A Castle

The girl—who still hadn't told him her name—swung her legs over the side of the cot, letting them dangle just above the wooden floor. She twirled the wooden horse between her fingers, deep in thought.

"You ever had a whole loaf to yourself?" she asked suddenly.

Lior frowned. "A whole loaf?"

She nodded. "Like… just for you. No sharing."

Lior shook his head. "That's a stupid question."

She grinned. "That means no, huh?"

Lior huffed. Of course, it meant no.

Bread was rationed like gold dust in his house. If he had a whole loaf to himself, it'd mean someone else didn't eat. And that? That wasn't worth it.

"What about you?" he asked.

The girl's expression faltered just slightly before she shrugged. "Once."

Lior's brows lifted. "Really?"

"Yeah. Stole it." She said it so easily, so plainly, like it was just another fact of life. "Some baker left it out on his cart. Wasn't even looking. I just walked by and—" she mimed a quick swipe with her hands. "Gone. All mine."

Lior smirked. "Bet you got caught."

She scowled. "Did not."

"You totally did."

"Did not."

"Then why'd you only do it once?"

She hesitated, eyes flickering toward the door, then sighed. "Aunt Sally made me take it back."

Lior chuckled. "She made you walk right up to the baker?"

"Worse." She groaned, rubbing her face. "She bought it. Paid for the whole damn thing and then made me thank him."

Lior winced. "Oof."

"Yeah." She flopped back against the cot dramatically. "Worst day of my life."

Lior smirked. It was a lie, obviously. They'd both had worse days than that.

But still, for a moment, it almost felt like normal kid talk.

Then the moment passed.

The girl shifted, suddenly serious. "You ever had to sleep hungry?"

Lior blinked at her. Then shrugged. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah." She didn't sound surprised, just thoughtful. "I used to cry about it when I was younger."

Lior snorted. "That doesn't help."

"I know that now." She rolled her eyes. "But when you're little, you think if you cry enough, someone's gonna do something."

Lior frowned. "Sometimes, someone does."

She looked at him. "Did it work for you?"

He didn't answer.

Because it hadn't.

Because crying never changed the fact that food was scarce, money was scarce, and life never slowed down just because you were a kid.

Instead, he just said, "Cass always found a way."

The girl tilted her head. "You look up to him?"

Lior frowned. That was a strange way to put it.

Did he?

Cass was… Cass.

Lior wasn't sure if he looked up to him or just didn't know any other way to live.

Still, he answered with a simple, "Yeah."

The girl studied him for a moment, then nodded like she understood something he didn't.

"You're lucky," she said.

Lior blinked. "Huh?"

She shrugged, staring down at her wooden horse. "To have him. Even if he's an idiot who gets himself beaten up."

Lior smirked. "He is."

She grinned. "You tell him that?"

Lior scoffed. "He'd break my nose."

She laughed. "Sounds about right."

For a moment, they just sat there, the soft murmurs of the house filling the silence. The muffled sounds from Cass's room had faded, but Lior still didn't move.

Neither did the girl.

"You ever wonder what it'd be like to be rich?" she asked suddenly.

Lior frowned. "Not really."

She raised a brow. "Not even once?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Don't think about things that aren't real."

She hummed, thoughtful. "But what if?"

Lior sighed. "What if?"

The girl sat up straight, eyes bright. "If you had all the money in the world, what's the first thing you'd do?"

He stared at her. "All the money?"

"All of it."

Lior blinked. He hadn't expected that question.

He thought about it.

"Buy food," he said finally.

The girl snorted. "That's boring."

"It's practical," Lior argued.

"Yeah, yeah. But if food wasn't a problem?"

He hesitated.

If food wasn't a problem… if survival wasn't a problem…

He frowned, thinking deeper.

"I'd get my mother a real job," he said. "One where she doesn't have to clean up after people."

The girl's smirk faded just slightly. "That's not boring."

Lior nodded.

"You really love your family, huh?"

"Obviously," he said, like it wasn't even a question.

The girl smiled. "Yeah. Me too."

Lior glanced at her. "You miss them?"

Her smile twitched. "Every day."

He looked away. "Oh."

Silence.

The kind that wasn't awkward, just quiet.

Lior shifted, picking at the hem of his sleeve. "What about you?"

She blinked. "What about me?"

"What's the first thing you'd buy?"

She grinned. "A castle."

