Zara exited the library earlier than the time she told her father she would be leaving. This was her chance to finally explore this town a little without supervision. It was exhilarating, almost like she was any other young woman going about her business without having to worry about a parent’s shadow lurking over her back. For once, she could pretend she was normal. No one would be the wiser.

Zara took in the sight of the mountains, surrounding her on all sides. She could see them from her home too, but from where she stood now, they seemed so much more majestic. The black, sky-scraping tower of rock that was Mount Lilith was both beautiful and terrifying at once. It was nothing like the view she got from her bedroom window, which was a good distance away from the center of town. She had always regarded it rather blankly—as another piece of nature she’d never get close to. Twenty-two years she had lived near it, yet she stood here gaping like she was seeing it for the first time in her life.

It was a miracle her parents had agreed to this library visit at all, but it just so happened that her father’s Civil Service meeting was at the town hall and the library was on the way there. With a bit of desperate pleading and an argument about trust and faith in their grown daughter—Zara was trusted to be alone for this one time. For forty minutes at the library only.

And maybe never again.

Zara shook the thought away, hoisted her book bag higher on her shoulder, and headed toward The Diamond. She had about thirty minutes now before her father returned to the spot he had dropped her off at. The walk was only ten minutes each way. If she didn’t linger around too much, she should make it back to the pick-up spot without issue.

The smells drafting out of Cafe Soma directly across the library were amazing as always. She had walked a good distance from there but the aromas of cakes, sweets, and their homely, rich coffee made her want to turn back. Her father usually picked up some of the cafe’s expensive package of beans every now and then, and her mother would grind the beans and make the coffee in the same evening, and then fresh again the next morning. It was Zara’s favorite.

Zara was still lost in thought about coffee until she bumped into someone.

“Oh!” she yelped.

“Excuse me! Sorry!” a long bearded man in a gray suit called back as he hurried by.

“Sorry!” Zara squeaked as she almost ran into more people heading her way. It wouldn’t do to daydream. The street was busy.

Carriages and rickshaws rolled through the middle of the road while people scattered on either side. They wandered into shops, stood in lines for street food offered from tents and carts, grouped up around the corners talking to each other, or walked like they had somewhere important to be. Carriage drivers tended to their decorated horses, rickshaws stopped to do pick-ups and drop-offs.

So many different faces, styles, and mannerisms—all from different backgrounds across the continent. Besides Darhai, the capital city of the country, Pria was the only town that was so diverse in culture.

Zara circled around a group of chattering school kids in her way. It had been a long time since was in such a bustling area. She wondered vaguely when the last time she had actually come into town. Eight, or ten years? Or even more than that? Of course, she’d been with her family and not on her own back then.

Two musicians were playing a ballad on the opposite corner of the street; they had just ended one song and were starting another. It was a classic tune, and one Zara liked. Slow and calm, the rich beat of the tabla serving as an accent to the melodious pitches of the sitar.

Unfortunately, Zara didn’t have the time to stop and listen. She wanted to make the most of her little walking adventure.

She zigzagged through the herd of people and found herself in front of an accessory shop, just a few minutes away from her final destination. She halted at the window when her sight landed on a red jewel headpiece—a current fashion among the women in Sanyara’s Royal Court.

Ma would like this one, Zara thought. Her mother was a well-dressed woman, typical for any woman whose husband works in government. But Zara would take this headpiece for herself if she could; it was so pretty. The ruby shone on its stand, a deep, vibrant red. It almost looked real. But it couldn’t have been. It would have been displayed at a higher end store at three times the price otherwise.

Either way it wasn’t possible for Zara to purchase. Even a convincing fake was too much in cost. Besides…where would she wear such an expensive headpiece anyway?

I could always model it for my own reflection…and pretend my life is better than it really is.

A bit sullen, Zara gently pushed aside the shop entrance’s beige curtain, hoping to find something cheaper she might like and actually get away with having.

“Welcome!” a cheery girl at the counter greeted. She was young—looked to be around Zara’s age—with thick yellow hair, clear blue eyes, and a small beauty mark next to her small nose. In front of her was an open logbook she’d been working on before Zara had walked in. “Can I help you find anything?”

