I hated Nova Rhea the second we stepped into it. The air stank of oil and metal, like a machine's breath, and the neon lights burned my eyes. Towers stretched up forever, their glass faces flashing ads for NeuraTech implants—smiling people with wires in their skulls, promising a better life.
Better for who? Not us. Not Clara. My boots scuffed the cracked pavement of the Low District, where the slums festered under the spires. I pulled my hood tighter, hiding my face. Clara walked beside me, her silver hair tucked under a scarf, but it still caught the glow of a flickering streetlamp. She looked calm, like always, but her eyes darted to every shadow."Keep your head down, Asher," she said, voice soft but firm. "We're not home anymore."Home. That word stung. Home was a stone cottage in the moors, miles from here, where the wind smelled of grass, not ash. Where Clara taught me to spark a flame with a whisper, even if it barely flickered in my hands. Magic.
The thing the Redian Coalition hated most.
The thing that made her a witch—and me a nobody who couldn't get it right."Why are we here?" I muttered, dodging a drunk stumbling out of a bar. Drones hummed overhead, their red eyes scanning the crowd. My stomach twisted. "You said it's dangerous.""It is." She didn't look at me, just kept walking, her cloak brushing the ground.
"But we need answers. There's… something happening. I can feel it."She always talked like that—vague, like she was protecting me from something bigger. I hated it. I was sixteen, not a kid anymore.
My hands clenched in my pockets, scars itching under the cloth. Marks from training, from falling, from running. Clara had patched me up every time, her hands warm, her voice steady. Now she was leading us into the heart of the beast—Nova Rhea, the Coalition's capital, where witches were hunted like rats.We turned into an alley, narrow and choked with trash. A holo-sign buzzed, half-broken, spitting sparks.
"NeuraTech Saves," it flickered. I wanted to smash it. Ten years ago, they rolled out those implants, saying they'd make everyone smarter, stronger. No need for magic anymore. No need for witches. Then the purges started. I was six when I saw my first burning—smoke curling from a village square, screams I couldn't unhear. Clara found me after, hiding in a ditch, and took me in. She never explained why. I never asked."You're quiet," she said, glancing at me. Her eyes were green, bright even in the dark, like they held a piece of the forest we'd left behind."Just thinking." I kicked a can, watching it skitter into a pile of junk. "This place feels wrong.""It is wrong." She stopped, her hand brushing my arm. "But we're here for a reason. Trust me, Asher."I wanted to. I always did. But something gnawed at me, a cold knot in my chest.
She'd been strange lately—whispering to herself, staring at the stars like they were talking back. Last week, she burned a letter in the fireplace, her face pale. When I asked, she just smiled and said, "Nothing to worry about." Right. Like I believed that.The alley opened into Central Plaza, a wide square packed with people. My breath caught. I'd never seen so many—hundreds, maybe thousands, shoving past each other under a giant holo-screen that took up half the sky. It played Coalition propaganda on loop: "Magic is chaos. NeuraTech is order." I gripped Clara's sleeve, suddenly feeling small."Stay close," she whispered, pulling me through the crowd. Her scarf slipped, and a strand of silver hair fell loose. I saw a man stare, his eyes narrowing. My heart jumped. Everyone knew witches had hair like that—silver, gold, colors that didn't belong. I stepped in front of her, glaring until he looked away."Asher, don't," she said, tugging me back. "We can't draw attention.""Then why are we here?" I snapped, louder than I meant. A drone buzzed closer, its lens glinting. I froze, cursing myself. Stupid. She didn't answer, just pulled me toward the plaza's edge, where a fountain sputtered dirty water.
I leaned against the stone, trying to calm down. The crowd was louder now, chanting something I couldn't make out. Clara's face tightened, like she'd heard a gunshot.
"What's wrong?" I asked, but she was staring at the holo-screen.It flickered, then lit up with the Coalition's gear-and-lightning sigil. A voice boomed, cold as steel: "Citizens, witness justice."The knot in my chest turned to ice. Clara grabbed my hand, her grip hard. "Asher, listen to me," she said, so quiet I barely heard. "Whatever happens, you run. You live.""What?" I yanked my hand free, panic rising. "What are you talking about?"But she was looking past me, at the center of the plaza. A platform was rising, metal grinding, and enforcers in black exosuits stood in a ring. A prisoner knelt there, hands bound, silver hair spilling over her shoulders.It was Clara.My knees buckled. "No," I whispered, my voice breaking. "That's not—how—"She was still beside me, wasn't she? I turned, but her hand was gone. The Clara next to me shimmered, fading like smoke. A spell. A trick. My head spun, and the real Clara—the one on the platform—looked right at me, her eyes full of something I didn't understand. Fear? Love? I couldn't tell.The crowd roared, "Burn the witch!" and I was already running, shoving people aside, screaming her name.