And the harbor itself crashed over me all at once. Ropes snapped overhead. Sails cracked in the wind. Gulls screamed into the sky. The air reeked of fish, old fish. Warmed by the sun, left out too long, slick and sour. The air was thick with it. Guts and skin and animal bones tossed into the street, buzzing with flies. The ground was a squelch of blood and grease, and the smell clung to my tongue. To my clothes. Tome. For a split second, I actually considered turning back. Back to the ship. Back to the dark and the piss and the rats.
And the sun—gods, the sun tortured me. After so long in the dark, the light didn’t just sting, it stabbed. Straight through my skull, too bright, too sharp. Like someone had peeled my skin back and left me raw. Squinting didn’t help. And my legs, still tuned to the sway of the sea, buckled beneath me the second I slowed. Before I could catch myself, the crowd hit me like a tide.
I couldn’t even tell where the others went. Will had been beside me, Aran just ahead, but in one blink they were gone, swallowed by the crowd. I shoved into the crush of people, too many bodies moving in too many directions, colors blurring, gold and green and silk and lace, polished shoes and painted lips, and…me. A girl who hadn’t washed in days. I could feel it on me, in every thread of my clothes, in my tangled hair, in the way people looked at me. A woman in a yellow shawl pulled her daughter closer as I passed, her nose wrinkling, her gaze sweeping over me like I was something she'd rather not breathe near. And a man near a fruit stall muttered something under his breath. I couldn’t catch every word, but I understood enough to know it wasn’t kind. My body felt like it was floating three steps behind me, not quite attached, and the guards were still shouting, still chasing, but their voices got further and further away. I didn’t dare touch anyone. Not a hand. Not a sleeve. Not even the edge of a stall. I tucked my fists into my chest and kept running, weaving through strangers who recoiled at the sight of me.
Eventually the crowd thinned, the chaos fading into a quieter street lined with tall white buildings that gleamed in the sun. I stumbled forward, dizzy, heaving. I didn’t know where I was anymore. I didn’t know how I was still standing. The guards had stopped shouting. Maybe I’d lost them. Maybe they’d given up. Then a hand grabbed my arm. I’m not sure how he dared to, considering I’d just burned a man for doing the same thing. But Will’s eyes bore into mine as he pulled me into the shadows between two buildings.
I almost collapsed into him. My legs, my whole body, felt numb. Aran stood a few paces away, shifting his weight, his eyes locked on me like he wasn’t sure what I’d do next.
Then I breathed in and nearly choked. My sense of smell was still heightened and every breath brought something new and more vile. It was so dense I could taste it.
“Gods,” I muttered. “We reek.”
Aran let out a dry snort. “That’s an understatement.”
“So this is Alevé, huh?” Will said, peering out toward the street. Aran threw his head back and shouted into the alley, voice hoarse but triumphant. “Ha! Better luck next time, fuckers!”
Will smacked him on the shoulder. “Are you trying to get us killed? Keep your voice down.”
Aran just grinned, shrugged him off, and straightened his back. “Well, I’m starving. So I’m gonna go find something to eat.” Hewandered a few steps, then glanced back at me. “Want anything, Kera? Or did that man already feed you?”
The idiot smirked.
Will looked over at me, frowning. “Yeah… that man who kept coming back. What was that about?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “He didn’t say anything.”
Aran scoffed. “Didn’t say anything? Please.” He rolled his eyes. ”Probably thought he was doing you some noble favor. Maybe he had a thing for stowaways. Didn’t think to share, though?”
I lifted my eyes. “I didn’t even know where you were. I couldn’t see a thing down there.”
Will crouched beside me. “It’s okay. Just… maybe hold off lighting people on fire for now? I’d really love if we could go, like, one day without guards chasing us.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I tried to explain. “It just… happened.”
“I know, I know. I just thought maybe you’d learned to control it a—”
Aran had already wandered off, but reappeared before Will could finish. “You need to see this.”
We stepped out of the shade and walked down the street. The city looked softer the further we got from the harbor. Vines climbed everything, wrapping around stone walls and balconies like the whole place had grown from the ground up. Bougainvillea spilled from windows in coral and pink, bright against the pale buildings. Even the air felt different. Warmer. Cleaner. It carried a trace of citrus and something floral—probably the flowers blooming on every ledge and rooftop. It almost masked our stench.
We passed under a row of striped awnings stretched across a terraced road. Beneath them, people lounged in silk and chiffon, drinking from tall glasses that caught the sun and shattered it across the stone. There were children sitting on steps, eating sticky fruit from carved bowls. It seemed like people moved slower in Alevé. Gracefully,not hurried. I saw women dressed like I’d only ever seen in paintings. Shimmering fabrics wrapped around their bodies like they were artwork themselves. Deep greens and golds. Coral pinks. Pearl whites. Every step made the cloth ripple like water. Their skin, in every shade of rosewood, honey, amber, and bronze, glistened in the sun.
I didn’t even notice the men. The women were so breathtaking I had to remind myself to close my mouth. The boys definitely noticed too, especially when one of the women passed us, her back bare, her dress tied only at the throat with a sheer sash of chiffon. At the far end of the street, a building rose above it all. Taller than anything I’d ever seen. It looked like it had been built for the gods. Balconies spiraled upward like a staircase into the clouds, and gold framed every window. The woman drifted up the steps ahead of us and slipped through the glass doors.
“What is that?” I murmured.
Aran followed my gaze, a grin tugging at his mouth. “That,” he said, nodding toward the oversized gilded sign above the entrance, “is a hotel.”
I gave him a look. The word meant nothing to me, and he seemed delighted by that.
“It’s like an inn,” he said, “but for people who think they’re too good for inns. Private rooms, soft beds, real soap. If you’ve got coin, they’ll let you pretend to be royalty for a night.”
Will muttered beside me, “It looks expensive.”
It wasn’t just the size of the building, or the gold, or the glass. It was the way the silk drapes moved in the wind like they were performing. The way the windows caught the sun and turned it into shards of light. And the way everyone around us looked polished, spotless clothes, smooth skin, not a trace of salt or sweat on any of them.
I looked down at myself. “We can’t go in there,” I said. “Not like this.”
