Chapter 7: A Cloak of Dust
The city was learning her.
And she was learning it.
The days were less terrifying now, but they still felt sharp—like walking barefoot on shards of glass. Even without anyone touching her, the stares left wounds.
Lune understood that her glow, faint as it was becoming, marked her as strange.
Strange drew curiosity.
Curiosity drew danger.
And danger, she learned quickly, was very real here.
One morning, she found a mirror in a dumpster behind a pawn shop. The glass was cracked down the middle, splitting her reflection in two.
One side showed a fragile girl, silver eyes shining softly, pale hair catching the little light that bled into the alley.
The other side revealed dirt smeared on her cheeks, bruises under her eyes, lips chapped from too much wind and too little water. A stranger's coat engulfed her frame. Boots that weren't hers.
Both were her.
Both felt incomplete.
She gathered charcoal from burnt crates and rubbed it on her skin, dulling the moonlit shimmer that always gave her away. She tore a strip of fabric from the inside of her coat to tie back her hair, hiding the bright strands under her hood.
The Moon had given her this glow, but here on Earth, it was a burden.
Her light made people notice her.
And she didn't want to be seen anymore.
That day, she ventured deeper into the city—past crowded streets and loud plazas, into narrow alleys where wires hung like tangled spiderwebs and broken neon lights flickered endlessly.
It smelled like rust, oil, and something sour she couldn't name.
Here, she found others like her.
**The forgotten.**
Men and women huddled in makeshift tents made of tarps and broken crates. Children curled up under stairwells. People who lived in the cracks, unseen by the rushing world above.
At first, they eyed her warily.
Then they looked away.
Because here, new faces weren't questioned.
Everyone had secrets.
Everyone was running from something.
"First time?" a woman croaked from behind a trash bin.
Lune hesitated. "First time… what?"
The woman laughed softly. Her teeth were broken and her hair tangled like ropes. "First time sinking."
Lune didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
The woman tossed her a thin blanket. "Find a corner. Keep your mouth shut. Share if you can."
It wasn't kindness.
It was instruction.
Survival here had rules.
Lune tucked herself between two large crates, pulling the blanket tight. The ground was wet. The concrete stole warmth from her skin, but she didn't complain.
Complaining made you a target.
And tonight, she couldn't afford to be a target.
The hours blended together.
Footsteps echoed nearby. Drunken laughter. The hiss of someone lighting a cigarette. The scrape of metal being dragged. Farther away, the distant cry of sirens.
Earth never slept.
Even when exhausted, it breathed like a restless beast.
Lune tried to stay awake, but her eyelids grew heavy. Her mind wandered.
*Was the Moon watching?*
Could it see her down here?
Had it turned its back already?
Sometime in the middle of the night, a noise pulled her awake—a scuffle nearby. Low voices. Angry. Sharp.
She peeked through the crates.
Two men stood under a broken streetlamp, exchanging a small black bag.
Money? Drugs? She didn't know.
What she did know was that one of them turned suddenly—and his eyes landed directly on her.
Silver glinted in the dark.
Lune froze.
The man started toward her.
Her breath quickened.
But then—
A shadow moved.
Fast. Silent.
Before the man could reach her, a figure stepped between them. Cloaked. Familiar.
**Him.**
The man with the bag sneered. "You again?"
Her protector didn't speak. His stance was relaxed but deadly.
The other man hesitated, then spat at the ground. "You think you own these alleys, Kael? This isn't your playground."
Kael.
His name.
Lune barely registered it.
The man cursed under his breath, then backed off into the shadows, disappearing just as quickly as he'd come.
The alley fell silent again.
Kael stood still, as though he hadn't moved at all.
Lune crawled slowly from her hiding place, standing uncertainly beneath the flickering light.
"You… followed me."
"I told you," Kael said softly. "You shine."
"I tried to stop shining."
He glanced at the charcoal smeared on her skin, at her tied-up hair. "It won't work."
Her voice cracked. "Why not?"
"Because it's not on your skin," he said simply. "It's in your eyes."
She lowered her head, biting back the lump in her throat.
"I can't survive here," she whispered. "I don't belong."
"No," Kael agreed. "You don't."
Something in his voice wasn't cruel, though. Not unkind.
Just... true.
He walked past her, his boots barely making a sound against the cracked pavement.
"Come."
She blinked. "Why?"
Kael paused, turning just enough for his eyes to catch hers. "Because if you stay here, you'll be dead by morning."
There was no threat in his words.
Only certainty.
Lune followed.
He led her through a maze of alleys, stairwells, and forgotten corridors beneath the city.
No one stopped them.
No one even looked at him.
It was like he carried an invisible barrier around him, one people instinctively avoided.
Finally, they reached an old warehouse, its metal doors rusted but locked tight. Kael pulled a small key from his coat and opened it.
Inside, it was dim and cold, but dry.
A single lamp flickered to life as he flipped a switch.
Stacks of crates lined the walls. Maps and weapons lay scattered across a metal table. A cot sat in one corner, covered with a worn blanket.
Lune stared.
"This is... yours?"
Kael nodded.
"You live here?"
"Sometimes."
"Who are you?"
His jaw tensed. He didn't answer right away.
Then, simply:
"An assassin."
The word landed heavily between them.
Lune's stomach twisted. "You kill people?"
"When necessary."
"Why help me?"
He finally met her gaze fully.
"Because you don't know how to be hunted yet."
The silence stretched.
"I shouldn't trust you," she said quietly.
"No," Kael agreed.
"Then why do I?"
He looked away.
Lune didn't understand him.
He was like Earth itself: both dangerous and strange, yet full of small mercies she hadn't expected.
He handed her a clean towel, motioning toward a small bathroom.
"Wash your face."
Lune obeyed.
The water was cold but refreshing. She wiped away the layers of charcoal, revealing her pale skin again. The faint shimmer of moonlight returned, soft but undeniable.
When she stepped back into the main room, Kael was already cooking something on a small stove.
Soup.
Or at least, a rough version of it.
The smell made her stomach ache with hunger.
"Sit," he ordered.
She sat.
He handed her the cup.
They ate in silence.
After a while, she dared to speak again.
"My name isn't Lune," she whispered. "That's just what I told a child. My real name… is Lunara."
Kael nodded as if he'd known all along.
"You don't have to tell me where you're from," he said. "But I know it's not here."
She smiled weakly. "That obvious?"
He didn't smile.
But for the first time, his eyes softened.
That night, for the first time since her descent, Lunara slept in safety.
Not comfort.
Not home.
But safety.
And as sleep pulled her under, her last thought was simple.
*I don't know who Kael is.*
*But maybe I've finally found someone who doesn't want to burn me.*
To be continued…