Ava Morales stepped off the crumbling curb, her worn boots scraping against the dimly lit street. The city—Prague, she'd gathered from hushed whispers—was a maze of gothic spires and secrets. She'd fled London for a fresh start, chasing rumors of a job at an antique shop on Charles Bridge. The Vltava River glimmered like polished obsidian beneath the Charles Bridge, its waters swirling with whispers of the past. Ava shivered, tugging her coat tighter. October nights in Prague were colder than she'd expected.
"Lost in translation, lost in night," she muttered, squinting at her phone map. The address blurred—was it left or right? She'd spent hours navigating the winding streets, but this part of the city felt like a different world. The buildings seemed to lean in, their baroque facades casting long, ominous shadows.
As she hesitated, shadows detached from walls. Two men, eerily still, watched her. One had eyes like storm clouds; the other, piercing green. Both radiated _don't-look-away_. Ava's pulse spiked, her hand instinctively reaching for the pocket knife in her jacket.
Storm-cloud eyes spoke first:
"Lost, little one?" His voice was low, with an accent that wrapped around her like smoke. He stepped closer, his movements unnaturally smooth. Ava's grip tightened on the knife.
She forced a smile. "Just navigating. Looking for… an antique shop on Charles Bridge."
The green-eyed one chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "We can help. You're far off, though." He nodded toward a narrow alley. "This way."
Ava hesitated. Something felt off, but the alternative—staying on this deserted street—seemed worse. "Thanks," she said, falling into step between them.
The alley twisted like a spine, dark and silent except for the echo of her boots. "What's the shop called?" Storm-cloud asked.
"Astrum Antiques," Ava replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I heard they're looking for staff."
Green-eyes glanced at her, a flicker of… _hunger_? "You work with… old things?"
Ava nodded, unsure why she felt the need to justify herself. "I restore books. Rare editions, mostly."
The alley spat them onto a cobbled square. The Charles Bridge loomed ahead, its statues eerie sentinels. "There," Storm-cloud said, pointing. "Astrum Antiques. But…"
Ava followed his gaze to a figure waiting beneath a flickering streetlamp. Tall, hooded, and radiating menace.
"Someone's waiting for you," Green-eyes murmured. "Guess your night just got… complicated."
Ava's skin pricked. "Thanks for the escort," she said quickly, backing toward the shop. Her phone buzzed—an email from Astrum Antiques: _Meeting cancelled. Don't come._
Storm-cloud smiled, showing sharp canines. "We'll walk you in."
Ava's heart thundered. _What have I walked into?_
The hooded figure pushed off the lamppost, gliding toward her. Ava spun to run, but Storm-cloud caught her arm. "Don't," he whispered. "Elian's patience is… thin."
Ava yanked free, hand on her knife. "Who's Elian?"
Green-eyes leaned in. "The one waiting for _you_, Ava."
The hood fell, revealing piercing green eyes. _The other one._
Ava's breath caught. _Run._