The entrance into the city had been less than desirable.

Granted, this was Zara’s first time viewing the bordering regions of the Sanyaran Kingdom after many long years. As much as people gushed over the city’s wealth and beauty, that all lay mainly toward the center in the capitol and near the western ports. Zara couldn’t help but wonder how everyone’s great expectations had to have dwindled upon arrival. They were all led to believe the entirety of the place was one big paradise full of rich prosper and hope.

In reality, it was anything but.

This was not the first time Zara had seen such poverty in these parts. Her first time as a child traveling with her family had made her nervous. Seeing it again, as a young adult, she wasn’t sure if her childhood memory had deceived her into believing it wasn’t so bad back then, or if the quality of life now had gotten so much worse.

The uneven, cobbled roads were overflowing with carriages, horses, people, and stray animals. Every corner, every turn, every shop and stall, and the fronts of the most dingy living quarters were packed. Dust clouded the air, dirtying the worn-out buildings even further. The homeless begged for coin and food. Some of them were children, dressed in rags, or hardly anything at all. They went ignored, left to scramble through thrown away food scraps and garbage piles in the alleys. When Zara tried offering a coin to a lone girl, Revan had smacked her hand down and grabbed the coin before the child could lift her little hands.

“Don’t. Many of them are thieves in disguise. They take your money and give it to their lazy mothers who don’t want to work as maids or whores,” he had said.

“And you’re so sure the child you just scared away is a thief like all the rest of them?”

“It does not matter. She doesn’t concern us and you’re better off saving my money.”

But what had affected Zara most was not the homeless people or the starving children fending for themselves. What startled her was the alarming presence of many frighteningly bizarre behaviors.

Men and women, young and old, would laugh at nothing. Talk to nothing. They either slurred or spoke a mile a minute. Their movements were twitchy or sluggish. Some banged their heads against walls until they bled, others stood like statues, even when they were screamed by coachmen to get off the roads.

These people all had a certain type of garish appearance, their skin bruised up and sore. Their pupils were always unnaturally large. From a distance, their eyes seemed hollow, their faces like ghosts. Zara feared their wild tempers. She hated their smiles. They were hideous, and she was repulsed and saddened by them all at once.

She didn’t know why she felt this way, and no one else around her seemed to feel the same. Revan was practically heartless in this matter (like most matters it seemed), but given what he was, it wasn’t a shock. Perhaps it was Zara’s lack of societal experience that brought upon too much misplaced sympathy for people she shouldn’t feel anything for. Perhaps, over time, she would feel nothing but contempt for them too.

After all, they looted, they murdered, and they ravaged innocent civilians. The worse ones were practically inhuman. They dirtied what was supposed to be one of the most affluent places in the world.

“Junk users hiding in the mists. Literally,” Zara stated unhappily. It was late morning, following the night she’d almost been attacked by one. “How could you have let me go out knowing things like that were roaming around?” She placed the coffee leaves into the pot and placed it over the fire. She went back to the little kitchen table to nibble on some more buttery bread.

Revan was gobbling down the flatbread and beef lentil soup Zara had cooked for brunch. He had bathed before coming downstairs; his combed back hair was still damp with a couple of strands framing his angular face. He’d trimmed and cleaned his beard as well. Pleasant scents of sandalwood and amber wafted off him whenever he moved.

Some days, they liked sleeping in late. This was one of those days. The morning clouds had been all gloom, like they’d been preparing for rain. But the sun was finally starting to peak out, allowing its slim rays to shine through the window and warm up the tulip pot sitting on the sill.

“You are becoming quite the cook,” he commented, ushering Zara to fill his bowl with more soup. “It’s unexpected. I like it.”

“I learn from the best,” she said, her glumness brightening by a bit. He was changing the subject, but she could tell he meant what he said. She hadn’t been much of a cook at first, but with his training, she’d improved in various aspects of living, be it magic, domestic chores, or basic social interactions.

He smiled at her. It was one of those playful ones that both flustered her and made her stomach flip. “That you do. Besides, last night was quite the experience, wasn’t it? It’s all a part of your training. If you are going to live here, or anywhere really, you might as well be versed in all the region’s good and ugly.”

“Experience? I was completely unprepared!”

“You were not. Not really. It’s just that you lack strategy.” He chuckled. “Shall we go over those again? Like the ones on defense?”

