Val hovered a jacketed sleeve about her nose, a heavy haze of stagnant smog filling out the courtyard. Veins of neon blue whisked about, hinting at smoke derived from Glint. With a quill from the spiny Mirn as its main ingredient, an aether creature renown for its illusion magic, the product was well known and well used, especially, it seemed, by the crowd hanging around the Library of Wyn’s vicinity.

Attempting to round the sprawling library by outdoors means in hopes the fresh, crisp winter air would smooth out her jumbled thoughts, she clicked her tongue and hurried her pace.

The exit led her to a crossway of alleys and she took the path leading to the parking lots. Long, stark shadows set in as the sun vanished beyond the Middle Wall, the protective barrier cutting an already short, winter day by an hour.

Wading through ankle-high slush, Val’s heart went out to all of the blanketed, shivering bodies huddling within the free-heating areas.

Ciazen winters carried a deadly chill. As a charity effort, organizations worked to inscribe heat enchantments in areas all around the country—except, unfortunately for some districts in the Third Halo—where those in need can be and live and sleep.

While blemished by things better left unsaid, the rubber platform was absent of the lightest layers of snowflakes, sticking out in the sleet-ridden concrete pathways.

Out of all of those idle on the free-heating areas, most held next to no aura, ten or fewer ASCs.

Typics.

They begged for credit bills, but Val’s pockets were not much fuller than theirs, and daggers of shame stabbed at her each time she kept walking.

One looked her down near the alley’s exit, struggling to her feet and putting what appeared to be a boxcutter between herself and Val.

Val ceased her steps and searched her inner pouch for the pocket knife she owned, the weapon costing no more than twenty credits. It lacked the protective runes common in armoury nowadays, but she wasn’t willing to spend a couple more rednotes for a mere chip-resistance enchantment. All I can afford, really.

“Drop all your valuables!” the homeless woman, evident by the holes in her pants and the stains on her coat, demanded with questionable authority.

Taking one glance at her stance—knees bent inwards, feet near-touching, free hand in her jacket—Val stayed her ground and chuckled. “You won’t get much by robbing me, honestly.”

“Last c-chance!”

Val took no heed to the warning, stilling her hand and backpedalling slowly. All the while, she zeroed in on the pain throughout her body that had quelled ever since she entered the alleys. Filled with typics, it could hardly even be called as such, a mere tingle at the tips of her fingers. Though each step she took backwards it faded twice as much, almost as if she was receding from something of a noticeable aether pool...

A throb struck her temple, snapping Val from within to without. The robber’s eyes glowed a pale grey in the shadow-covered alleys, hands outwards and lips moving.

A spell.

Heavens, what’s a mage doing here?

Val turned around and darted down the thin pathways, aiming to turn the next corner of the crossways. Air came in less and less the more she ran, her steady breathing turning into a pained wheeze.

The ground grew in height, the last of her oxygen leaving her in a rush as she crashed against the ground. All she saw was the dull white of sleet. Val tried to turn, tried to defend her belongings as the air mage neared.

What had been a skilled takedown maneuver came out as a flail of a kick, darkness creeping up at the edges.

None on the platforms helped, some pointed and jeered with themselves.

Unconsciousness soon claimed her as the mage crouched with a shit-eating grin, Val's last vision of two blurry outlines growing behind the robber.