The evening sky dimmed early, pulling a curtain of ash-grey clouds across the sinking sun. Shadows stretched over the dirt roads of Eastward District—long, thin, and tired, like the people who walked them. Palo had grown used to those shadows. They clung to him the same way poverty did: quietly, unavoidably, and without apology.
He stood at the edge of the slum's old canal, sketching shapes in the mud with a broken twig. Lines curved into towers, bridges, and glass buildings—the empire he would one day build. The kind of dream people like him were expected to outgrow.
But he refused.
"Give me a future brighter than this," he whispered to no one, squeezing the stick until it snapped.
His sixteen years had been heavy ones. Heavy with unspoken talent. Heavy with responsibility. Heavy with a hope that felt more like rebellion than belief. Every day he pushed forward, planning, imagining, calculating. Every night he wondered if dreaming so hard was the same as cursing himself.
He thought he knew what would save him.
He didn't know what would break him.
A soft crunch of gravel pulled him from his thoughts. Palo turned.
Someone was watching him.
A boy stood a few paces away—lean, sharp-featured, dressed better than anyone from Eastward should be. His dark hair fell just short of his eyes, but it didn't hide the intensity in them. Eyes that stared too deeply, as if searching for something beneath Palo's skin.
Palo stepped back instinctively.
"I didn't hear you come," he said.
The boy didn't answer at first. He simply observed, gaze unwavering, unreadable. Only when Palo shifted uncomfortably did he speak.
"You're Palo," he said quietly. "Aren't you?"
Palo stiffened. "How do you know my name?"
Before the boy could respond, a familiar voice echoed across the canal.
"Palo! There you are!"
Audrey jogged toward them, her ponytail bouncing with each step. She skidded to a stop between them, catching her breath.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, then beamed. "Come on, I want to introduce you. This is my twin brother—Ash."
Ash.
So this was the sibling Audrey kept complaining about. The one who disappeared for days at a time, who never talked about school, who always seemed to know things he shouldn't. Palo had expected someone strange.
But not like this.
Ash dipped his head slightly. "It's nice to meet you."
His voice was calm… too calm. And his gaze—when it landed again on Palo—held something neither friendly nor hostile. Something closer to recognition. As if he were greeting someone he had seen before.
Palo swallowed.
"It's… good to meet you too."
Audrey nudged her brother. "See? He's not scary. Palo's the nicest person I know. And—"
"Audrey," Ash said softly, but firmly. She stopped talking immediately.
Palo couldn't explain why that made his heartbeat quicken.
Audrey rolled her eyes but smiled. "Anyway, I thought you two should finally meet. I've been telling Ash about you for weeks."
Palo blinked. "You have?"
"Of course! I mean—" she flinched, cheeks reddening slightly. "You're my friend. And you're good at everything. I talk about my friends."
Palo wasn't sure if that was entirely true, but before he could reply, he felt it again.
Ash watching him.
Not with jealousy.
Not with anger.
Not with admiration.
With something heavier. Something unreadable. Something that made Palo feel as if his dreams—those delicate towers drawn in mud—were suddenly fragile.
Audrey didn't notice. She kicked a pebble into the canal, humming.
But Ash… Ash's stare didn't break.
Palo looked away first.
And in that small moment—in the silence between three teenagers standing beneath a darkening sky—something shifted.
Something that would drag each of them into a mystery buried deeper than their families, deeper than Eastward, deeper than any dream Palo had ever dared to imagine.
He didn't know it yet.
But this was the moment he should have walked away.