The alley reeked of dripping stone and smoke, the city's metallic heartbeat faint but thick on the air. My hood was still up, rain running down the brim, covering the shake in my hands. Elara walked behind me, silent but unerring, her step as much a part of the darkness as I had ever been. Every part of me cried to stop, to turn around and erase the whole night, but curiosity—the same force that had encouraged me out of the café—urged me on.
"Stay with me," she added, still not facing me. Her voice was low and steady and very nearly commanding. And yet, it didn't sound like a command. More a lure.
I swallowed hard, not wanting to sound as winded as I was. "I'm not leaving," I said, though my voice did crack slightly. I wasn't certain if I was deceiving her or myself.
The rain fell around us, bearing a beat that I'd learned to identify. It was more than rain—it was a flow, a quiet thrum that ran between the buildings. I could sense it now, as a throb on the soles of my feet, a beat below the city itself.
Elara came to a halt. I nearly ran into her back. She lifted a hand and touched the wall, pointing to a mural painted on it: looping vines ensnaring a broken clock, in shades of gray and cobalt. It was dull at first glance, like graffiti intended to be ignored. She touched her fingers to the wall, though, and the vines glowed, looping into radiant lines that revealed a door where there previously wasn't one.
I stared. "How—?"
"Concentrate," she cut me off, her eyes snapping at me, though the glint of humor was present in her eyes flecked with silver. "Magic doesn't make itself known to the doubtful. And currently, you're doubtful."
"I—" I caught my breath and brushed aside the incredulity. "Fine, I'm concentrating.
Her lips formed a short, knowing smile. "Better." She walked through the door without pause. The air on the other side was redolent with a hint of lavender and old paper, warm and secure in contrast to the dripping alley. I followed, and the door disappeared behind me, leaving behind solid brick where the glowing vines had once been.
Third-Person Limited – Elara's Perspective
She watched him closely as he staggered into the room, eyes wide, mouth half-parted in shock. Humans did not have this. raw potential very often. The pulse identified him before he recognized it himself. A deadly mix: curiosity balanced by instinct, fear balanced by bravery. The council would be interested, and not necessarily favorably.
She needed to reassure him. For tonight, for the time being, he had to comprehend the rules without being overpowered.
The room was tiny, round, walls covered in bookshelves that looked impossibly high. Spheres of soft golden light hung suspended in the air, lighting the room without the need for fixtures. They glowed with a faint pulse, as if hearts beating in a slow rhythm. I raised a hand, touched one of the spheres. It jerked, hovered back a moment, then dropped into place. I swallowed, my throat dry.
"This…" I began, then hesitated. Speech seemed pointless.".
You'll become accustomed to it," Elara replied, resting against a shelf, crossing her arms. "But only so much. Complacency kills here." Her gaze locked onto mine, and I felt the gravity of what was unspoken. Something was approaching. Something that would require more than I could even begin to imagine.
I couldn't help but stare at her. The shimmer of her coat in the light of the orb, the silver glint in her eyes—it was hypnotic, distracting, and frightening all at the same time.
"So… why me?" I finally asked. The question between us hung, weighty and urgent. "Why now?"
"Because you've seen it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because the pulse chose you, whether you want it or not. Because you don't belong to them, James—and that makes you dangerous."
I scowled. "The council?"
Her expression hardened. "They're everywhere. Watching, waiting. They control the pulse, and anyone who gets in the way… vanishes. You've already caught their eye just by realizing the world isn't what it appears to be."
The ground beneath me tilted. "I've drawn attention? I've done… what?"
Elara took a step forward, pushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear. "By paying attention. By questioning things. By following me instead of fleeing." There was a heaviness to her tone, a seriousness that made my heart clench. "You're already involved in this now, whether you want it or not."
First-Person – James' Perspective
I stepped back, then another step, attempting to get my head around what she was telling me. My existence had been unremarkable. Bookselling during the day, night-time strolls around the city, coffee that never seemed quite good enough. And now. magic? Secret chambers? Hidden doors?
"This is madness," I said, but the words even to me sounded insincere.
You think this is crazy?" she said, her tone biting, laced with humor, but her eyes never leaving mine. "Try living there.
Her words hit me harder than any rain-soaked alley or glowing sphere ever could. And yet, something inside of me flared—not fear, perhaps not exactly, but a flash of excitement, a rush that left my chest feeling impossibly wide. This was the beginning of something. Something I didn't comprehend, but couldn't ignore.
I looked at the orbs suspended softly in the air. I extended my hand, hesitantly at first, and let my fingers graze another one. It glowed in response, humming softly against me. A flash, a tiny shiver, and my heart skipped.
Elara smiled half-hard, a rare softness that flashed before it disappeared. "You'll have to master that. One day, it might save your life—cut it short."
I swallowed. "You mean… there's more?"
"Always more," she replied. Then her mood changed. Cutting. Desperate. "But for now, we step softly. They've already seen us. And James… one misstep, and this city eats people up."
Third-Person Limited – Council Observation
High above the city streets, in a spire concealed from mortal sight, faces observed through crystal windows. Faces hidden, masks unchangeable, they followed each beat of the pulse.
He's awake," one of them whispered, voice strained. "Potential greater than anticipated. Risky."
"Then get ready to intervene," another replied, hands lightly grasping the edge of an ornate table. "He can't be permitted to learn too much… at least, not yet."
First-Person – James
I did not know what I was walking into. Every instinct screamed to flee, every rational thought urged me to turn back towards the rain-drenched streets, to the anonymity of safety. But looking at Elara, standing there tense and calm, I could not.
"I trust you," I said, shocking even myself. My voice was low and hesitant. Vulnerable.
Her eyes softened just slightly. "Good," she said. "Because you'll need that trust more than anything else tonight."
The orbs dimmed as she led me to a small side door, hidden behind a velvet curtain. Beyond it was a narrow staircase winding downward into darkness. My heart thudded painfully. The pulse under the city seemed louder here, vibrating through the walls, through the floor, through me.
"Are you ready?" she whispered, barely above a breath, a tease.
I nodded. "I… think so."
And we walked into the unknown, the rain pouring outside erasing the life I used to live. The city pulsed around us, secretive and alive, blue reflections shimmering along the rain-soaked streets above. And deep within its veins, I could sense it—my own heartbeat, synchronizing with something ancient, something waiting.