He stepped out of the alley and into the light.
The world outside was loud and alive, but not kind. Rough voices barked orders, carts creaked across uneven stone, and the air was thick with the smell of salt and fish. Men carried dripping sacks that left dark streaks on the pavement. Others hauled crates full of creatures he could not name. The stink of garbage that had clung to him was gone, replaced by something sharper — sea and rot, clean and foul at once.
Sunlight cut through the narrow gaps between rooftops and landed on him like a warm blanket. He tilted his head back, letting it hit his face. For a fleeting moment it felt good, safe even. He let himself relax.
That was his mistake.
The warmth brought the pain back. It seeped into his skin, tracing every bruise and cut he had not noticed until now. His legs ached, his ribs screamed, and his arms felt like lead. His body trembled, not from fear, but from the weight of everything he had been ignoring just to move.
"Am I near the ocean?" he mumbled under his breath, staring at the stalls lined with fish and scales that shimmered in the light. He took a step forward and began to walk down the street. Stalls crowded both sides. Vendors shouted, hawking everything from fresh fish to fried snacks and odd little aquatic pets kept in tiny glass jars. Wagons forced him to the edge of the road, horse hooves thudding close enough to rattle his bones.
A smell made him stop. He turned. Small plates of sardines browned and sizzling on hot iron gleamed in oil, steam carrying a briny, salty perfume that stabbed straight to his stomach. The smell was exaggerated, almost obscene, like the sea itself had poured onto the vendor's griddle. His mouth watered without permission.
He swallowed and looked up at the vendor with a coarse voice. "Excuse me. How much for a plate?"
The man stood behind his stall, tending the fish with a wooden spatula. For a moment his smile remained, but when his eyes met the boy's torn clothes and bruised face, it faltered. He answered without interest. "Four copper for a plate," he said flatly, already turning his attention back to the grill as if the boy were invisible.
The boy did not move. He stared at the sizzling fish as if entranced, the smell wrapping around him like a cruel tease. After a stretch of time that felt like forever, the vendor noticed the boy was still standing there. Annoyance hardened his face.
"Hey, you," he barked.
The boy looked up, hope flickering in his eyes. "Yeah?" he said, voice thin and hopeful.
"Get away from my stall before I beat you harder than the last one who tried that," the man said, his disgust loud enough for the nearest customers to hear. "You're scaring away my customers."
The words hit like a stone. The boy flinched and took an awkward step back. His shoulders hunched and he turned away, reluctant and ashamed. He walked off along the row of stalls, each smell twisting at his stomach, each shout closing like a door behind him.
The scent of sardines clung to him as he walked, crawling through his nose, teasing his hunger with every breath. It wouldn't leave. It followed him, mocking him.
He kept walking. The sounds of the street faded behind him, swallowed by the rhythm of his own uneven steps. He did not notice the way one pair of footsteps lingered when the others turned away.
From a distance, a figure watched. When the boy turned a corner, the figure followed. Slow. Careful.
The boy was too lost in hunger and exhaustion to care. His thoughts drifted like fog. He did not notice the faint splash of boots stepping in puddles behind him or how the chatter of the market grew distant.
Then, a sound. A soft splash under his foot.
He blinked, staring down at a shallow puddle rippling with sunlight. For the first time in a while, he felt something. A strange weight in his chest. The sense that something was wrong.
He started to turn.
A sudden force slammed into his back.
His body flew forward, crashing into the ground. The breath was ripped from his lungs before he could even scream. A sharp crack rang out from his arm, and pain exploded through his elbow like fire.
He gasped, tears brimming as his throat closed up. The ache that had dulled over time now roared back, sharper than ever. He tried to move, to lift himself, but his limbs refused.
Before he could even see who had struck him, something heavy smashed into the back of his head. The world tilted, his vision swam, and his eyes rolled back.
The last thing he felt was the taste of dirt and blood as the world went dark.