The rain had stopped hours ago, but the cobblestoned pavement still gleamed under the streetlamps. Juliana Monroe—though most of her friends just call her Julie—was walking along the edge of Starling Square with the paper bag from a secondhand bookshop tucked under her arm. The scent of ink clung to the bag, mixing with the roasted coffee drifting from a nearby café. A string quartet played somewhere down the main street, the notes rising and fading as the breeze carried them. Starling Borough never fully slept, students with open books in their hands strolled between lecture halls, reading by the soft glow of lamplight, artists sat at the edges of the square, sketching the spire of Starling University in charcoal and pastel, the tall clock tower marked the hour with a clear chime that echoed off the stone buildings.
Juliana kept her pace steady, letting the cool air clear her thoughts, her literature professor had been on her all week about a translation assignment. A quiet walk home was the only part of the day she controlled. On the phone with Andy, asking her about the job she was thinking of applying for, she turned into a narrower side street, where the glow of the lamps grew softer and the noise from the square got quieter, a voice came from behind her. "You always walk this late?" She stopped and turned, a man leaned against the wall near a closed tea shop, his coat was tailored, the fabric catching the light, his dark hair was neat, his face clean-shaven and his eyes watchful. "Hold on Andy, I'd call you later", she told Andy, "Well it depends on the day," she replied, "and who's asking." He straightened and stepped forward, "Jason Saint" reaching for a hand shake, "we met at the campus clinic last year, you slipped on the library steps remember?," she said with a light smile. She remembered the fall—how her ankle had twisted under her, the sharp pain, and the nurse who had guided her inside without making her feel clumsy. "You're… the nurse," she said, Jason smiled slightly, "among other things, I also handle certain emergency cases for the hospital". Her brow furrowed, "and you're here because…?" "Because I've been seeing you leave the west wing late," he said, "and I thought maybe you'd answer a question for me." " Yeah?" "What kind of question?"
Jason's gaze didn't leave hers, "there's been talk about strange lights in that wing, blue-white, like an arc flare, they flicker on and off without any pattern, some students think it's a wiring fault, I think it's something else." Juliana shifted the book bag under her arm, "and you think I'd know more than anyone else?" "Yeah, you're attentive," he said "I mean half-elves tend to be."
The way he said it wasn't mocking, it was observational, like he was collecting data or something, "Maybe I haven't noticed," she replied, Jason tilted his head, "or maybe you're not saying. "She glanced toward the square, "If I see anything, I'll let you know." He smiled again, but this time the warmth was gone, "good, be careful walking home, Juliana. Starling ain't as safe as it looks from the surface." He turned and walked back toward the square, blending into the passing students and townsfolk until she lost sight of him, Juliana exhaled slowly and continued down the street. Jason Saint had a calm way of speaking, but something in his eyes felt like a hand on her shoulder—light, but meant to steer her. At the next corner, a figure stepped out from behind a cart loaded with old books. It was an older woman, her hair lined with white, her eyes a sharp green, her cloak was plain, frayed at the edges, and carried the faint scent of sage and smoke.
"You spoke to the Saint boy," the woman said. Juliana stopped, "do I know you?" "no," the woman replied, "but I know him, you should keep your distance." Juliana narrowed her eyes, "Why?" The woman looked her over for a long moment before answering, "Because he's the kind who smiles while sharpening a knife", "you know that's not an answer right," Juliana said. "It's all you need right now", the older woman started to walk past her, Juliana turned to follow, "Wait. What's your name?" The woman didn't stop, "If you're smart, you won't need it." Juliana stood in the empty street, the sound of the woman's footsteps fading. She continued home, but when she reached her apartment above the small tailor's shop, she locked the door twice. Through the window, she could see the clock tower in the distance, the gold light at its peak blinked once before returning to steady glow. Indeed today was strange.