MIREYA POV
Verlis is a kingdom divided class.
The Gifted ruled the spires of Aureclaire. The Ungifted... or the Forsaken, as the upper lords liked to call us scraped by in Harrowden. Power had a name here, and if you weren't on its side, you'd pay a deadly price.
I had learned early to stay out of trouble. Quiet steps. Careful glances. Nothing to draw attention to myself. I moved through the crowded streets of the market at the upper town, eyes darting, heart pounding, searching for anything I could grab… anything I could steal. Only, I was terrible at it. Unlike Edda, who moved like a shadow, I always seemed to be the only one who got caught by the guards. Every. Single. Time.
Funny thing, I barely remembered the guard nicking my arm with his sword before Edda's fist slammed into his face. He was strong… a Gifted, no less.. but even he couldn't move faster than Edda's right hook. I swallowed a breathless laugh even as adrenaline surged through me.
"Run!" Edda shouted, grabbing my hand.
And just like that, we were off. My legs burned with every step, my lungs screaming as the guard's shouts rang sharp behind us. Faster, faster, I told myself, my heart hammering. Fear and thrill tangled together, and for a moment, all I could think about was not getting caught.
Edda's grip on my hand was like iron, tugging me forward through the twisting streets, over crates and broken cobblestones.
The guard was close.. too close…. his boots clanging against stone as he cursed and barked threats. I could almost hear the sneer in his voice.
But I knew better. Edda's eyes darted ahead, sharp and calculating. She dragged me down a narrow alley, weaving between piles of rubbish and the cave where the beggars slept. My stomach twisted at the stench, but I followed, trusting her completely. She knew what she was doing.
I pressed myself against the damp wall, heart hammering so loud I thought the guard might hear it too. Edda's hand released mine slowly, and we sank to the ground, breathless.
From outside, I could hear the guard's frustrated shouts fading. He wouldn't come here… he'd never want to set foot among the unclean, among the filth he considered beneath him. I let out a shaky laugh, half relief, half scared. Somehow… somehow, we'd slipped through his grasp, for now.
We stayed in the cave for a while, letting the echoes of the guard's footsteps fade completely. When Edda finally spoke, her voice was low, cautious.
"Let's head back to Harrowden. It's getting late."
I nodded, gripping my cloak tighter against the chill that seemed to seep into every corner of the city.
Harrowden… there was nothing beautiful about it. The streets were narrow, crooked, and slick with grime. Buildings leaned on each other like tired old men, their wooden beams rotting, windows cracked or boarded up. Smoke curled constantly from crooked chimneys, mixing with the stench of dirt and human sweat that hung in the air like a heavy blanket. Rats scurried through the gutters, disappearing into piles of rotting trash, and the puddles reflected the flickering, sputtering lanterns that struggled to light the way.
The people themselves were as beaten down as the streets they lived on. Faces hollow, clothes tattered, eyes wary. Beggars lay slumped in doorways or pressed against the walls of alleyways, hands outstretched, whispering prayers or curses depending on who passed. Every step we took was over broken crates, discarded bones, and the occasional puddle of something far worse. The city smelled of rot and desperation… and everyone who lived here knew it.
Harrowden was a place where dreams went to die, where the Gifted's power was a distant story told only to scare children. It was ugly. It was cruel. But it was home.
We made our way back through the winding alleys, careful to avoid the main streets where the guards might still be lingering. Edda's steps were light, almost teasing, while I struggled to keep up.
"I hit a good haul today," she bragged, jingling a few coins in her pocket with a grin that made her dimples deepen. "Enough to last us three days easy." She looked ridiculously pleased with herself, and I had to roll my eyes…But I couldn't help smiling too.
Edda was an orphan, just like me. She had found me on the street when I was eleven, bloody, starving, and barely able to stand. Instead of passing me by, she had dragged me into her world, fed me, patched me up, and taught me how not to get caught.. or at least how to try. She had become a big sister, not just to me, but to Brina, Orla, Hestia, and the twin boys, Soren and Leif.
Soren and I were the same age. The twins were performers at the market… tumbling, music, all that charm… but their real skill was spotting the rich, distracted Gifted. Once the boys picked a mark, Brina, Orla, Edda, Hestia, and I moved in. Grab their satchel, slip through the crowd, vanish into the alleys. A practiced routine, honed over years.
You could call it a family business.
We slipped through a narrow gap between two leaning houses, and I let my fingers brush the walls, careful not to make a sound. The city felt alive in a different way at night… dangerous, yes, but familiar. We had survived Harrowden together for years, each of us playing a role, each of us trusting that the others would cover our backs.
Edda glanced at me, grinning. "See? You'll thank me when we're eating tomorrow instead of going hungry."
I laughed quietly, shaking my head. "I already owe you too much as it is."
"Then you better be ready to pay up when it's time," she said with play-acted sternness, tapping my shoulder. "This only works if everyone does their part. And we are one family."
I knew she was joking…mostly..but there was truth in it too. In Harrowden, family wasn't about blood. It was about loyalty, survival, and knowing who would drag you out of trouble when the guards.. or worse the enforcers came for you.
And I had Edda.