Chapter Two

Solene woke to the pale light of dawn creeping through the cracks in her window. The small room above the tailor's shop was cold, the thin blanket wrapped around her offering little warmth. She stretched, her muscles aching from another night on a stiff mattress. The scent of fabric and dye lingered in the air—a reminder of the life she lived, stitching together the wealth of others while having nothing herself.

With a sigh, she rose and dressed quickly. The tailor, Mistress Lira, would already be downstairs preparing for the day. If Solene was late, she'd get another lecture about how lucky she was to even have a place to sleep. She knew better than to argue.

As she stepped into the shop, the sight before her made her pause. Three girls, around her age, stood near the shelves lined with finely woven fabrics. Their silk dresses shimmered under the dim candlelight, the embroidery catching the glow. Solene didn't need to ask where they were from their posture, their clothes, the subtle magic humming in the air around them told her everything. High Ring daughters.

They didn't belong here.

Solene lowered her gaze, keeping to the shadows as she moved toward her worktable. She wasn't meant to be seen, only to sew and fetch whatever Mistress Lira needed. But even as she tried to fade into the background, she couldn't help but steal glances at the girls. They were everything she wasn't clean, well-fed, confident. One of them tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder, the movement graceful, effortless. Another inspected a bolt of deep blue fabric, her fingers tracing patterns in the air as golden symbols flickered for a brief moment before fading.

Magic. Real, powerful magic.

Solene clenched her fists. What would it be like to have that kind of power? To walk through Velmora without fear, without hunger clawing at her stomach? She imagined herself draped in fine silk, speaking with the same quiet authority they carried so naturally. But the thought was fleeting, vanishing like mist under the weight of reality.

"She actually works here?" one of the girls murmured, her voice just loud enough to be heard. Solene stiffened.

"Of course," another replied, laughing lightly. "What else would a Hollow do?"

The third girl tilted her head, studying Solene with curiosity rather than outright disdain. "I heard some Hollows are born with magic, but it's so weak they never use it. Like a candle against a wildfire."

Mistress Lira cleared her throat sharply. The girls smirked but said nothing more. Solene bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to focus on the fabric before her. Their words shouldn't matter. They weren't the first to look down on her, and they wouldn't be the last.

Still, as she threaded her needle and began to sew, she couldn't shake the weight of their stares.

She wasn't one of them. She never would be.

As Solene worked, she noticed Mistress Lira moving through the shop with practiced ease. The tailor wasn't just skilled with a needle she had a power of her own, though it wasn't the grand kind that shattered mountains or summoned storms. Lira's magic was subtle, woven into the very threads of her creations. As she spoke to the High Ring girls, her voice carried an almost hypnotic quality, her words wrapping around them like silk. Their hands drifted toward the fabric without realizing it, their eyes widening as they ran their fingers over the embroidery.

"This shade of crimson will bring out the fire in your spirit," Lira murmured to one girl, brushing her fingertips over the fabric. A faint shimmer followed, and the girl gasped as warmth spread through her hands.

Another girl reached for a sky-blue gown, and Lira smiled knowingly. "A dress like this doesn't just make a statement it commands attention." The fabric rippled slightly, almost as if it were responding to her words.

The girls exchanged excited glances, already imagining themselves draped in the enchanted fabrics. Even with all their wealth and power, they weren't immune to the allure of something greater.

Solene watched in silence. It was a quiet kind of magic, one that didn't need flashy displays to be effective. It wasn't just about the fabric it was about control, persuasion. Mistress Lira knew exactly how to make people want what she offered. Even those born with everything still craved more.

Solene lowered her gaze, her hands tightening around the needle and thread. 

The bells outside the shop suddenly rang, their sharp chimes cutting through the afternoon hum of the streets. A commotion followeda series of urgent shouts, hurried footsteps, and the unmistakable clang of armored boots against the stone roads.

Mistress Lira paused, frowning. She exchanged glances with Solene before stepping toward the door. Curiosity prickled at Solene's skin, and she followed, along with her boss, pushing out into the street.

A scene unfolded before them. Guards in dark, gleaming armor rushed down the market road, their hands gripping weapons enchanted with flickering symbols. A figure darted between the crowds a Hollow, dressed in ragged clothes, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to flee. His face was twisted in desperation, his feet stumbling against the uneven cobblestone.

One of the guards barked. "Stop him!"

No one moved. The people of the Merchant's Quarter knew better than to get involved. They watched in tense silence as the chase continued, until a new presence stepped forward.

A high-ranked officer.

His uniform bore the insignia of the King's Guard, his dark cloak billowing as he walked with calmly, his golden Sigil glowing on the side of his neck. He was tall, imposing, and unlike the other guards, he did not rush after the Hollow. Instead, he lifted a hand, his fingers moving in an intricate motion.

A pulse of power rippled through the air. The very ground beneath their feet shuddered as shimmering chains of light erupted from a stone, twisting and coiling like living serpents. They struck fast, wrapping around the fleeing Hollow's ankles, yanking him backward. The Hollow let out a choked cry as he fell hard onto the ground, the golden chains tightening around him.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Solene felt her breath hitch as she watched, unable to tear her gaze away. This was High Ring magic—true, undeniable power. Not tricks, not whispers woven into fabric, but raw, overwhelming force that bent the world to its will.

The officer stepped forward, his expression impassive as he loomed over the captured Hollow. "It's time for you to go," he said, his voice carrying effortlessly. "You know the law."

The Hollow struggled, but the chains only tightened in response. The power of the High Ring was absolute. The outcome was already decided.

Solene's hands trembled at her sides. What did he mean by it was time for the Hollow to go?" She had always known the power difference between them and the High Ring. But seeing it like this so effortless, so final made it sink deeper into her bones.

Power wasn't just about having magic. It was about having enough of it to make the world obey.

And right now, the world did not belong to people like her. And never will. 

As Lira and Solene turned to go back inside, Lira gave her a warning look. "Stay in your place, Solene," she said. "Or one day, you might end up like that."