Amiya's Perspective
The moment the first fucking stone was thrown, all hell broke loose.
The roar of the crowd turned into a storm. People surged like a tidal wave, and guards shouted over the din, their formation breaking as fists flew and crates shattered. Amiya had barely drawn a breath before a familiar hand closed around her wrist.
Sylas.
"Move," he growled, and pulled her into motion.
Her feet hit the cobblestones without hesitation. The square exploded behind them, firelight flickering across panicked faces as fists gave way to steel. Amiya didn't dare look back. Her hood was down, hair flying behind her like a flare. Her lungs ached. Her pulse thundered.
Through the chaos, she heard the shouts:
"There! That one! Hood down!"
She didn't stop. Couldn't. She was already running. Already being hunted.
They wove through the knot of bodies, ducking low as bottles crashed and a torch clattered to the ground. A man tried to grab her—she shoved a knee into his gut and kept running. Sylas led without pause, dodging debris, shouting orders.
"Left!" he snapped. She followed.
They took a narrow alley that stank of smoke and old piss. The noise behind them faded only slightly, but the tension never left. Amiya could feel it—soldiers would sweep soon. The net was already being cast.
When they finally ducked behind a broken stone arch, the world tilted. Her legs shook from the sprint. Her vision swam. But her grip on the dagger at her belt stayed tight.
Sylas let go of her wrist and scanned the shadows. "We can't stay long."
"No shit," she muttered.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked. Not shouting. But sharp.
"I didn't plan to join a riot," she shot back. "I was trying to see what the guards were looking for."
"And you figured walking straight into the middle of it would be enlightening?"
"I needed to be sure," she said, breath catching.
Sylas gave her a long, quiet look. Something unreadable in his expression. Not quite judgment. Not quite disbelief.
"And?" he asked. "What are you sure of now?"
She looked him straight in the eye. "They were looking for me."
That silenced him.
His expression didn't change, not much—but something shifted. Like he was turning over new pieces of a puzzle.
Amiya's voice dropped, but didn't waver. "They weren't just arresting anyone. They were checking faces. They were checking mine."
He didn't ask questions. Didn't demand explanations. Just gave a short, tight nod.
"Then we leave," he said. "Tonight."
She hesitated only a moment, then nodded.
They weren't out yet. But if they stayed, she'd be caught. No matter what her title used to mean, it wouldn't save her now.
And maybe—just maybe—Sylas was the only one who could help her outrun the noose tightening around her throat.
Sylas's Perspective
Selune was coming apart at the seams.
The riot had frayed more than the crowd. Something deeper had snapped—between the guards, the citizens, the power holding it all together. Sylas had seen it before. The kind of chaos that didn't just end when the sun rose. It spread. It lingered.
He led Amiya through the lower quarter, taking back alleys and forgotten routes, each turn made with purpose. He knew this city's bones. And he knew when they were shifting.
She kept pace. That alone said more than anything she'd told him.
When they reached the broken shell of a storehouse, Sylas eased the door shut behind them. The silence that followed was thick, the kind that made you realize how loud your own breathing had become.
Amiya leaned against the wall, her face drawn but fierce. "What the fuck just happened?"
"Selune cracked," Sylas said simply.
She didn't look convinced. "They weren't just reacting. They were looking for someone."
"And you think it was you."
She nodded once. "I know it was."
Sylas crossed the room, glancing out a broken slat. No shadows moved beyond the alley yet. Still, they wouldn't have long.
"You realize what that means, right?" he asked.
"I'm not stupid."
"Didn't say you were." He turned, eyes narrowing. "But you've got half the city's attention right now. That's not nothing."
He paused, gauging her. She wasn't backing down. Not from him. Not from the truth.
"Well," he said, "we don't wait for them to find us again."
She nodded slowly.
He pulled a folded map from inside his coat and spread it across a crate. "Old tunnel route. Runs under the ridge west of the city. We move before dawn."
"And after that?" she asked.
"We keep moving. One town to the next. You vanish. I vanish."
Amiya studied the map, then him. "You always have a backup plan?"
"No," he said. "I have survival instincts."
She cracked the barest smile.
Sylas didn't return it. But he did watch her a moment longer. And for the first time, he realized he wasn't looking at a lost noblegirl anymore. She wasn't soft. Not anymore.
Whatever came next, she'd face it.
And he'd be right there beside her.