There are moments when the world doesn't stop—it pauses.
Like the city itself forgets to breathe, waiting to see if you'll survive the next heartbeat or vanish into the dirt.
That was me. Standing in the middle of the market, dust and spice still sharp on my tongue, while steel flashed toward my throat.
And the worst part?
My eyes weren't even on the assassin.
No. I was still drowning in ghosts. The vision lingered—shards of glass drifting in endless dark, a voice curling through my marrow, whispering my name like it had always been there. And her—the noblewoman with the glowing pendant, staring at me like she already knew.
The whole world held its breath.
And then—exhaled.
I moved.
Steel sliced the air. Cold fire kissed my skin where the blade nearly took me, close enough to burn. I dropped, rolling through dirt and crushed fruit, the sound of steel cutting nothing cracking overhead. Pain flared hot across my shoulder where the edge grazed me. Wet. Sticky. Blood.
But I was alive.
Still alive.
And right then, that was everything.
Behind me, Jarek laughed. Actually laughed—voice rough with the thrill of danger, sparks flying as his blade clashed with another attacker.
"You always know how to ruin a shopping trip, Aradia!"
"Sorry!" I spat, scrambling up, glass shard clenched so hard it bit into my palm. "Next time I'll let you handle the assassins by yourself!"
His grin split through sweat and blood, smug as ever.
"Oh, so you do care."
Gods, I wanted to smack him. But at the moment, I was busy staying alive.
The noblewoman hadn't moved. Not once. She just stood there—frozen in silk and fear, pendant blazing like a caged star against her chest. Too bright. Too loud. Her wide eyes never left me.
At first I thought, obvious—they're here for her. A noble glowing like a beacon? Easy prey.
But then I saw it. The flicker in their masked eyes, that hesitation as they glanced at me.
The chill that hit me was sharper than any blade.
They wanted her.
But they wanted me too.
I had three heartbeats to decide. Run or fight.
I fought.
The next assassin lunged—smooth, practiced, elegant as a dancer. His blade curved in a deadly arc. Everything about him screamed precision.
Me? I was rage and panic with a glass shard.
But sometimes, desperation is enough.
I slashed, dragging jagged glass across his arm. His scream tore through the market. My boot slammed into his stomach, knocking him into a spice cart. Scarlet powder exploded into the air, fire and smoke choking my lungs, burning my eyes raw.
The market dissolved into chaos—stalls collapsing, canopies ripping down like sails in a storm, people stampeding. The guards? Gone, of course. Cowards always melt first.
Through the haze, I caught Jarek again—cutting down his man in one brutal arc. His grin was gone now, replaced with a grim edge.
"We need to move. Now!"
He wasn't wrong. For every one we dropped, two more shadows slipped from the smoke, blades catching the light like promises. Too many. Too fast.
And that pendant—damn it—it wasn't dimming. It pulsed brighter. Like it wanted to drag every blade in the city to us.
No choice left. I lunged, grabbed the noblewoman's wrist—soft, perfumed, fragile.
"Run!"
This time, she listened.
We bolted. My boots slid in spilled wine, red rivers staining the cobblestones. Jarek stayed ahead, cutting down anyone who dared lunge too close. The noblewoman stumbled after me, skirts snagging, jewelry rattling like alarm bells.
Her breath came in broken gasps. "Why… why are you helping me?"
I yanked her forward, teeth grit. "Ask me when we're not about to die!"
The market noise bled away as we tore down a narrow street, stone walls pressing close like ribs around a throat. The air grew colder. Heavier. Behind us, the assassins didn't rush. They lingered. Watching. Waiting.
We'd crossed into the undercity.
Nobles never set foot here. Too much rot, too many debts waiting to be called in. Too many eyes in the shadows. Even the assassins hesitated, their steps slowing.
"Here," Jarek barked, spotting a sagging warehouse at the alley's end. He slammed the door open, dragging us inside. The stench hit instantly—mold, rust, rot, something metallic and sharp. He shoved the door shut, dropped the bar.
