Rain dripped from the rusted edge of a rooftop, falling in slow, deliberate beads onto the cracked pavement of Wrenhaven. The city, once a kingdom of hum and hustle, now breathed in hushes. Something unseen watched from the alley shadows—waiting, always waiting.
Averie Quinn moved like she belonged to the dark. Her boots made no sound against the wet concrete, and her black jacket soaked in the rain as if it were feeding on silence. She had grown used to the quiet. To the hollow spaces between people's voices. To the whispers only she could hear when the clock struck midnight.
There were rules in Wrenhaven now. Rules the city never wrote, but everyone obeyed.
Don't go out after dusk.
Don't answer when someone calls your name from a place you can't see.
And never—never—look too long at the still places.
The still places. That's what they called them.
Corners of the city where time bent, where lamplight didn't flicker, where the air turned too cold for summer. Where you could stand for hours and forget how to blink. Sloane had seen one once—just once. She was thirteen. Her sister never came back from it.
She didn't talk about that.
Now, she kept to herself. Delivered potions from apothecaries with no names. Bought cursed books for professors who didn't sleep. Broke into tombs beneath subway tunnels for relics no one should touch.
And on certain nights—like tonight—she walked toward the stillness.
She didn't expect anyone else to be there.
But then, she wasn't expecting her to be there.
A woman stood at the intersection of Bellrose and 9th—right in the center of a still place. Her silver hair fell like water down her back, untouched by the rain. Her long coat shimmered faintly, not quite black, not quite violet. And when she turned, her eyes glowed with the same cold light. Averie had only ever seen in dreams.
Or maybe… nightmares.
"You don't belong here." Averie said, though her voice caught at the end.
The woman smiled.
"I've been here longer than you think."
Averie's hand slid toward the dagger on her belt—not for attack, but for memory. It was all she had of her sister. The blade hummed softly, reacting to the magic in the air.
Stillness.
But not the kind that froze you. Not tonight. This stillness pulsed like a heartbeat. Alive.
"What are you?" Averie asked, stepping closer.
The woman didn't answer. Instead, she looked at the city around them—then back at Averie like she was seeing her through time.
"You'll remember me soon," she said softly, almost apologetically. " Even if it hurts."
And then she was gone.
Just gone.
The rain stopped. The city moved again. The lights flickered back to life, and someone in an apartment above slammed a window shut, cursing the weather.
But Averie just stood there, staring at the space where the stranger had been. A place where no footprints remained, but everything had changed.
And for the first time in years, she felt it—
The stillness, inside her.