Already There

They ducked into an alleyway, the noise of the market dimming behind them. The walls rose high on either side—stone and timber patched with moss and grime—and the air smelled faintly of damp earth. The chatter of merchants was replaced by the soft drip of water somewhere unseen.

Sai led the way, glancing both directions before stepping deeper into the shade. “Here,” he muttered, waving the others inside.

Mira lingered at the threshold. Just as Sai disappeared into the dim passage, she thought she saw something on the street. A shape—long, thin—stretching unnaturally against the brightness of the cobbled square. Her breath caught. It was gone the instant a villager passed through the sunlight, baskets of bread balanced in her arms. Nothing remained but the crowd.

Her hand twitched at her side. She hated this—how her eyes lied to her, or maybe how they told truths no one else could see.

Go in, she told herself. Stay with them. Don’t get left behind.

She swallowed hard and stepped into the alley, her boots crunching softly against the grit. The light shrank away, replaced by cold shadows.

Sai had already turned on Corvin, his expression sharp. “What the hell was that back there?” His voice was hushed but edged like a blade. “Shouting Dex’s name in the middle of a crowded market? Do you want to drag us back onto another stage?”

Corvin bristled, arms crossed, leaning against the wall like he might bounce off it. “What was I supposed to do? Let that woman shriek until the whole market swarmed us? She started it, i ended it.” Corvin pointed proudly at himself

“You made it worse,” Sai shot back as he clutched his hands in front of his face. His voice didn’t rise, but the weight of it pressed harder than shouting would’ve. “You didn’t just answer her—you practically announced to the world that Dex is tied to us. You made it worse for us and him. Now anyone who doesn’t like him, now has reason to keep eyes on us.” Sai motioned around the group to make it clear

Corvin pushed off the wall. “Oh, please. Half these people don’t even know who Dex is.”

“Wrong,” Sai snapped.

“Every villager who saw him yesterday knows exactly who he is. You think they’re going to forget the name of the man who overruled their so-called champion? You just tied our safety to his reputation. If it falls, so do we.”

Corvin opened his mouth, then shut it again, teeth grinding. His hands flexed at his sides, itching for his axe though it wasn’t there.

Eira stepped forward, voice tight but clear. “And you didn’t just make it worse with Dex’s name—you scared her. That woman at the stall. She looked terrified. You didn’t have to snap like that.”

Corvin turned sharply toward her, eyes wide. “Oh, now you care about scaring someone? Now, when it’s some random villager selling wood charms?” His voice rose, echoing against the narrow stone. “Where was this outrage when I was standing on the gallows, huh? Where was your fire when I had a rope around my neck?”

Eira flinched. Her mouth opened, but the words stuck. Her shoulders hunched, eyes dropping to the dirt.

The silence that followed was razor-thin.

Sai’s jaw tightened. He stepped closer, his voice low but carrying. “That’s not fair, Corvin. None of us wanted you up there.”

“Didn’t feel that way,” Corvin muttered. His hands trembled, though from anger or memory Mira couldn’t tell. “Didn’t hear a damn thing from her when I was about to be hung”

Eira’s eyes glistened. She turned away, hugging herself, as if the accusation had cut deeper than any blade.

Sai inhaled slowly, forcing calm into his voice. “You’re alive because Dex intervened. Not because of what you shouted, and not because of what you think the rest of us didn’t do. So either stop blaming everyone else, or…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Or you’ll rip this group apart faster than Gladius ever could.”

Corvin laughed bitterly, a hollow sound. “Oh, forgive me for not bouncing back from almost being executed in front of a cheering crowd.” His words were sharp, but the cracks showed in his tone.

While they bickered, Mira pressed herself against the rough wall, her palms sliding up to cover her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push out their voices—their anger, the crowd from yesterday, the sound of the rope being tied It all blurred together in her head, louder than the alley really was.

The world dimmed.

Behind her closed eyelids and covered ears, she heard something else. A faint scraping, like nails dragging across stone. A low hum—steady, resonant, almost like breathing.

Her throat tightened.

She opened her eyes.

At the far end of the alley, where shadow pooled thickest, something moved.

It wasn’t a trick of light this time—she was sure of it. A shape shifted, tall and lean, its outline wavering as if it didn’t belong in the same world as the rest of them. It slipped from one patch of shadow to another, never crossing the pale beam of daylight that cut between the walls.

For a moment she thought she saw the edge of a face—or what should’ve been one. Smooth. Blank. No eyes, no mouth. Just an empty surface, like a mask carved from ash.

Her stomach flipped, her chest tightening until she couldn’t breathe.

“Mira?”

The voice broke through—Eira’s, softer than the others. “Are you okay?”

Mira didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her eyes were locked on the dark, on the thing that lingered just beyond the reach of the sun.

The arguing behind her dulled, but the scraping sound in the shadow grew louder.

The figure leaned forward, almost testing the air.

Watching.

Waiting.

And Mira knew—whatever it was, it hadn’t followed them into the alley.

It had been here already.