Prologue

  The scent of damp wood and rot mixed with the acrid stench of unwashed bodies filled the air of Zilt’s back alleys. The dim glow of a lone magic ntern flickered, casting distorted shadows against the weathered walls. In this forsaken part of the town, where the cold bit harder and the nights stretched longer, hunger was a more familiar companion than warmth.

  A small, malnourished boy with reddish-brown hair crouched behind a stack of broken crates, clutching his empty stomach. His emerald eyes, once bright, were now dulled by exhaustion and wariness. The ragged bnket around his shoulders did little to shield him from the biting wind. He had learned to expect nothing from the world—kindness was a myth, and mercy was a fleeting illusion.

  But then, the aroma of freshly baked bread cut through the filth-ridden air like a cruel joke. The boy’s head snapped up. A shadow moved in the alley’s entrance.

  Boots scuffed against the dirt as a figure approached. He wasn’t cloaked in luxury, nor did he carry the air of nobility. His worn-out clothes suggested hardship, but his steady posture and quiet confidence were unlike anything the emerald-eyed boy had seen before. Slung over his shoulder was a cloth bag, its contents shifting with a muffled rustle.

  “Oi, little brat,” the boy—three years older at most—called out, his voice steady but free of mockery.

  The younger one flinched but didn’t run. He had learned that running only made them chase.

  The older boy crouched, pulling the bag off his shoulder. With an easy motion, he tossed a small bundle onto the ground between them. The younger boy hesitated before snatching it up, his fingers trembling as they unwrapped the cloth.

  Bread. A thick slice, still warm.

  “Eat,” the older boy said simply, standing up. “There’s more where that came from.”

  The emerald-eyed boy's stomach twisted—not in pain, but in something far more unfamiliar. Hope.

  “Who… are you?” he croaked out, voice hoarse from days of silence.

  The older boy gave a slight smirk. “Just someone who does work for the Sona Merchant Guild. And I hate seeing kids starve.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, his silhouette vanishing into the darkness of the alley.

  The boy didn’t know it yet, but that night was the first step toward a life beyond mere survival.