Rain tapped gently on the glass roof of the Tower of Concord. Up above, the city of Virelia was busy and loud—but down here in the archives, everything was quiet.
Liora Wynn moved carefully through the stone hallway, carrying a stack of scrolls in her arms. Her long sweater sleeves almost covered her hands, and her brown boots made no sound as she walked.
People didn't notice her.
The guards never nodded at her. The nobles never spoke to her. She was just the quiet girl who filed papers, cleaned shelves, and made sure everything in the archive stayed in order.
And Liora was fine with that.
When no one looks at you, you can see everything.
Today, the Tower felt tense. Servants whispered. Doors slammed. People were arguing in rooms that were always calm before.
Something was wrong.
Liora didn't know what it was, but she felt it in her chest like a heavy stone.
She slid a scroll into place on the highest shelf and paused. Her fingers brushed the edge of an old one—its edges were burned, like it had once survived a fire.
She touched the blackened corner softly.
Warmth sparked under her fingers.
It wasn't fire. Not really. Just... something warm and comforting, like holding a cup of tea in cold hands. It faded a second later, but it made her heart beat a little faster.
That had been happening a lot lately.
Before she could think more about it, a voice came from behind.
"Um... Liora?"
She turned.
A small boy stood in the doorway, dripping wet from the rain. His hair was messy, and his clothes were too thin for the weather.
"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to bother you. I just... I didn't know where else to go."
Liora stepped closer, softening her voice.
"Why did you come here?"
He looked down at his feet. "The cook said you help people. So did a guard. And a lady with white hair in the market. They all said... you're kind."
Liora blinked in surprise. Kind wasn't something people usually noticed. But maybe... they were starting to.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Ashen."
Liora reached out and gently took his small, cold hand.
"Well, Ashen," she said, smiling, "you're safe now."
The boy let out a shaky breath, like he'd been holding it in all day.
Outside, the storm grew louder.
But inside the quiet archive, something special had started—something small and warm, like the first spark of a flame.