Zara turned away and headed back to where the coffee was brewing before he could note her blushing cheeks. “I’ve made coffee. If you want some,” she bit out.

“I’m here to help you.” He laughed. “And of course.”

“Tell me this.” She ladled the coffee into two mugs. “We’ve been under the same roof for almost a year—”

“Does it excite you?”

“…Does what excite me?”

“Living here. With me. I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Zara groaned inwardly. “Aren’t you in a playful mood today? Stop that. Let me finish my thought.”

“You’ve filled our kitchen with my favorite aroma. It would be hard to focus on you without it in front of me. Come on, it doesn’t take that long to pour.”

She clunked the steaming mug down in front of him, ignoring him smirking at her pink, agitated face. He lifted the mug to his lips and blew over it, careful not to soil his slack, off-white shirt with a spill. He hadn’t bothered with tying the laces on the front. If he had, his smooth brown chest muscles wouldn’t be on such blatant display.

He was full of shit. Would be hard to focus? Sometimes, it was hard for her to focus. His sandalwood musk was more enticing to her than that damn coffee.

Zara had mostly gotten used to being around the man, but there were days when she was acutely aware of him and their odd little living situation. Especially the more she performed domestic tasks for him. It reminded her that her teacher, this Sorcerer, was quite a handsome and resourceful man.

A man she still hardly knew much of anything about.

“How do you spy on me?” she asked directly.

His slow, dragging sip was noisy and annoying the longer he stalled.

“You. Promised.” She clenched her teeth as she spoke. “So long ago.”

“I didn’t promise anything. I believe I said when the time was right? Or when you wouldn’t pester me about it? It was for some such reason, I remember.”

“Ugh! When will it be right? You know, you also mentioned teaching me how to fly.”

“Fly?” He was amused. “Ah, yes.”

“Yes. Like a bird. Or it doesn’t have to be flying. I wouldn’t mind running and howling like a wolf. I would even be content as a squeaking rat or a slimy little worm, for Lilith’s sake!”

Revan pursed his lips, at an attempt to keep a straight face. Zara was becoming more upset, believing he wasn’t taking her seriously, or still couldn’t find it in him to trust her.

Does he think nothing of me? Have I not proven myself worthy enough yet? How long is this going to take?

“Teach me how to morph,” Zara demanded sternly.

“Is that any way to talk to your instructor, apprentice?”

“I request. Please. Sir.”

After a moment’s contemplating, Revan nodded. “It’s not simple,” he warned.

“I can’t imagine it will be.”

“It would be a useful skill for you to know. I just don’t want you to tire out.”

“I will do my very best.”

“I don’t doubt you.”

There it was, the strange bounce in her stomach when he looked at her like…that. His eyes gazed at her warmly, like he was more than just a teacher proud of a student’s enthusiasm. It made her feel both giddy and awkward.

She cleared her throat and sat in the chair by him, finally taking in her own coffee.

“The coffee in Pria is so much better, is it not?” Revan muttered, taking another sip. “Mm. Needs more sugar. Can you—”

“It’s on the table,” she said before he could request she go get some for him. She sighed, letting her feelings dissipate. This was too weird. She was obviously reading the wrong signals, but did it matter? He’d formed a clear boundary between them from the start, and he had practically two lifespans worth of history she knew little about. She trusted him, and at the same time, she didn’t really. She had no idea what went on in his head, and it embarrassed her greatly to know that he probably knew almost everything in her own, including her brief moments of attraction to him.

It was not a good idea to grow too attached. He was toying with her. This arrangement would one day change, and they’d be on separate paths.

She spared a glance at him, and paused. He was staring at his mug blankly. He had been doing that last night as well, while sitting on his favorite soft chair in front of the fireplace with a book. Except he hadn’t been reading it, he’d been staring off, lost in thought as he was now.

“What is it?” she asked.

He blinked, looking at her like he was surprised she was still there. “What do you mean?”

“…Are you thinking about last night again? About that…anomaly, you said it was?”

Revan let out a defeated sigh, slumping back. “I’m sorry. It’s truly nothing. I’ll drop it.”

Zara shook her head. “No. If it was truly nothing, you wouldn’t be thinking of it at all and in turn, I would have disregarded it entirely. But here you are and I…don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so….perplexed?”

