Alias was so busy observing the way the humans tilted their heads to catch a breeze that he almost didn't notice the commotion coming from a nearby bakery stall.
"Hey! Stop him!"
Something, or someone rather, sprinted past Alias, nearly knocking him off his feet. It was a boy—lean, athletic, and covered in a layer of dust that couldn't hide the deep, dark tone of his skin. He looked to be about seventeen, with wild black hair and blue eyes that flickered with a fierce, desperate intelligence.
In his arms, he clutched a large, crusty loaf of bread as if it were a treasure.
"Thief! Someone grab the brat!" the baker roared, waving a wooden paddle. "Where are the guards?!"
Alias watched, frozen. On the scrolls, this would have been a tiny blip of 'social disorder'. But here, he could see the sweat beading on the boy's forehead and the way his chest heaved with effort. The boy—Theo—skidded around a corner, his eyes briefly meeting Alias's.
