“Easy night?” Ria asked, glancing at the empty tables.
“Easier than some.” Talia wiped her hands on her apron. “You’re out late.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Ria’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Feels safer here than my flat lately.” She lingered at the bar, fingerswrapped around cooling tea. “You notice it too? The city’s different lately.”
Talia stopped cleaning. “Different how?”
“Colder. Sharper.” Ria’s gaze drifted towards the window. “Magic is thinner in some places. Wrong.”
Ambient magic awareness—another Calysteri gift. Talia knew the sensation well, though she’d never put words to it. Pockets of the city where her abilities dampened, where emotional signatures blurred into static, feeling unnatural. She’d always assumed it was part of the city’s uneven magical geography.
“More than usual, though,” Ria murmured. “And the disappearances?—“
“Don’t.” Talia’s voice sharpened before she could check it. “It’s late. Don’t borrow trouble.”
Ria’s expression softened. “Sorry. Just… be careful, yeah?”
“You too.”
Ria finished her tea and disappeared into the night, her collar turned up against the relentless drizzle. Once the door bolted shut, a heavy quiet dropped over the bar, settling like sediment after a storm. The familiar ache of emotional overflow pulled at Talia’s limbs, a dull exhaustion she carried through the closing rituals. She racked up the last of the glasses and swept the floor, her movements fluid and practised, until the room felt balanced once more.
A dense stillness settled at the base of her skull. She lifted her head, Calysteri instincts snapping to alert. Through the rain-streaked glass, the narrow street appeared deserted, an empty stretch where wavering streetlamps waged a losing war against the downpour.
The feeling lingered, a thin thread of wrongness tugging at her spine, but she forced it aside. Her mind was already drifting towards the sanctuary of the flat she shared with Mark, away from the jagged emotional dregs of the Old Quarter. He was her only anchor, a gentle, uncomplicated reality she’d leaned on for four years, and the thought of their summer wedding was as solid as the silver pendant resting in the hollow of her throat. Her thumb traced the cool curveof the engagement gift, the metal a comforting weight against her skin. She reached for her coat and stepped out onto the rain-slicked pavement, leaving the shadows of the Lantern’s Rest behind to find her way home.
Outside,the storm held its ground. Rain hammered the cobblestones, turning the Old Quarter into a chaotic mess of lamplight and shadow. Neon from the corner shops spilled across the pavement in trembling streaks of colour—pinks and blues smeared into the puddles like someone had dragged a wet brush across the world.
She flinched, ducking back beneath the narrow shelter of the pub’s awning as the street gleamed black and slick before her. Typical. She regretted the forgotten umbrella instantly and lingered against the brickwork, bracing herself for the dash to the taxi rank.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Mark’s name lit the screen, a small glow of warmth against the grey.
“Hey,” she said, wedging the phone between shoulder and ear while fumbling with her collar.
“You off yet?” His voice carried a warmth that cut through the chill.
“Just locked up. Was about to grab a cab.”
“I’ll come get you.”
“Mark, it’s fine. It’s not that far, even if I walk,” she said, her mobile pressed tight to her ear to block out the hiss of the rain. She raised a hand as a car approached, but the ‘For Hire’ sign stayed dark; the vehicle sped past, its taillights melting into the gloom like two receding embers.
His worry was a grounding pressure, a stark contrast to the sandpaper grit of the shift she’d just finished. She kept her voice light, shielding his peace from the shadows of the Old Quarter.
“But I’ll still get a taxi,” she added, her thumb tracing the silver pendant at her throat. “I’ll be home in no time.”
The line went quiet, filled only by the drumming downpour.
“Alright then, I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you, see you shortly.”
She ended the call, pocketed the phone, and stepped to the kerb. The rain intensified, fat drops that splattered against the pavement hard enough to sting exposed skin. Another car approached—black cab, orange light glowing. She raised her hand, stepping forward. It didn’t slow. Water sprayed from its tyres, drenching her ankles.
She swore under her breath, wiping rain from her face. The street stretched empty in both directions now, slick and deserted. Twenty minutes. Not far at all. She’d walked it a hundred times. The decision made itself.
She set off, head down, hunched against the deluge. The familiar route unspooled before her—past the bakery with its darkened windows, the boarded-up tailor’s shop, the narrow alley where strays sheltered.
Rain drowned the usual city sounds, replacing them with white noise that filled her ears and blotted out thought.
