CHAPTER 2 — The Gaze That Shouldn't Have Existed
Palo had walked home beside Audrey many times before, but tonight felt different. Not because of anything she said—Audrey talked the same way she always did, bright and fast, as if the world made more sense when filled with noise.
It was Ash.
Ash, walking silently a few steps behind them, as if tethered to Palo's shadow.
The sun had fully fallen by the time they reached the narrow streets leading into the center of Eastward. Dim lamps flickered overhead, buzzing like dying insects. Laundry lines stretched between rooftops, swaying in the cold breeze. A dog barked somewhere, sharp and restless.
"Did you know Ash is actually really smart?" Audrey said suddenly, elbowing Palo like she was telling a fun secret. "He used to tutor me in math when we were younger. Before he… changed."
"Changed?" Palo asked.
Audrey's smile faltered a little. "He wasn't always like this."
Palo glanced back at Ash.
Ash wasn't looking at the streets, or at his sister, or at the stray cats darting under broken fences.
He was still looking at Palo.
Palo's breath hitched just slightly. He tried to pretend it didn't.
Audrey didn't notice his reaction. Or maybe she did, but didn't understand it.
"He used to be really outgoing," she continued. "Always talked about building things too—cities, machines, weird inventions. But then our mom passed away and…" She trailed off, eyes lowering. "Everything changed for him after that."
Palo nodded quietly. He wasn't good at comforting people, even when he wanted to. Loss wasn't something he understood well—his own parents were alive, but dreams died around him often enough to count.
When they reached the intersection splitting the district, Audrey stopped.
"My house is this way," she said, pointing right. "Palo, your house is straight ahead. Ash will walk you home."
Palo stiffened.
"Wait—what? Why?"
Audrey shrugged. "He insisted."
Ash stepped forward for the first time since they left the canal.
"I want to talk to you," he said calmly.
Audrey blinked in surprise. "Oh? About what?"
Ash didn't answer her—his eyes remained on Palo, steady as cold rain.
Palo's pulse quickened—not in a romantic way, but in the way prey reacts when it suddenly notices a predator's shadow. It wasn't fear exactly. More like… pressure.
"Is that okay?" Ash asked him.
His voice wasn't threatening. If anything, it was too gentle. Too controlled. As if he were afraid Palo might break.
Palo swallowed. "I… guess."
Audrey brightened. "Great. Then I'll see you guys tomorrow!"
She waved and ran off, shoes slapping against wet pavement. The moment she disappeared around the corner, the last sliver of safety left with her.
Now it was just Palo and Ash.
Alone.
The street stretched before them, empty except for the dim glow of old lanterns and the distant hum of traffic from the districts beyond the slums.
Ash stepped beside Palo—not in front, not behind. Equal.
But his eyes still slid over to him with quiet intensity.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Palo finally muttered, unable to hold it in any longer.
Ash didn't answer immediately. Instead, he studied Palo's face with a level of focus that made Palo inhale sharply.
"You remind me of something," Ash said at last.
"Something?" Palo asked. "Or someone?"
Ash's jaw tightened. "Both."
That answer only deepened the unease crawling up Palo's spine.
They walked in silence for a few moments, their footsteps echoing against cracked pavement. The air smelled faintly of iron—Eastward's industrial factories had been leaking fumes again.
Palo shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to act indifferent. "Look… I don't know what Audrey told you about me, but I'm just a normal guy. I'm not—"
"You're not normal," Ash cut in.
Palo's heart dropped. "What?"
"You're not normal," Ash repeated, voice low but unwavering. "And that's not an insult. It's just true."
Palo looked away. "You don't even know me."
Ash stopped walking.
Palo turned to face him, expecting anger or annoyance.
Instead, Ash's expression was unreadable—but not cold. Just intense. Focused. Like he was seeing a puzzle piece he had been searching for far too long.
"I know enough," Ash said. "More than I should."
That sentence sent a sharp chill through Palo.
Before he could ask anything, Ash reached into his jacket pocket and held out a small folded paper.
"I think this belongs to you," he said.
Palo hesitated before taking it.
The paper was old, edges yellowed, covered in smudged pencil lines.
His drawing.
Or… something that looked like his drawing—towers, bridges, an empire of glass and steel. Almost identical to the sketch he had made earlier that day in the mud.
Except this one was dated.
Nine years ago.
Palo's breath caught.
"How—" he whispered. "Where did you—"
Ash stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You drew that when you were seven," he said. "And you handed it to my mother."
Palo's world tilted.
"I've seen you before, Palo," Ash continued.
Palo's grip tightened around the paper.
"And you shouldn't remember this…" Ash added quietly, "but you've seen me too."
The street suddenly felt too small, too dark, too silent.
Palo stepped back. "What are you talking about?"
Ash's face shadowed under the flickering streetlight.
"There's a reason Audrey talks about you so much," he said. "But the reason I watched you today…"
He paused.
"…is different."
Palo's heartbeat thudded painfully.
Ash took one final step toward him.
"Your life and mine were connected long before today," he murmured. "And the things you dream about—those towers, those cities—they're not just dreams."
Palo's breath trembled.
"What do you mean?"
Ash's next words sank like lead into the night.
"You're part of something my mother died trying to stop."
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