Amiya's Perspective
Amiya's heart was still pounding as she disappeared into the shadows. She hadn't expected to feel this off balance after that exchange with Sylas. There was something about him—something irritatingly magnetic—that made it hard to just walk away and forget about him. She hated that. The whole situation was stupid. She didn't need some random thief's name rattling around in her head, but there it was, like a damn earworm. Sylas.
She let out a frustrated sigh, tugging her hood tighter as she weaved her way through narrow streets, trying to put as much distance between herself and him as possible. The city was a labyrinth of alleyways and hidden corners, and she had no idea where she was headed. She was too damn proud to admit it, but she was lost. The buildings around her towered, and she could feel the weight of the night pressing in on her.
Her mind kept wandering back to him, though. To Sylas. To the way he had looked at her—no, the way he had sized her up, like she was some puzzle he was trying to solve. Maybe it was that damn smirk he kept flashing, like he knew something she didn't. Whatever it was, she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't going to get rid of him anytime soon. And for some reason, that unsettled her more than it should have.
She pushed past a darkened doorway, hearing the faint sound of footsteps behind her. Her nerves spiked, and her hand went to the dagger at her belt before she realized it was probably just the echo of her own movements. The city was too alive for comfort. The street lamps flickered overhead, casting weak pools of light across the cobblestones, but it wasn't enough to make her feel safe.
A sharp noise in the distance—a shout, followed by the unmistakable sound of glass shattering—caught her attention. She paused, listening. The city had its share of chaos, but this felt different. The echo of voices carried through the narrow alleyways, sharp and panicked. Someone was in trouble.
Her instincts kicked in. She didn't know what it was, maybe the lingering irritation from her encounter with Sylas, maybe just a desire to escape the feeling of being watched. But whatever it was, it pushed her forward. She moved towards the noise, careful, quiet, blending into the shadows as best as she could.
She rounded a corner, eyes narrowing as she saw a group of men gathered near a boarded-up tavern. A scuffle had broken out, two of them shouting at each other while the others stood by, watching. One of the men held a bottle in his hand, his face flushed with anger as he swung it at the other, narrowly missing.
Amiya's heart quickened. She didn't want to get involved. Not tonight. But as one of the men grabbed the other by the collar and shoved him hard into the wall, her hand instinctively went to her dagger. The tension in the air felt suffocating, the kind of situation that would only escalate if left unchecked.
Her mind flashed back to Sylas's words: "You're not exactly blending in." She hated that he was right. Hated that she was standing here, trying to make herself feel like a shadow when she was already standing out.
She stepped forward, drawing the dagger quietly. A part of her cursed the decision, but the rest of her just wanted to make the chaos stop before it got worse.
The tension in the air thickened as she stepped into view.
"Oi, what's this then?" one of the men, tall with dark, greasy hair, spotted her almost immediately. The others turned, all eyes shifting to her.
Amiya swallowed, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her dagger. She didn't want a fight. But she also wasn't about to back down.
"You lost, miss?" the man who'd been holding the bottle sneered.
Amiya didn't answer, but instead, she took a step closer, eyes narrowing. She could feel the weight of their stares, could hear the soft shuffle of their feet as they closed in on her.
"You best be careful. These streets aren't safe for girls like you." The man with the bottle grinned, his breath sour with alcohol.
Amiya's jaw clenched. She wasn't afraid of this kind of shit, not anymore. She had been trained for worse. But something felt different tonight, the city more oppressive than usual, the air thick with uncertainty. She wasn't sure she'd be able to handle this alone.
The men circled her, their steps slow, deliberate, as if toying with her.
Just as the situation began to feel too tense, too close to a breaking point, a voice called out from the alley behind her.
"Hey, I think you've picked the wrong target, boys."
Amiya's heart stopped for a split second, the voice unmistakable. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was.
"Not you again," she muttered under her breath.
Sylas appeared out of the darkness, walking toward them with that same casual swagger, as if he didn't have a care in the world. He must have seen her the moment she'd stepped into the alley—damn him.
"You got a problem with me?" the man holding the bottle sneered, looking Sylas up and down.
Sylas didn't flinch, didn't even bother to respond. He just grinned, stepping closer, his stance relaxed. "Nah. But I've got a problem with you picking fights with the wrong people."
Amiya stood frozen for a moment, her chest tightening as the men's attention shifted from her to Sylas. There was something about his presence, the way he walked into the mess like he was already in control, that unnerved her.
He had no business being here, but now that he was, everything about this confrontation felt different. Like it had just shifted into something much more dangerous.
