Light used to belong to the stars.
Now it danced along the streets, painting the night in glowing shades that made the city feel like a dream someone forgot to wake from.
Melody had never been outside this late before. Which, in her opinion, was exactly why she should be.
Melody's mom and dad always told her she must never EVER go outside. Not even for a moment and she never really understood why.
She would watch other children from the window — running, shouting, and throwing water balloons during hot summer afternoons. Their laughter filled the air while she remained inside, pressed against the glass, feeling as though the world was happening somewhere she could not reach.
It wasn't fair.
Why couldn't she go outside? Her little sister, Hana, who was only three years old, was allowed to run on the grass and feel the sun on her face. Yet Melody wasn't even allowed to touch the front door.
The rule didn't kill her curiosity — it fed it.
It wasn't like she had asked to be born without a mark. Her parents spoke about it in hushed voices, as though it were something shameful, something that belonged to her alone.
All she wanted was to go outside and play. Why was that so hard?
She wondered if the grass was as soft as it looked, or if the sun felt as warm as it seemed. Or if the city lights where as bright as they looked.
And one day, she promised herself, she would find out.
And that day was tonight.
Melody made sure not to wake Hana as she slowly slid out of bed. The window had been left slightly open for the night breeze— it was summer, after all.
She tiptoed across the room, her heart beating faster with every step. When she pushed the window wider, it betrayed her with a loud squeak.
Melody froze.
She held her breath as Hana stirred, turning her head on the pillow. But her sister did not wake.
Melody let out the smallest sigh of relief and tried again, opening the window more carefully this time.
She grabbed her jacket —just in case it got cold— and climbed out.
Just like that, she was outside.
The fresh air she had dreamed about rushed toward her all at once. It felt colder, sharper, and far more alive than she had ever imagined.
For a moment, Melody simply stood there, breathing it in like it might disappear if she didn't.
She touched the grass on their front lawn and collapsed onto it, giggling. It was softer than she had imagined, cool against her skin and ticklish between her fingers.
She wanted to see more. She wanted to know more.
The South Coast wasn't exactly considered the most beautiful place in the world — at least, not where she lived. That was what her tutor always said. But standing there now, Melody wasn't sure she believed him.
She got to her feet and looked toward the far end of the block. Beyond the last row of houses, towering buildings stretched into the sky. They looked as though they were made entirely of glass, their surfaces alive with vibrant colors that reflected and shimmered across them, creating rivers of light that moved across the buildings like they were alive.
Melody stepped forward slowly, her eyes wide. The colors shifted and changed — blues melting into pinks, purples flickering into gold — dancing across the glass in ways she couldn't understand.
It was beautiful.
But it didn't feel warm.
She began running.
The closer she got, the quieter it seemed. The laughter from the houses behind her faded, replaced by a low hum that filled the air — like the city itself was breathing.
Tall structures stretched endlessly, their glowing surfaces reflecting one another until it felt like the light would never end.
Melody tore her gaze away from the towering buildings.
They were beautiful… but something about them made her chest feel tight.
She turned and began walking in another direction.
The further she went, the quieter it became. The glowing lights grew fewer, fading from bright colors into dull flickers. The streets narrowed, and the air felt colder somehow.
Melody slowed.
This part of the city didn't shine the way the others did.
Dark alleys stretched between buildings, swallowing what little light remained.
That was when she saw them.
Three men stood in the shadows, their figures large and unmoving at first. In front of them was a thinner man, stumbling as one of them shoved him hard.
Melody's breath caught.
The man didn't fight back.
He barely even tried.
One of the men grabbed him by the collar and pushed him again, laughing under his breath. As the man fell, the faint glow on his wrist became visible.
White.
Melody frowned, confused.
Why wasn't he fighting back?
Melody wasn't that stupid.
She was only seven, and there was still a lot she didn't understand—but she understood the marks.
Everyone did.
In this world, people weren't just people.
They were what they were born as.
The mark decided everything.
It decided where you lived, what school you went to, how people spoke to you… even how they looked at you.
Melody had heard it before, from her parents.
Gray families stayed in the smaller houses. Sometimes their lights didn't even work. People spoke over them, ignored them… like they weren't really there.
White markers had more. Bigger homes. Cleaner streets. People didn't push them around as much. They were… safer.
And Black markers?
Melody had only seen them from far away.
They lived where the city shined the brightest—where the buildings touched the sky and everything looked perfect. When they walked, people moved out of their way without being told.
No one argued with them.
No one could.
Her parents always spoke about them in quiet voices, like even saying "Black mark" too loudly might bring trouble to their door.
And the Gray markers
Being a Gray marker wasn't just about being poor.
It was worse than that.
It meant people had already decided you didn't matter.