energy currents

The alley stank of rotting garbage and stale urine, a thick mist curling around my boots as I trudged through the darkness.

My breath fogged in the icy air, and I adjusted the heavy crate in my arms, the rough wood digging into my fingers.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, my voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city. The crate shifted, and a sharp pain shot through my arm. I hissed, nearly dropping the damn thing.

"Watch it, James!" a gruff voice called from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Marcus, his burly frame barely visible in the dim light of a flickering streetlamp.

"Easy for you to say," I shot back, wincing as the pain in my arm flared. "This thing's got more sharp edges than a damn razor."

Marcus chuckled, his breath puffing out in a cloud of steam. "Just keep moving. We're almost there."

I nodded, gritting my teeth as I continued down the narrow alley. The crate felt heavier with every step, and the pain in my arm was becoming unbearable.

Finally, I delivered the last crate of goods to the destination.

"I need to go back and bandage the wound quickly. " I said.

As soon as I got back to the room, I took off my clothes.My arm was bleeding, the dark stain spreading through the fabric of my sleeve.

I can only sprinkle some alcohol on the wound to relieve my pain.

Slowly, drowsiness came over me. The pain in my arm was still there, but it was dull now, a constant ache that I could ignore for the moment.

As I drifted off, the events of the night replayed in my mind. The alley, the crate, the pain—all of it blending together into a hazy dream.

The dim light of my small, shabby home flickered as Mia stepped inside, her presence immediately filling the room with a strange warmth. She carried a bundle of herbs and a roll of bandages, her movements quick yet precise.

I winced as she approached, the pain from my wounds throbbing in time with my heartbeat.

"Sit down," she said, her voice firm but gentle. Her dark eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

I obeyed, lowering myself onto the edge of the rickety wooden chair. The air around us was heavy with the scent of crushed herbs—earthy, sharp, and oddly comforting.

Mia knelt in front of me, her fingers brushing against my torn shirt as she peeled it away from the wound on my shoulder.

Her touch sent a shiver through me, but not from the cold.

"This is going to sting," she warned, her voice soft.

I clenched my jaw as she pressed a damp cloth to the wound, the herbal mixture she'd prepared seeping into the raw flesh.

The pain was sharp, but it was quickly replaced by a soothing warmth that spread through my skin.

"You're good at this," I muttered, trying to distract myself from the way her hands moved so skillfully over me.

She didn't respond, her focus entirely on her work. But then her hands stilled, her fingers lingering against my chest. Her brow furrowed, and she leaned closer, her breath warmed against my skin.

"James…" she whispered, her voice tinged with something I couldn't quite place. "There's something… inside you."

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. "What do you mean?"

She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching mine. "I can feel it. There are… energy currents. Three of them, swirling inside you. They're… powerful. And unstable."

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "I know," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I've felt them too. I just… I don't know what they are. Or how to control them."

Mia's expression softened, her hand resting lightly on my arm. "One day you will learn to control your power."

Her words sent a strange warmth through me, one that had nothing to do with the herbs she'd used.

"Thank you," I said, my voice rough with emotion.

She smiled faintly, her fingers brushing against mine as she reached for the bandages. "Just don't make a habit of getting yourself hurt, okay?"

I chuckled, the sound low and strained. "No promises."

The room fell silent as she worked, the only sound the rustle of bandages and the steady rhythm of our breathing. The tension between us was palpable, a quiet undercurrent that neither of us acknowledged.

But as she finished tying off the bandage, her hands lingered on my shoulder, her touch warmer than before.

"James…" she began, her voice hesitant.

I looked at her, my heart pounding in my chest. "Yeah?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but then hesitated, her gaze dropping to her hands. "Never mind," she said softly, shaking her head. "You should rest. I'll be back tomorrow to check on you."

I wanted to ask her what she was going to say, but the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I just nodded, watching as she gathered her things and headed for the door.

As she stepped out into the night, the scent of herbs and something uniquely her lingered in the air. I leaned back in my chair, my mind racing with unanswered questions and a strange, unfamiliar ache in my chest.