The streets of Cidius buzzed softly as morning light stretched across the stone-paved roads. Merchants rolled their carts into position, vendors barked over steaming pots, and couriers weaved through the crowds with satchels slung across their shoulders. The air smelled of spice bread, steel polish, and chimney smoke.
Children darted between stalls, wooden sticks in hand, playing mock Wielder duels. A bard strummed an old tune outside the tailor's, while a street hawker waved threads of charm-warded silk in the air.
Wielders passed by in coats lined with color — gray for Seekers, green for Bearers, blue for Aegis, violet for Vigil, orange for Vire. Red marked the rare Reeve. And white? Almost never seen — Solus.
Aria walked among them like a shadow.
Her black cloak, streaked with deep red, brushed the ground with every step. She wore no expression, spoke to no one. A few glanced her way, then quickly looked elsewhere. They always did.
Near a fountain in the square, two young Wielders — trainees by the look of their short coats — paused mid-sparring drill.
One leaned in, whispering, "Red lining — did you see that? That's a Reeve coat."
The other frowned. "I haven't seen her before."
"Could she be that Reeve?" the first asked, lowering his voice.
"What Reeve?"
"The one with solo clearance. No one can actually describe her — she's rarely seen, they say."
"Wait — that Reeve who doesn't join squads? Clears missions alone?"
"Yeah."
They both fell silent as she passed, watching the black and red cloak drift by like a ghost in daylight.
Aria gave them no notice. Her eyes were on the road ahead.
Near a bakery stall, two Bearers argued over bread rations, their voices rising.
"I told you, we only get half portions today," one snapped, arms crossed.
"It's ration day, not starvation day," the other muttered. "This won't even last till midday."
A few paces away, near a posting board, a middle-aged Wielder and a young Aegis stood locked in a quieter argument.
"I'm telling you," the elder said, voice tight, "we're not ready to patrol the Vale outskirts alone. Not after what happened last month."
The Aegis shook his head. "If we don't, someone else will. And I'd rather face beasts than sit in that hall another day."
A third Wielder approached, scanning the notices. "Did you hear about the breach in Ovrin? They say it reached the outer fields before they sealed it."
"Is that confirmed?"
"No one knows. The Post's keeping it quiet."
Their voices dropped to murmurs as Aria passed, and none dared meet her gaze.
A courier nearly collided with her while backing out of a shop — scrolls in hand — but froze just in time. "S-sorry!" he stammered. She said nothing, didn't even look at him, and continued walking.
The Wielder Post stood near the edge of town — stone and steel, tall enough to cast a long shadow by noon. Viralinn's emblem gleamed on the double doors: a silver sword wreathed in fire.
She stepped inside.
The Post was alive with movement.
Messengers darted between offices, arms full of sealed scrolls. Recorders hunched over crystal-scribed tablets. Ink smeared across glowing parchment. Boots echoed in the hall.
Aria walked past it all.
A passing Vire looked up, then stepped out of her path without a word.
At the far end stood the mission board. Dozens of slips fluttered gently under the influence of minor binding seals — each labeled by location, assignment type, and estimated threat level.
Her eyes scanned the listings:
Merchant escort along the river trail.
Beast disturbance near the eastern cliffs.
Unstable essentia near a farmstead.
Strange tremors reported along the northern ridge.
She stopped at the last one.
Remote. Uncrowded. Still within Viralinn borders.
She reached for the slip and peeled it off.
At the front counter, the mission clerk glanced up and blinked in surprise. "Ah — Reeve-level, right away."
She placed the slip down, along with a folded report. "Teralin," she said. "No survivors. Both Vigil Wielders confirmed dead. Threat neutralized."
The clerk swallowed and nodded quickly. "I'll record it."
"I'm taking this one." She slid the new slip forward.
The clerk hesitated, then checked a small ledger before nodding. "Confirmed. Solo clearance permitted. Assignment logged."
She said nothing else. Just turned and walked out, the sound of her boots soft beneath the noise of the hall.
A Vire handler nudged the clerk. "She just came back from Teralin? Wasn't that a high threat?"
"Two Vigil dead," the clerk murmured. "And she walked in without a scratch."
"Gods."
Outside, the city noise pressed gently back in.
The smell of spice bread and smoke drifted from the vendor lanes. A market stall hawked charm-thread bracelets. A Seeker recruit bartered loudly over the price of a cloak pin. Cidius was always alive.
But none of it touched her.
As she passed through the northern district, a young flower-seller held out a bundle of frost-lilies. "For luck, miss?" she chirped. Aria didn't pause. The girl watched her go, wide-eyed.
Two Bearers standing nearby watched her silently.
"She didn't even stop."
"Would you? That's a Reeve's coat."
"I've never seen her before."
"Might be one with solo clearance. They're hardly ever seen, you know."
"She looks like she could cut down a Nexborn without blinking."
"Probably already has," one murmured, watching the cloak vanish around the corner.
Aria walked past the square, past the barracks, toward the northern gate. Her pace was calm, cloak brushing the stone behind her.
Above, clouds gathered at the edge of the horizon — faint shadows drifting over the far northern ridge, days away.
Somewhere beyond that distant line, the ground trembled. Not loud enough to stir the city, but just enough that the crows lifted from the treetops.
And Aria, still within Cidius walls, tilted her head.
Just slightly.
Then kept walking.
She didn't glance back.
She never did.