“Yes, it’s very…odd,” he reluctantly admitted, more to himself than to her. “And because it is odd it also…interests me.”

“What is? What’s odd?” Zara was leaning forward, intensely curious, cooling coffee forgotten.

“I haven’t sensed something like her in…a long time. I wonder…”

“Her? It is a woman than? What do you wonder?”

Revan put his fingers to his lips, thinking. “I have a strong feeling we may see her again.”

Frustrated at his lack of direct answers, Zara lightly tapped her palm on the table in front of him. “Revan, what do you know about this woman? Was she following us? Did you sense something dangerous about her? Is she someone we need to run from?”

Revan frowned. “You blurt so many questions, all at once.”

“And you give so little answers, all the time.”

“No, we will not run from this.” He scoffed. “As long as you keep your wits about you, we won’t have to do much of anything but wait and see if this plays in our favor.” He held his hand up to shush Zara before she could complain again. “And just for your pointy attitude this morning, I will not say another word about it.”

Zara rolled her eyes. “She’s probably just another user wandering around the mists. You’re just tugging my hems.”

He quirked a brow as if that settled it and finished the rest of his coffee.

Though the talk of users got Zara thinking about certain associations back in Pria.

“Revan,” she started, “Those people, the users, their faces are always like—I mean, it’s their eyes. They become so black. Their faces pale like snow, and they act so creepy. Until last night, I had been lucky to not witness someone as intense as that…thing…up close. But something about the one eye she had—at least the one not concealed by melted flesh—it reminded me of…Naz. And of my old friend, Cina. At the engagement party. Rowan’s eyes were a bit like that too. Though, they were obviously not as bad…”

Revan nodded. “Depending on the dosage of whatever petals they were using, it must have been mild. Though even a mild dose is strong. The user from last night must have been wearing off its last high. That’s why it was out. It was hunting for money.”

He was talking so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal that Zara’s friend and brother were both using illicit petals, leaves, berries or whatever the fuck else could destroy their bodies and souls.

“I can’t believe they would do those things!” Zara cried out. Her mind was not even concerned about dosages, or that stupid user’s motivation for getting out of the hole she crawled out of. “I mean, fuck Naz. His circumstances don’t concern me. But Cina and Rowan? Why would they want to? Do they even know what could happen to them? Rowan should know better! They teach these lessons in school! I know because my aunt had been following their curriculum. How could he be so stupid?! And Cina? She’ll destroy her pretty face if she keeps this up! Wha-What could be possibly be the reason?” Zara threw her hands up, aghast. “Huh? Don’t people resort to this in the hardest of times? They do not have hard times!” She stood up quickly, letting her chair scrape back. “I had hard times! Me! But I would never touch that shit.”

Revan chuckled. “Sure. You say that now, after seeing the worst result. But they haven’t seen anything at all. Had you left your house more often, and had more personal connections like your friend and brother had, you’d act similarly, as many young people tend to do.”

Zara crossed her arms, scowling. “That’s some shit. Are you telling me you’ve done it?”

He didn’t answer her, as usual. But he did smile. And it wasn’t a nice one this time. It made her want to smack him.

“Ugh!”

“It’s experimenting, Zara. They are naive. They’ll eventually make themselves sick of it…hopefully. They can only afford the weakest herbs, I assume—”

“That doesn’t matter! It doesn’t make it better.”

“What does it matter to you now? What they do should mean nothing to you. Rowan was hardly a good brother. And Cina would never have accepted you anyway.”

Zara hardly had a response to that. He made a good point, however, that didn’t stop her from somberly pondering over it to herself anyway. If only Cina could see that mages weren’t inherently evil, their friendship could have potentially blossomed to new heights. Having a strong-willed woman unafraid to speak up for herself and her friends would have made a wonderful ally. With Revan’s help, Zara wouldn’t have had to cut contact with her.

But that wasn’t who Cina was. And if she headed down the path of addiction, there was nothing Zara could do about it.

When did it begin? How was she led to try such substances? Did her other friends ever pressure her? Or was she the one doing the pressuring?

Had she pressured Rowan into trying?

She wondered if Shia had done it too, but the last time she saw him was at the party and he’d only been slightly drunk.

