The night in Leiones was alive with light.

  Towering spires split the sky like blades of chrome and glass, neon signs pulsed with colour above the heads of the bustling crowd, tech-suit users whispered through the air like ghosts. The capital of Wolona was always busy—always glowing, always moving. But it felt like the loneliest place in the world.

  I wandered aimlessly through the city’s heart, hands tucked into the sleeves of my thin jacket. My steps had no destination, only motion. The crowd moved around me like I wasn’t even there. A drop of water in an endless stream.

  ‘I chose Mom.’

  The thought kept surfacing, louder than the buzz of lights or hum of engines.

  ‘I chose her when they split. I thought it was the right choice. I still think it was. But now...’

  My mother had passed just two weeks ago. An illness no mage or Harudo could stop. Quiet. Peaceful. But final.

  I had no home now.

  I went to my father. Once a low-ranking Water Harudo, now a big name in Leiones. A man with power, prestige, connections. I hadn’t seen him in ten years.

  And he had refused to even let me in the front gate.

  “You chose her. Live with that choice.”

  Those were his exact words.

  So now, at seventeen—just a girl with long blue hair and blue eyes—I was wandering the alleys of a city that couldn’t care less.

  Eventually, I slipped out of the main flow of the crowd and into a quieter part of the city. An old plaza between buildings, where a broken holo-board flickered and rain had pooled into shallow reflections. I sat at the edge of a low concrete bench, letting the weight of everything pull me down.

  "What now..." I murmured, hugging my knees as close as I could to my chest. "Where am I even supposed to go?"

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  I didn’t cry. Not yet. I was too tired to cry.

  That’s when I heard footsteps.

  Two figures stepped into the plaza. Both wore mage cloaks—standard issue for low-rank spellcasters. One was tall and thin with a sneering grin. The other had a scar across his cheek and eyes that looked me up and down like I was property.

  "Well, well," the tall one said, cracking his knuckles. "Didn't expect a looker like you out here."

  "You lost, sweetheart?" the scarred one asked, grinning. "Or wait—you are a Harudo, right? But no weapon? Damn shame."

  I tensed.

  "Leave me alone," I said, in a low voice.

  "Oh, come on. We're just being friendly. You look like you could use some company."

  "Or shelter," Scarface added. "We got a place. Warm. Safe. We'll even cook you something."

  "I said leave me alone."

  "Feisty. I like that."

  The hand reached out. Something inside me snapped.

  I slapped his hand away—and punched him square in the face.

  Scarface stumbled back. The tall one laughed.

  "That all you got?"

  My heart pounded. Mana surged.

  I didn’t have a weapon yet. I hadn’t awakened it. But I was still a Harudo.

  With a shout, I summoned what I could.

  Three clones formed beside me. All dripping wet and shimmering with unstable outlines. It was the best I could do.

  The fight was quick.

  The mages didn’t even break a sweat. One cast a binding spell that shattered my clone. The other knocked me to the ground with a shockwave.

  I hit the pavement, hard. The clones vanished.

  And suddenly, I couldn’t move. My limbs ached. My mana was spent. My mind swirled with panic.

  "Should've just come with us," Scarface said, looming over me.

  I couldn’t reply.

  But then—

  They stopped.

  The two mages looked at each other. One reached for his wand again. The other stepped back.

  "What the hell are you doing—?"

  "Shut up. Don’t touch her."

  "You were just—"

  The flash of steel was fast. Too fast.

  Scarface gasped.

  A blade had pierced his stomach.

  "Wh... what the hell…?"

  He looked down at the blood. At his shaking hands. Then at the tall mage.

  "What... did you do…?!"

  But the tall mage hadn’t moved.

  He looked just as shocked. And then he screamed.

  From the shadows, a figure stepped forward.

  White. Cloaked in a long coat over-shoulder that caught the light like frost. His hair was white, but his eyes, sky-blue, they glowed like crystal beneath the moonlight.

  A blueish-white chain hung from his chest pocket. The end of a pocket watch swayed with each step.

  The tall mage tried to scream. He didn’t finish.

  The stranger was faster.

  One strike. Clean. Final.

  Blood dripped into the rain.

  I just lay there, staring in disbelief.

  He turned toward me. Those eyes met mine.

  And for a moment, time itself seemed to stop.

  Who... is he?