"Leave her alone," Sylas said, his voice low. It wasn't a request. It wasn't a threat either, but there was an edge to it, a warning that made the men hesitate.
The man with the bottle sneered. "What are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?"
Sylas's grin didn't waver, but his eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes—narrowed slightly. "You'd be surprised what I can do."
The men were clearly outnumbered, and their hesitation was starting to show.
Amiya had a split second to decide what to do. She could stand back, let Sylas take care of this, and leave, or she could dive in and make sure they didn't come after her later.
Her choice was made. She wasn't going to run, not now.
"Don't make me regret this," she muttered, stepping closer, her dagger poised, ready for whatever came next.
The standoff held for a moment, the tension thick in the air. But before anything could escalate further, the man holding the bottle backed off, muttering curses under his breath. The others followed suit, and with that, the confrontation was over as quickly as it had started.
As the men scattered into the dark corners of the city, Sylas turned to her, his smirk never fading.
"Well, that was fun," he said with a shrug, as if he hadn't just saved her ass.
Amiya couldn't help herself—she rolled her eyes. "You're unbelievable."
He grinned wider. "I know. Takes one to know one."
And for reasons she couldn't quite explain, she felt a strange, inexplicable sense of relief.
Sylas's Perspective
Sylas had been watching from the shadows, keeping his distance, but he couldn't help himself when the situation escalated. There she was again—Amiya, standing alone in the alley with a bunch of drunken fools closing in. He hadn't intended to step in, but watching them threaten her made something in his gut twist. So, he did what he did best—he walked straight into it.
"Hey, I think you've picked the wrong target, boys."
Amiya's reaction was instant, even without turning around. He could practically feel her frustration from here. He didn't need to see her face to know what she was thinking.
"Not you again," she muttered under her breath.
Sylas couldn't help but smirk as he made his way forward, taking his sweet time. He'd seen her handle herself before, but this was a different situation. The odds weren't in her favor this time, not with a whole damn group of them. But no, she had to pick a fight.
The man holding the bottle sneered at him, sizing him up. "You got a problem with me?"
He didn't flinch, didn't even break his stride. Sylas didn't care for most of the trouble in this city, but there was something about these fools thinking they could get away with this shit.
"Nah," he said casually, his grin wide, "but I've got a problem with you picking fights with the wrong people."
It wasn't just the words. It was the way he carried himself—completely in control, like he was running the show, and the rest of them were just props in his little play. He could see their hesitation, feel the tension in the air, and damn, it was almost fun.
"Leave her alone," he said, his tone casual but with a sharp edge to it. It wasn't a request. Hell, it wasn't even a threat. It was a command that seemed to make them think twice.
The guy with the bottle scoffed. "What are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?"
Sylas's grin didn't falter, though his eyes narrowed, dark and calculating. "You'd be surprised what I can do."
He took another step forward, feeling the hesitation in the group grow. It wasn't just his words. It was the confidence he projected—the way he didn't give a damn whether they liked him or not. He wasn't there to play nice. He was there to make sure they understood the rules.
And then, just like that, it clicked. He wasn't going to let this drag on. The last thing he needed was for this to turn into something more than it already was.
Amiya stood there, still holding her ground. He saw the glint of the dagger in her hand, but he also saw the fire in her eyes. The girl wasn't backing down. No, this wasn't some random person cowering in the face of danger. She was every bit as dangerous as the idiots circling her, and maybe more so.
The men, outnumbering him but still uncertain, started to step back, slowly at first, then more quickly. It was over. Just like that, the threat had evaporated into the cool night air.
When they were gone, Sylas let out a breath, still grinning. "Well, that was fun," he said, acting like he hadn't just saved her skin. No big deal, right?
Amiya wasn't impressed, though. She rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "You're unbelievable."
"Yeah, I know," he said with a smug grin. "Takes one to know one."
He could tell she wasn't exactly happy with him, but something in the way she reacted told him she wasn't completely pissed either. There was something more there, but what, he wasn't sure.
He watched as she pulled her hood up, turning to leave. Part of him wanted to let her go, just let her disappear into the night. But he couldn't help it.
He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. She didn't know it, but trouble had already found her. And something told him, it wasn't done with her just yet.
He chuckled to himself. Maybe this night wasn't such a waste after all. The city always had a way of dragging him into the chaos. This time? It felt a little different.
With a final glance down the alley, Sylas shrugged it off, turning away. It was just another night in Selune. He had enough trouble to deal with without worrying about one mysterious woman who didn't belong.
Disaster just finds me, he muttered to himself, but this time, he wasn't so sure it was a joke.