Lior stared at her. "That's stupid."

She gasped. "It is not."

"What would you even do with a castle?"

"Live in it!"

Lior rolled his eyes. "Then what?"

She opened her mouth, paused, then frowned. "... I'll figure it out."

Lior huffed. "Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

She snorted. "Not a word."

"It is now."

She laughed, the sound bright despite the dark house around them.

And for a little while, Lior forgot about the bruises on Cass's face.

Forgot about the pain, the hunger, the weight of the city pressing down on them.

Because, for just a moment—

It almost felt like they were just kids.

The door creaked open.

Lior turned just as Cass stepped out, his movements slow, stiff—like every inch of him ached.

He looked like hell.

His lip was split, his cheek swollen, and the bandages wrapped around his torso peeked out from under his loosened shirt. But he was standing.

Sally stood behind him, arms crossed. "You should be resting."

Cass scoffed. "I've rested enough." His voice was hoarse, but his smirk was sharp. "Didn't die, did I?"

Sally rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath before retreating into the house.

Lior pushed himself up immediately. "Cass—"

Cass's eyes snapped to him. "What the hell are you looking at?"

Lior blinked. What?

Cass limped toward him, his sharp glare fixed on him like a warning. "You didn't listen, did you?"

Lior clenched his fists. "I—"

"Didn't I tell you to leave?"

Lior hesitated.

The girl beside him stared between them, suddenly wary. She slid off the cot but didn't step away, watching carefully.

Cass was still glaring.

Lior frowned. "I wasn't gonna run."

Cass exhaled through his nose, slow and sharp. He hated this.

Lior could see it.

Not just the pain, not just the injuries— the fact that Lior had seen him like this.

Vulnerable.

Weak.

Cass's lips curled in irritation. "If you ever do that again, I'll beat the shit out of you myself."

Lior scowled. "You'd have to catch me first."

Cass raised a brow. "You think I won't?"

"You look like you can barely walk."

The little girl gasped.

Cass paused. Then—a laugh.

Short. Gruff. But real.

He reached out, ruffling Lior's hair roughly, almost making him stumble. "Cocky little shit."

Lior smirked. "Takes one to know one."

Cass ignored him, turning back to Sally as she reappeared. "Thanks for patching me up."

"You say that like I had a choice," Sally muttered. She was rubbing her temples. "What in the gods' names did you get yourself into this time, boy?"

He rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly. "Just setting some people straight."

Sally narrowed her eyes. "Uh-huh. You look real victorious."

He smirked. "You should see the other guys."

Sally sighed. "I don't want to."

Cass grinned wider, but it faltered slightly as he eyed the door. "We should get going."

Lior hesitated. "Already?"

Cass met his eyes, his expression unreadable. "Yeah."

He frowned, but nodded.

Lior glanced at the girl. "You coming, or what?"

She raised a brow. "Where?"

He smirked. "Wherever the hell we're going."

She huffed, but there was something amused in her eyes. "Tempting, but no. Aunt Sally would kill me."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He turned, heading for the door.

Then as he followed Cass outside, he stopped at the door. He hesitated. Then turned back to the girl. "You gonna be here?"

She smiled. "I live here, stupid."

Lior smirked. "Right."

Then, before he could think too hard about it, he muttered, "See you later," and followed Cass out the door.

Behind them, the girl grinned.

And for the first time in a long time, Lior felt like maybe, just maybe, he had made a friend.

***

The streets of Blackmire were never silent.

Even at this hour—when the sun had long since slumped behind the crooked rooftops, and the gas lamps flickered weakly against the thickening dark—the city still breathed.

Boots scuffed against cobblestones. Rats darted between trash heaps. Somewhere, a woman screamed in drunken laughter, while a baby wailed from a window above.

Lior walked beside Cass, trailing a step behind, his eyes flicking across the familiar sights.

The butcher's shop, its wooden sign creaking in the wind, the blood on the chopping block never quite washed away.

The candle-maker's stall, where half-melted wax dripped down into lopsided molds, their scents swallowed by the city's filth.

The bridge over the Dryway, an old canal that hadn't seen real water in years—just black sludge and things that twitched if you stared too long.

They walked past a man slumped against a wall, his hat pulled low, his breathing ragged. Past two women whispering in hushed tones over a wrapped bundle that Lior hoped was just a loaf of stolen bread.