“N-no,” Zara said politely. “Thank you.”

“Alright then! I’m right here, just let me know when you need something.”

Zara lingered around the shop, stopping every few seconds to examine the items she came across: hand-weaved baskets, little painted candle holders, hair clips, rustic bangles, earrings, face paints, bindis, bags, broaches…

Zara couldn’t pick what she liked best. The wedding jewelry was arguably the most vibrant section of all accessories. Of course they were completely needless to her now, but she hoped maybe one day…

“Hey! You, no. Get out!”

Zara almost knocked over the silver and white wedding set on the display she’d been looking at. “What—” she croaked out. What have I done?

The girl at the counter was clearly angry and Zara had never seen a face so friendly turn so hostile. However, this hostility wasn’t directed at Zara.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” a boy who had just entered the shop whined. He was a thin child, looked to be about seven or eight years old. His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his fair skin dirtied and dulled from being outside for who knows how long.

His blue shorts and orange t-shirt were faded, and his general appearance seemed a bit roughened, right down to his pink, scratched up knees. Zara wondered if maybe he was from a poor family—he sure looked the part. There were no slums in Pria, but there were cases of families that still struggled in run-down businesses and farms—places that were nowhere near the center of town…

Where did he come from?

“You’re loitering, you rat!” the counter girl said, practically stomping toward the entrance.

“What does that even mean?” the boy whined.

“It means you’re dragging this business down! Leave before you scare off the customers. Ugh—is that why no one’s coming in?” She grabbed the boy by the scruff and shook him. “Filthy idiot, what are you even doing here? Huh? Did you come here to steal? Is that it?”

“NO!” the boy protested. “Everybody else keeps telling me to go away.”

“And they’re damn right to do so too.”

The boy started to cry. “I just want to lie down somewhere that’s not cold! Everybody keeps kicking me away when I just want to sleep! I’m sorry ok?! I’m tired—!”

The girl lowered her voice to an angry hush, though Zara could still hear her since the shop was empty. “We all know about you. Your Ammi was right to kick you out. You’re dangerous.”

“No I’m not,” the boy whimpered.

“You are. She left you out to die for a reason.”

The boy grew silent, his body shook, and he stared tearfully at the girl, confused and hurt to the core.

Zara had never seen anything like this. Granted, she never left home to encounter such an interaction in the first place, but she highly doubted this sort of cruel behavior with a child was normal at all. She should say something, but…she couldn’t say anything. She was stuck, holding the jewelry set, in a frozen stupor. The girl was beyond harsh. The boy didn’t deserve it at all, and Zara knew that she should have spoken up, but…

What if the girl turned on her? Zara would have no clue how to deal with that. She was no brave soul. Not at all.

Zara swallowed when the girl locked eyes with her.

“Look,” she said, turning back to the boy and tightening her grip on him. “You’re scaring the only customer I have right now. Get out.”

“No,” the boy wept as she dragged him out of the shop.

Zara was left alone. The light clinking of the jewelry seemed loud in the silence as she carefully placed it back on the shelf.

What happened?

With some hesitation, Zara headed for the door. She didn’t feel comfortable in the shop anymore and she didn’t want to stick around for that girl to come back.

Zara bumped her foot on another display shelf, knocking a bracelet on the floor. It jangled loudly on the cracked stone floor, practically echoing in the silence.

“Oh!” Zara held the shelf back so that nothing else on it would topple over. She let out a relieved breath, grateful that nothing had broken. She went to pick up the bracelet and wondered why it seemed bigger than normal.

Perhaps made for a larger woman?

But it wasn’t a bracelet at all actually. It was a white gold anklet.

The little ornaments on the chain were of The White Sun—the kingdom’s national symbol. The bells jingled with every shake. Zara once read a beginner’s dance instruction book where the women were recommended to dance with these sort of anklets, should they have possession of a pair. Zara had discovered her fondness for dance at the town’s Holy Lights festival when she was a child, and she eagerly went through every lesson in that book until her father threw it out. Dance was a frivolous, mindless activity he had said, suited for poor street performers and cheap brothel women.