Silence dropped heavy.
Only our breathing filled the dark.
The noblewoman slid against a wall, silk pooling around her. She clutched her pendant like it was her lifeline. Its glow dimmer now, but still pulsing faintly. A heartbeat that refused to die.
Her eyes lifted to mine. Searching. Desperate.
"You're her," she whispered.
The words hung between us, blade-sharp.
"…Excuse me?"
Her voice trembled, but she didn't look away. "The one in the prophecy."
I stared. Silent. And then laughed—sharp and hollow, the kind of laugh that doesn't warm but cuts.
A prophecy? Lady, you've got the wrong girl. I steal fruit. I fight with bottles. Sometimes I get lucky against assassins. That's it. I'm not your chosen savior.
Even my bitterness startled me. But she didn't flinch. Selene—yes, that was her name—just held the pendant tighter.
"No one survives the Glass Vision by accident," she said.
The words hit harder than her pendant's glow.
Glass Vision.
It had a name.
My stomach twisted. "What are you talking about?"
Jarek leaned against the door, sword still dripping, one brow cocked.
"Yes, please. Enlighten us. Because right now? We've got prophecies, visions, and my friend's bleeding all over the floor. You'll forgive me if I want a straight story."
Selene ignored him. Her eyes were all for me.
"The Glass Vision is a place between worlds," she said. "A fracture in the city itself. Only those chosen by the Glass can see it. And only they…" She faltered, voice shaking, "…only they can decide its fate."
The memory clawed back—shards spinning like stars, the void pressing in, the voice curling through my skull.
No. I wouldn't let her turn it into something more.
"I don't know what I saw," I said, pressing my fingers hard into my temple. "Shards. Voices. Whatever. Doesn't matter. I'm not special. I'm not chosen. I'm just trying to not get murdered today."
Selene stepped closer. Torn silks, sweat, dirt—but her posture was still regal, unyielding.
"What's your name?" she asked softly.
"Why does it matter?"
"Please," she whispered. "Tell me."
Something in her gaze made it impossible to lie. Like she already knew the answer.
"…Aradia."
Her breath caught, sharp as a blade.
"Then it is you."
Jarek groaned, rubbing his face.
"Wonderful. So what is she then? Lost princess? Goddess reborn? Spirit of glass here to bless us with divine sarcasm? Because I'd really like answers before more assassins kick the door in."
Selene lifted her chin. "My name is Lady Selene Veyra of the Inner Ring. And if the assassins know who she is…" Her eyes locked on me, awe and dread woven tight. "…then the kingdom is already in motion."
I glared. "That explains nothing."
And then—
A crash outside. Boots pounding. Barked orders. The scrape of steel.
The shadows hadn't given up.
Jarek straightened, sword raised. His grin was gone. "Looks like we've got company."
Selene clutched her pendant, and it flared brighter, spilling light through her fingers. "We can't stay. They'll rip this place apart."
"No kidding," I muttered, shoving her toward the back. "Move."
But then—
The whispers.
Aradia.
They slid through me like a knife. Not outside. Not human. Inside. In my skull. My bones.
My knees buckled. I caught myself on the wall, breath tearing raw from my throat.
The pendant pulsed brighter in answer.
Selene's eyes widened. "You can hear it, can't you?"
I wanted to say no. Wanted to slam the door on it. But the silence in my throat was already the answer.
Choose.
The voice wasn't a whisper anymore. No. It thundered. Commanding. Demanding.
The door exploded inward. Assassins poured through like smoke, blades gleaming, eyes fixed on me as if nothing else existed.
And for the second time that day, the world shattered.
The pendant flared, white and searing, swallowing the warehouse whole. My scream caught as the floor dissolved, the world cracking apart beneath us.
Shards of glass spun infinite around me, each one showing a fractured piece of my face.
The voice roared, drowning everything.
Choose, Aradia.
Light devoured the world.
And then—
Nothing.