Seren woke up with a headache that felt like a marching band had taken up residence behind her eyes. The morning light stabbed through the gaps in the shutters, too bright, too sharp. She winced, pressing her palm to her temple, trying to remember anything—anything at all—from the night before. But it was all a blur, the details slipping through her mind like sand.

She had a vague memory of celebrating something. Was it her birthday? Someone’s anniversary? Or just the fact that she had managed to survive another day? The latter seemed most likely. She recalled the warm burn of ale, the clink of glasses, the way the ground seemed to sway beneath her feet long before she’d left the tavern. And after that? Nothing. Just a heavy fog of sleep.

Seren pushed herself up to sitting, feeling the gritty dirt beneath her hands. She squinted around, trying to get her bearings. The alleyway was narrow, shadowed by tall buildings that loomed like gray cliffs. Not exactly where she’d hoped to wake up. This wasn’t any part of Lorthraine she knew. Certainly not the bustling streets of the capital, nor the winding alleys of the town where she’d lingered last night.

“Not ideal,” she muttered, brushing twigs out of her tangled hair. Her robes were rumpled, but at least they were still in one piece. She’d lost a boot, though. Where on earth had she put—oh. There it was, perched inexplicably on a windowsill several feet above her head.

She sighed, feeling a strange mix of relief and resignation. “Could be worse.”

She stumbled to her feet, wobbling slightly, and tried to ignore the curious stares of passersby as they walked past the alley. But there was something about their expressions that made her pause. People weren't just staring; they were giving her a wide berth, quickening their steps as if proximity alone might infect them with some sort of illness.

Seren glanced down at herself, wondering if she’d rolled in something unsavory, but there was nothing particularly offensive on her robes—just the usual stains and smudges from long nights of travel.

As she made her way out of the alley and into the town square, she caught a reflection in a shop window: wild hair, a bruise blossoming across her cheek, and eyes that still carried the glaze of last night’s drink. She straightened her back and tried to look less like a madwoman. It didn’t seem to help much.

“Why is everyone looking at me like I’m a rogue mage about to summon a storm?” She frowned as a mother hurried her children across the cobblestones, casting a wary glance over her shoulder.

That’s when she spotted the trouble: a trio of scruffy-looking men wrestling with a merchant in the shadow of the town's watchtower. The merchant—a slight, nervous-looking fellow with spectacles slipping down his nose—was desperately clutching a small chest, trying to fend off the robbers with nothing but a pitiful squeak.

Seren rolled her eyes. “Right. Well, nothing like a good deed to start the morning.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She marched over to the scuffle, and without much ceremony, pointed a finger at the nearest thug. A small, neat burst of magic sparked from her fingertip, zapping the man’s trousers with a hiss. He yelped, dropping his grip on the merchant to swat at the singed fabric. The other two looked at her, wide-eyed.

“Scram, unless you’d like to see what happens when I aim higher.” She grinned, twirling her finger in a lazy spiral. Sparks crackled around her hand, but to be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure she could manage anything more impressive without keeling over.

The thugs took the hint, muttering curses as they slunk away into the shadows. The merchant, panting, clutched his chest to his chest, bowing low enough that Seren feared he might snap in two.

“Oh, thank you, my lady! Thank you ever so much!” He gushed, adjusting his spectacles with shaky hands. “They would have made off with my entire stock! My whole livelihood!”

Seren waved him off, feeling awkward. “Yeah, yeah. Glad to help. No need to make a scene about it.” She squinted at him, trying to catch her reflection in his polished glasses. “Say, where am I, exactly?”

The merchant blinked, confusion flickering across his face. “Cloudstone, miss. You’re in Cloudstone. In the kingdom of Velsorin.”

“Velsorin?” Seren repeated, the name vaguely familiar. “Ah, that would explain the... reactions.”

The merchant glanced nervously around at the townsfolk still eyeing her with open suspicion. “Not many mages come through here, you see. People here are, ah, wary of magic. Especially the common folk. Not much fondness for those with... your talents.”

Seren snorted, the sound harsh in the quiet square. “Wary? They look at me like I’m about to start turning people into toads.”

“Well, you see, in Velsorin, the mages hold all the power. They’re the ones who govern—if that’s what you’d call it.” He wrung his hands, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting a robed figure to swoop down at any moment. “The common folk have little choice but to obey. Most townsfolk keep their heads down and hope they don’t draw attention. Some of the mages can be... unpredictable.”

Seren raised an eyebrow. “Unpredictable, huh? And they think I’m one of those types?”

The merchant swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, precisely. They—they don’t know if you might, you know, turn their wells to wine or... or make their cows explode.” He chuckled nervously, but his eyes were still wide, as if he half-expected her to do just that.

Seren rolled her eyes, more at herself than at him. Of course, she’d wander into the kingdom where her kind were treated like walking disasters. She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Well, that’s just lovely. I get a headache, wake up in the dirt, and now I’m the town menace.”

The merchant gave her a sympathetic look, though he kept a cautious distance. “If it’s any consolation, you saved my life. You’re a hero, in my eyes.”

Seren gave a lopsided smile, patting him on the shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. “Thanks, but let’s keep that between us, yeah? Don’t think my reputation can handle any more excitement today.”

The merchant nodded eagerly, then scurried off, clutching his chest like it was his newborn child. Seren watched him go, then glanced around the square, feeling the weight of the townspeople’s stares. She sighed again, running a hand through her hair.

“Great. Just great. Welcome to Velsorin, Seren, where you’re feared, misunderstood, and definitely not getting a free drink anytime soon.”