– Paige pov
The palace gates shimmered like gold in the early sunlight, casting long shadows across the stone steps. Paige adjusted the strap of the satchel over her shoulder and lifted her chin. Delivering messages wasn't new to her, but this one carried weight — whispers of new maps said to chart safe routes to the Tomb of Mei.
Her uncle's words rang in her mind as she handed the scroll to the guard. "Tell them it's different this time, Paige. This one might be secure."
She had almost asked him, almost challenged him: How sure are you? But as always, she had bitten her tongue. Uncle Arven wasn't just her guardian; he had been the one who raised her after her parents' deaths. He was stern, a man of rules, but he never failed to provide. Still, doubt clung to her like a shadow.
When the palace clerk returned with the king's decree, Paige tucked it into her satchel and began the walk home. The king's words had been firm: only five would be chosen to attempt the Tomb. No armies, no crowds. Just five.
By the time she reached her uncle's compound, murmurs drifted out from the meeting hall. As she pushed open the doors, silence fell. Her name — her name — was the first thing she heard.
"She's too young," her aunt's voice rose above the rest. "She's barely twenty. You'll send her to her death!"
"She is strong," Uncle Arven countered. "Blue rank at her age is no small feat. And she will do what must be done."
The elders nodded one after another, their faces like stone. Paige stood frozen, scroll still in hand, until her uncle turned and addressed her directly.
"The king has decreed," he said, "that in one week, five will depart for the Tomb. Paige, you will be one of them."
Her stomach twisted, but she swallowed her fear. For once, she wasn't being dismissed or protected. For once, they trusted her. "I won't let you down," she said firmly, though her heart thumped like a war drum.
Later that evening, when she was feeding the dogs, her aunt approached with quiet steps. The older woman's eyes were red, as if she had been crying.
"I don't care about the Heart of Mei," her aunt whispered, kneeling beside Paige. "I just want you safe."
Paige smiled softly, placing a reassuring hand over her aunt's. "I promise I'll come back. I've never had the chance to prove myself. This is it. Let me try."
Her aunt's lips trembled, but she nodded. "Just… don't lose yourself in trying."
---
The next morning, Paige slipped into the bustle of the city market. She needed supplies — new clothes, trinkets for her aunt, maybe even something to carry for luck. She moved from stall to stall, the air rich with the smell of baked bread and spiced meats, the noise of haggling voices all around.
Then a commotion ahead drew her attention. Guards had surrounded a white-haired boy, their voices sharp with threats. Paige slowed. She had no wish to intervene, not when she didn't know the full story.
"Serves him right," muttered a woman nearby. "That thief has caused nothing but trouble. Beat guards before, stole from merchants. Karma has caught him."
Paige hesitated. Something about the scene tugged at her instincts. The boy, despite being surrounded, didn't cower. He stood loose, relaxed even, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
One guard lunged — and in a blur, the boy moved. A sharp crack rang out, and the guard collapsed with a howl, clutching his arm. The crowd gasped, scattering back.
Paige's breath caught. That was no ordinary street brawler.
The boy brushed past the fallen guard as though nothing had happened and strode into a nearby restaurant. A middle-aged woman rushed out, bowing apologetically to the guards. Paige's eyes widened.
"Elisha," she muttered. Recognition clicked. The infamous orphan thief. Of course.
She approached quickly, smoothing her skirts and offering the guards a polite bow. "Please forgive him. I'll see to it he causes no further trouble here." Her voice was calm, firm, the way her uncle had taught her to command respect without aggression. The guards grumbled but dispersed, though not without curses.
Paige turned toward the restaurant and stepped inside.
The air smelled of roasted meat and ale. Elisha sat slouched at a corner table, a plate untouched before him. His white hair caught the light, but his expression was unreadable. Paige marched straight over.
"What was that outside?" she demanded. "Do you enjoy causing chaos everywhere you go?"
Elisha barely spared her a glance. "You talk too much."
Her eyes narrowed. "You assaulted imperial guards. Do you have a death wish, or are you just stupid?"
Finally, his gaze slid lazily to hers. "If you're hungry, order some food. If not, stop acting like my elder sister. You're not."
The audacity left her momentarily speechless. Her jaw tightened. "You—"
But he had already leaned back in his chair, gaze drifting elsewhere, dismissing her entirely. Heat rushed to her face, anger bubbling, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. Straightening her shoulders, she turned on her heel.
From the kitchen, his voice drifted lazily after her. "Nosy people never live long."
Paige froze mid-step, fists clenching, but she didn't look back. She simply walked out, her heart hammering.
---
That night, back home, Paige sat at her desk with a candle flickering low. The map lay unfolded before her, its winding routes marked in faded ink. She traced the lines with her fingertip, her aunt's words echoing in her ears: I want you safe.
But safety was no longer hers to choose.
She had heard rumors in the market — that not only she, but also the heirs of the highest Red and Black Raiders would attempt the Tomb. That made the weight of her task heavier, but it also meant she wouldn't be alone in danger.
Her hand tightened on the edge of the map. I will not die forgotten, she thought fiercely. If I make it to the Heart, if I return… maybe then they'll stop seeing me as just the girl raised by her uncle. Maybe then I'll finally belong.
Outside, the wind shifted, carrying faint whispers through the shutters. Paige closed her eyes, steadying her breath. Tomorrow, her training would begin in earnest. Tomorrow, her journey toward the Tomb would no longer be just a whisper.
For now, she whispered a vow into the dark:
"I'll come back. No matter what it takes."
---