The rain had thinned to a drizzle by the time Nia dragged herself from the shrine. Her arm still burned, the serpent mark glowing faintly beneath her sleeve, but at least the fire in her veins had dulled. The stranger's words rattled louder than the storm ever had.
They'll hunt you until you're dead.
The streets of Ketu Port should have been noisy with drunken sailors and gossiping vendors, even at this hour. Instead, silence pooled in the alleys like stagnant water. Only the wind stirred — and the faint clang of distant armor.
They were already searching.
Nia pulled her hood low and slipped into the shadows. Every step felt heavier than the last. For years, she had run letters through these streets without a second thought. The market squares, the taverns, the shipyards — all were part of her skin. Tonight, every door looked like a trap, every window a watching eye.
She turned down a narrow passage, only to freeze at the sight of soldiers dragging a man into the mud.
"Where is the courier girl?" one demanded, pressing a blade to his throat.
The man whimpered. "I don't know, I swear!"
Nia's stomach twisted. This was what the Empire did: squeeze the city until everyone bled. It wasn't just her they wanted — it was anyone who might have glimpsed her.
She slipped away before the guards noticed, bile rising in her throat.
The serpent stirred lazily in her mind. Why do you run? They are ants. Crush them, and none would dare touch you.
She gritted her teeth. "Shut up."
It chuckled. You think hiding will save you? Even now, they taste your scent in the rain. They will not stop.
She hated that it was right.
By the time she reached her quarter, the alleys she called home had been turned inside out. Doors hung open. Crates overturned. Children wailed as their mothers were dragged into the street.
"Nia!"
Her heart lurched at the familiar voice. She spun and found Mako — the lanky boy who ran messages alongside her sometimes — crouched in a doorway, eyes wide.
"You have to get out," he whispered hoarsely. "They're tearing the quarter apart. They said you've been marked. Is it true?"
Nia's mouth opened, but no words came. Her sleeve still glowed faintly beneath the wet fabric.
Mako's face paled. "Spirits save us. You… you have to run. They'll burn us all if they find you here."
The words stung worse than any blade. She wanted to argue, to promise she could fix this. But the way he looked at her — half fear, half pity — told her nothing she said would matter.
Boots thundered nearby. A soldier's voice barked: "Search every corner!"
Mako shoved her toward the back door. "Go! Don't come back!"
Nia stumbled into the alley, rain dripping down her face, not sure if it was water or tears.
Her city was gone. Her life was gone. All because of a scroll she never asked for.
The serpent hissed contentedly. And yet you live, courier. You live because of me. Remember that when all else is ash.
She clenched her fists. She wanted to scream at it, to rip the mark from her skin, but the words died in her throat. Because beneath the serpent's smug tone, she felt a terrible truth: without it, she'd already be dead.
Nia kept moving, slipping deeper into the underbelly of Ketu Port — where shadows hid secrets, and whispers of rebellion stirred like embers waiting for fire.
She didn't notice the cloaked figure watching her from the rooftops, eyes glinting as the serpent's mark flared faintly against the night.