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SELENE

I slip through Orthani’s Lowtown under the faded glow of greenish lanterns, hugging the shadows with each step.

My heart pounds a low, steady rhythm, but outwardly I appear calm—just another face in this wretched district where humans are herded like stray animals.

At first glance, no one would suspect what I really am. Tonight, that deception is everything.

The air is thick with the stench of sweat, rotting, and the desperation of those trapped in the slums. Narrow alleys twist between leaning structures of battered stone.

I hear muttered curses behind doors, see hooded shapes darting along crooked paths, and sense the prying eyes of exhausted laborers too broken to protest my presence.

Most humans here are used to cruelty. They can spot the differences among themselves in an instant: who’s free, who’s a slave, who’s a willing collaborator with the dark elves.

But I’m not one of them. I’m an intruder, and if any guard suspects me, I’ll end up gutted in a back alley or dragged to Orthani’s dungeons to face a worse fate.

My disguise is painstaking. I’ve adopted a height that matches a malnourished local, a slightly hunched posture, even the faint smell of soot clinging to my worn clothes.

My dark hair is tangled on purpose, braided in a messy coil at the base of my skull.

I even smeared dust on my sun-kissed arms to appear duller, less radiant than a real purna would.

It takes a careful hand to camouflage the arcane markings that trace faint lines over my ribs—my birthright, but also a death sentence in this city if discovered.

Orthani. The dark elf capital, seat of merciless lords who view humans and purna as tools or vermin.

They built their grandeur on the backs of people forced into thankless labor.

And I, a purna, walk straight into their den.

They don’t see me for what I am. The battered cloak wrapped over my shoulders might help me vanish into the gloom, but I’m aware that magic throbs beneath my skin, like a potent brew ready to overflow if pressed.

It always does that when I’m close to real danger.

I duck under a crooked wooden awning, peering across a cramped courtyard.

A cluster of humans stands around a flickering brazier.

They’re whispering about bread rations or extra shifts at some workshop.

I sense their fear but also their resignation.

My gut clenches at the sight of so much hopelessness.

A rumble from overhead draws my attention.

Magic-lamps strung along ancient walls flicker with an unsettling glow.

Dark elves pay no mind to the meager lighting in these slums. They prefer to keep humans in half-shadow, the better to remind them of their insignificance.

But that’s not my immediate concern. My reason for being here is far more vital than a few pitiful lamps or the gloom that blankets these alleys.

Aiseth—Ai. She’s the newly awakened purna I’ve been sent to find.

Word reached the Red Purna that Ai manifested her powers abruptly three days ago, nearly burning a row of storage buildings.

The elves would kill to get their hands on her.

Or worse, they’d keep her alive for their sadistic experiments. I can’t let that happen.

A sense of urgency churns inside me, but caution tempers every movement.

The last thing I want is to reveal myself.

This mission was meant to be swift: slip in, retrieve Ai, slip out.

I cling to that plan, yet something about how the Red Purna arranged all this nags at me.

Our communication was too simple, the instructions too vague.

The entire operation feels suspiciously convenient.

There’s a whisper in the corner of my mind that we—Ai and I—are being served up as bait.

I press my fingers against my skirt, feeling the worn dagger I keep strapped beneath the fabric.

It’s not my best weapon, but it’ll do in a pinch.

My real arsenal, my magic, stays coiled deep within me, ready to ignite if threatened.

The risk is high; a single slip could alert any psionically trained dark elf in these streets. But I’m prepared to fight if cornered.

Across the way, a scrawny child scampers behind a rickety cart, rummaging for scraps. Her eyes flick toward me, meeting my gaze for a second. There’s a flicker of curiosity, then she returns to her search for something to eat. No alarm, no shriek that I’m suspicious. Good.

I hurry onward, crossing a narrow walkway that slopes downward.

Crumbling steps lead into an older section of Lowtown, where houses cluster around a central courtyard.

A rancid ditch flows in the middle, emitting a nauseating odor.

I cover my nose discreetly with a piece of cloth. The muffled reek sets my teeth on edge.

