Mirae charged forward, swerving on her heels. She grunted as her back slammed into something. The force of it sent her staggering forward, hands slapping against the dirt and stone, tiny rocks sticking to her palm. “You damn brat, watch where you’re going?” a voice called, as she scrambled to her feet and sprinted off.
Later. She could deal with that later.
“Excuse me, miss,” a stern voice yelled, muffled by the crowd's chattering.
She ignored them. Whoever had called wasn’t important. She needed to find her brother. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a pair of children, perhaps a few years younger than herself, running alongside her.
This is seriously not the time.
She skidded to a stop, gravel rolling under her feet. Where was she? She looked around, trying to find landmarks. The two children ran around her, cheering happily and urging her on. She wanted to call them idiots, but they didn’t know what she was doing.
How could she blame them?
Her eyes landed on what she was looking for. A large wooden sign in the shape of an ice cream. She’d just have to continue down this path and she would find her brother.
She charged forward, slamming into another person. Something cold hit her back, sliding off her, following an icy line and hitting the floor with a wet thud. More angry shouts sounded behind her as she powered down the path. Why did there have to be so many people? It was ridiculous.
After a while, she stopped again, ensuring she was as far as possible from where the shouting happened. Her chest heaved as her lungs burned with effort. She couldn’t wait to be a proper Mana Cultivator. Then—with some actual training—she wouldn’t have to deal with the pains of having such a weak body.
Looking around, she searched for more landmarks. She was close. She’d find her brother, she’d... What would she do? In the past, a vision would always come true. There was nothing she could do to change them. If she wasn’t there, they would still happen. If she was, nothing changed. It didn’t matter. They would always play out the same.
It was like I was nothing but a puppet on a string. But, I can’t just give up. Can I? I can’t leave my brother, but then again, maybe I already have. Maybe I’m running for no reason. Killing myself over something that’s already happened. But that was the point.
Mirae brought her hands up. Her palms were raw, with small rocks decorating her skin, and her nails covered in dirt. These were the hands—she believed—of someone who would try no matter what. Something within her told her that her visions could be changed and she promised to one day make sure that happened. So, no matter what, she couldn’t give up. She had to keep pushing.
Her father had almost died—her vision said he would. But he still lived. At first, that had given her some hope. But the visions of his death still came. Though part of her knew, deep down, that something was different. She didn’t know what; she didn’t know how, but something was different.
The sound of hurried footsteps came from behind her.
Mirae lowered her hands and turned, wondering who else was in a rush. The glint of the sun bounced off the tip of the polearm held by one of the many guards running down the path. She locked eyes with him and he shouted, “Stop right there, now!”
Turning on her heel, Mirae bolted. That had just made an unpleasant situation worse. She was trying to find her brother so that she could keep the guards away from him. Now she was at risk of bringing them right to him.
Ducking under one person, and squeezing past another, Mirae forced her way into a crowd. She had to lose the guards. There was no point in rushing to Hector and bringing down even more trouble on him. As the crowd increased and the space for movement tightened, she noticed that the guard’s voice faded slowly into the background of the festival.
The large amount of people had perhaps slowed them down. Unlike her, they were big. And the weapons the guards carried would make it difficult to chase a tiny girl like her through a big clump of people.
Good, I should have some time before they spot me again.
Mirae squeezed past a finely dressed woman, her cheek brushing up against the smooth silk of a dress that she could never afford. She needed to find Hector. If not him, that figure from her vision—or at least where that figure was. They had been the one to alert the guards. So if she could stop them, perhaps she could prevent everything.
----------------------------------------
Hector pressed his lips into a thin line, his gaze scanning the flow of people. The happiness, the fun, and the laughter. All of it mixed, stirred by the gentle beat of music in the distance. The cobblestone walkways were less choked with people now—his Talent had warned him of this. This part of the festival was no longer a good place to look for targets.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
We should probably head to the ride section. The long lines there will probably bear some fruit. Waiting in line is annoying as is, people’s focus should be running on strings. At least mine would be.
He angled his head to Lincoln and nodded. “We’re going that way,” he said, thumbing behind him. As he lifted his foot to walk away, shouts split the festive atmosphere. Hector spotted a small group of guards marching down the cobblestone. They weren’t happy, and they were looking for someone. Their eyes darted from person to person as a few of the guards stopped and pulled people aside, patting them down.
What the heck is going on?
Hector frowned at Lincoln. It hadn’t been long enough for them to get this worked up. They should have had more time. Lincoln shrugged as his head snapped back and forth. “We should get going.”
Hector nodded, moving in the opposite direction to the guards’ approach. None of this made sense. They should have had more time to move around before the guards cracked down this much. But whatever the reason, they needed to get away from here.
