Chapter 1 The Blood-Stained Notice
SERINA POV
The door to our shack hung crooked on one hinge, swaying in the wind. That wasn't unusual. Everything in the Rust Quarter broke eventually and stayed broken.
But the paper nailed to it—that was new.
My stomach dropped before I even read the words. Official Council documents never meant anything good for people like us. I ripped it down, my hands shaking so hard the parchment rattled.
NOTICE OF MAGICAL CONTAMINATION
By order of the Mage Council, the citizen TYMARIC ASHWELL has been deemed contaminated beyond cleansing. Execution by Holy Fire will proceed in THREE DAYS at dawn. The body will be burned to prevent spread of corruption.
Resistance will result in immediate incineration of all family members.
The paper crumpled in my fist. Three days. They were giving us three days before they murdered my brother.
"Sera?"
Tym's voice came from inside, weak and scratchy. I shoved the notice into my pocket and plastered on a smile before ducking through the doorway. Our "home" was barely ten feet across—one room with a leaking roof, a pile of stolen blankets in the corner, and walls so thin I could hear our neighbors breathing at night.
Tym sat wrapped in every blanket we owned, his twelve-year-old frame looking even smaller than usual. His gray eyes—the same color as mine—were too big in his pale face. As I watched, he coughed into his hand. When he pulled it away, blood dotted his palm.
"You're late," he said, trying to smile. "I was worried the enforcers got you for stealing again."
"Takes more than enforcers to catch me." I crossed to him, checking his forehead with the back of my hand. Burning hot. Again. "How long have you been coughing blood?"
"Just started." He was lying. The rust-colored stains on our blankets told the real story. "Did you get the herbs? The ones that help with the fever?"
I had. I'd stolen them from an apothecary three streets over, nearly getting caught by the shop owner's son. But herbs wouldn't help now. Not with an execution notice in my pocket.
"Yeah, I got them." I busied myself crushing the leaves into our battered tin cup, mixing them with water that tasted like rust. Anything to avoid looking at Tym's hopeful face. "Drink this. All of it."
He made a face at the bitter smell but drank obediently. I watched his throat work as he swallowed, memorizing it. Three days. That's all we had left.
Unless I did something impossible.
"Sera, you're scaring me." Tym set down the empty cup, his thin fingers trembling. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"
I opened my mouth to lie—to say everything was fine, to give him one more peaceful day. But Tym deserved better than lies.
"The Council knows you're sick." I pulled out the notice, smoothing the crumpled paper. "They're calling it magical contamination. They say—" My voice cracked. I forced the words out. "They say they're going to execute you. Three days from now."
The color drained from Tym's already pale face. "But I'm not contaminated. I'm just sick. Tell them I'm just sick!"
"They don't care." I grabbed his hands, holding tight when he tried to pull away. "Listen to me. This isn't over. I'm going to fix this."
"How?" Tym's eyes filled with tears. "We're nobody, Sera. We're nothing. The Council doesn't even see people like us except when they want to kill us." His breath hitched. "Just like Mom. They burned her and called it justice. Now they'll burn me too."
"No." The word came out hard and sharp. I'd watched our mother die on a Council pyre two years ago, her crime nothing more than trying to heal sick people without a license. I still dreamed about her screams sometimes. "They're not touching you. I won't let them."
"You can't stop them!" Tym was crying now, his thin shoulders shaking. "They have magic and weapons and—and everything! We have nothing!"
He was right. We had nothing. We were nothing—two rats living in the gutters of Eldrath's capital, invisible to everyone except when the Council wanted someone to kill.
But I hadn't kept Tym alive for five years by accepting what was possible.
"Then I'll get something." I stood up, my mind already racing. "There are people in the Shadowmarket who trade in favors. Dangerous people. Maybe one of them—"
"The Shadowmarket?" Tym stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "Sera, those people would sell you for pocket change. They're criminals!"
"So am I." I'd been stealing since I was seven years old. Fighting since I was eight. Surviving since birth. "I'm not letting you die, Tym. Whatever it takes. I promise."
A sound outside froze us both—the heavy thud of boots on packed dirt. Multiple pairs.
I moved to the window, peering through a gap in the boards. My blood turned to ice.
Mage Enforcers. Six of them, their armor gleaming even in the dim evening light. They were going door to door, checking papers, and dragging people out into the street.
"They're early," I whispered. "The notice said three days, they're not supposed to come until—"
The door exploded inward.
The wood splintered like it was paper. An enforcer ducked inside, his hand already glowing with magic. Behind him, two more blocked the doorway.
"Tymaric Ashwell," the first enforcer said, his voice flat and cold. "Come quietly or we burn the whole block."
Tym made a small, terrified sound.
I stepped in front of him, my empty hands raised. "He's just a kid. He's sick, not contaminated. Please, just let me—"
"Contamination is contamination." The enforcer's hand glowed brighter. "The Council has accelerated all executions in this district. New orders came down an hour ago." His eyes locked on Tym. "The boy burns tonight."
Tonight. Not three days from now. Tonight.
The world tilted. I had no weapons, no magic, no way to fight six armed enforcers. Behind me, Tym's breath came in panicked gasps. In minutes, they'd drag him into the street and burn him alive while I watched.
Unless I made a choice.
"Wait." My voice came out steadier than I expected. "I know where the Shadowmarket's hidden entrance is. The one your enforcers have been searching for. Let my brother go, and I'll tell you."
It was a lie. A desperate, stupid lie. But the enforcer hesitated.
In that moment of hesitation, I grabbed the tin cup and threw the remaining herb water in his face. He stumbled back, cursing. I shoved Tym toward the gap in the back wall—the loose board I'd prepared months ago for emergencies exactly like this.
"Run!" I screamed. "Run and don't stop!"
Magic flared behind me, burning hot enough to singe my hair. A hand grabbed my shoulder, yanking me backward. I twisted, fighting like a wild animal, buying Tym seconds to escape.
Through the chaos, I saw my brother's pale face appear in the gap—not running, not leaving.
"Sera, no—"
"GO!"
The last thing I saw before an enforcer's fist connected with my skull was Tym disappearing into the darkness, still alive.
Still free.
For now.