"You feel that?" Sia's voice cut through my thoughts, low and cautious.
I stopped in my tracks, my senses already heightened. Her tone was different, sharper than usual. Her green eyes were scanning the street, her gaze flicking from shadow to shadow as if searching for something that wasn't there. The fact that she was already sensing something told me we weren't imagining it.
Sia had the Observation Flux. She could feel things—energy, presences—before they fully manifested. If she was on edge, it wasn't just my imagination. She wasn't one to get rattled easily.
I shifted, feeling a tension I hadn't noticed before. There was a subtle shift in the air, a quiet hum beneath the usual sounds of the city. The sensation of being watched had grown from a faint inkling into something more oppressive, more immediate.
"Yeah," I muttered, forcing a shrug to cover the sudden unease crawling up my spine. "Just… I thought I saw something, but… it's probably nothing."
Sia didn't buy it. I could see the skepticism in her eyes, the way her posture tightened just a fraction, like she was ready to react at a moment's notice. She narrowed her eyes, her gaze flickering across the street. The shadows seemed to grow longer as the light waned, the sunset fading into dusk.
"We're not alone," she said, almost to herself, her voice tight with the certainty that I hadn't fully grasped yet.
Her words hung in the air, and I could feel the weight of them settle over me. Sia didn't speak in half-measures. When she said something, it carried an edge of truth that I couldn't ignore. And the fact that she had just confirmed what I had already felt in the back of my mind made my stomach tighten.
I glanced over my shoulder, but the street behind us was empty. The foot traffic of the city was beginning to thin as the evening hours approached. There was an uncanny stillness to the place, as if the city itself had gone quiet in anticipation of something that hadn't yet arrived. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I could feel the sweat gathering at my palms.
I turned back to Sia, who was now standing a little closer, her body subtly angled towards me, as if positioning herself to shield me from whatever might emerge.
She didn't need to say more. I could see it in her eyes—she was ready for whatever came next. The tension in her stance was palpable, but she wasn't scared. She was waiting. Watching. Preparing for the moment to make her move.
Then, as if the shadows had decided to make themselves known, a figure emerged from the darkened recess of a nearby building.
I tensed, but Sia was already stepping forward, her presence calm but assertive. The figure moved toward us with an eerie grace, his movements smooth and deliberate, like he was in complete control of every step he took. He was tall, almost imposing, his silhouette framed against the dimming light of the street. His grey suit was impeccable, the fabric dark and tailored to perfection, his stance confident and purposeful.
The man didn't hurry. There was no frantic pace to his movements, just a steady, measured approach that made it clear he knew exactly where he was going. I felt an involuntary shift of unease in my chest, my instincts screaming that we weren't dealing with an ordinary person.
Sia remained unfazed, but I could feel the subtle shift in her energy. Her Flux was always quiet, but in moments like this, it hummed with an intensity that matched the situation. She wasn't afraid, but she was alert—every fiber of her being focused on this stranger.
As the man drew nearer, I could make out the sharpness of his features. His face was lean, angular, with high cheekbones and a jawline that spoke of sharp intellect rather than brute strength. His expression was unreadable, a neutral mask that gave away nothing. The shadows still clung to his form, and despite the fading sunlight, his movements were precise, almost calculated, as though the world around him was moving just slightly slower than it should have been.
When he was a few feet away, he stopped. His gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that felt like it reached into me, measuring, weighing me in a way that made me uncomfortable. There was something… familiar about it, but I couldn't place it. He wasn't just looking at me—he was studying me, as if he already knew everything there was to know.
I took a step back, but only a small one, trying to regain some semblance of control. The air felt thick with an unspoken expectation, as though the entire street had drawn in a collective breath.
Without a word, the man reached into his breast pocket, his movements smooth and fluid, and produced an envelope. It was thick, made of fine cream-colored paper that felt too substantial for an ordinary letter. He held it out toward me without a single word, his hand steady, his eyes never leaving mine.
I took the envelope hesitantly. The moment my fingers brushed against the paper, I felt an odd, almost magnetic pull from it. The wax seal that held the envelope closed was intricate, dark, and embossed with a design I didn't recognize. There was no name, no address—just a symbol that seemed oddly familiar yet entirely foreign to me. It almost felt like a branding, a mark of something… important.
The messenger didn't wait for me to speak. Without a single word, he stepped back, his expression still unreadable, and began to turn, walking back toward the shadows from which he had come. He didn't hurry. His movements were deliberate, and within seconds, he disappeared back into the depths of the evening, leaving us alone again in the street.
I stood there, staring at the envelope in my hand, a thousand questions rushing through my mind. The quiet of the street felt deafening now, the normal sounds of the city muffled by the strange encounter.
Sia was the first to break the silence. Her voice was cautious, but there was an edge of concern in it. "What was that?" she asked, her eyes scanning the street as if the messenger might return.
I turned the envelope over in my hands, still trying to make sense of it. The weight of it was strange—almost like it contained more than just paper. I broke the wax seal, carefully peeling it off, and opened the envelope. Inside, there was a single sheet of fine paper, written in elegant, flowing handwriting that seemed to have been crafted with deliberate care.
I read the words aloud, barely believing what I was seeing.
To Kyon Bashega,
It is my pleasure to extend an invitation to dinner this evening. There are matters of importance that require your attention.
You are requested to attend an exclusive gathering at the Helios Hotel. Your presence is essential. Please arrive promptly at eight o'clock. Formal attire is requested.
Yours sincerely,
William Conrad
I let the paper fall from my hands, my mind racing. A dinner invitation? From someone named William Conrad? The name meant nothing to me. The Helios Hotel was one of the most luxurious, exclusive venues in the city—only the most influential and powerful people gathered there. It wasn't a place for someone like me.
Sia was watching me closely, her green eyes sharp as ever. She hadn't said anything about the letter, but I could tell she was trying to piece things together in her mind. She'd been quiet for too long.
I looked up from the paper, meeting her gaze. "What do you think?" I asked.
Sia didn't answer right away. She was still processing, still considering her options. But when she spoke, her voice was firm.
"I think we should be careful," she said. "Whoever he is, he's not someone you meet without reason. And that letter… it's not just an invitation. It's a summons."
I turned the envelope over in my hands again, the weight of it feeling heavier with each passing second. The sense of something important, something dangerous, was growing inside me.
Should I go?
And what would it mean if I didn't?