As Kai trudged through the cracked district pavement, the weight of the day hung heavy on his shoulders. His legs ached, his stomach growled, and his mind wouldn't stop spinning.
First the fire, now some mysterious meeting at one in the morning?
"Who even has meetings at one a.m.?" he muttered, dragging his feet.
The streets were quiet now, drained of the earlier chaos. The dull orange glow of streetlamps flickered against rain-streaked windows, and the sound of distant revelers from the Summit still echoed faintly from the upper side of the district. But here in the Eastern slums, shadows clung to the walls like stubborn stains, and silence pressed in like fog.
After nearly a mile of walking, Kai finally arrived at the rusty RV he called home.
It looked like it had barely survived a war. Rust blanketed the exterior like a creeping skin disease, and one window had been replaced with a warped sheet of wood, held up with duct tape and hope. A smear of something dark red stained the front bumper. Kai stared at it for a moment, lips twitching.
"Please let that be ketchup. Really oily ketchup."
The RV groaned as he climbed the metal steps, which squealed with every shift of weight. Jerry had given it to him three years ago when they had first met, though Kai had no idea why he wasn't allowed to stay in Jerry's apartment just two blocks from the restaurant. It wasn't like the man had kids or friends. But every time Kai asked, Jerry would just grunt and wave him off, possibly even give him a fist to the face.
Inside, the RV smelled like damp fabric and scorched oil. The walls were yellowed from age and smoke, the ceiling sagged in one corner, and exposed wires dangled from a light fixture that hadn't worked in months. The kitchen was no bigger than a closet, with only two functioning burners and a half-broken fridge that hummed louder than it cooled.
Kai tossed his bag onto the floor and collapsed onto his torn couch. He didn't even have the strength to change his ragged clothes; he just took off his apron and hung it beside the door. The springs poked at his back, and stuffing peeked from the seams like the guts of some wounded beast. He stared at the ceiling, eyes glazed over, mind replaying the moment that had haunted him all evening.
The fire.
The mage.
The impossible beauty of it all.
His fingers lifted lazily into the air, imitating the mage's fluid hand gestures.
"God, he was so cool," Kai whispered to himself, moving his hands in slow circles, pretending to draw sigils in the air.
For as long as he could remember, Kai had dreamed of becoming a mage. Of mastering the elements, honing his mana, bending the world to his will. Magic fascinated him, not just the power, but the mystery, the elegance, the science behind it.
But he was forsaken. And forsaken didn't get to have dreams.
As far as he knew, he was magic-less, just another castoff scrubbing pans and flipping burgers. Still, he clung to hope. If he couldn't cast spells, then maybe he could at least understand them. Learn. Study. Find patterns, even without power.
That's why, when Jerry took him on their end-of-month shopping trips, Kai always begged for books, any books that looked even remotely magical. But Jerry usually rolled his eyes and dumped a couple of outdated science textbooks into the cart.
The only ones Kai really cherished were the physics and chemistry books. One in particular—The Physics Behind Magic—had become his obsession. It was dense, full of equations and references he barely understood, but now and then, something clicked. Something sparked.
He pulled the book from the crooked shelf above the mini-kitchen and flipped through its dog-eared pages as he sat cross-legged on the couch. The diagrams were complex, the language academic. Most nights, he just stared at them, trying to piece together meaning like assembling a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.
School might've helped. But school was a luxury he couldn't afford.
Kai had been in and out of school for the past two years, depending on how well business was doing and whether Jerry felt like letting him go or not. Most of the schools in the Eastern District were rundown and overcrowded anyway. Still, Kai wanted to go. To learn. To be more than just a kitchen rat with big dreams.
But Jerry's words echoed in his mind, bitter and constant:
"Schools don't teach shit. They just train you to be a slave to the government. Now get back to work."
Kai exhaled through his nose, trying to shake off the frustration. Jerry might've taken him in, but that didn't mean he had to be grateful for the way the man treated him. Gruff. Cheap. Unfair.
If I ever get enough aether, I'm gone, he thought. I'll move to the other Districts. Find a real school. Learn real magic.
A sharp pang in his stomach dragged him out of his thoughts. He hadn't eaten all day, not since early morning prep. Thanks, Jerry. And thanks, Summit.
He got up and shuffled into the kitchenette, and opened the tiny fridge. Not much. A half-empty bottle of sauce, a single bruised apple, and a cold square of leftover lasagna from the day before.
He grabbed the lasagna and shut the fridge. No microwave. No oven. Just him and a cold dinner.
He sat back on the couch and took slow bites, flipping through his book with one hand, chewing with the other. He didn't even taste it. His mind was already elsewhere, re sigils, flames, magic.
Someday, he thought. Someday I'll figure it out.
