The city was more subdued than usual that evening, but I knew better than to believe what I saw. Manhattan had its own pulse, beneath the usual background noise of cars and pedestrians, and tonight it pulsed with something quicker, more insistent. The rain had ceased, slicking the streets that glittered like fallen jewels beneath neon lights. I followed Elara, attempting to move silently, my heart beating in time with hers and, somehow, the city's.
"Stay close," she breathed, her silver-speckled eyes sweeping every dark corner. "They're close."
I swallowed, my mouth parched. "Who, exactly?" I asked, though already dreading the response.
"The council," she said, her tone strained, low. "And those they hire to… keep order."
My gut twisted. "Keep order?" I repeated. "You mean. murder people?
She looked at me, hard but not unfriendly. "Sometimes. Occasionally it's more. Tonight it's likely a warning."
We turned the corner of 7th Street, that alley where I'd seen her days ago. It was nondescript in the neon glow, wet bricks shimmering, trash cans against the walls. But she hesitated, lifting a hand. The shadows curved, folding in upon themselves, and the alleyway glowed weakly, showing hidden runes that had been invisible an instant before.
"Here," she said. "This is where we begin."
---
### *First-Person – James' Perspective*
I moved forward with slow, careful steps, feeling the beat beneath me. Each heartbeat of the city tonight sounded louder, as if warning me, sharing secrets I couldn't yet understand. My mark pulsed in reaction beneath my skin. The sensation was more intense than before, vibrant, almost alive. I knew in that moment that the city wasn't simply alive—it was conscious of me, of my existence, and of every decision I made.
"Are you. certain this is safe?" I questioned, attempting to cover the shake in my voice.
Elara's eyes gentled for an instant. "Safe is relative," she replied, with the slightest smile. "But necessary."
The alley seemed to throb around us, and I sensed the shadows moving differently, almost breathing. I swallowed hard. This was not a route I had ever taken before—yet it felt familiar, like a half-remembered memory.
"Focus," she whispered, and I saw that she wasn't speaking to me only. "Feel it. Hear it. Become part of it."
I shut my eyes, allowing the throb to permeate me. The vibration radiated like electricity through my chest, pouring down my arms, into my fingers. I took a deep breath. The hum below silence—the secret thrum of the city—was louder now, more insistent, almost impatient.
---
### *Third-Person Limited – Elara Watches James*
She observed him closely, noticing the way he leaned naturally to the beat, the way his hand jerked as if attempting to touch unseen strands in the air. He was learning too quickly. Too quickly was not good. That was bad.
They're watching," she breathed, half to herself. She felt the council's gaze come down upon her. The boy was branded, and he vibrated with the pulse, and that vibration would attract notice from powers he couldn't even begin to comprehend. She needed to teach him, or lose him to the dangers that crept in the darkness.
---
We came to a tiny alcove, concealed behind a pile of crates. She waved for me to kneel next to a glowing sigil carved into the pavement. The glow was weak, hardly visible in the neon smog, but I could sense the hum through the bottoms of my boots.
It's a ward," she said. "It keeps us from being seen, from being watched, from. from worse things. But it doesn't work unless your mark is attuned to it. Put your hand here.
I held back for a moment, then obeyed her. The moment my palm made contact with the sigil, a shiver of heat coursed through me, prickling through my veins. The mark under my skin pulsed weakly in return, aligning with the ward.
"It's… working," I whispered.
"Good," she replied. Her voice was approving but guarded. "But don't relax. This city is patient, and it never forgets. If they notice your presence, even here, we won't get a second chance."
---
### *First-Person – James' Perspective*
I needed to question her—oh, so many questions—but the words stuck in my throat. My entire body was screaming every nerve that harm was near, the pulse of the city warning me. My mark pounded, the sensation crisper, almost sentient, pulling me toward some secret knowledge I couldn't access.
You're stronger than most," said Elara softly, interpreting the doubt from my face. "The pulse… it harmonizes with you naturally. That is not common. It's risky. And it's why they're keeping an eye on you."
I got a shiver running down my backbone. "Watching… like… at this moment?
"Yes," she said, advancing. I could sense the soft heat emanating from the folds of her coat, her nearness stabilizing yet energizing. "And they will attempt to halt you if they are able. You must learn in haste. Trust yourself, James."
I nodded, though doubt gnawed at me. My chest hurt—not merely from fear, but from a tug towards her, an urge I couldn't interpret. Every look, every minute movement seemed to resonate, as if our own rhythms were being synchronized with the city's heartbeat.
And perhaps, I thought, that was the idea.
---
### *Third-Person Limited – Council Surveillance*
The council's eyes narrowed as crystal lenses floated above the streets. "He's at 7th Street," one figure said. "The mark… it's stronger than predicted. Prepare to intervene if necessary."
A shadow shifted, silent and precise. "Not yet. Let him feel the city. Let him draw attention. That will reveal more than any probe could."
---
I followed Elara down the alley, between wards and glistening glyphs disguised as walls. It was as though I walked on the brink of something monumental, something that stirred. My hands stroked against walls that hummed softly, throbbing in sync with the city. Each corner, each shadow appeared to observe, awaiting the moment I would stumble.
"James," she whispered, her tone gentle, almost intimate, "look at me."
I halted, my eyes meeting hers. Her silver-speckled eyes contained a gravity I couldn't disregard, and yet. something more. A warmth, an attraction, a promise I couldn't define. My heart was pounding, but not out of fear.
"The pulse reacts to feeling," she told me. "And currently, yours is vigorous. That's healthy. That's. required."
I swallowed hard, aware of the closeness, aware of the charge in the air between us. She extended a hand, guiding me forward. "We're almost there. One more step."
---
The alleyway led into a tiny courtyard concealed from the street above, illuminated by moonlight and neon glows. Drifts of light hovered in mid-air, casting rays to light up patterns carved into the cobblestones. My mark thrummed, harmonizing with them, and I understood the city was instructing me—leading me, setting me up.
A shadow broke away from the distant corner, smooth and soundless. I stood still. My heart rate accelerated.
Keep still," Elara breathed. Her fingers touched mine, and a sense of warmth filled me. "It's not here to kill you. yet. But you must be prepared."
The darkness moved once more, and a shiver ran through me. The heartbeat of the city vibrated under my feet, a warning and a clue, and I was certain of one thing: this night, nothing would ever be normal again.
And I stood there, heart racing, body rigid, and eyes locked on Elara, and I realized… I wouldn't have it any other way.