Zara picked up the anklet and found the matching pair on the same shelf. This one had the price tag attached to it, and she expected it to be as expensive as it looked. But her heart soared when she saw the price—the gold had to be an imitation then! Zara should have known, the anklets weren’t heavy at all. She could afford this, it was only three coins compared to anything else she’d seen that required paper money.

“My, those are pretty aren’t they?”

The girl had returned and Zara hadn’t even noticed she was standing behind her. She flinched, yet compulsively turned around with a bright polite smile as though she hadn’t been startled at all.

“Oh, yes! Yes.”

“You want them?”

“Y-well…”

The girl grinned, her expression as easygoing as it was when Zara first walked in. Her blue eyes were like clear lake water, Zara couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous they were up close.

“Are you getting married?”

“Huh? Oh, no no.” Zara replied, chuckling sheepishly. “I’m not.”

“Oh. I only ask because I noticed you were spending a long time looking at the wedding set over there.”

“Yes, I was just looking.”

“I understand. Can’t help yourself from imagining huh?” The girl laughed. “I’ve been there. Plenty.”

Zara laughed because it was polite to laugh. But in truth, she was uncomfortable.

“So will that be all then?” the girl asked, gesturing to the anklets in Zara’s hands.

“Yes.”

The girl led her to the register to pay. As she was wrapping up the anklets in paper, she spoke, “I’m sorry about earlier, you know with that wicked boy disrupting your experience here.” She sounded disgusted when mentioning the “wicked boy”. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

“Oh…no. That’s okay. He…didn’t disrupt me.”

The girl raised a brow at that. “Really?”

Zara thought now would be a good time to ask what that was all about.

“I mean…what did he do that was so bad?”

The girl paused her movements. Her eyes slowly panned up to Zara, as though Zara had just asked her if the sun rose at night.

“You don’t know?”

“…Am I supposed to?” Zara asked nervously.

After an awkward silence, the girl burst out laughing. And Zara couldn’t help but kind of laugh with her, even though she felt stupid.

“Which mountain have you been living under?”

Annoyed as she felt, Zara continued to laugh along. She didn’t like when people didn’t simply tell her what she didn’t understand. Her family did this to her a lot. Why was a stranger doing it to her too?

“Oh, sorry sorry,” Zara said. “Never mind. I didn’t know I was supposed to know.”

“Well the word’s been spreading like smoke around these parts. Do you not come into town often?”

“No.”

“And no one’s told you?”

“…No. What about?”

The girl’s expression darkened. “Oh. I think it’s best if you know. And keep your eye out for that boy you saw. Stay away.” She lowered her voice. “Everyone suspects that he holds black magic in his soul.”

“…Oh.” Zara’s stomach flipped. Magic? That boy? Then…he and I are…

Zara swallowed. She felt like she needed water, her throat was dry.

The girl nodded, as though her concern and Zara’s were one and the same.

“Yes. I know, it’s terrible. His mother lives close by here. She lost her baby girl. They reckon its because of him.” She shuddered. “Sickening kid. He didn’t even want a brother or a sister, he kept telling his Ammi that. And he was near her when that poor baby got sick soon after she was born. His parents are sure he cursed her. The father blamed the mother for birthing a demon son and left the family. So mother did what made sense, and kicked that wicked thing out.” The girl sighed and finished packing Zara’s anklets while murmuring, “The family is ruined. All because of him. Hopefully the law will bring that evil thing to his end soon, the same way he did his poor sister.”

Zara didn’t know what to say except, “Wow.” Likely because her head was pounding too hard for her to think properly.

“Yes, wow. I’m one of their neighbors actually.” She handed the package over, smiling once again. “Here you go. And don’t worry too much about it. As long as he stays weak, he can’t hurt anyone else. We have nothing to fear, right?”

Zara nodded, dropping the wrapped anklets into her book bag. She didn’t even know what she was agreeing with. She just hoped that her face didn’t look as flushed as it felt. She turned away.

“Come back again,” the girl said. “I’m sure those anklets will look lovely on you. Hey—”

Zara stopped. She had lifted the curtain already and had hoped for a quicker exit than this.

