chapter 4 : Aunt Harley : Threads Begin to Tighten
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The sun had barely climbed past the rooftops when the narrow hallway of Block E stirred awake.
Somewhere below, a baby cried. Water hissed through cracked pipes. The scent of dust, detergent, and wet laundry filled the air .
Aislinn tightened her worn shoes and stepped outside, tying her hair back as she went. Her body still ached from the previous day's shift, but she had grown used to that dull, constant fatigue—it was part of surviving here.
"Good morning, little Linn!" called a warm, booming voice from the corridor.
Aislinn turned, smiling faintly despite herself. Aunt Harnel—Jenna's mother—stood there with a basket of freshly washed clothes balanced on one hip. Stray green strands framed her round, kind face, and her apron was still damp from the washroom.
"Morning, Aunt Harnel," Aislinn replied, her voice polite and light.
Aunt Harley -jenna's mother,was green haired green eyed Middle aged woman who had to raise her daughter alone after her husband's death.
She was kind woman ,who cared for the sisters like they were her children.
"You're up early again," the woman chuckled, shaking her head. "Keep this up and your bones will break before you turn eighteen. You work harder than an old miner."
Aislinn gave a soft laugh. "If they break, I'll glue them back together, Aunty."
"Such a mouth you have." Aunt Harnel tutted, though the corners of her lips curved in affection. "Still, keep that fire in you, child. You'll need it someday."
Aislinn tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
But the older woman only smiled, slipping a tiny sprig of green herbs into Aislinn's palm. "For your sister's tea," she said. "It'll help her rest easier."
"Thank you," Aislinn said sincerely, tucking the herb into her pocket. "You always think of us."
"Of course, dear. Anything for my sweet girls."
Aislinn looked toward the door beside theirs. "Where's Jenna? Shouldn't she be helping you?"
"Oh, stop that," Aunt Harnel said, waving a hand. "You'll be late for wherever you're running off to. And as for Jenna—lazy bones is still snoring away. That one would sleep through the end of the world. Kamari ran off early too. Hyper little thing."
Both of them chuckled—like two mothers who had long accepted their children's mischief.
"I should go now, Aunty. Bye—see you later!"
"Bye, Linn-Linn, see you later!"
Aislinn groaned. "Don't call me that! I'm too old for nicknames."
"Thirteen-year-old Linn-Linn says otherwise!" the older woman teased, her laughter echoing through the hall.
Rolling her eyes, Aislinn muttered something about "grown women and childish teasing" before heading out.
As she disappeared, Aunt Harnel's teasing expression faded. Her eyes lingered on the girl's back, a shadow of something unreadable passing over her features.
Then she whispered softly—words that slipped below human hearing.
Moments later, her lips curved into a smile.
"So it's begun," she murmured. "Just like he said."
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The hallway opened into a small courtyard shared by the tenants. Half a dozen women bent over basins, gossiping as their hands scrubbed clothes raw. No one here owned washing machines or electric gadgets—unless they could afford the building's absurd "energy fee."Block E residents were for those who could not afford the cost of living in More prosperous cities ,towns and blocks.
"There she goes again," one of them hissed, glancing toward Aislinn. "Acting like she's some noble's daughter with that face of hers."
Another snorted. "You'd think she'd at least cover up. Men can't walk past without staring. Just like her mother."
"Her mother?" a woman asked, leaning closer.
The first one shrugged. "Never met her she sneered, "but anyone who abandons her children can't be good."
Their laughter followed Aislinn like nettles brushing her skin, but she didn't turn. She'd long learned silence was stronger than any retort. Words only gave them more to feed on.
She kept her head high, eyes on the uneven path ahead. Still, beneath her calm expression, anger and shame coiled together like smoke.
Not for herself—she could handle whispers. But Kamari didn't deserve to live in their shadow.
The air outside the courtyard was cooler, washed with the scent of wet earth and pine. She jogged down the narrow road, letting her muscles burn the bitterness away. When she reached the park, she stopped to stretch under the morning sun, breathing deeply.
That was when she heard it.
"AISLINNNN!"
Aislinn turned just in time to see a blur of tangled hair and wild energy charging toward her.
"Jenna," she sighed, smiling. "You left your mother mid-chores again, didn't you?"
"You left without me again!" Jenna gasped, bending over dramatically. "You always do!"
"You were snoring loud enough to scare ghosts," Aislinn teased.
"Hey! That's a defense mechanism!" Jenna huffed, flipping her hair. "Keeps spirits away from this pretty face."
They both burst out laughing, the sound echoing between the quiet trees.
For a moment, it was easy to forget the heaviness of life inside Block E.
They stretched and chatted about nothing in particular—how the bakery nearby raised prices again, how Kamari still refused to drink her medicine—until the sound of shouting drifted from across the alley.
Then the laughter faded—replaced by shouting in the distance. Angry voices. The unmistakable sound of something being kicked.
Aislinn froze. Her gut twisted before she even saw the scene.
Across the alley, a few older kids had surrounded someone smaller. Books and groceries lay scattered across the dirt.
Kamari.
Aislinn didn't think—she ran. "KAMARI!"
Her sister stood in the center, trembling but silent, her head lowered. The kids sneered, throwing words sharper than stones.
"Heartless."
"Weird."
"Cursed."
Aislinn shoved through them, her pulse hammering. "Pick on someone your own size!"
"Oh look," one of the boys said mockingly. "The princess is here."
"Keep talking," Aislinn snapped. Her glare could have burned through stone.
They hesitated—just long enough to see the flash of light from the pendant around her neck. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. Then, muttering curses, they scattered and disappeared down the street.
Aislinn knelt beside her sister, gathering the fallen books. "You okay, Mari?"
Kamari lifted her gaze slowly. Her eyes were calm—too calm. "I'm fine," she said, her tone eerily even. Then, with a faint smile: "They'll cry soon enough."
Aislinn blinked. "What?"
"Nothing," Kamari said quickly, her lips curling into that same soft smile.
Aislinn frowned but didn't press. Kamari was only eight—strange sometimes, yes, but never cruel. The girl had been through too much already, growing up without parents, and Aislinn had promised herself she'd protect her no matter what.
Still… when Kamari's fingers brushed against hers, a shiver crept up Aislinn's spine. The faintest, coldest pulse.
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That evening, after work, Aislinn returned to a whispering building. Neighbors crowded in the hallway, murmuring about a fire.
"A strange fire, it was," one woman said. "Right there in the alley!"
"Did anyone get hurt?" another asked.
"No, but those boys who hang around there came running back—half their clothes burned off. Scared witless, they were!"
Aislinn paused mid-step, her eyes darting toward her door. She exhaled softly. "Well… maybe that's karma," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
Inside, Kamari sat by the window, sipping tea. The soft light of dusk caught her face, serene and unreadable.
Aislinn smiled tiredly. "Long day, huh?"
Kamari looked up, eyes bright in the fading light. "Not really," she said. "It was quiet."
"Good." Aislinn ruffled her sister's hair and went to unpack her things.
Behind her, Kamari's reflection lingered in the windowpane—a faint curve of lips that didn't quite reach her eyes.
And somewhere beyond the walls, Aunt Harnel stirred a pot of simmering herbs, whispering to herself:
> "The artifact awakens… and the threads begin to tighten."
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