Remembering Shia and his lips brushing her wrist as he nibbled the black string off it brought on a tingle in her lower belly. She felt similarly whenever she thought of Emran, though stronger. If only it had been Emran who’d come close to her like that, who’d kissed her wrist, who looked at her like a jewel in need of protection.

Despondence and loneliness anchored her heart. What would Emran have thought of her, if he had known? In their last conversation, he’d told that he wasn’t like his uncle, and that he did not wish to see people get hurt over heretical beliefs. He had apologized on his family’s behalf. He could have accepted. Zara wanted to believe it. If only she had gotten to know this man on a deeper level…

It was useless thinking of it now. Besides, if Cina was a user, then Emran was too. He was always at that red light bar, getting drunk or high, and sleeping with whores. What a waste. He was nothing but a fleeting, faulty dream.

“Why the long face?” Revan asked lowly. “Thinking of someone?”

Zara narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“Hm.”

“…I-I just can’t help but wonder why Rowan ended up the way he did.” She might as well tell him that—it’d been partly the truth anyway—but she didn’t want to risk him delving into her mind for answers. Although he said he didn’t do that, Zara didn’t always believe him. If he sensed she was keeping something from him, Zara would start to feel a low numbness crawling up her neck, making her head feel airy. It was a sign of his magic working, and when she berated him, he would laugh and congratulate her for developing better defenses, but then he would also warn her that keeping information from him was a bad idea.

Zara hated it.

“You mean him using? Or distancing himself from you?”

“Both. I…I don’t want it to be because of me, but I think that’s exactly what happened. One day we were becoming like friends—like he was accepting me—and the next, he had changed. And then he resorted to petals or worse. Something I did must have changed him. It doesn’t make sense. What about me made him suddenly so miserable?”

Revan stared her, impassively. And when he didn’t stop, Zara began to feel uneasy.

“What?” she said.

“…I know why he changed.”

Zara’s heart plummeted. “Y-You know? H-How do you know—?” But she knew how. His face said it all. He’d done something.

And he’d known about it all along.

“Listen. I was going to tell you what I’d done—”

“What did you do?”

“—but the subject hardly ever came up—”

“Because you keep telling me to forget the past, to not bring it up,” she ground out.

“Well I’m choosing to tell you now. It was the night you met me. He tried following you into the forest. I sensed his presence. I used the same spell I’d tried casting last night, on the anomaly—”

He was interrupted by loud pounding. Revan snapped his head at the front door, his eyes suddenly very focused.

Zara was beyond irked. She wanted to know what he had to say. The same spell? The anomaly? Rowan had been following her?

Damn the door! What happened?!

“I can’t…” The disturbance fell back on Revan’s face. “It has to be her,” he murmured.

Zara stood along with him, her frustration fading into alarm. “The anomaly. Can you sense what she is?”

“No. That’s the issue. I can’t sense much about her at all…”

The knocking commenced again. They left the kitchen and headed carefully down the long hall to the front door, with Revan leading the way.

When he opened it, a tall woman with waist-length, midnight hair greeted them with a smile that further brightened her pretty face.

“Hello,” she said kindly, though it sounded more like “Elloo.” Her accent was unfamiliar; she was not from here. She reached into the coat pocket and pulled out something covered in a brown cloth. “I hope I have not disturbed you. May I please speak to…” She spotted Zara in the hallway. Her round brown eyes practically sparkled.

“Oh. You must be Zara.”

Zara and Revan glanced at each other, suspicions rising. How the hell did this random stranger know her name?

“And who must you be?” Revan said bluntly. “What is your business here?”

The woman chuckled. “Excuse me, of course. I found this on the ground last night while I was taking a walk, and wished to return it to its owner.”

She removed the cloth and revealed a small dagger with Zara’s name engraved into the handle.

Zara’s throat went tight. Her mind had been so preoccupied with other matters that she hadn’t even realized she’d lost her dagger. She slowly stepped back, sensing Revan’s displeasure radiating off him.

“Thank you, dear,” he muttered, gently removing the dagger from the woman’s hand. “We appreciate this thoughtful gesture.”

“It is of no issue,” she said lightly, her eyes lingering from him to Zara again. “It would have been terrible if it had been stolen.”

Revan studied her for a moment. “Tell me, dear. What is your name?” He spoke more amicably this time.

The woman grinned. “My name is Saren. I just moved into the city. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”