Iveriani ran, not understanding where to or how far in the alien vision of her witch's curse. Other than knowing it had made her invisible to the thugs, she had little to no understanding of what she saw around her. There were shapes that maybe resembled houses on one side of her, while to the other she could only see a jagged mess of incoherent lines. The ground beneath her contorted into undulating hills that should not exist. Every time she looked down to find her footing, it morphed into something new. Strangest of all though, never once did she stumble or trip. The world accepted her, almost forming around her.

If only that same world would take care of her pounding headache. And nausea. Dizziness began to overtake her, distorted images flowing in from all sides overwhelming her senses. Was she supposed to live like this forever? Nothing made sense anymore. Bile rose in her throat and she—

She slammed into something sturdy, yet not exactly solid like a wall. The resulting counterforce bounced her down to the ground, though she managed to catch herself with both palms, saving her behind from some of the impact.

“Ow,” she said, rubbing her hands together.

“Are you alright?” a light, masculine voice reached her from above.

She looked up and had to blink a few times, not understanding what she had seen. Not only had color returned to the world—and reason, for that matter—but there was a handsome boy staring down at her. He was maybe a few years older than her, with dark eyes and hair that hung down his forehead in sculpted bangs. His plain blue trousers and white tunic were wrinkle free and clean, but not ostentatious or showy like some of the richer people she had seen elsewhere in the city. He might be the son of wealthy merchant or lower noble.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I swear I didn’t see you at all, and then, well...” He gestured to her fallen form.

He offered down a hand to her, and stupidly, not thinking at all, she took it. Once she was up, he jerked back, eyes wide. He must have realized the cause of the slickness of her grip.

“You’re bleeding!” he said.

“It’s not my blood,” were, for some reason, the first words out of her mouth.

Some part of her that she needed to suppress right away told her that she must not let this boy think that he was the cause of her misfortune. None of this was his fault at all. In fact, she should be the one apologizing.

No. There wasn't time for any of this. Apparently it only took a cute face for her to throw caution to the wind. Fourteen years of life as a thief meant nothing here.

"W-what do you mean?" the boy asked.

Iveriani dropped her head.

“Nothing. Sorry, I need to go. Bye.”

She tried to step past him but he caught her wrist.

“Wait.”

Oh no. Here it comes. He would question her. Take her to the magistrates. To the Paladins. She had little hope of fighting off an older boy, unless…no!

“W-what is it?” she asked.

“What happened to you?”

To her? She had expected him to force her into revealing what she had done, not the other way around.

“There’s no time,” she said, “I have to go.”

He didn’t release his grip.

“Is someone chasing you?”

“Yes,” she said, “now, please.”

The boy’s hand loosened, yet he still did not let go. He stared at her for a moment, and then nodded.

“Let me help you,” he said.

"Huh?"

“I know a couple of good hidden pathways around here,” he smiled, and for the tiniest moment she thought of doing the same, “how do you think I’m out this late?”

Iveriani stared at him for a moment, unsure what kind of boast that was supposed to be, considering the lack of patrolmen in this part of the city. People walked the streets at whatever hour they wanted in the slums—

Her peripherals came into focus, and she found that she was nowhere near the dockside slums of Atrican. Two and three story villas flanked a massive four-carriage wide paved road in the best of repair. Lush gardens of blooming flowers and hedges trimmed into various shapes and animals were on display for any who passed. This was a district she had only ever seen from afar.

But how? She thought back to her desperate flight from the thugs who had killed her friends and the total loss of direction under her cursed vision. That still couldn't explain how she had made it past the gate or the guards. But then…she shook her head, forcing herself back to the present. None of this mattered right now.

“No!” she yelled, ripping her hand out of his loosened grip. “You don’t understand. If they find me. If they catch me and they, and they find out who I am…what I am…”

Apparently she hadn’t quite stomped out that dangerous impulse of hers that wanted to make her tell this boy all of her problems. Or even tried to, really. And now it would likely be the end of her. But instead of hauling her away, he… he hugged her.

Iveriani stiffened in the embrace, for more than one reason. Grime and gore was dirtying his fresh wardrobe, but he didn’t seem to mind. Two warring sides of her fought internally to both lash out at him with fists and to sink into his warmth. He just kept holding her for some reason until the night's events all came crashing down upon her.

