Much to Abel’s surprise, it was with great ease that Madam Fenharrow forgave the two boys after they provided a clean hallway, and great reluctance that she accepted their decision to both attend the Metalworks’ school.

“A few ground rules you both must follow before you enter.” She warned them the day they were set to depart for the Altiman District on their first day. “You must tread carefully. They’ve become territorial of the place. Don’t reveal your magical abilities unless you absolutely have to. Don’t start fights. Try to be as inconspicuous as possible. It’s better if they think you’ve moved into the District than transiting from it.”

“I’m not sure we can prevent people from spotting us coming and going.” Abel murmured skeptically.

“Just keep a low profile.” She was worried. She kept fretting over their clothes, already demanding to iron them twice before they were certainly allowed to leave. Whoever she was afraid of was worth the fear. It unsettled Abel and Neymar alike.

“We’ll try.”

The Altiman District was nestled on the edge of the city. A tributary of the River Road ran through it, dumping into Lake Setia on the other side. Right alongside the river road, wrought iron gates stood thrice as tall as any denizen, turning red from the damp rust. Brick wall hallways extended past the gate, leading into an inspection zone. Officers from the empire guard were waiting for Abel and Neymar the morning they approached the gates to begin school. The officers thoroughly inspected their sparse bags, pat them down for counterfeit, demanded identification, then a formal written letter from the Empire’s ruling council to enter the zone, then demanded the same identification again. Abel could’ve sworn they had short term memory loss from the frequency they requested the same documents over and over.

It was an exceptionally long and arduous process, where Abel’s attempts to clarify their status were met with a sharp click of the tongue. Every move he made felt like an inconvenience to them. At least Neymar seemed to have a slightly easier time.

Dear lord of light, they were going have to go through this every morning.

“Thought it would never end.” Neymar sighed as they finally stepped out of the inspection zone and into the District.

“We’re going to be late.” Abel muttered, frustrated.

“Ah, well. Just try not to make a stink about it. I don't want to deal with another officer for at least another hour.”

“Right.”

They were immediately met with a bustling shanty town. Temporary housing structures made of metal sheets and plywood were stacked on top of each other, buttressed against old crumbling brick industrial buildings, narrowing the already labyrinthine streets. Warehouses and factories converted into housing are tethered together with wire of hanging laundry spilling out of sparse, high-reach windows.

The school was a squat brick building tucked between houses and surrounded by a metal wire gate that reminded Abel of a chicken coop. An officer stood at the gate, ushering students through and counting them like chicks. Abel and Neymar slipped into the crowd easily, blending into what felt like an absurd number of people for the size of the building.

“Every kid in this district must be here.” Abel murmured, his eyes darting between the skeptical glances shot their way and the absent gazes of passing students. For the number of people around them, they were particularly quiet. There was no casual chatter. No playwrestling. Was that laughing he heard or coughing? The disappointment settled in Abel’s chest like a weight. Everything he thought he could make of this new life was falling short in a way he couldn’t understand.

He needed to get to the bottom of this.

“Okay, people. Pay attention for five minutes, and then we can go back to independent study.” Their homeroom teacher clapped his distracted students to attention. The classroom was a mess of half-open rusty windows, old desks with years of students doodling and picking at them to wear them down on the edges, sparse bookshelves. The room was crowded. And here, voices bustled, sharp. Conversation was animated, almost hostile.

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“Look at that punk. Can’t even cut his hair right it’s falling all over his face.”

“That guy looks like a geezer. What is he, 40?”

“Who do you think is going to be on duty at lunch time? Think I can sneak out?”

“And where the hell would you go from there?”

“Anywhere my heart takes me.”

“Her heart will take her to the booze shop down the street.”

“Shut up! I don’t have a problem.”

And Abel and Neymar, standing at the front of the room beside the teacher, heard it all.

Neymar looked like he wanted to punch someone.

Abel was just relieved. This, he could work with.

“Close enough. This is Abel and Neymar. They’re foster brothers. They just transferred, so let’s give them the Metalwork’s welcome!” The homeroom teacher waved Abel and Neymar to two desks in the corner that were once left there to be discarded. “Go on, make friends. Read a book. I don’t care. Math starts in an hour.”

