For once, Xeno was doing absolutely nothing and abiding by Otto's quiet wishes to steer away from trouble.
He sat on a low stone railing at the edge of a quieter street, his boots dangling above the worn cobblestones. An apple core rested loosely in his palm, its flesh long gone.
Around him, the city moved in preparation for the Crownfall Jubilee. Banners were being hung from balconies and merchants shouted over one another as they rushed to sell the last of their daily stock. Somewhere in the distance, metal rang sharply as guards practiced drills.
Here, though, the noise softened.
Xeno leaned back on his hands and tilted his face toward the sky. He liked moments like this. Moments where he was not doing mischief. Moments that can let his thoughts drift away.
That was when solid, strong hands landed on his shoulders.
Xeno froze.
His muscles tensed, and his breathing slowed. He turned his head slowly, ready to slip free or strike if he had to.
The man behind him was unfamiliar.
The man was tall and broad, with the kind of build earned through years of hard work. His clothes were worn but clean. His face was lined and weathered, etched by sun and strain. There was something about him that made Xeno hesitate.
The longer Xeno looked, the worse it felt.
He had never seen this man before.
And yet it felt like he had.
A strange pull settled in his chest, and déjà vu crawled along his spine.
"What do you want?" Xeno asked.
The man's eyes studied him carefully. His hands tightened just slightly. "We need to talk," he said. "Somewhere private."
"Not interested."
He twisted sharply, trying to slip out from under the grip.
The man moved with surprising speed, adjusting his hold and turning Xeno forward instead. Strong fingers pressed down, guiding him.
"Hey," Xeno snapped. "Let go."
The man did not raise his voice. He did not argue. He simply began walking, steering Xeno through the thinning crowd.
Xeno clenched his jaw.
For a few seconds, he fought the pull. Then he had no choice but to stop. The guy was incredibly strong.
He let himself be guided, focusing instead in visual cues as they moved deeper into the streets as Eldam Square faded behind them. The banners thinned and the stone beneath his feet grew more uneven.
Even the smells changed.
Smoke gave way to dampness. Fresh bread was replaced by rot and old refuse. The walls closed in, and the streets narrowed until Xeno knew exactly where they were headed.
Recognition settled heavy in his chest.
When they finally stopped, the man released him and stepped back.
Xeno turned slowly. The alley was the same. The broken crates, the scuffed stone, even the splatter of blood.
Yesterday.
The man rolled his shoulders once, as if loosening his joints. Then he cracked his knuckles, one hand at a time. The sound echoed sharply, bouncing off the narrow walls.
Xeno lifted his gaze fully.
That was when everything fell into place.
The eyes, jaw, the way the brow furrowed when the man frowned. He looked exactly like the stupid looking boy from yesterday.
Just older.
"Oh, 'sup," Xeno said quietly.
The man did not smile. Xeno leaned his head back and let out a long breath. For a moment, he stared up at the strip of sky between the buildings.
Otto's voice drifted through his thoughts, telling him to keep his head down and behave.
Sorry, Otto, he thought.
"My son came home soaked in blood," the man said. "He could barely keep his eyes open. He could not even look at me."
Xeno shifted his weight slightly, his expression flat even as his fingers flexed at his side.
Thank fuck I didn't laugh out loud, Xeno thought.
So his kid was the one I gave a black eye too
"You think you can do whatever you want? You think the streets belong to you?"
"He attacked me first, though."
The words did nothing to calm the man. If anything, they pushed him over the edge.
With a sharp growl, the man lunged forward, his fist swinging wide. Xeno reacted instantly, his body moving before his thoughts could catch up. He stepped back, already drawing on the strange pull beneath his skin, the familiar sensation that came with summoning his clones.
The air around him wavered then something tore through the alley with terrifying force.
A stack of wooden crates came hurtling past him, spinning violently through the air. Xeno barely had time to register what was happening before he threw himself sideways. The crates slammed into the wall behind him with a deafening crash, shattering into splinters that exploded outward and filled the narrow space with dust and debris.
Xeno hit the ground hard, pain flaring across his shoulder as the breath was driven from his lungs.
The man froze mid-motion.
Slowly, both of them turned their heads toward the far end of the alley.
A woman stood there.
She wore a gown of deep, elegant fabric, styled in a manner that reminded Xeno of old portraits he had seen through portraits of nobles. Gold jewelry adorned her neck and wrists, catching what little light filtered into the alley. In one hand, she held a parasol, its handle resting lightly against her palm while her other hand was still raised, fingers positioned in throwing stance.
Her long brown hair was braided neatly into two plaits that fell over her shoulders. Her red eyes were cold and distant, looking down the length of the alley with faint disdain, as though she were observing something unsightly that had inconvenienced her.
The man's face drained of all color.
His breathing hitched, and without a word, he bowed deeply, so fast and so low that it bordered on desperation. He straightened just long enough to turn and flee, his footsteps hurried and uneven as he vanished from sight without a single glance back.
The alley fell silent.
Xeno slowly pushed himself up, brushing dust from his clothes as he stared after the fleeing man, then back at the woman. His heart was still pounding, though he forced his expression into something neutral.
"Uh," he said awkwardly. "Thanks… I think?"
The woman did not answer.
Xeno shifted his stance, suddenly very aware of how small the alley felt with her standing there. He took a cautious step toward the exit, keeping his movements slow and nonchalant. The last thing he needed was Otto hearing that he had crossed a noble, especially this close to the Crownfall Jubilee.
He was almost past her when her voice cut through the silence.
"When did you have your rupture?"
Xeno stopped.
"My what?" he asked, turning back toward her.
She regarded him coolly, her red eyes finally settling fully on his face.
"A rupture," she said evenly. "It's when you manifest a sort of power. When did you have it?"
The words struck deeper than he expected.
Memories surfaced uninvited. Begger's Hole, the cold stone beneath his body, the metallic taste of blood, Otto's hands shaking as he tried to keep him awake, and Mr. Austin's voice steady despite the fear in his eyes.
Xeno glanced around the alley, assessing his surroundings. The woman stood alone. She wore a gown, heavy jewelry, and carried nothing but a parasol. Whatever power she had displayed earlier did not fit the image she presented.
Easy, he told himself.
Summoning a clone, he sent it slipping free from his shadow. It moved quickly, darting forward with the intention of startling her just long enough for him to make a break for the alley's exit. Otto would already be furious if he heard about the fight. Crossing a noble would be unforgivable!
The clone reached out.
In a single fluid motion, the woman closed her parasol and with the same hand, she caught the clone's wrist effortlessly, stopping it completely.
The clone stiffened, frozen in her grasp.
She did not look at it. Her attention remained fixed on Xeno as her fingers tightened just enough to make her dominance unmistakable.
Then she spoke.
"If someone asks, you answer."