's an offer."
Something warm and dangerous settled in Aerin's chest. She nodded.
The streets had always felt crowded and loud, but now they seemed alive in a different way—aware of her presence. Lanterns floated above, their light reflecting off the glass and polished stone like tiny moons suspended in the air. Merchants whispered to one another, some nodding discreetly at her as she passed.
Magic hummed faintly in the air, flowing along the cracks in the cobblestones and into the walls of buildings. It was ordinary here, woven into every corner of life. But it had been dangerous in her hands. Dangerous enough that Caelan's sudden intervention had saved her without a word of complaint.
She kept pace behind him, trying to hide the racing of her heartbeat. The city's rhythm had a pulse all its own, and she felt it tug at her. The streets weren't forgiving—but they were mesmerizing.
"So," Caelan said, voice cutting through the market hum, "first time in the outer districts?"
"Yes."
"You don't say." His lips twitched in the faintest smile, though his eyes remained guarded. "You're braver than most of the people here, I'll give you that. Or… reckless."
"Maybe both." Aerin let a small smirk escape, and it surprised her. Bravery felt different when someone else was watching.
He glanced at her, studying, calculating. "You have… potential," he said finally. "And trouble has a way of finding people like you."
She blinked. "Trouble already found me."
"And it will again." His tone wasn't warning—it was fact. She felt it, somewhere in the pit of her stomach: a challenge, a promise, and something else she didn't yet understand.
They moved past a fountain where water flowed upward, glowing softly, spilling over the edges into a pool that shimmered like liquid starlight. Children ran past, laughing, their small sparks of magic dancing in the air. Merchants went about their business with careful precision, though every eye occasionally flicked to her, curious, wary, impressed.
Aerin realized she wasn't invisible here anymore. She didn't have a place yet, but she was noticed. That was the start.
She could make a difference.
She could belong.
And she could survive.
As they reached a narrow street leading into the heart of the city, Caelan's gaze met hers again. Something unspoken passed between them—a spark, a question, a warning.
Aerin squared her shoulders. She didn't know this city. She didn't know its rules. She didn't know the man walking beside her.
But for the first time in a long time, she didn't care.
She had survived chaos. She had stepped into the city.
And somehow, she knew: it had already chosen her.