The dread she had felt at the start of her and her friends mission, the slaughter of them all, the pain of awakening as a witch, and finally the terrifying world she thought she would be stuck in forever. It all hit her at once, now that she had a brief moment to rest.

Her fatigue caught up to her, and she fell against him, breaking down completely. She sobbed into his chest for who knew how long, until she had no tears left. Eventually, she looked up and flinched when their eyes met. At some point her arms had wrapped around him unbeknownst to her, and for just a moment they stared at each other, nearly every inch of their bodies touching. She felt her whole body heat up, from her cheeks to her toes.

Blessedly, he released her and took a step back.

“Are you better now?” he asked.

She couldn't look at him. She might just die of embarrassment if she did. Her gaze fell to the street.

“Y-yeah. Uhm…t-thanks.”

“Will you come with me?” he asked.

She peeked back up at him, and he was smiling with one hand outstretched. His once pristine white shirt now reduced to a complete mess, all because of her, yet here he was still being nice to her. Was it all a trick to bring her before the paladins?

Against her better judgment, she took the hand. He wrapped his fingers around her palm, and pulled her forward. For a few minutes they walked in silence, Iveriani doing little else but eying the hand wrapped around hers. How had it come to this?

“Uh,” she said, “where are we going?”

“I have a place nearby,” he said, looking back at her, “don’t worry. You’ll be safe there. I’ve managed to get away for days before.”

She stared at him with her mouth open. What did this rich boy have to get away from? His life shouldn't have anything scary he should be hiding from. He picked up the pace and after a few more minutes stopped in front of one of the many massive structures that made up this section of the city. She had paid little attention to the trip, focused on…something else.

The boy bent down and lifted a piece of the alleyway up, revealing a ladder leading into a dark basement. He stepped down in and after several seconds of descending, called up after her.

“Come on!”

Well, there was no way this was the domain of the church. Then…what did the boy want with her? The same thing as the thugs? She had a hard time believing that based on nothing other than the current state of both of them. What would a boy like him want with a ratty girl like her?

And so she followed him down into a dark hole of who knew what. Before she hit the floor, a flickering light blossomed, and when she turned, saw the boy holding a small glass lantern. Another sign of his wealth.

She tailed him a little further within until the tunnel opened up into a rather expansive underground room bigger than where she, Thom, Quick, and Jack had slept. Just the thought of their names almost caused her to fall apart again, but she couldn’t look even sillier in front of this boy, now. At the center of the room was a large table covered in various scraps of paper and figurines that she could not guess the use of.

The boy went to one side of the room, opened up a cupboard and retrieved a few items.

“Sit,” he said, pulling out one of the cushioned wooden chairs around the table.

He placed a rough cut chunk of bread down, and then a stoneware mug. With no reason not to, she obeyed, and with another smile, he poured out a deep red liquid from a glass bottle into the mug. Finally, he dropped a wet rag beside the food.

“It’s not much,” he said, “but it might help you get through the night.”

Rounding the table, he sat opposite her and poured out a mug of his own. The drink looked like wine, though she had never had a taste of the stuff herself. Ales and beer she was no stranger to, but had never really liked the taste.

The boy raised his mug to her and took a swig, so she decided it probably was safe and did the same. A sweetness filled her mouth, backed by the warming sting of alcohol and again she almost smiled.

“Oh,” she said, “this is…good.”

She took another swallow, much deeper this time. Next came the bread, for which she wiped her disgusting hands off with the rag first, dirtying the thing beyond repair. To her delight, the bread also happened to be far better than anything she had ever acquired for herself. She practically tore into the thing, guzzling down the wine in between bites until her stomach was satisfied and her head a bit light.

“Are you willing to tell me what happened?” the boy asked.

Iveriani blinked, having forgotten about his presence in the wake of the amazing refreshments.

“W-why do you want to know?” she asked.

“I may be able to do something. If I can manage to stop your pursuers, you’ll be safe again, yeah?”

If he only knew that the whole world were her pursuers. Even him, if he knew.

“No,” she said, “I’m beyond saving.”

He leaned in, resting his chin on his upraised palms, his face coming closer across the table.

“I don’t believe that’s true.”

“That’s because you don’t know anything about me.”

He smiled. That damn smile.

“Then why don’t you tell me,” he said.