Vv The last of the lasagna vanished from his plate, and Kai wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He glanced at the crooked wall clock—barely nailed in place.
8:40 p.m.
Still a few hours until the mystery meeting.
Kai curled into the corner of the couch, resting his head on a flattened pillow. He needed sleep if he was going to make it to the meeting. But sleep didn't come easily. Not with so many thoughts racing through his mind.
The mage.
The flames.
The whisper of power that still lingered in the air.
Kai could bearly sleep, but he knew how Jerry was when he wasn't obeyed. If he was going to make it to that meeting, he was going to have to sleep now. Kai slowly but surely drifted into his Dreamland.
A few hours later, Kai's alarm clock woke him up from his sleep.
Kai awoke to the shrill creak of metal and the muffled sounds of the district nightlife bleeding through the thin walls of his RV. His body ached. His head was foggy. For a second, he forgot where he was. Then the memories rushed back—flames, the mage, the cryptic meeting Jerry insisted he attend.
It was almost midnight.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Kai dragged himself off the couch and splashed water on his face using the cracked sink in the corner of the RV. The faucet groaned like it resented being touched. The water came out lukewarm and slightly brown, but it was better than nothing.
He threw on his jacket and his eagle-shaped necklace and stepped outside. The Eastern District night was cold, humid and humming. Neon signs flickered in garish colors above shuttered storefronts, casting long shadows across trash-strewn alleyways. Somewhere nearby, someone was shouting. Somewhere else, laughter rang out drunken, desperate, tired.
Kai walked fast.
By the time he reached the restaurant, the burnt scent of ash still lingered in the air like a ghost that refused to leave. The windows were cracked. The signage was half-melted. Inside, the place was even worse.
Blackened walls. Tables overturned. The metal of the stove still looked warped from the heat. He stood at the entrance for a second, letting the silence soak into his bones. What once was chaotic and alive now looked hollow.
He spotted them near the back, where the fire hadn't reached. Jerry was leaning against the bar, looking more worn than usual. And next to him were two men Kai had never seen before.
The first was a mountain of a man, tall, wide, and coiled with muscle. He wore a black t-shirt that looked stretched over his bulky frame and dark jeans that matched his scowl. Tattoos wrapped around both forearms like barbed wire. His eyes locked onto Kai with immediate disapproval.
The other man was thinner, wirier, and twitchier. He had a cigarette perched lazily between his lips and wore baggy pants with a sweat-stained tank top. He looked like someone who'd always just finished running from something.
Kai's steps slowed.
Jerry straightened when he saw him. "Kai," he said with a nod, "you made it."
The muscular man frowned. "This is the guy? A kid?"
Jerry raised a hand, palm out. "Easy, Jake."
Jake's nostrils flared. "I thought we agreed, no kids."
"He's not just any kid," Jerry replied, tone calm but firm. "He's important to the plan. You know that."
Kai's brows pulled together. Plan?
Jake grunted, muttering something under his breath before turning away, clearly unhappy but willing to drop it, for now.
The wiry man, Kevin, gave Kai a lazy grin and a long drag of his cigarette. "He looks nervous. You nervous, kid?"
Kai ignored him and turned to Jerry. "What is this? What's going on? What plan?"
Jerry scratched his beard, suddenly looking very tired. "Look… all you need to know right now is that we're going to make some good money in a few days. The Summit's in three, right? That's when it happens."
"What happens?" Kai asked, more sharply this time. His pulse was picking up. "Why do you need me?"
Jerry stepped forward and placed a hand on Kai's shoulder. "You'll understand when it's time. Trust me, kid. I wouldn't let anything happen to you."
Kai didn't respond. His gut was telling him something was off. The way Brook kept glancing at him was like a problem that hadn't been solved. The way Kevin kept smirking, like he knew a secret no one else did.
"Alright," Jerry said, tone shifting back to business. "That's enough for tonight. Meet me at my place tomorrow at noon sharp. I'll explain more then."
Kai nodded slowly, still unsure. "Okay…"
Jerry patted him once on the back. "You'll be fine."
But as Kai walked back through the burned restaurant, the doubts only grew heavier in his chest. Whatever they were planning… it wasn't just about money. And it definitely wasn't safe.
---
Back in the RV, Kai kicked off his shoes and dropped onto the couch again, heart still thudding. The shadows felt thicker now. The night more quieter.
He removed his jacket and tossed it in a random direction, then pulled the thin blanket over himself and stared at the ceiling for a long time. He wasn't just tired, he was uneasy. No matter what Jerry said, something didn't feel right.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would confront Jerry. No more vague promises. No more half-truths. Either Jerry told him exactly wha
t was going on… or he was out.
No amount of money was worth dying over.