The burnt zone was silent.
Leia stepped over twisted iron beams and crumbled bricks, her boots crunching on blackened glass. A fog of ash hung in the air, clinging to her cloak and hair. She tied a scarf over her mouth, careful not to breathe too deeply.
This part of the city had no name anymore.
Some called it the Cinder Belt, a place devoured by a firestorm years ago — when a duel between two high-ranking ability users had gone terribly wrong. The nobles left the wreckage as it was, a warning and a grave.
Leia saw opportunity.
She needed stronger fabric — something fire-treated, something that had already survived destruction.
No one would sell that kind of material to a threadless girl with a dirty cloak.
So she would find her own.
---
She crouched near what used to be a tailor's shop, its sign half-melted and draped in soot. Inside, burnt shelves sagged under the weight of time. She pulled away a sheet of rusted steel and uncovered a small stash — bolts of fabric turned gray from flame.
Most were too brittle.
But then she found it — a bundle of bone-thread silk.
She recognized the tight pattern — thread spun from silk spiders mutated by old magic, known for being light, sharp, and durable under pressure. It shimmered faintly, like moonlight through fog.
Leia's hands trembled as she touched it.
Still intact.
She rolled it quickly, tied it to her satchel, and moved on.
---
Hours passed.
Leia crawled through a collapsed wall, skin coated in dust, and found a scorched market stall. Inside were burnt jackets with metal-thread lining — frayed, but still usable. She smiled.
She was just reaching for a piece when a sound made her freeze.
Crunch.
Footsteps.
Leia ducked behind the stall, heart hammering.
Two figures moved into the alley.
One tall, with silver-threaded boots.
The other younger — hooded, sniffing the air like a hound.
They weren't scavengers.
They were Collectors — agents who hunted rare relics from ruins and sold them illegally to nobles. Leia had seen them before but never this close.
The tall one muttered, "This area's already picked. Let's check the lower flats."
"I smell cloth," said the younger one, voice sharp. "Something fresh."
Leia held her breath.
She clutched her satchel tighter, pressing the bone-silk to her chest.
The footsteps came closer. Her mark burned faintly on her wrist.
Don't move. Don't blink.
A rat scurried nearby, breaking the silence.
The boy hissed. "Ugh, just a rat."
The tall one grunted. "Come on."
They left.
Leia didn't breathe until their footsteps faded completely.
---
Back in her shed, long after dark, Leia unrolled her finds like treasure.
Burnt armor cloth.
Metal-lined thread.
And the bone-silk.
She ran her fingers through it again. It was soft, but strong. Wild. Like a web waiting to become something.
She could feel the potential.
A cloak layered with fire-resistant threads, shock-absorbing seams, and bone-silk edges.
It wouldn't just defend.
It would warn.
It would say: I'm not afraid to stand here anymore.
She threaded her needle with a strand of bone-silk.
The needle glowed faintly.
So did her wrist.
Leia began stitching.
---
Somewhere outside the city walls, the Crow family's oldest son was polishing his blade.
A servant entered with a whisper.
"Lady Selene's daughter… she's been spotted in the burnt zone."
He paused.
Then smiled.
"So the crowling flaps her wings again."
---