Iveriani sighed at the weak trap of his words to get her to spill, but she really had no reason not to reveal what happened. Most of it, at least. It gave her a reason to stay here longer, and pretend her life could be better, eating toasty bread and drinking sweet wine with a cute boy.

And so she told him her story of her friends and the thugs, leaving out the details of her escape. She changed the invisible stab of her tension rod to a lucky strike with a discarded dagger to explain all the blood. Speaking of which, it probably still covered her. She took a glance at the rag he had offered before serving her the bread, and decided against rubbing the ruined thing across her face.

The boy had listened quietly, his face darkening a few times at mentions of the deaths, but otherwise seemed unconcerned that he was now harboring not only a gutter rat thief, but also a killer in his little basement hideout.

He nodded at her once she had finished.

“I hadn’t realized that the harbor district had gotten so bad that murders occurred openly on the streets.” Iveriani gave him a look. What did he think happened down there? The patrols stopped coming years ago. “But this isn’t that hard to deal with at all. If you stay here a few days, I can—”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Iveriani asked. She had had enough, and needed to know what this was.

"What do you mean?"

“What do you want from me?”

The boy sat back in his chair and held out his hands, palms out.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I don’t need anything.” He inclined his head. “And I’m not going to harm you in any way. I promise.”

“I don’t get it. So you’re just a good person?”

He didn’t seem to hear her, or just ignored it.

“So listen, just hide here for a bit, and I’ll—”

“No.”

He stood, pacing, again as though he had not heard her.

“Look, I can, I have...resources—”

“I can’t stay here,” she said, “and I can’t tell you why.”

He paused his back-and-forth movement, his lips creasing into a thin line. After a moment, he reached into a pouch at his side and tossed a handful of coins across the table. Iveriani gaped at the casual display of wealth. Several gold coins were mixed into the bunch.

She shook her head.

“What is this?” Some kind of taunt to her poverty?

“Take it all,” he said, then also unstrapped his pouch and dropped it on the table, the clink of coins issuing from within.

“Is this some kind of game you’re playing with the poor girl from the slums? Are your friends waiting outside to laugh at me and throw me to the magistrate?”

The boy collapsed back down into his chair and let out a long breath. His head dropped and he spoke down into his lap.

“I promise you I’m just trying to help.”

“But why? I don’t understand. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Oh, but I do, and the reason is something that I can’t tell you.”

Huh? What? She wracked her memory and was certain she had never before seen this boy. Had he mistaken her for someone else? Too many questions were running through her head, but maybe none of it mattered. If she could just take advantage now and disappear, his strange kindness could help her find a new life.

With one hesitant hand she reached out toward the nearest gold coin. The boy made no movement to stop her, and soon she was gathering everything up and scooping it back into the offered pouch. Within would be enough for her to live poorly—though still better than she had—for the rest of her likely short life. Once it was all situated and tied around her waist, she looked back to the boy.

“Are you a lord or something?” she asked. No one else would throw away so much coin.

“No,” he said.

“Fine. You’re too young to be the lord of somewhere, but you’re someone important.”

“Yeah, someone important, maybe.”

He frowned, his face losing some of the optimism she had found to dominate his personality. She chose not to dig further, sensing the decline of the mood.

“I’d offer to take you home,” he said, causing Iveriani’s cheeks to heat up, “but I know you would also just say no.” He gave her a once over. “And I don’t think my uncle would approve either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re kind of disgusting,” he said, then looked down at his shirt.

She opened her mouth, but said nothing. Disgusting? It was undoubtedly true, but still…

When he looked back at her, he threw out his hands and waved them frantically.

“Oh no, no, no,” he said, “not through any fault of your own. I’m sure you’re quite lovely under all the…uh, grime.”

His gaze left her, and she could hear his feet shuffling below the tabletop. For once, despite everything that had happened, she actually managed to crack a small grin. And then a chuckle. And a full on laugh. He joined her, and together they filled the dark basement with free laughter. She would remember this night forever, for the horrors of the early night, and for the simple joy of enjoying the company of a noble boy kind enough to save her.

She turned to head back into the tunnel that led to the trapdoor, but his voice stopped her.

“Hey,” he said, “you never told me your name.”

Yeah, he hadn’t told her his, either. On purpose, she was pretty sure. But, whatever.

“It's Ivy.”