Alina kept to the shadows, her mind racing as she replayed the vision over and over. The man’s voice, cold and commanding, echoed in her thoughts, a warning that settled like a stone in her chest. Whoever he was, he held power—enough to mobilize entire districts and tear through the city in search of her. She knew she had to stay ahead of him, to find answers before he found her.
The streets were quiet in the early hours, the sounds of the city muted by the oppressive weight of curfew. In the dim light, Alina moved quickly, blending into the narrow paths that wound through the underbelly of the city. Here, among the forgotten alleys and crumbling buildings, she felt safest, though safety was becoming a relative term.
As she approached the outskirts of the district, she glanced up. The remnants of a faded mural covered the wall of an old building, depicting figures in flowing robes, their hands raised in an ancient gesture of peace. It was a reminder of the oracles who had once walked freely, honored for their visions rather than hunted for them.
A rustling sound caught her attention. Alina stopped, pressing herself against the cold, damp wall, her ears straining to pick up any movement. She held her breath, counting the seconds, waiting for whoever—or whatever—was out there to reveal itself.
“Easy there,” a low voice whispered.
She turned, heart pounding, and saw a shadow detach itself from the wall, stepping into a thin sliver of light that cut through the gloom. It was a young man, not much older than herself, with tousled hair and a wary gaze. He held up his hands, a silent gesture to show he meant no harm.
“You’re in the wrong part of town,” he said, his voice barely audible.
Alina tightened her grip on her cloak, studying him. “So are you.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “True enough. Name’s Jarek. I’ve got a knack for finding things… or people.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not looking to be found.”
“No one is,” he replied smoothly. “But it’s clear you’re running from something—or someone.”
The words lingered between them, heavy and dangerous. Alina weighed her options. She didn’t trust him, but he had approached her quietly, with no sign of aggression. And he didn’t look like someone who worked for the regime, at least not by his worn clothes and guarded expression.
Jarek took a careful step closer, lowering his voice further. “Listen, I can help you. There’s a place—safe, hidden, where people like you can disappear.”
Alina’s instincts screamed at her to run, to slip away before she became tangled in anyone else’s agenda. But something in his gaze held her attention. He looked… genuine. Or at least as genuine as someone in these streets could afford to be.
“What do you know about people like me?” she asked cautiously.
“I know enough to recognize when someone’s trying to outrun their fate,” he said, his gaze flickering to her hands, where her fingers trembled ever so slightly. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? One of the last?”
The question was a knife, cutting through her resolve. She took a steadying breath, her thoughts racing. If she denied it, he might leave her alone—or he might decide she was worth turning in to the authorities for a reward. But if she told him the truth…
She clenched her jaw, meeting his eyes head-on. “What if I am?”
For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of her admission settling heavily between them. Then, Jarek gave a brief nod, as if he had already suspected the truth.
“Then you need to come with me,” he said quietly. “They’re closer than you think, and you won’t last another night if you stay out here alone.”
A chill crept up her spine, but she kept her voice steady. “Why would you help me?”
Jarek shrugged, a shadow of something unreadable passing over his face. “Maybe I don’t like seeing the regime win. Or maybe I just don’t think anyone deserves to be hunted for something they didn’t choose.”
Alina hesitated, but her options were limited, and her need for answers was greater than her fear of trusting a stranger. She nodded, the decision made, though her heart hammered in her chest as she did.
“Fine,” she said, her voice a whisper. “Lead the way.”
Jarek nodded and turned, moving swiftly through the alleys with practiced ease. She followed, keeping close, her senses heightened to every sound, every flicker of movement. As they crossed into another district, the buildings grew more decrepit, their windows shattered, their walls cloaked in vines and graffiti.
Finally, they arrived at a small, unmarked door tucked between two crumbling warehouses. Jarek knocked three times, pausing after each tap. After a few moments, the door creaked open, and a weathered face peered out from the shadows.
“Got another one,” Jarek murmured, and the person inside nodded, gesturing for them to enter.
Alina slipped through the doorway, the air thick with the scent of old books and something vaguely metallic. The room was dimly lit, cluttered with shelves and papers, maps scattered across a large wooden table. Figures moved quietly, murmuring to each other, their voices hushed and cautious.
“This is the Safehouse,” Jarek said, his tone soft but firm. “A place for those who don’t fit in the regime’s plans. Oracles, rebels, anyone with reason to stay hidden.”
A surge of relief mingled with a flicker of hope as Alina took in her surroundings. She hadn’t felt safe in years, but here, among these strangers and their whispered plans, she felt a spark of possibility.
For the first time in as long as she could remember, Alina allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she’d thought.