The First Enemy

Kaelion woke to the sound of raised voices.

His head ached, his body stiff from sleeping against the cold wall. The embers of the fire had long since died out, leaving the hideout cloaked in shadows.

He turned toward the noise.

Outside, just beyond the ruined doorway, he could hear the girl speaking—calm, measured. And someone else. A man.

"You really think you can fool me?" the voice growled.

Kaelion narrowed his eyes.

Ronan's men.

He recognized the voice—Garrik. One of Ronan's closest enforcers. A man who enjoyed making others suffer.

Kaelion pushed himself up, silently creeping toward the entrance.

Outside, the girl stood rigidly, facing Garrik. The torchlight from the alley flickered against her bruised face, casting sharp shadows over her exhausted features.

"You're hiding something," Garrik muttered. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his knife. "That brat you've been dragging around—who is he?"

Kaelion froze.

He wasn't stupid. He knew his presence had been drawing attention. But he hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

The girl didn't flinch. "Just another rat trying to survive. He's nothing."

Kaelion's chest tightened at her words.

Nothing.

That was good. That meant she wasn't giving him away.

But Garrik wasn't convinced.

"You think I'm blind?" He stepped closer, voice lowering. "That kid's different. The way he talks, the way he looks at people—he's no street rat. And that makes him a problem."

Kaelion's muscles tensed.

The girl kept her face blank. "If he was anything important, do you really think he'd be stuck here?"

Garrik studied her, his expression dark.

Then, he smirked.

"You've always been good at lying," he mused, running a hand through his greasy hair. "But don't think you can fool me forever."

He stepped back, giving her one last lingering look.

"If that brat steps out of line, it won't be Ronan who deals with him."

Then he was gone.

The girl let out a slow breath.

Kaelion finally stepped out of the shadows.

"That was close," he muttered.

She glanced at him. "You need to be more careful."

Kaelion frowned. "I didn't do anything."

"You existed," she replied flatly. "And that's already enough to make people want to kill you."

Kaelion clenched his fists.

She wasn't wrong.

But he wasn't going to run.

Not now.

Not ever.

___________

Kaelion should have seen it coming.

The moment Garrik's gaze lingered too long, the moment his smirk stretched just a little wider—Kaelion knew it wouldn't end there.

The man wanted him dead.

And he wasn't patient.

It happened the next evening.

Kaelion had just returned from sneaking through the market, his pockets heavier with stolen food. The girl had sent him out alone this time, calling it a "test."

If he got caught, she wouldn't help him.

"You want to survive?" she had said. "Then prove it."

And he had.

He was fast, careful, unnoticed—just another shadow slipping through the filth of the city.

But as soon as he stepped back into the ruins of their hideout, he sensed it.

The shift in the air. The wrongness.

A presence waiting in the dark.

Kaelion barely had time to react before something crashed into him from behind, slamming him against the crumbling stone wall.

Pain exploded through his ribs.

He tried to twist away, but a rough hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head back.

"Thought you were clever, huh?"

Garrik.

Kaelion grit his teeth, forcing himself not to wince.

"You're faster than I expected," Garrik mused, tightening his grip. "But not fast enough."

The blade pressed against his throat.

"Do you know what I hate most?" Garrik continued, voice a whisper. "Rats that think they're better than the filth they crawl through."

Kaelion stayed silent.

He wasn't stupid. Any wrong move, and that knife would carve into his skin.

"You're not special, boy." Garrik leaned closer, breath reeking of stale alcohol. "You're nothing. And the sooner you understand that, the better."

Kaelion's heart pounded.

He had two choices.

1. Fight. Risk everything. Try to break free. But Garrik was stronger, and Kaelion was still just a child. The odds weren't in his favor.

2. Use his mind.

The girl's words echoed in his head.

"Anger without purpose is just wasted energy."

Kaelion exhaled slowly.

Then, he did something unexpected.

He smirked.

"You really think Ronan will like this?" he said, voice calm despite the blade at his throat.

Garrik stiffened.

Kaelion tilted his head slightly, making sure his expression remained relaxed. Confident.

"You kill me now," he continued, "and Ronan's going to ask questions."

Garrik's grip faltered for half a second.

It was enough.

Kaelion **struck—**twisting his body just enough to knock Garrik's wrist aside. The blade scraped his skin, drawing blood, but it didn't cut deep.

He dropped low, kicking out at Garrik's knee.

The man staggered back, cursing.

Kaelion darted out of reach, pressing a hand to his throat. His skin burned where the knife had grazed it.

Garrik glared at him, breathing hard.

"You little—"

A sound cut through the alley.

Clapping.

Slow, deliberate.

Kaelion turned his head—and found the girl leaning against the broken doorway, arms crossed.

"Not bad," she said casually. "I was starting to wonder if you'd let yourself die like an idiot."

Kaelion scowled.

"You saw that and didn't help?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You didn't need help."

Garrik growled, stepping forward—but the girl shifted slightly, and his expression darkened.

"You think Ronan's going to care about a street brat?" he spat. "You're both dead the moment he decides you're useless."

Kaelion wiped the blood from his throat.

Maybe.

But today wasn't that day.

Garrik shot them one last glare before disappearing into the night.

Silence stretched between them.

Kaelion turned to the girl. "You knew that would happen."

She smirked. "And now you know how to handle it."

Kaelion exhaled, the tension in his body slowly fading.

A lesson.

Another one.

And for the first time, he realized something.

The girl wasn't just watching him.

She was teaching him.