Alina Valen’s world shifted in shades of gray, shadows casting their eerie silhouettes as she slipped through the narrow alleys of the Inner District. The buildings, towering relics of a time when humanity reached for the sky, now seemed to loom over her like guards. Their once-brilliant façades were dulled with grime, a bleak reminder of a society that had long since traded ambition for control.
She kept her hood pulled low, her gaze fixed on the cracked pavement as she moved, counting her steps, one cautious footfall after another. Every sound—a distant shout, a shuffling pair of footsteps—set her heart pounding. This district wasn’t safe, and tonight, the world felt heavier, as though something in the air itself was on the verge of collapse. She couldn’t explain it; she never could. But she had learned to listen to these instincts, as they were often the only thing that kept her one step ahead of discovery.
She rounded a corner and froze, the dim glow of a streetlamp illuminating a small, crumpled figure leaning against the wall. It was an old woman, her frail form shrouded in rags, her hand extended in a silent plea. Alina’s eyes darted around, wary of any watchers, before she slipped a small piece of bread from her pocket and placed it in the woman’s trembling hand.
“Thank you,” the woman whispered, her eyes misty with gratitude. But as Alina turned to leave, the woman’s grip tightened around her wrist, surprising her with an unexpected strength.
“You… you’re one of them, aren’t you?” the woman rasped, her voice low and wavering. “One of the oracles…”
Alina pulled her hand back, taking a sharp step away. Her blood ran cold. She had spent her entire life hiding what she was, what she could do. Even speaking the word “oracle” was enough to draw unwanted attention, and she could already imagine the regime’s cold steel handcuffs, the blinding lights of interrogation. Yet, the woman’s eyes were gentle, and somehow, they held a sense of knowing.
“Please,” Alina whispered, her voice low and urgent. “Keep your voice down.”
The old woman’s gaze softened, and she nodded knowingly. “You can’t hide it, child. It’s written all over you. The last of the seers…” She trailed off, her words barely audible, but they sent a chill through Alina’s bones.
And then, it hit.
A sharp, blinding pain sliced through her mind. Her vision blurred, and the world around her twisted, reshaping itself into something darker, something impossibly real. She clutched her head, falling to her knees as images flooded her mind—images of fire, of people running, of streets filled with chaos and fear.
She saw a tall man in dark robes, his face shrouded in shadow, his voice booming with authority as he commanded forces to scour the districts. “Find her!” he roared. “The last oracle must be brought before me.”
Alina’s breath came in shallow gasps, her fingers clawing at the ground as she tried to anchor herself back to reality. She could feel the woman’s hand on her shoulder, steadying her, grounding her in the present.
“What… what was that?” Alina whispered, her voice barely audible.
“A vision,” the woman replied, her tone grim but understanding. “A glimpse of the future, child. And it looks like they’re coming for you.”
As the pain ebbed and the world righted itself around her, Alina’s fear solidified into something colder, something sharper. She had spent years denying what she was, suppressing the visions, but it was clear now that hiding wouldn’t save her. They knew. And they would come.
“Then I’ll have to be ready,” she murmured, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart.
With one last glance at the woman, Alina pulled her hood low once more and melted back into the shadows, her mind racing with thoughts of escape, and her heart carrying the weight of a future she could no longer avoid.