The morning barely began and he already sounded so tired.

Abel and Neymar shuffled to their desks. Abel smiled at each face they passed, receiving odd looks. Nobody seemed eager to approach them.

Well, all except one.

“Which vault did you spring up from?” A lilting voice piped up as he took his seat. “Thought they didn’t accept new entrants since Altiman closed its borders.”

The girl who propped her elbow on Abel’s desk reminded Abel of a cherry. Full round cheeks pronounce beneath a cloud of dark tight curls held down by a bright red headband. She was broad, with thick limbs draped in a modified uniform jacket that resembled more of a cloak. Behind her, a trio of students had their backs turned to them, but the way they occasionally leaned in closer to the girl and side-eyed the two boys meant they were raring to intervene at a moment’s notice. So, the girl is influential here. But is she dangerous?

“I’m Rockwell, by the way.” She held her hand out. Off instinct, Abel took it and kissed the back of it in the customary Caldon way. Neymar elbowed Abel in his side, which caused him to release his grip on her.

“Oh.” Rockwell squinted, confused.

“Oh I—“ Abel’s mind raced. “We were found in the West, by the war front, and the government decided to help us by bringing us here.” Abel lied, or rather, told the truth with less details. “You pick up a few things when you live near border.”

His gaze flicked to Neymar, who was staring at him with a stony expression. You little shit, what are you dragging me into? He seemed to say with his eyes.

“Help you! More like throw you into a cage.” Rockwell laughed, seemingly assuaged with the story. “You must’ve lived the high life out there until you got caught, eh? With enough room for your elbows and no Catcher breathing down your back?”

“Catcher?” Neymar grunted out, which seemed to delight Rockwell.

“He speaks!” She shoved him playfully from across the desk. Neymar remained unmoving, confused by the gesture.

“The Catchers are the officers in this district.” Rockwell’s lips curled down, grim. “Their official title is The Peacekeepers, but they’re anything but. Thay patrol constantly, and when they see you as even the slightest threat— you could look at their shoe wrong and they’ll find that justification enough— they’ll snatch you up. You’ll be gone, just like that.” She snapped, then sighed. “Some folks get spirited away on the suspicion of being mages. Can you believe that?”

“There are mages in the district?” Neymar prodded in disbelief.

Rockwell gazed between the two of them, as if assessing them all over again.

“Some rumors float around. I think it’s just an excuse for Catchers to get rid of people they don’t like.” Rockwell shrugged.

“Well, what do the Catchers do with them?”

“Nobody knows. Some people are convinced there’s some prison, maybe out in the boondocks.” Rockwell picked at a spot on Abel’s desk. “Others think the Catchers take them into a corner and execute them. We’ve found bodies in the river before.”

Neymar shuddered. “That’s horrible.”

“Ain’t it?” Rockwell smiled, sympathetic. “Just be careful out there, boys.”

“How often does someone get… Caught?” Abel quietly inquired.

“Often enough.” Rockwell bit her lip. “Just be careful with who you talk to around here. Some folks take advantage of the system.”

“How?”

SLAM. A hand smacked down on a desk, cutting through the murmur of voices and catching their attention. A group of students had congregated around a single desk near the back. A boy stood over the desk in question, a look of absolute venom in his eyes.

“You have some nerve showing your face today, you evil bitch.”

Abel leaned to the side to gaze past the boy to the one he was accusing—

And he swore he could feel the wind drift through and twist through his hair, his fingers, all the way to her.

The “evil bitch” in question was a girl with an impassive stance, her slender arms folded. A small gold ring embellished her hooked nose, and her full lips pressed together in seeming apathy. Her hair was cropped short to her chin, dyed a bright blonde that was fading at the roots. Her gaze was sharp and deep as it lingered away from the offending boy looming above her— a gaze that settled right on Abel.

She’s pretty. Abel smiled at her. He caught a brief flicker of amusement and surprise in her eyes before she broke away.

And then he registered the words the boy just said.

Evil?

That can’t be right.