Cass didn't spare any of them a glance.

Lior, though, watched everything.

Watched the flickering signs. Watched the way some doors were bolted shut while others stood open with shadows lingering in the thresholds.

Watched the way some people walked fast, hunched, eyes darting—while others stood too still, as if waiting for something to happen.

"You're thinking too hard," Cass muttered.

Lior blinked. "What?"

Cass didn't slow his stride. "You always get that look. Like you're trying to see everything at once."

Lior hesitated. "Is that a bad thing?"

Cass huffed. "Not bad. Just makes you look like an easy target."

Lior scowled. "I'm not an easy target."

Cass smirked. "Yeah? Keep staring at people like that, and someone's gonna take it as an invitation."

Lior scoffed. "You sound like Pa."

Cass snorted. "I'd slit my own throat first."

They turned down a narrow alley, the brick walls pressing close, the smell of piss and damp wood curling in the air.

Lior could see their home now. The Sewer District was barely better than its name—cramped buildings stacked like a drunk man's house of cards, their wooden supports groaning, the ground beneath forever damp from the old, leaking pipes that ran beneath the city.

Cass's boots splashed through the shallow puddles, unfazed.

Lior followed, his steps lighter, avoiding the worst of the muck.

They passed Old Burke's shack, the roof half-caved in from last winter's storm. Passed the twins' den, where a faint glow flickered behind torn curtains.

Finally, they reached their door.

Cass stopped. Stared at it for a long moment.

Lior frowned. "You okay?"

Cass exhaled through his nose. "Yeah."

Then he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Lior followed, letting the door swing shut behind them.

And Blackmire kept breathing.

Inside, the air was warmer, thick with the scent of boiled potatoes and something else—something weaker, like watered-down broth struggling to be called a meal.

Lior saw her first.

His mother sat by the low wooden table, cradling Tally in her arms as she fed the toddler from a chipped spoon. Tally's tiny hands flailed, grabbing at nothing, her soft curls bouncing as she chewed clumsily.

Their mother looked up at them, her face calm at first—until her gaze landed on Cass.

She froze.

Her fingers, which had been gently rubbing circles into Tally's back, went still.

She blinked once.

Twice.

Then her hands moved.

"Why?"

One simple sign, her fingers slicing through the air.

Cass sighed. "It's nothing."

Her hands moved again, faster this time.

"Not nothing."

Cass rubbed a hand over his bruised jaw, looking anywhere but at her. "I just tripped, Ma."

Lior scoffed. "On fists?"

Cass shot him a look.

Their mother's hands trembled.

Lior could see the worry behind her sharp brown eyes, the way her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something. But she couldn't.

She never could.

Her voice had been stolen years ago—by sickness, by cruelty, by something Lior was too young to remember. But her silence had never once dulled the way she spoke.

Cass shifted under her gaze, looking tired, looking guilty.

She reached for him.

Cass flinched before she even touched him, but when her palm pressed softly to his cheek, he didn't pull away.

Tally gurgled, completely unaware of the tension in the room. Her little fingers clutched the edge of her mother's sleeve, babbling nonsense between spoonfuls.

Lior took in the rest of the room.

Their home—if it could be called that—was a single, cramped space. The walls were wooden, dark with age, and thin enough to hear the neighbors fighting when the city hushed at night. A stove sat in the corner, barely warm. The floorboards creaked under every step, and the single window was covered with patched fabric instead of glass.

Their beds were just thin mats against the wall, shared blankets stacked on top.

Lior could hear the drip, drip, drip of a leaky pipe just outside.

Familiar.

All of it.

Cass pulled back, rubbing at his face. "I'm fine, Ma."

She didn't believe him. Lior could tell.

She let out a slow breath, her hands moving again, slower this time.

"Eat. Rest."

Cass exhaled through his nose. "Yeah, yeah."

She turned to Lior then, her fingers forming another sign.

"You too."

Lior nodded. "I know."

Cass dragged himself to the table, dropping onto the rickety stool with a thud.

Lior sat beside him.

Their mother stood, moving to the stove to scoop what little food they had into their bowls.

Tally clapped her hands, grinning—as if there was something to celebrate.

Cass let out a tired chuckle, flicking a piece of bread toward her. "Here, squirt."

She missed catching it completely.

Lior laughed.

For a moment—just a moment—it almost felt like a normal night.