In the heart of the city, where the bustling, cobblestone streets meet the variety of tents and setups of the night market in Merchant Alley, a boy, whose face was covered by a hood, named Draven found his freedom in the masses of people who hid his small frame, as he flitted across and around the torch-lit street, never staying in one place for too long. His pockets, hidden under his robe, were getting heavy with stolen goods, whether they be jewellery or coins. A small, satisfied smile was on his face as he slowly walked down a dark laneway, leaving behind the nobles and merchants he just… permanently borrowed from.

"One, two, three, four…" he counted. "That's an entire twelve silver coins and two silver rings! What a lucky haul!" he exclaimed, the said silver coins clutched in his hands, slightly illuminated by the light of the moon.

He never usually got this lucky. Due to the abundance of nobles and rich folk in the area, it was an extremely popular place for pickpockets such as himself to hang around. This meant the people were more on guard, usually holding their money pouches in their hands, or hidden in a secure spot. This never really bothered Draven, however. He was a master at his craft, his small, nimble hands went unfelt by the people, and his good eye for newcomers, who hadn't yet had an encounter with the dangers of the night market, told him the best prey.

Newcomers were an easy target, they swaggered around the market, as if they owned the place, unaware that they had a target on their back, a target placed both by the merchants who seemed to be able to smell the chance to rip someone off, and the 'street rats' of Serria city, looking to make a quick buck to feed themselves that night. Draven liked to think that he had an advantage over these other 'borrowers' though. Draven was quite small, and young. This made the nobles underestimate him, never believing that a boy, no older than seven, could steal from them. If someone were to tell these haughty nobles that they were going to be robbed by a 7-year-old boy, who looked like a small gust of wind could push him over, they would get laughed at.

While Draven was happy at his haul, he was sceptical. All his life he never trusted luck, because usually, when things seemed to be going well for him, everything fell apart. Life was not to be trusted, nor could survival be guaranteed. If any of the merchants or nobles he stole from had caught him, he would be killed.

He knew this, he was well aware of the consequences of his actions, even at seven years of age, but he didn't have another choice. No one in their right mind would hire a child as young as he, and if he went around in the daylight for lengthy periods, parading that he was an easy target, human traffickers would poach him. Not very nice thoughts for a young boy, who should be playing with friends, totally unaware of the dark nature of people and society. However, it was a mindset that was not uncommon among those who lived in the slums. A dark, decrepit place that was a little way outside the massive wall surrounding Serria. A place that nobles avoided because of the vast number of criminals and lowly, poor peasants who lived there. Draven was born and lived in this place. A place where each person fought for survival every hour of every day, where acts that would make nobles shudder were committed with no hesitation, and where every person who lived there was tough, mentally, and physically, otherwise, you wouldn't survive. A place that had earned its name, The Valley of the Damned.

Normally, Draven wouldn't be allowed into the city of Serria, as his ripped and dirty clothes gave him away as someone from the Valley, however, that was only if he went through the front gates. People of the Valley had their own way to get into the town, how else were they going to get past the guards and exploit the rich? Draven was lucky enough to 'own' one of the ways in. He liked to think that he owned it, as he had seen no other person use it, mainly because it couldn't be used by adults, they were too large to fit in the small tunnel that led in and out of the city. Said small tunnel was hidden behind an inn on the very outskirts of Serria. It looked like it used to be a genuine escape route for if the city was ever invaded, however, it seems to have collapsed in on itself, leaving only a tiny pathway that at times, even Draven had to worm his way through. This was the safest pathway for him, as the other usually had other members of the Valley guarding it, demanding a toll each time you used 'their' pathway. Draven knew that, while his build was good for pickpocketing and hiding in small places, it wasn't good for much else, and if others found out how much he made tonight, it would all be stolen from him.

Draven's spiraling thoughts stopped when without warning, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He was being watched, his instincts said so. The goods were already hidden in his pockets and his slow pace never stopped. He didn't start to run, that would cause a chase as he learned from past experiences, and he didn't acknowledge the person either. He just pretended to not have noticed as his mind raced to figure out what to do.

"Ahhh, it's getting late, I should go back home so that Mum and Dad don't worry," Draven said to himself as he picked up the pace of his walking.

Sure enough, the gaze never left.

'Tch, this one is stubborn,' he thought. Draven had learnt that sometimes, if an onlooker realised that you had a family or a group backing you, they left you alone, not wanting to incur the wrath of too many others.

'That means it's less likely to be another pickpocket, could still be someone from the Valley though.' Pickpockets rarely attacked others, as they were usually weak, hence why they chose to pickpocket in Serria instead of stealing from others in the Valley.

'The city guards? That seems to be the most likely answer, as others from the Valley will be focusing on the big fish tonight, not a small fry like me.'