“What’s your name?”

Zara spared a moment to glance back at her.

“Zara.”

“Mine’s Cina.” She grinned. “Next time you’re in town, Zara, feel free to stop by. This is my mother’s shop so I’m always here.”

“Thank you,” Zara replied softly. “For your help today.”

“Anytime. You know, you seem so sweet. Make sure you get out more, okay?”

Zara exited the shop. Cina. A pretty name for a pretty face.

To her surprise, Zara found the boy upon her arrival at The Diamond. He was standing next to a trash bin, eating what looked like crusty leftover bread—probably dug out of that very same bin. His left knee was bleeding from a fresh scrape, but he didn’t seem to pay it any mind.

The Diamond was the town’s main social center. It began with an archway entrance that led to one’s choice of multiple unique shops and restaurants. There was plenty of open space for seating, concerts, shows, and festivities. At the moment, nothing particular was going on, as it was simply an ordinary day. Fountain Reena—the big stone water fountain built in the shape of Angel Reena—stood in the middle and was a good place for daily prayers, which people were doing now as they took the water into their palms and ran it over their heads for extra blessings.

Mount Lilith was closer here than anywhere else, its expansive presence overwhelmingly breathtaking. A painter sat on a stool with his easel not too far from the fountain, moving the brush strokes on what was supposed to be the thick snow caps near the top of the mountain, before it was engulfed by fog.

Zara now realized just how long it had been since she last visited The Diamond. Eight years exactly. She almost wanted to cry. She was a Prian native for crying out loud. There was no reason why she couldn’t come sit here and enjoy the peace once in a while, should the weather allow it.

Yes, she had magic and magic had been outlawed for centuries—but this was magic she couldn’t even wield properly. And the fact that she was technically a Mage could be a problem to anyone here who cared about her life. But nobody did. She was a stranger. This wasn’t a small town. No one would even notice her, no one had any idea who she was.

Sure, it probably helped that her family kept her indoors all the time, and that they live on the more remote side of town because of her “condition”, as Zara’s mother liked to call it, but that was besides the point. Nobody kept watch over her every second of the damn day. Newcomers migrated to this region every year anyway, nothing ever never stayed the same. What was her family thinking trying to shut her away like this? It wasn’t possible for everyone to know each other’s business…and certainly not Zara’s.

But then she thought of the boy. And she remembered Cina and her cruelty. And then…she didn’t know what to think.

Zara checked her watch, aware that she was here on limited time. She had maybe ten more minutes of serenity—and to quench her ever-growing curiosity about this boy—until she needed to head back to the pick-up spot, where she would be whisked back home for who knows how many more years.

She started in the direction of the boy. He had devoured his bread and was now sitting on an empty bench, staring into a shop called Zetsy’s Toy Parlour. Zara had gotten a few birthday gifts from there when she was a little girl. She still had them—all her dolls and games—stored away in a locked chest at home. A reminder of simpler times.

“Hello,” Zara spoke gently.

The boy blinked, as though Zara had snapped him out of a trance. He looked at her, but didn’t say anything. He had to be wondering why she was even speaking to him at all.

“Hi,” he spoke quietly.

Zara inched closer to the bench. The boy scooted away. She couldn’t blame him for being afraid, but she wasn’t going to hurt him and she wanted him to know that. Because if what she heard from Cina was true then…

Zara’s heart leaped. If it was true then she wasn’t alone. Finally, she wouldn’t be alone anymore.

“I’m Zara. What’s your name?”

After a long second, he replied, “Y-Yohid.”

“Yohid. Were you born here, or elsewhere?”

“Here.”

Zara smiled.“Me too.” She glanced at his wound. “Your knee looks like it hurts.”

“Only a little.”

“Would you like me to put a bandage on it?” Thanks to her mother’s pestering, Zara had grown the habit of keeping bandages, extra handkerchiefs, and ointment in her bag back when she used to go to public school. Now that was no longer the case, but it was one of those habits that was still good to keep.

The boy seemed to relax a little. “Okay…”

Zara knelt down and began tending to the scratch. “Do you like that shop?” she asked, referring to the toy shop behind her.

