Amiya's Perspective
Amiya's breath hitched as she crept deeper into the shadows, her eyes narrowing to adjust to the dim glow of flickering torches. The voices ahead were sharp, clipped, like knives cutting through the murmur of the city. Her boots scraped softly against the cobblestone as she stepped closer, her senses heightened, every instinct screaming at her to turn back.
The dispute up ahead wasn't a random argument. No, it was something darker, something that rippled with a tension she could almost taste on the back of her tongue. She could hear men shouting, their voices low and growling like wild animals. A few more voices joined in, high-pitched, frantic. The scene before her was forming into something she hadn't expected.
A collapsed stall—broken crates and shattered glass—lay in the middle of the narrow square, and huddled around it, there were people. More than just the townfolk from earlier. The presence of soldiers—guards in gleaming armor—sent a prickle of unease up her spine. It was rare to see official soldiers in these parts. What the hell was going on here?
Amiya's hand tightened on the dagger at her belt, her fingers cold but steady. Her pulse quickened. She wasn't used to walking into situations like this. In her life, the only chaos had been the court—the endless plotting, the hollow smiles. She'd never felt real danger like this before, not on the streets, not in the alleys where people could vanish without a trace.
She stayed hidden for a moment, watching. Trying to make sense of the situation.
The crowd's energy was frantic, and the air around her felt thick, charged. She could hear their whispers—a mix of dread and frustration. "It wasn't supposed to go down like this…" "We were just trying to get the goods in, but…"
Something wasn't right. That much, she knew. But what was it? A flare of suspicion sparked in her mind. Was it just a petty theft gone wrong, or was something more at play here?
Her fingers curled tighter around the hilt of her blade. She should've turned back. She should've listened to the whispers that begged her to turn around, return to the safety of the palace. But she couldn't.
Not anymore.
Her gaze shifted over the crowd once more, and then—there—among the faces she didn't recognize, was someone who stood apart, even in this chaotic crowd. A tall figure, wrapped in shadow, his posture effortlessly blending into the darkness.
Sylas.
The sight of him caused her heart to skip, an inexplicable jolt of recognition pulling her stomach into a tight knot. What the hell was he doing here? She'd thought he was long gone, disappeared back into whatever world he inhabited, beyond the palace's reach. The nerve of him. She tried to suppress the rush of annoyance. Yet, despite herself, she couldn't help the way her gaze lingered on him. He had been the one constant, the one person who seemed to leave an impression on her. And she hated it. She hated how his presence unraveled her.
And just like that, he caught her eye.
A brief flicker of something passed between them, a silent acknowledgment that neither of them spoke aloud. His eyes narrowed, a mix of something unreadable flitting across his face before he turned away, merging back into the crowd. He was dangerous, unpredictable. Not the kind of person she should allow herself to be around. But there he was. Just like the disaster he always found himself in, he was here now, part of her fate whether she liked it or not.
Sylas's Perspective
Sylas's pulse quickened as his eyes locked onto Amiya, standing at the edge of the square, her posture rigid. She hadn't seen him approaching, but the moment her gaze found him, he couldn't look away. Her stance was a little too tense, too careful, as though ready to spring into action at any moment. Her dagger was still sheathed, but he knew better than to believe she wasn't prepared for a fight.
For a moment, he debated his options. In a city like this, you learned fast that the best way to stay alive was to stay unnoticed. But that wasn't going to happen now. Not with her here.
His eyes tracked her, following the movement of her shoulders as she glanced between the crowd and the guards standing a little too close for comfort. She didn't belong here. But maybe—just maybe—that was the point.
He didn't move immediately, not wanting to attract attention. The last thing he needed was to get caught up in whatever mess she'd wandered into. The chaos in the square was escalating, that much was clear. He could see the shift in the air, like a storm on the verge of breaking.
But he couldn't leave her there. Not now, when everything was on the edge of going wrong. Something in him, the same part of him that had nudged him into her path earlier, wouldn't allow it.
Amiya's Perspective
Amiya's instincts screamed at her to stay back. The guards were growing agitated, their voices rising, the once-faint echo of their threats becoming more pronounced. But it wasn't just the soldiers—there were figures in the crowd too. People she didn't recognize, not from the lower district. Tensions were high, and she could feel the danger crawling under her skin like ants marching to war.
But despite the obvious risk, something about the situation called to her. She was an outsider now, no longer the sheltered princess of the palace. She wasn't safe anywhere, no matter how many walls the castle had. She had walked out here to understand the world, and there was no turning back now.
Amiya's hand hovered near her dagger, not drawing it yet, but ready. She took one slow step forward. Then another.
Her thoughts flickered back to Sylas. Why did he have to appear now, of all times? She couldn't afford to have him complicate matters. He was nothing but a nuisance, and yet every time she thought she had the situation under control, there he was, disrupting her. His presence only seemed to push her further into the uncertainty she had already chosen. She didn't want to think about him—didn't want to care. But somehow, she couldn't stop herself.
But there was no time to dwell. Amiya moved forward, blending into the crowd, drawing closer to the heart of the chaos.
Sylas's Perspective
Sylas followed her movement with deliberate distance, his thoughts racing. Amiya had already set herself on a course, one that led deeper into the heart of this mess. And in a twisted way, he couldn't blame her. She was driven by something—something he could almost see, just out of reach.
He gritted his teeth as the tension in the square rose to a breaking point. He had to get her out of there before things turned lethal.
The guards were on edge. The crowd was antsy. Sylas's eyes locked onto the nearest soldier, his fingers brushing the dagger at his belt. This was the moment.
Amiya, oblivious to the storm she was walking into, didn't even see him coming. Sylas pushed through the crowd, a shadow among shadows.
And just as the first shout of aggression echoed, as the first stone was thrown into the fray, he was there.