Chapter 2 Come to Me
Serafina
Night crept over Dust District, slow, heavy, chilling. By the time the last sliver of daylight died between the leaning rooftops, the cold had already slithered in through the cracks of our shack.
After tucking my hair back into my bonnet, I helped Lio nestle beneath his thin blanket, smoothing it over his bony shoulders as if that alone could keep the cold at bay. His breath rasped—too shallow for comfort, too fragile to ignore.
“I have to go,” I murmured, smoothing his hair from his forehead. “I’ll be back… I promise. Try and get some sleep."
He nodded weakly, eyelids sinking. I forced myself to step away before fear kept me glued to his side.
The moment I slipped outside, I moved through the alleys as I always did at night—silent, quick, hoping the darkness didn’t hide anyone desperate enough to rob even a Dust rat like me.
After delivering water to the brothels, I went to the gates to help unload the rejected produce—crates and sacks deemed unfit, days old, hauled in from the Coal and Spark Districts. By the time I arrived, the space was already crowded with bodies and bent backs. Too many hands. Not enough work.
I managed to unload a few sacks of grain and a single bushel of cabbage before I was waved away. One copper piece pressed into my palm.
One.
I had hoped for more—enough to buy food, maybe an elixir. Lio needed both if he was going to survive. But every coin I earned went straight to the Warden. There would be nothing left. Not for medicine. Not for hope.
So I scavenged.
I took what the market discarded: a cabbage bulb with limp, yellowing leaves, bruised potatoes split and blackening, stale rolls gone hard, and a crust of bread so rigid it might as well have been stone. I dug through bins with numb fingers, the cold biting deep into my bones. Near the fountain, moonlight caught on scattered coins, making them shimmer like false promises. I plunged my hand into the icy water and fished out whatever I could grasp.
A few coppers. A chipped sliver of silver.
Someone else’s carelessness was my survival.
Still, it wasn’t enough.
I lingered by the fish stall, hoping Finn—the fish-cleaner—might have scraps I could bring home. But Finn wasn’t there.
I turned to leave, disappointment settling heavy in my chest, and then fingers curled around my sleeve.
“Sera.”
I almost jolted—until I saw Mira’s familiar face slipping into the lantern glow. Her dark curls bounced around her shoulders, her hazel eyes bright even in the gloom. The perfume she wore drifted faintly between us—something floral, sweet, unmistakably not Dust-born.
Seeing her, smelling her, I couldn’t believe that just a year ago, she had been like me. But when the orb had flickered orange, everything had changed.
Coal Class. One rank above me. Enough magic for a job. Enough stability to look clean and fed. Enough privilege to walk at night without fear eating at her heels.
Her dress sparkled faintly under the lantern light. Fancy. Expensive.
Courtesy of her Rune Sweeper job… or maybe courtesy of the Imperial class mage she was rumored to be warming the sheets of. I didn’t judge. Survival had different faces.
“Don’t forget tomorrow’s Rank Test at the Square,” she said.
I exhaled sharply. “Do I really need to go?”
I already knew the answer—the same one I’d gotten every year. “The orb will blink red at me, Mira. Like always.”
She frowned, worry creasing the paint on her lips. “You never know. Something might change.”
“It won’t,” I said quietly. “I have no magic.”
I used to. I know I did. But after that night—
My father’s voice thundered beyond my bedroom door, locked in argument with Imperial Enforcers. Metal scraped. Boots struck stone. The house trembled with it.
Inside, my mother’s hands shook as she stripped away silk and lace, replacing them with rags that scratched my skin. “Listen to me,” she whispered fiercely. “Your name is Bale. Sera Bale. Your brother too—Lio Bale. You will never speak the Valen name again. Do you understand?” Her fingers dug into my shoulders. “You will be branded traitors. And people do not take kindly to traitors.”
“Mother,” I whispered, staring down at the coarse brown dress clinging to me, wrong in every way. “What’s happening? Why am I wearing this?”
“No questions,” she murmured, though her voice trembled beneath the command. “Just do as you’re told.”
She stepped closer, close enough that I felt her breath as she drew the bonnet over my head, careful fingers tucking my red curls out of sight. “Keep your hair hidden at all times, Sera,” she said softly. “Remember—for your own safety.”