“Y-Yes.”

“My family used to bring me here and buy me lots of toys when I was little.” She kind of wished she could go inside just to relive it but there was no time. She finished the bandage, stood back up, and checked her pocket clock again. She’ll give herself five more minutes, and then be on her way back to the library.

“My dad used to buy me toys before,” Yohid murmured. He touched the bandage, carefully examining it before shyly saying, “Thank you.”

He has good manners.

“How old are you?” Zara said.

“Eight…what about you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Wow!”

“Yes…” To a child, it may be quite old? “Did that girl from the accessory shop do this to you, Yohid?” She pointed at his bandaged scrape.

He bobbed his head, staring at her in sudden recognition. “You were at Cina’s shop.”

Zara nodded. So he knew Cina by name. Obviously, given they were neighbors. “Yes, um. I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

First she needed to confirm if he was for real. She sat on the bench next to him so she could speak in a lower voice. There wasn’t anybody close enough to hear, but one could never be too careful. Yohid flinched, but he didn’t move away this time. A good sign.

“Yohid,” Zara said, “You can trust me, I won’t hurt you. I’m just confused about you. Why was Cina so mean?”

Yohid’s face scrunched up. He looked angry, but also like he would cry again. “You’re friends with her?”

“No. Today was the first time I met her. She was so mean to you and I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry that she treated you like that. You didn’t deserve it. I think you’re a good boy who needs some help, right?”

Yohid blinked, thinking about it. He bobbed his head once.

“How long have you been out here by yourself?” she asked.

Yohid thought about it for a moment. “Mmm…a few days I guess.”

Days? My gods…

“And is what Cina said true? That you’re…different?” Zara breathed in, nervous for his reply.

Yohid’s lip quivered, and he frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t know what anyone is talking about. I didn’t kill my sister—or, I didn’t mean to I guess. I can swear it. I don’t know why people hate me and I don’t know why Ammi and Abbi have to hate me too.”

His stomach growled. The bread hadn’t been enough.

Zara’s fingers shook as she reached into her bag and pulled out a pouch of coins. She spilled some out on her palm and handed it to him.

“Here. You can go eat something with this,” she said. It wasn’t much at all, but it would do for a cheap, filling meal from a food cart.

Yohid took the coins carefully. He looked at the money, then at Zara, then back at the money. And for the first time, he smiled.

“Thank you!” he said happily. “Wow. You’re so nice!”

“You’re welcome.” Zara grinned. “I’m glad I met you. I think…we might be the same.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Did your family kick you out too?” He looked so hopeful, as though Zara would stay out here with him.

“Well, no. It’s the opposite. They keep me inside the house all the time. Because they think a person like me is, well, a bad thing. And that I shouldn’t be near anyone.”

“Oh…”

She could tell he was confused. And she didn’t blame him. After all, his mother had kicked him out of the house, so it couldn’t have made sense for Yohid that Zara’s parents kept her in for the same reason.

“If they think you’re bad and can’t talk to anyone, then how are you out here?” Yohid asked.

“I’m only allowed out for today. And listen Yohid, I don’t know much about your…” Zara scanned their area, then whispered to him, “…magic—”

Yohid panicked. “No, it’s not on purpose, I didn’t even know I had any! I swear I didn’t kill—”

“Shh! Someone will hear.”

Yohid shut his mouth, worried.

“It’s alright. I’m the same, remember. I have it too.”

Yohid’s mouth dropped, nodding.

“I don’t know much about it. Though, I don’t think anyone really does. I just know that I don’t know how to use it.” Zara’s heart was pounding. She had never confided in anyone about this. A small part of her worried that this might be a mistake.

“Yeah…I don’t know either.” Yohid’s eyes were wide with wonder. “So we’re—” He dropped to a whisper, “—we got magic? Both of us?”

Zara’s worry vanished. “It seems so.”

“C-Can you show me?”

“I can’t right now. It’s too dangerous. And anyway—” Zara stood. “—I have to go. My father’s going to pick me up and I’ll be in trouble if I’m late.”

Yohid deflated, and Zara felt even more guilty of her short time. “You’re leaving?” he said.

