Kael's lungs burned as he sprinted down the narrow alley, his bare feet slapping against the wet cobblestones. Behind him, he could hear the heavy boots of the city guard, their shouts echoing off the stone walls.
"Stop, thief!"
He did not stop. He never stopped. Stopping meant getting caught, and getting caught meant the stocks, or worse, the mines.
He rounded a corner, his shoulder slamming into rough brick. Pain shot through his arm, but he did not slow down. He could not. Not when he had come this far.
The bread, still warm, stolen from a baker's cart, was pressed tightly against his chest, wrapped in a dirty cloth. It was not much, but it was enough to keep him alive for one more day.
That was all he needed. One more day.
His heart pounded against his ribs, and he could taste copper in his mouth, but he forced himself forward, weaving between crates and barrels, ducking under hanging laundry. His body moved on instinct. He had done this a hundred times before. Maybe more. He had stopped counting.
The alley opened into a wider street, and Kael risked a glance over his shoulder. Two guards, maybe three, their faces flushed with effort, armor clattering as they ran. They were fast.
But Kael was faster. He had to be.
He shot left into another alley, this one darker and narrower, and he heard one of the guards curse behind him. Good. Tight spaces were his territory. They could not follow him in here.
Or so he thought.
A hand shot out from the shadows, grabbing his arm and yanking him sideways. Kael yelped and tried to pull free, but the grip was iron strong. Before he could react, he was dragged into a shallow alcove, shoved against the wall, a hand clamped over his mouth.
"Quiet," a voice hissed into his ear. A woman's voice. Low. Rough.
Kael froze, his heart hammering so loudly he thought it might give them away. He watched as the guards thundered past, boots pounding on stone, their voices fading into the distance.
They did not stop. They did not even look.
The hand over his mouth slowly withdrew. Kael stumbled forward, gulping air, then spun around to face whoever had grabbed him.
It was a woman. Older than him, maybe late twenties, with dark hair pulled into a tight knot and a scar running down her left cheek. She wore a long coat, dark and worn, and there was something about her eyes, sharp and calculating, that made Kael instinctively take a step back.
"Who the hell are you?" Kael demanded, his voice hoarse.
The woman did not answer. She simply looked at him, her gaze sweeping over him from head to toe, and Kael suddenly felt exposed, as if she could see straight through him.
"You are fast," she said at last. "Faster than most street rats."
"I am not a rat," Kael snapped, bristling.
"No?" She raised an eyebrow. "Then what are you?"
"None of your business."
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. "Fair enough." Her gaze flicked to the bread still clutched in his hands. "You risked getting caught for that?"
"I was hungry."
"You are always hungry."
Kael frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Instead of answering, she pushed off the wall and stepped back into the alley. Kael watched her go, confused and wary.
"Wait," he called after her. "Why did you help me?"
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. "I did not help you. I stopped you from making noise. There is a difference."
"But why then?"
"Because I was curious," she said, cutting him off. "And because you have potential."
Kael stared at her. "Potential for what?"
Her smile returned, sharper this time. "For not dying."
Then she turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows, leaving Kael alone in the alley, his heart still racing, his mind spinning with questions he could not answer.
...
By the time Kael made it back to his hideout, a half collapsed building at the edge of the lower district, the sun had begun to set, painting the sky in orange and red. He climbed through a broken window, careful not to cut himself on the jagged glass, and dropped down into what had once been a storage room.
It was not much. The floor was covered in dust and debris, the walls cracked and stained with mold, but it was dry and hidden, and that was all that mattered.
Kael unwrapped the bread, tore off a piece, and shoved it into his mouth. It was still warm, still soft, and for a moment he closed his eyes and simply enjoyed it. Food was rare. Good food was even rarer.
He ate slowly, making it last. When he finished, he wrapped the rest and hid it beneath a loose floorboard in the corner. He would need it tomorrow. And the day after.
He leaned back against the wall, pulled his knees to his chest, and stared at the ceiling. The adrenaline from the chase had faded, leaving him exhausted and aching. He knew he should sleep, but his mind would not stop replaying the encounter with the woman.
You have potential.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Potential for what? Stealing? Running? Surviving one more week in this filthy excuse for a city?
Kael shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away. It did not matter. She was just some stranger. He would probably never see her again.
But even as he thought it, he knew it was not true. There had been something deliberate about her, as if she had been looking for him specifically.
Which was ridiculous. No one looked for him. No one cared.
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but the questions kept circling in his mind, relentless and unanswered.
...
He woke to the sound of footsteps.
His eyes snapped open, his body tensing as he listened. The steps were slow, measured, coming from outside the building. Not guards. Guards were loud and careless. This was someone who knew how to move quietly.
Kael rolled to his feet, grabbed the rusted knife from his belt, and pressed himself against the wall, his heart pounding. The footsteps stopped. Then a voice.
"You can come out. I am not going to hurt you."
Kael froze. It was her. The woman from the alley.
"What do you want?" he called out, sharper than he intended.
"To talk."
"I do not want to talk."
"That is unfortunate. Because I have something you might want."
Kael hesitated. Every instinct told him to stay hidden, to wait until she left, but curiosity, stupid and dangerous, won. He climbed back through the window, landing in the alley outside. She stood there with her arms crossed, watching him with the same calculating gaze.
"You followed me," Kael said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I told you. You have potential."
"And I told you I do not know what that means."
She stepped closer, and Kael forced himself not to retreat. "It means," she said slowly, "that you are wasting your life stealing bread when you could be doing more."
"Like what?"
"Like learning to fight. To survive. To use the power inside you."
Kael frowned. "Power? I do not have any power."
Her lips curved into a small smile. "Yes, you do. You just do not know it yet."
Kael stared at her, trying to decide if she was insane or mocking him. "Who are you?"
"My name is Sira," she said. "And I run an academy. A place where people like you learn to become Wielders."
"Wielders?" Kael repeated. The word felt strange on his tongue.
"Warriors who control Anima," Sira explained. "The energy that flows through all living things. The energy that lets you do what others cannot."
Kael shook his head. "I am not a mage. I am just…"
"A street rat?" she interrupted. "A thief? A nobody?"
His jaw tightened. "Yes. That is exactly what I am."
"Then prove me wrong."
"What?"
"Prove me wrong," she repeated. "Come with me. Train. Learn. And if you still believe you are nothing afterward, you can return here and spend the rest of your short, miserable life stealing bread."
Kael stared at her, speechless for a moment. It sounded insane. It sounded like a trap. But there was something in her eyes, something that looked almost like belief, and he had not seen that directed at him in a long time.
"Why me?" he asked quietly. "Why not someone else?"
Sira's smile faded, her expression turning serious. "Because I see something in you that you do not see in yourself. And because if you do not come with me, you will die here. Alone. Forgotten."
The words hit harder than he expected. His throat tightened, and he looked away. She was not wrong. He had thought the same thing a hundred times. That one day he would be too slow, too weak, and the city would finally claim him.
"What do I have to do?" he asked softly.
"Just say yes."
Kael hesitated, torn between fear and something else, something dangerously close to hope. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he nodded.
"Okay. Yes."
Sira smiled again. "Good. Pack whatever you need. We leave at dawn."
"Wait. Dawn? Where are we going?"
"To the academy," Sira said. "To Ashvale's Edge. Where the real world begins."
Then she turned and walked away, leaving Kael standing in the alley, his heart pounding, his mind racing, and for the first time in his life, wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was more to the world than simply surviving.