Draven led his unwelcome follower or followers down the winding alleyways, going in seemingly random directions, however, they never left his tail. They didn't get any closer either, which both puzzled and comforted Draven.

'If they aren't getting closer, it means they are sure that they have me. While this is good for me, I don't get why they wouldn't just immediately attack or arrest me. Why play this long game?' Suddenly, it clicked, and his eyes went wide. 'They want to see how I got in here.'

This caused panic in Draven. If they found out how he got in, he wouldn't be able to use that pathway again.

'I have to lose them,' he thought, his determination showing on his face.

Turning one more corner and facing a lengthy path, he spotted a mirror that was poking out of the side of a building. A mirror placed there, and in many other locations, in case an incident like this happened. A neat little trick he picked up from other Valley goers. As he slowly walked forward along the small, mostly abandoned street, he kept his eye on the mirror. Sure enough, a city guard was following him. Dressed in a light and slim steel armour, an armour commonly used by guards, the symbol that distinguished him was unmistakable, placed above the area of his heart was a sword stabbing vertically through a lion's head.

Draven looked at the face man following him, only for his own, cold grey eyes to lock with the guard's brown, cat-like ones. Time seemed to stand still for a little while before Draven took off running.

"HEY, YOU LITTLE STREET RAT!! STOP!" yelled the guard, the cat ears on top of his head twitching in annoyance.

Draven didn't stop, not for the guard, and not for the many pairs of eyes that turned his way. The people of the city wouldn't step up for him, however, they wouldn't try and stop him either. Draven turned down many corners until he saw the open door of an inn. The guard was gaining on him and if he didn't do something soon, he would get caught. He sped into the inn, bumping into a drunkard that was coming out.

"Watch where ya goin' ya little twirp!"

Draven paid him no mind, immediately running behind the bar and to the door that led to the kitchen. Causing a small ruckus as he knocked down pots, pans, and anything else he could get his hands on that could stop McChaser back there, he franticly looked around for an exit. Spotting a door, he ran over, listening to the complaints of the cooks and avoiding their grabbing hands. He made it out the back door just in time to hear the guard yelling at the staff.

"Get out of my way! I need to arrest that street rat vermin!"

Not stopping to see if the commotion delayed his pursuer, Draven kept running. He ran, and ran, in random directions, never getting lost, but hoping to shake off the guard. His lungs were starting to hurt, and his breaths were coming out as heavy pants. Still, he ran on, now making his way towards his escape tunnel, a direction he had slowly been going in anyway. Slowing down his pace the closer he got, he realised that he no longer heard any running footsteps behind him. He looked around and noticed that the streets were totally abandoned, as they usually were in this part of the city. Not only was this where the poorest of the city lived, 'Still much richer than me' Draven thought sourly, it was also late at night, probably the early hours of the morning. There were no torches along these streets, meaning that Draven had to watch his step as his eyes slowly adjusted to the low light. Making his way to the dingy inn, Draven caught his breath, thinking about his lucky escape.

'Thank fuck I have the streets and alleyways memorised, otherwise, I really would have been in trouble today.'

Draven was aware of the limits of his body. Not only was he incredibly young, but he was also malnourished and weak. His small body couldn't handle arduous tasks. Once again, however, Draven had an advantage. Comparing himself to other children, Draven realised that he was strangely smart for his age, to a monstrous degree. He could remember everything since the day he was born and could calculate things much faster than his peers. While he was not at the level of a normal adult, he was better than stupid people. This gave him a leg up in this cruel world. Another thing that was different about Draven was that he was captivatingly cute, more so than a child should be. Draven usually covered his face with dirt, a mask, or a hood, lest he get kidnapped and sold to a perverted noble. He knew the trouble a cute face caused. He'd seen numerous incidents in the Valley of the Damned where beauty got people in trouble. Focusing himself back on the present, Draven found the inn that hid his path home and walked into the stable. As usual, there were no horses in, as there were likely no guests. The inn seemed to be abandoned at first glance, with its timber frame looking like it was about to collapse, but Draven had seen people in the two-story building. In the back, right-hand side of the stables, opposite the hay, there was a latch built into the floor. Most people would look at this and think that it was just storage for the inn, but Draven knew better. Summoning all his strength, Draven opened the trap door to see the stairs that led to complete darkness. Draven wasn't scared. He had walked down this path many times. He knew that if he ran his hand along the ceiling and the wall the entire time, he would never trip or get lost, there was only one path down there anyway. Draven had spent a decent amount of time cleaning the pathway so that if he ever had to make a speedy escape, there would be nothing hindering him. Closing the trap door behind him, Draven shut his eyes and took in a deep breath, savouring the calmness of the dark that surrounded him, which seemed familiar and safe.

'Well off we go to 'home'. Yay,' he thought dryly as he started to descend.