She quickly kissed me on the forehead, then turned, gesturing to the man waiting in the shadows. “Take them, Andreas. Keep them alive.” Her voice broke. “I’ve placed a cloaking charm—but it will fade when they turn eighteen. Go. Quickly now.”
Andreas didn’t speak. He simply took our hands.
He left us here and I never saw him again.
That was the night hell found me—and never let go.
I swallowed hard, forcing the memory back into its grave.
“Maybe I should skip the test,” I said. “Try again next year.”
“No.” Mira’s voice sharpened like she was cutting through my excuses. “For Lio’s sake, Sera. You should at least try.”
She rummaged through her little clutch, pulled out a small pouch, and placed it in my hand. I heard the coins rattle—more than I’d made all month.
My chest tightened. “Mira… thank you. I promise I’ll pay you—”
She raised one perfectly shaped finger. “It's a gift. Just promise me you’ll take the test tomorrow.”
Her eyes glistened in the lantern glow—hopeful, pleading in a way that made it impossible to refuse.
I sighed. “Fine. I’ll be there.”
Her smile bloomed instantly. She squeezed my arm. “Good. Now go home. I left a basket at your door—soup, bread, some medicine. Lio shouldn’t wait.”
As I turned to leave, Mira’s voice carried after me.
“Sera... Happy birthday, by the way.”
I didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. I lifted a hand in a lazy flick, a half-hearted acknowledgment, and kept walking.
There was nothing happy about today.
Nothing at all.
When I slipped back inside the shack, the scent hit me first—warm soup, real herbs, even bits of chicken. My stomach clenched painfully. I set the basket on the table and hurried to Lio.
He stirred as I approached, eyes glassy with fever. I fed him spoon by spoon, holding the bowl close so the heat wouldn’t escape. His hands trembled when he took the cup of water, but he managed to swallow it all. I followed it with a teaspoon of elixir. The fever eased a little, but his cough still tore out of him like something breaking inside.
When he finally drifted into fitful sleep, I sat beside him and laid my palm on his forehead. Warm. Too warm. His breath wheezed in shallow bursts.
“Stay with me,” I murmured. “Please. Tomorrow, I'll earn more to pay for a healer. I promise.”
But the room around us was merciless in its truth—cracked walls, dirt floor, the faint draft that never went away. I could never afford a healer.
Once, we belonged to a life full of light. Before the collectors came. Before the empire looked away. Before the old woman whispered her eerie prophecy about chains and destiny.
My jaw tightened.
I would save Lio.
I didn’t care what it cost.
The longer I sat there, the heavier my eyelids became. I fought it, but exhaustion finally dragged me under.
Once again, I dreamed the same dream—the one that had haunted me for weeks.
Outside, the night deepened over the District, stretching long and black. Shadows spilled across the streets like ink from a shattered bottle. The wind carried whispers from distant alleys, from unseen corners, from something far older than the city itself. Beneath it all, pulsing faintly like a second heartbeat, was the sensation I had come to dread.
A pull.
A chain stirring.
Something cold brushed the edge of my mind—deliberate, knowing—as though a presence far beyond the Dust District had turned its gaze toward me.
Toward me.
“Serafina,” a voice whispered from the shadows—dark, intimate. “It is time.”
The mist thinned, and I saw a reptilian creature: black as night, its eyes glowing like living fire. Then it vanished. When I blinked, a breathtaking man stood before me—dark hair, a sculpted nose, lips soft and pink against the sharpness of his features.
“Serafina,” he murmured, lowering his head as he claimed my lips.
I whimpered. I could feel his heart, steady and powerful, beating in time with mine.
It felt right. It felt beautiful.
I melted into him, languishing in his touch, surrendering to the warmth that wrapped around me like a promise.
When I opened my eyes and met his gaze, I gasped.
His eyes burned like flame, flickering with barely restrained excitement. He chuckled softly, a pleased smile curving his lips.
“Come to me, my Serafina.”
Then the fire erupted.
My breath tore from my lungs as I jolted awake.
I pressed a hand to my chest. For weeks now, every time I dreamed of that fire, a warmth had bloomed there—low and persistent, like a buried ember refusing to die.
This time, a man had appeared.
And this time, it burned hotter.
I didn’t know why, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating.
But the certainty settled into my bones, deep and unshakable.
Tomorrow would not be just another day.
Tomorrow, the chain would draw tight.
And whether I was ready or not—
destiny was coming for me.