Zara knelt down next to him, removing a ring from her finger. It was clear stone. She had plenty more like it.

“Here, take this.” She placed it in his other hand, the one that wasn’t holding the coins. “You’re not alone in this, okay? Remember that. We’re not ‘wicked’ just because dumb, mean people say so.”

“Like Cina.”

“Yeah. Like Cina.”

Yohid beamed.

Zara got back up and began to walk away. “Bye for now.”

“Zara!” Yohid leapt up from the bench. “Can we see each other again?”

Zara swallowed. His eyes were growing wet, and he was clearly scared to be left alone. Zara wished she could stay, or take him with her. He had no roof, no clothes, no warmth. It would get cold tonight. People never took kindly to the homeless, not even to homeless children. It was a given that there had to be something wrong with them, that they were socially useless, otherwise why should they be homeless?

Zara had believed in this herself, until now. This was unfair.

It was also unfair that she had just given Yohid hope of companionship and was now leaving him as quick as she’d come.

He’s just a little boy, Zara thought. And now he looked smaller, and more vulnerable, than ever.

We’re the same.

She could make no promises, but…

“I’ll try and find you—”

“ZARA!”

SHIT! Zara had never dreaded her father’s booming voice more than she had now.

Yohid gasped. The poor boy had practically jumped out of his pants.

Zara whirled around to see her father speedily approaching her. He wasn’t a very big man, but he was built strong. He was dressed in his white government-official suit that consisted of a light gray, knee-length jacket and fitted pants of the same color. The white silver buttons on his jacket shone as he marched. His tall gray turban covered his balding head. Black khol lined his eyes, matching his polished beard.

Formal, bureaucratic—intimidating.

Zara knew she was in for it. She actually wished she could switch places with Yohid right now. It was better to sleep outside in the freezing night than to go home with a furious man of any kind.

Yohid ran off without another sound. So that was that.

Zara winced when her father grabbed her arm.

It hurts.

“What were you doing? Who was that?!” he growled, tightening his grip.

“Just a boy. We were talking,” Zara explained frantically.

“You were supposed to be waiting near the library.”

“I thought you said you would be picking me up later!”

He sneered. Zara cursed herself. What a mistake it was to say that.

“Oh, I see how it is. You didn’t go to the library. You took your chance to wander around however you wanted.”

Zara hated his eyes. They were almost all black, like hers. The more furious he got, the more intense those eyes became. And they weren’t any better with kohl around them.

“You lied to me,” he growled. “I trusted you, because you were behaving so well lately. But you have shown me that I shouldn’t have, and now I never will.”

“I didn’t lie about anything.” Zara felt hot. People were beginning to turn their heads.

He tugged her arm. “We’re going home. I’m never bringing you out here again.”

“What?!”

He practically yanked her towards the entrance arch. “You’re never coming here again. Not by yourself, not with anyone. Just not at all. Is it that surprising?”

Zara fought back tears. The carriage was parked next to the entrance. Her father practically shoved her in, in front of everyone, and slammed the door. Zara could hear the voices around her, wondering what she had done wrong.

Heartbroken and humiliated, Zara wondered how in the hell her father found her, and why he was already out. Had he left his meeting early? How did he know she was sitting at The Diamond of all places? Who could have told him? Or had he been planning to search the entire town for her, with The Diamond being his first or second stop?

Zara glanced out the window, her tears blurring her vision. A man was staring at her.

He was tall, his skin a golden tan, his dark beard neatly trimmed, and his black hair swept back. He wore a black buttoned-up coat and black pants, and everything about him was like a darkness that beckoned. He was leaning casually against the arch, his eyes sharp on her and unflinching even while Zara stared back. She couldn’t help but notice he was a bit handsome, and that made her feel more embarrassed than she already was. She wiped her eyes. The little makeup she had on them smudged all over her hand.

The man’s mouth perked up sympathetically, and Zara quickly turned her messy face away, wishing the carriage would just move already.

Her father finally climbed up on his seat, cracked the whip, and off the horse went. Zara couldn’t help but peek back.

The man’s eyes were on her until the carriage took her out of sight.