Ashwyn slid down a staircase handle, jumped through an opening just wide enough for a window, and somersaulted over the fence.
"Don't let her get away! " a man in a blue uniform yelled, chasing Ashwyn with five other men.
Ashwyn wore a black outfit, almost making her look like a ninja, with a small lamp light on her head aiding her movement. She always wore this outfit when it was time for her usual work. The endless darkness aided her stealth—but not every time. Today, for example, it hadn't.
She darted into a marketplace, running past different stalls, each lit with a fire lamp. She jumped over a wheelbarrow of apples, almost tripping, then slid under a table of vegetables, and finally lost track of her pursuers. She turned left, slowing down her pace.
This was routine for a low-life thief when almost caught. Ashwyn was used to it. She always got caught but always ended up getting away.
After walking cautiously and confirming her pursuers had relented, she reached into her clothing and retrieved a stack of yellow rectangular papers.
These papers were valuable currency in all of Nyxoria—Shillings. Each note was worth ten, and she began counting.
"I've got 10,000 Shillings," she declared in a high-pitched voice, brimming with delight and satisfaction.
She stopped in front of a small stall. There were fish, meat, vegetables, and pepper. An old man sat behind the stall, dozing off.
She removed the black cloth covering the lower side of her face. The lamp shone on her brown eyes, oval face, well-shaped nose, and long ash-colored hair. She was of average height with a fair complexion, and small bruises on the exposed parts of her body.
"Hey.. Old man Ren.. Wake up, I have things to buy."
The man opened his eyes slowly, stared at Ashwyn with an unreadable expression, then smiled.
"Why are you smiling, you old pervert?"
"Thought I warned you to stop this 'work' of yours. You know everyone here is starting to figure out you're the one robbing the Aurethians... It's only a matter of time before the officials come to Rustglen and take you to jail," the man said, packing two pieces of fish, vegetables, and a cup of flour into a black woolen bag for her.
"Like I care.." Ashwyn scoffed.
She collected the bag and handed three thousand shillings to Ren.
"Your stuff is just a hundred lumen," Ren said, pushing the money back.
"Okay then..." she removed some of the money and gave him ten shillings.
"Ten shillings should make up a hundred lumen, right?"
The man still pushed the money back.
"Wynn my dear, I have never collected money from you and you know why? Because I see you as my daughter and all I am trying to tell you is that you can always come to me if you're in need of anything. Taking what doesn't belong to you isn't right Wynn."
Ashwyn responded with a nod and a yawn, grabbed her provisions, and fled the scene upon spotting the uniformed men meters away, likely questioning vendors about her.
Ren smiled at her mischief and resumed dozing, but his hand brushed against something on the counter—yellow rectangular papers.
He picked up the money, glanced in the direction Ashwyn had fled, and smiled again.
Meanwhile, Ashwyn dashed through the marketplace and into a squalid street. The area was sparse, populated by ragged children and adults. It reeked of charred wood and rotten eggs. Fire lamps flickered in various corners, aiding visibility and movement.
She passed by three wooden huts and finally stopped in front of one on her left. The house stood out in the area—not because it was fancy, but simply because it didn't look dirty.
At the doorstep was a dirty red cloth used as a rag. She reached under it and brought out a key. In front of the door was a message written in crimson liquid:
"You are not welcome. Only the Legendary burglar Ashwyn Solstice is welcomed into this abode. Come in and get ready to count one thousand by seven backwards."
She opened the door with the key and entered. The room was pitch dark until she flipped a switch beside the door. Three lamps at the four corners of the room lit up. It was a wooden switch connected to a long rope, which in turn was tied to a bottle of inflammable liquid at the center of the ceiling. Four other ropes stretched out to each lamp.
It was simple logic. Since the world was in total darkness, they had developed this technology. The liquid was called Cinderine. The rope was called Cindercord.
Cinderine was highly inflammable and officially restricted to government use. But it wasn't hard for a low-life thief to get her hands on a bottle.
Cindercord itself wasn't flammable, but it served as a medium to transmit the flammability of Cinderine from one point to another.
The moment she flipped the switch, the bottle tilted. Drops of Cinderine landed on the ropes connected to the lamps. The liquid didn't even need to reach the lamp directly—its conductivity and the rope's resistance pushed the fire through, lighting up the lamps.
That's how to make a perfect room lamp in a thief's house.
Ashwyn dropped her bag and collapsed onto a bed positioned by the window. Beside it stood a wooden stool. The room was spartan: four walls, with the door and window opposite each other. Clothes hung on small nails along the left wall. The final wall was bare except for a black stove on the floor.
Oddly, Ashwyn wasn't feeling hungry. She pulled out some sort of watch.
The watch was a marvel of copper and madness, thick as a pocket compass and strapped with cracked leather and brass rivets. Its face was a lattice of turning cogs, exposed like open clockwork, with smoke-tinted glass shielding the organized chaos beneath.
Instead of hands, a single needle-thin pipe released tiny puffs of steam in rhythmic intervals, each burst pointing to engraved numerals in an archaic script. Around the rim, minute brass pistons clicked and hissed, marking the passage of time with mechanical breath — tick-hiss... tick-hiss...
Inside the casing, a tiny ethercore crystal pulsed with faint blue light.
"It's still 2:00PM.." she said dropping the watch on the bed.
Yes, this was the Dark Ages—literally, the Dark Ages. Ashwyn had been born into this world. She didn't know her parents or the name they gave her. She named herself Ashwyn Solstice after growing tired of being nameless.
They said the sun disappeared after the Great Wind a century ago, and humanity had lived in total darkness ever since. All of humanity now lived in Nyxoria, split into two sectors:
The Rustglen Sector—home to the less privileged.
The Aurethian Sector—domain of the influential.
The difference between these two sectors was the wealth and currency. Aurethian spent Shillings, the most valuable currency while Rustglen spent Lumen.
Lumen is so low that ten Lumen will be converted into one Shilling.
Due to this differences, Rustglens are prohibited from almost everything, giving a chance to Aurethians to become more powerful.
The Rustglens only relied on luck and their low currency. If they're trying not to deny reality, you could say they're just livestocks.
Ever since Ashwyn was old enough to understand the world, she had found ways to survive in it.
Even in darkness, the rich found ways to torment the poor. They always found opportunities to exploit and abuse.
She had been stealing from the Aurethians since she was ten. Now she was seventeen.
Ashwyn never had anyone to talk to except Ren—but she didn't care. All she wanted was to experience the life the Aurethians lived.
One time Ren asked her to go and make friends with people of her age and her reply was:
'Friendship? Love? Those are for delusional fools who believe the exchange of stupid, meaningless, human generated words actual means something.
'Words are languages formed by humans to aid our comprehension of the world we live in and add to our layered, individually distinct perspective. Telling someone you care about them or love them is a designed word that can't truly convey what the person actually feel.'
' The only word I know is self-trust. '
'I would never believe in anything or anyone.
I only trust and believe in myself. Whatever I do is to satisfy my own expectations and goals.'
'To hell with others.'
***
Ashwyn looked out the window, her gaze softened and muttered a question no one in this world could answer:
"What does the sun look like…?"