As Hector moved through the crowd. He spotted something amongst the thinning groups of people behind him. Jerking, his eyes flashed as dread flooded through his chest. He spotted a figure a few feet in front of the approaching guards. He’d only glimpsed white hair—something that wasn’t common in the slums.
But it couldn’t be Mirae. She was with Mr. Pennybrook, making them all lunch. The yellow and red confetti continued to rain down like snow, their numbers obscuring his vision. Should he go back to check? What if it wasn’t her? What if it was?
Lincoln’s head bumped into him, and they both let out a curse. “What’s wrong?” Lincoln asked, his eyes darting back and forth. Two children rushed by with a look of confusion on their faces, sidestepping one. Lincoln frowned. “We don’t have time for you to be spacing out. Let’s go.”
Hector nodded, as Lincoln stepped by him—it was probably best he take the lead. Hector needed to be sure it wasn’t Mirae. “Where did the pretty girl go? She was right in front of us a second ago.” A young boy, one of the two confused children, said.
Hector spared a glance behind him in the direction the two children were looking. Were they talking about the same person he had seen? The crowd continued to shift, as the Middlec guards continued marching down the street. He needed to keep walking.
A short distance away from the cobblestone path was a makeshift alleyway—they were all over the festival, but people rarely used them. They could be more cramped than walking down a normal body-choked path.
If I move parallel to the crowd and squeeze in there, I should be able to see if it’s her without getting seen.
He raised an arm, grabbing Lincoln’s shoulder, slowing his friend down and causing him to look back. “What’s up?” He asked, looking past Hector with a frown.
“I think I might have seen Mirae. I’m going to squeeze into one of those side alleys and see if I can find her.” More cries from disgruntled festivalgoers coloured the atmosphere. The guards were close.
A few stalls down, two Phoenix Company initiates looked up. They frowned and began making their way towards the guards, towards Hector. The walls were closing in. Lincoln nodded, frowning as his gaze flickered to Hector. “But you should be careful if you get trapped in there. The guards will definitely get you.”
“I know, but we might have more problems,” Hector said, gesturing towards the initiates.
“Well, ain’t that just great?” Lincoln grabbed Hector’s hand, pulling him. “We have to get out of here. We can’t get trapped between them.”
Hector tugged his hand back. “Lincoln, I’m not risking it. If it’s Mirae, then the plan is out the window. I’m not letting my sister get caught by the guards.”
A group of drunk men shuffled by, the stink of alcohol emanating from them like sewage from a gutter. Lincoln frowned, looking from the guards to the initiates. “It’s not her, Hector. What would she even be doing here? She’s with Mr. Pennybrook.” Lincoln’s hands twitched as one man stumbled. He was considering pickpocketing now, of all times.
“You know what? You go ahead.” Hector said, letting out a huff—he couldn’t ask his friend to risk his life for a simple hunch. No, he could do this alone. The cooldown on the [Street Reader] was still active, so there was no chance of that being much help. “I’ll figure something out Lincoln, just head back to Mr Pennybrooks for now. Something is not right.”
“Alright, I’ll—”
“Hello, there young ones. Are you enjoying the festival?” The voice pulled on Hector’s nerves like a string. His heart leapt in his chest as in front of them stood a brown-haired initiate. His eyes were heavy with bags as he scratched the back of his head, ruffling his dark red robes. “You looked a little tense, so I thought I would come and see if everything was alright.”
Hector swallowed hard, unable to move the fear lodged in his throat, tightening his airways. His hands clawed at his pants as the words he wanted to say seemed stuck. Unable to move. Unable to help.
“Nope, just a little lost, is all?” Lincoln said, chuckling. He took a step back and placed a hand on Hector’s back. “Me and my friend are just looking for our friends is all.”
The man brought a hand—scarred with sagging burns—to his face and scratched his stubble. “Lost. I can believe that.” The man let out a small yawn, rubbing at his eyes as his gaze moved past the two of them. “I’ve almost got myself lost a few times and I’ve been coming to the festival for years.”
Hector let out a raspy chuckle, sparing a glance back at the crowd—he couldn’t afford to waste time on this sleepy idiot. Behind him, one of the many Middlec guards poked his friend and signalled to a cluster of people. There, Hector spotted white hair and shorts. He only glimpsed a part of the brown shorts that the person wore—but that didn’t mean it was her.
“Something got your attention, friend. Where was it you said you were going again?” The initiate asked, placing a hand into the breast pocket of his robes.
System, what are his stats?
Fighting him would be a major screwup. But if he could at least use his Talent to buy a few precious seconds, then that would be good. Several shouts came from behind as the guards appeared to spot what they were looking for. If that was Mirae, he was running out of time—he couldn’t let them get to her.
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///: Acquiring target stats…
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Cultivation level: [Gravity Forging - 4]
Talent: None
///
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Crap