“Pssst.” A man’s voice hisses from a recessed doorway, barely audible over the ambient noise.

I tense but keep walking. He hisses again, insistent, “Girl. Over here.”

A flicker of reluctance battles with the knowledge that I might glean news of Ai’s whereabouts.

I slow and lean toward the doorway, hood pulled low over my face.

I see a man of average height, hair matted with dirt, wearing a frayed vest that’s two sizes too large.

His eyes dart up and down the alley in a paranoid manner.

“You just off the boat? You looking for shelter or... a place to rest?” he asks in a hushed tone.

I tilt my head. “Shelter, yes. I’m new.”

He snorts, suspicion lacing his gaze. “No one’s new to Orthani’s Lowtown by choice. Unless you’re running from something. Or smuggling.” He studies me more closely.

I let out a soft scoff. “Running from an old debt, if you must know.”

He shakes his head. “If you need somewhere to hide, you can try The Leaning Steeple down the next row. A battered inn that occasionally rents beds, mostly to travelers who end up stranded. Pay in coin or favors, though. Sometimes the second is riskier.”

“Understood.” I hand him a single copper piece. “Any rumors about... unusual folks? Those rumored to have some magic?”

His eyes flicker, then he shrugs. “Word on the street is a young girl was spotted conjuring sparks near the old mill. She vanished after that. People say the elves are sniffing around for her, but no one’s seen her in two nights.

” He lowers his voice. “If you’re wise, you’ll steer clear.

The elves don’t spare anyone who gets involved. ”

My pulse stutters. “Thank you.”

He slides back into the darkness of the doorway, probably returning to whatever shadowy deals keep him alive.

I continue forward, stepping over soggy planks bridging a filthy puddle.

The mention of a young girl with sparks is enough to confirm Ai was indeed spotted.

I need more specifics, but at least I have a direction: near the old mill.

The gloom thickens as I approach a decaying archway.

Painted letters, half peeled away by time, read The Leaning Steeple.

Under the wavering lamplight, the building leans at a precarious angle, as if hammered by centuries of neglect.

Music or something that passes for it trickles from inside, along with drunken voices.

I push through the squealing door and step into the dusty common room.

The odor of stale ale mingles with the tang of cheap perfume.

Dim sconces along the walls cast flickering shadows that make it difficult to see who’s lurking in the corners.

Humans huddle around battered tables, sipping watery drinks.

A few might be half-elves or other outcasts—anyone with nowhere else to go in Orthani.

I straighten my spine, ignoring the curious stares. The innkeeper, a tall woman with fierce lines on her face, gestures me over. I approach slowly, noting how her gaze sweeps my ragged attire and the tension in my stance.

She doesn’t bother with pleasantries. “Need a bed?”

“I might, though I’m short on coin,” I say softly. “Word is the old mill’s unsafe at night. I was hoping to ask around about that.”

Her lips twist. “The old mill’s always unsafe. The elves root out trouble there. If you’re looking to sleep indoors, it’ll cost you two coppers. If you’re fishing for rumors—” She lowers her tone— “I’d advise caution.”

“Two coppers is fine.” I pass her the money and lean in. “I heard about a girl. Came here, maybe?”

The innkeeper presses her lips together, as if waging an internal battle. At last, she jerks her chin toward a hallway. “Down the back corridor, second door. The occupant was here two nights ago. She left in a hurry. I wasn’t paid enough to ask questions.”

A flicker of relief loosens the knot in my stomach. “Thank you.”

I take the worn key she offers and head down the corridor.

It’s narrow, the walls stained with uncertain smears.

A faint musty scent lingers in the air. The second door squeaks open under my gentle push.

I step inside, adjusting my eyes to the gloom.

An unlit lamp rests on a rickety table, and the single window is shuttered tight.

I allow myself a moment to examine the modest space.

A straw-filled mattress on the floor, a broken chair, a small chest. No personal items remain, no clothing or scraps of fabric.

If Ai truly stayed here, she left in haste.

The adrenaline that’s been simmering in my veins spikes.

The elves might have forced her out, or she fled on her own.