The market was loud. Leo hated it immediately.
Vendors shouted over one another, colors clashed violently, and the air smelled like spice, woodsmoke, and something deep-fried that looked mildly illegal.
He walked a half-step behind the others, hands shoved into his pockets and his hood pulled low.
"This place is overwhelming," he muttered, glancing at the shifting crowd.
Felix spun around, walking backward with practiced ease, his eyes sparkling. "This place isn't overwhelming, Leo. It's alive."
Ember scanned the crowd with sharp, predatory focus. "Stay close," she commanded, her hand hovering near her belt. "Too many unknown variables. Too many places for a shadow to hide."
Leo snorted. "You say that like we're walking into a battlefield. It's just people buying cabbages."
Kai didn't respond—but his gaze never stopped moving, mapping every rooftop and alleyway.
Melissa lingered near a stall of clay charms, her fingers brushing the smooth stone pieces absently.
To her, the earth beneath the market felt restless, layered with the vibration of a thousand footsteps and a thousand different stories.
That was when Leo heard it. A sharp cry. It wasn't loud enough to draw the attention of the crowd yet, but it pierced through the noise for him.
He turned instinctively.
A young boy, no older than six, stood frozen near a produce stall. His eyes were wide with terror as a heavy wooden cart, piled high with iron crates, began to tilt. One wheel had slipped into a deep gap in the uneven stone road.
The vendor shouted too late. The cart lurched. People gasped and scattered, leaving the child directly in the path of the falling weight.
Leo moved without thinking. He didn't have time to "reach inside" or "breathe." He simply didn't want the boy to get hurt.
"Hey—!"
He reached out his hand.
The world shifted. The ground beneath the cart rose—not dramatically, not violently—but with the precision of a master mason. The stone lifted like a steady, bracing palm, catching the wheel and stopping the fall mid-air.
The cart slammed back into balance as the stone settled.
Silence rippled outward from the stall. The boy stared at the cart. The vendor blinked, stunned, looking at the suddenly level road. "I—thank you? I thought for sure…"
Leo froze. His hand was still outstretched, his fingers tingling with a warmth he hadn't noticed until now.
"…I didn't—" He pulled his hand back quickly, shoving it into his pocket. "The ground was already uneven. It probably just… wedged itself."
Felix's mouth was hanging open. Ember's eyes narrowed sharply, her gaze darting from the stone road to Leo's pale face.
Melissa felt it most of all—the clean, instinctive response of the earth answering a familiar call. There had been no struggle, no "clash" of power. It had been as natural as breathing.
Kai stepped closer to Leo, his voice a low, private rumble. "Did you mean to do that?"
Leo's heart hammered against his ribs. "No."
That was the truth—and it terrified him far more than the shadows had.
The crowd resumed its noise, chalking the event up to luck, coincidence, or the strange architecture of the city. People always preferred explanations that didn't challenge their reality.
Leo backed away slowly, his breath coming in short hitches. "I didn't feel anything," he said quickly, looking at Melissa as if she could explain it away. "No pulling. No pressure. It just—it just happened."
Felix finally found his voice, a grin spreading across his face. "Wow. Casual lifesaving. Very royal of you, theater man."
"I am not royal," Leo snapped, though the fire had gone out of his voice.
Ember crossed her arms. "You reacted faster than most trained mages in the Arson House, Leo. That wasn't a fluke."
"Reflex," Leo shot back stubbornly. "The same way you flinch if someone throws something at your face."
Melissa met his eyes gently. "Stone doesn't move on reflex alone, Leo. It moves because it recognizes its master."
He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "That kid could've moved," he said, his voice small. "Anyone would've helped."
"But no one else did," Kai said quietly.
They walked on, but the atmosphere had changed. Leo kept his hands buried deep in his sleeves, as if afraid the world might listen to his thoughts again if he let them go.
Behind them, the market continued—unaware that fate had just tripped and been caught by accident. And Leo, still skeptical, still resistant, could not shake the feeling that something within him had acted before he could even begin to argue.