The city was quiet as Edrin walked the familiar streets, but his mind wasn't at ease. Every step felt heavier than the last.
Ashen Veil… The words from the woman in the alley kept echoing.
He didnt know if this was real or not. He didn't even know her name, or if he could trust her.
He slowed near a corner, finally confronting the curiosity gnawing at him.
"Wait," he called softly, turning back. "Before I… before I even consider what you said—who are you?"
She smiled, the faint curve of amusement playing at her lips. "Names aren't important in situations like this," she said. Then, as if deciding he deserved it, she added, "I'm Seris. One of the members of Ashen Veil."
Edrin's brow furrowed. "Ashen Veil. I've heard the name. But… what is it really? What's the purpose?"
Seris's gaze sharpened. She stepped closer, her movements calm and deliberate, as if she were weighing whether to trust him with the truth. Then she began to speak, her voice steady, carrying a weight beyond her years:
"Ashen Veil isn't just a name whispered in fear or hope. It's a movement. A resistance. We are the ones who refuse to bow to the corruption choking this city, this country. We fight not for glory, not for wealth, but for people like your father, for the children who shouldn't have to watch their parents dragged into the streets for failing to survive in a system designed to break them. We strike where the Lords of Power think they are untouchable. We protect those who cannot protect themselves. And yes… the cost is high. The path isn't easy. Every choice carries risk, every action has consequences. But we cannot sit idly while the world burns around us. We fight so that one day, people like you, like me, won't have to fear the streets or the people sworn to protect them."
Edrin blinked, taking in every word. The alley felt smaller suddenly, as if her presence filled it. He didn't respond immediately.
"You… you're asking me to join this?" he said finally, voice hesitant. "To put my life on the line for… for all of that?"
Seris nodded. Her smile softened. "I'm not asking. I'm offering. The choice is yours."
Edrin's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. "I… I need some time to think," he said quietly.
"Take your time," she said. "But not too long." With that, she disappeared into the shadows before he could ask another question.
The walk home was slow. Every step seemed to echo in his head.
He imagined standing against the soldiers, fighting back, protecting people. Finally doing something.
But the thought of Daren waiting at home anchored him. What would he say? What would he think?
As he approached the familiar doorway of his small house, something froze him in place.
Soldiers—at least four—were dragging his father from the doorway. Daren struggled, but their grips were firm.
"Father!" Edrin shouted, sprinting forward.
The soldiers' heads turned, but their expressions were stern, practiced.
"Stop!" one of them barked, stepping in front of him. "If you run, you'll share his fate."
Edrin's chest tightened. He hesitated for only a heartbeat before shrugging the man aside, ignoring the warning.
"No!" he screamed. "Daren!"
The crowd in the street had begun to gather, murmuring as the soldiers dragged Daren toward the square. Many recognized him, the quiet man who had always helped neighbors, fixed roofs, and carried himself with steady dignity. Shock rippled through them.
Edrin's boots pounded the pavement as he chased, tears stinging his eyes.
By the time they reached the square, Daren was already tied to the wooden scaffold, the blade hovering above him.
A soldier stepped forward, voice cold and official.
"Daren is executed for failure to pay taxes for two months. Let this serve as a reminder."
Edrin's knees buckled. His vision blurred as he stumbled forward.
Father's eyes met his. A faint smile tugged at Daren's lips—calm, resolute.
"Edrin…" he mouthed, as if the smile could carry more meaning than words.
The blade fell.
The crowd gasped, some crying quietly, some turning away. Edrin dropped to his knees. His hands clawed at the dirt as bitter, raw sobs tore from his throat.
The world, he realized, had no mercy. No reason. Only cruelty.
"Why?" he whispered through shaking lips. "Why do people find joy in hurting others? Why does this happen?"
A sudden heat rose in him, a force he had never felt before. His eyes glowed faintly green, then blazed into a bright, fiery light. A visible aura of flame erupted from his body, curling and twisting like wild fire around him. The crowd scattered in panic. The soldiers drew their swords instinctively, fear flashing in their eyes.
Edrin's fists clenched. The world was a nightmare, and he wanted to burn it all down.
He took a step forward, ready to strike, but a blur of motion knocked him from behind.
He hit the ground with a heavy thud, blackness sweeping over his vision.
He was unconcious in Seris's arms. She had knocked him out and caught him before he fell too far. The streets around them were eerily quiet. The soldiers were still advancing, but confusion spread across their faces.
Seris leaned forward, brushing her hair from her face.
"They're not paying attention to me," she said softly, almost amused. "Which is a mistake."
With a small, precise motion, she kissed Edrin lightly on the forehead—protective, yet daring—and then dropped two small smoke bombs to the ground.
They ignited instantly, curling thick smoke around the square. Visibility vanished. Shouts and swords clanging echoed inside the fog, but the soldiers had no idea where to strike.
By the time the smoke cleared, both Seris and Edrin were gone.
The soldiers shouted in confusion, searching every corner, every alley, but neither the boy nor the young lady could be found.
One of them muttered angrily, "I'm reporting this to the commander!"
High above, on the roof of a nearby building, a hooded figure watched silently. The square below was empty now, yet the echoes of chaos lingered.
A low grin curved beneath the shadow of the hood.
"Interesting," the figure whispered.