Chapter 14: Taste of Twilight

I really hate Twilight

Too dark. Too cramped. Too slow.

She stepped off the tram like it had insulted her, boots clacking hard against the iron flooring. The city exhaled steam. The crooked alleys, oily streets, and cold eyes watching from behind tinted lenses.

Someone should've cleaned the place. Burning it won't be a bad option

She adjusted her coat, muttering under her breath, "In and out. One bar. No trouble."

The market square buzzed ahead — glowing signs half-lit, neon flickering above crude stalls. A mechanic barked about mana converters. Another sold cigarettes carved with resistance slogans.

Crimson ignored them all.

Until…

Her fingers brushed her side pocket.

Empty.

She froze mid-step.

Checked again.

Nothing.

The chain… it was gone.

Her breath hitched. Slow, sharp. Her jaw clenched.

She turned, scanning the crowd.

There — a flash of white darting between vendors. Small figure, ragged coat. Gone again behind crates.

Crimson's eyes narrowed.

She didn't think.

She ran.

"Hey!" she snapped, shoving past a man carrying coils of wire. "You—! Stop!"

No one did.

The figure was already ducking into a side alley.

Crimson cursed, boots hammering the metal slats beneath her.

"Shouldn't have touched that," she growled.

Steam burst from a vent just as she turned the corner, half-blinding her.

Then a voice — light, sharp, dancing on the edge of mocking:

"You sure you're from Daylight? Thought they taught patience up there."

Crimson froze.

The figure wearing a rabbit, stood on a crate at the far end of the alley, one hand in her coat pocket, the other dangling something from her fingers.

Crimson's eyes locked on it. "Give it back."

The rabbit mask tilted.

"Nervous? It's just a necklace." Her tone was amused. "Pretty one, though. Doesn't really match your attitude."

"Last warning."

The girl spun the chain once around her finger.

"See, now I'm curious. You don't look like the sentimental type."

Crimson's hand lit with heat. She raised it slightly, not enough to scorch, just enough to speak.

The Rabbit didn't flinch.

In fact, she laughed — soft and short.

"Ooh. Temper. Let me guess. Family heirloom? Or... final memory of someone dearly departed?"

Crimson took a step forward, fire twitching at her palm. "Do you always run your mouth before you run?"

"No," the Rabbit said lightly. "But I like the sound of yours cracking."

Another step.

The Rabbit didn't move.

Crimson's eyes locked with the black holes in the mask.

"You've got two seconds," Crimson said.

The Rabbit tilted her head, thoughtful. Then slowly extended her hand and let the necklace dangle between them, silver chain swaying gently in the stale alley breeze.

"Come on, then. Take it."

The necklace shimmered between gloved fingers.

Crimson's breath hitched, fury burning beneath her skin.

"Drop it," she said, voice razor-flat.

The Rabbit spun the chain once, casually, like it meant nothing.

"You always threaten first?" she asked, voice light, mocking behind the mask. "Or is that just how Daylight girls flirt?"

Crimson lunged.

No warning this time.

Her boot struck the ground with a burst of heat, launching her forward. Her fist, flaming, went straight for the mask.

The Rabbit ducked, flipped, kicked up with both legs.

Crimson caught one but the other smashed into her ribs.

She stumbled back, exhaled, then twisted midair, landing hard and swinging wide with a blast of fire. The alley lit up gold.

The Rabbit vanished into smoke again.

Crimson followed with quick, tight steps, left palm igniting and right hand coiled like a blade.

The Rabbit came at her from the side — fast, with twin daggers made of sharpened scrap. One grazed Crimson's shoulder. The other was blocked by a flash of heat erupting from her forearm.

"Try harder," Crimson hissed, spinning and elbowing The Rabbit in the back.

A solid hit.

The girl hit the wall with a grunt — but rolled, fast, leaving a metal pellet behind.

Crimson caught it just too late.

Pop—hiss!

It exploded in a flashbang burst, forcing Crimson to shield her eyes.

"Cheap tricks," she spat, blinking rapidly.

"Smart ones," the Rabbit replied from behind.

Crimson twisted — too slow. A boot slammed into her back.

She stumbled forward, caught herself, then flared her entire arm in retaliation, a wave of fire scorched the alley wall.

The Rabbit barely missed it, tucking and tumbling low. Her coat caught at the edge, searing black, but she didn't stop.

She swept Crimson's legs of the floor.

Crimson hit the ground hard, but punched upward, a fist of heat and force smashing into The Rabbit's side.

Both of them rolled back, breathing hard now, blood in Crimson's mouth and soot on the Rabbit's mask.

Click.

From behind the crate, The Rabbit raised something small.

Something like a bead. 

It exploded midair unleashing a flash of ice.

Crimson cried out, staggered backward as frost clung to her coat and skin. 

Before she could recover, The Rabbit threw a smoke bomb. Crimson melted the ice, then froze the mist in the air. 

But The Rabbit was gone. 

Crimson stood, shaking, breathing ragged, hand at her ribs.

She looked up at the empty rooftop.

A single word echoed down.

"Next time, bring a better reason."

She didn't shout back.

She just closed her fists… and watched the flame return melting the frozen smoke. 

"Tch… she got away."

Crimson spat blood into the gutter and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Her shoulder ached. Her ribs throbbed. Her pride… worse.

She muttered to herself, "Next time, no warnings."

The alley was quiet again, like nothing had happened.

But she was breathing heavy.

Burning slow.

The chain was still gone.

She turned toward the street, steps uneven at first.

One fight. One thief. And somehow, she felt like she had been robbed more than once.

A bar came into view — flickering lanterns, the sound of glass clinking and voices raised inside. 

Probably the only place in Twilight where someone could sit down and pretend the world didn't smell like rust.

She almost made it to the entrance…

Then stopped.

Two figures were heading toward her.

Both cloaked.

Not rushed. Not aimless. Just… direct.

One wore a wide-brimmed hat tilted just enough to shadow his eyes.

The other walked with casual awareness, like he was waiting for someone to try him.

Crimson narrowed her gaze.

They didn't look Twilight.

Didn't move like locals.

Sunwalkers?

Just what I need.

Her fingers twitched, still aching from the fight. The fire beneath her skin stirred — not rising, not yet.

She straightened her posture, brushing soot off her coat.

If they were coming for trouble, she wasn't in the mood.

And if they weren't—

They'd better know how to stay out of her way.