Emberhold was a city built on desperation. Smoke curled from forge stacks, filling the air with the scent of scorched metal and charred mana. The underground markets thrived in the dim firelight, where salvagers, mercenaries, and rogue spellcasters peddled stolen magitech and unstable arcane artifacts.

Aliana stood behind a repurposed supply stall, the hood of her cloak casting a shadow over her face. Aether-etched daggers gleamed on the table, a fractured mana core hummed softly in its containment case, and a half-repaired magitech vambrace pulsed with dull blue veins. Every item was dangerous. Every buyer was worse.

And across the market, moving like a predator through the crowd, was Captain Soren.

She saw him before he saw her.

For a moment, her breath caught. He was different from the enforcers—silent where they were loud, deliberate where they were reckless. His armor was black and gold, lined with protective runes, but his magic—if he even had any—was a mystery. Unlike the other Synthetic mages, she had never seen him wield a rune weapon or implant.

Which meant he was either powerless… or hiding something.

And now, he was heading straight for her.

Recognition – The Moment Their Eyes Meet

Soren moved with practiced ease, his gaze sweeping the stalls. He wasn’t looking for trinkets or black-market spellbooks. He was hunting.

Then, his silver eyes locked onto hers.

A single heartbeat passed.

And she knew—he knew.

Aliana tensed, her fingers brushing the grip of her plasma pistol beneath her cloak. Every escape route flickered through her mind. The alley behind her. The rooftop access above. Nyx was in the crowd somewhere, watching. But none of that mattered if she couldn’t break Soren’s focus.

He closed the distance, stopping at her stall. His expression was unreadable.

“These are fine wares,” he said smoothly, picking up one of the daggers. His voice was calm, but there was a current beneath it, something weighted. “Where did you find them?”

Aliana’s smirk was slow, measured. “Out west. Wreckage near the ley breaches.”

Soren turned the dagger in his hand. “Dangerous place. Only the skilled survive out there.”

She tilted her head. “Then I suppose I’m skilled.”

His lips twitched—almost a smile, almost something else.

The Subtle Threat – Testing Each Other

Soren placed the dagger back onto the table with careful precision. “Tell me something,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving hers. “The rebels who stole from the Regent’s last supply convoy—was that you?”

Aliana’s fingers curled slightly. “Do I look like a thief?”

His eyes flicked to the mana core case beside her. “You look like someone who values power.”

She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to stay casual. “And you look like someone who already has too much of it.”

Soren leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You don’t belong here.”

Aliana didn’t blink. “Neither do you.”

A pause. A dangerous silence.

The market around them bustled with noise, but between them, there was only stillness—like the moment before a storm.

The Test – A Glimpse of Her Power

Soren tapped the mana core case. “This is stolen.”

Aliana raised a brow. “Everything in Emberhold is stolen.”

His silver eyes studied her, but there was something behind them—not just suspicion, but understanding.

“You were at the canyon.” His voice was quiet, certain.

Aliana’s pulse quickened.

His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword, not drawing it—just resting there, like a question.

“The fire,” he continued. “The wind. The lightning.” A slow exhale. “You wove them together.”

Shit.

He had seen. He had noticed.

Magic users were everywhere—Leyborn, Synthic casters, rogue mages selling spell-inked tattoos. But only the royal bloodline could command multiple elements at once.

And Soren had just called her out on it.

Aliana forced a smirk. “You give me too much credit, Captain.”

“Do I?”

He reached for the mana core—just a fraction of a movement.

Her hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.

A mistake.

The moment their skin touched, something flared beneath her fingertips.

A flicker of warmth. A pulse, like the heartbeat of something old and forgotten.

Soren’s breath hitched, his entire body going rigid—like he had felt it too.

And then his magic—his magic—stirred.

For a split second, the air between them shimmered. Faint, almost invisible, but real.

Not Synthic. Not cold, calculated runes or mechanical arcana.

Innate.

Aliana’s eyes widened.

Soren wrenched his hand away first, faster than her.

The flicker of power was gone, buried, like it had never been there at all.

But it had.

And from the way Soren’s fingers twitched—like he was fighting to keep something locked inside—she wasn’t the only one who had noticed.

The Veiled Warning – A Promise and a Threat

Soren exhaled, his expression unreadable once more. He adjusted his glove as if nothing had happened.

“If I were you,” he murmured, “I’d leave Emberhold before dawn.”

Aliana narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

His silver gaze was steady, but something darker flickered beneath it.

“Because next time,” he said softly, “I won’t walk away.”

Neither of them moved.

Then Soren turned, disappearing into the crowd, vanishing as quickly as he had come.

Aliana exhaled slowly, fingers still tingling.

Her heart was still pounding, but not from fear.

Because now she knew.

Soren wasn’t just a soldier.

He wasn’t just his father’s weapon.

He was hiding something.

Something dangerous.

And for the first time, she wondered—was he hunting her?

Or was he trying to warn her?

Final Beat – Aftermath

Nyx appeared at her side like a shadow. “That was close.”

Aliana flexed her fingers, remembering the way Soren’s magic had flickered—so faint, so suppressed, like a caged thing beneath his skin.

“No,” she murmured, gaze still fixed on the empty space where Soren had been. “That was interesting.”

Because now she had a new question.

If Soren had Innate magic… what had his father done to bury it?

And more importantly—what would happen when it broke free?