It's not that. I… I saw something today." She said
Darel's grin widened, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh? What did you see? A dragon? A three-headed cow? Or did some poor boy finally ask you to marry him, and you're still recovering?"
Sena gave him a withering look. "It's serious, Darel."
He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, alright, serious face. What did you see, then?"
Sena hesitated again, her hands tightening by her sides. She lowered her voice, but the words tumbled out, laced with confusion.
"I had a vision. After bumping into a boy. I saw… I saw a circle. Strange symbols, ones I didn't understand. And there was a boy inside it. His heart—it was made of glass, and inside were these… gems. Bright, glowing. It was dark, but the gems lit everything. It felt… real."
Darel's teasing grin faltered for a brief second, confusion flickering across his face, before he masked it with humor again.
"A glass heart?" He snorted. "Did you hit your head when you bumped into him, or is this your new way of telling stories?"
Sena's frown deepened, frustration knotting in her chest. "I'm serious!"
"Right, right." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Next, you'll tell me the boy flew into the sky and turned into a bird."
"Darel." Sena's voice was sharp, trembling. "I'm not joking."
There was a pause. Then, Darel stood, stretching lazily as he strolled toward the cooking area. "Hey, Ma," he called, trying to mask his curiosity with nonchalance, "come hear this. Sena's been seeing visions of boys with glass hearts. You might want to check if she's been eating some strange herbs."
Laina turned, her hand stilling on the ladle. Her eyes were calm but sharp, reading beneath her son's humor. Darim's hands paused on the blade, tension coiling in his shoulders.
"What did you say?" Laina asked, though her voice was too even, too controlled.
Sena swallowed. She could feel the mood shift, see it in her father's stillness, her mother's gaze. Slowly, she repeated the story, her words quieter this time, yet heavy with meaning. The vision, the boy, the circle, the glowing gems. She spared no detail.
When she finished, the silence was thick.
Darel chuckled, though the sound was forced. "Well, maybe she needs more rest. Dreams can be strange when you're tired."
But neither parent was laughing.
Darim's eyes were dark, steady, fixed on Sena as though he could weigh her words with a glance. Laina's hands were still, her expression unreadable, but her mouth was pressed into a thin line.
"You must not speak of this again," Laina said quietly, her voice firm.
Sena blinked, confused. "But why? Why shouldn't I—?"
"It's nothing," Darim cut in, his voice low but sharp. "A trick of the mind. Nothing more."
"It wasn't a trick!" Sena protested, her voice shaking. "It felt real. And what if it means something? Why are you—"
"Enough," Laina interrupted, her calm voice slicing through the room like a blade. She moved closer, eyes locked on Sena's. "You do not speak of this. Not to anyone. Not to your friends. Not to us."
"But I don't understand!" Sena's voice cracked. "Why? Why are you acting like this?"
Darim stood, his broad frame shadowing the firelight. His gaze was heavy, filled with a weight Sena couldn't understand. "Because some things are better left unsaid. Forgotten."
"But it's not forgotten to me!" Sena's voice broke. She looked between them, her heart pounding. "You know something. Don't you?"
Neither of them answered.
Darel shifted awkwardly, his smile long gone. "It's just a dream, Sena. Nothing more." But even his voice lacked conviction.
Sena's chest tightened. Her fists clenched. "You're hiding something."
Laina's face softened, but there was sadness there. Regret. "You must trust us, Sena."
Darim's voice was deeper, colder. "And you must forget."
The words hung in the air, heavy and final.
And though Sena wanted to press further, to demand answers, she saw the iron in their eyes. They would say nothing more.
So she swallowed her confusion, her anger, and her fear. She nodded, though it felt like defeat, and turned away.
Later, in the darkness of her room, Sena lay awake, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing. The vision, the gems, the boy—it wouldn't leave her.
And neither would the look on her parents' faces.
Fear. But deeper than that. She thought, as she slowly drifted to sleep.
---
The next day, as they worked together under the sun's weight, Kaelen stole a glance at Tenny. His friend always smiled, always joked, but there was something behind his eyes. A sharpness, like he carried stories he never told.
Kaelen remembered once asking him why he wasn't afraid of anything. Tenny's answer was simple. "Because fear is for those who have something to lose."
Kaelen hadn't understood then, but he did now. Tenny's family lived on edges, on scraps. His older brother had been taken once—snatched in a sweep for laborers. Never came back. Tenny had learned then that hesitation was death. Action was survival.
Maybe that was why he laughed louder, dared more. Because standing still meant sinking.
The midday heat pressed heavily over the labor fields, where the clang of tools and the murmur of tired voices drifted lazily across the air. Kaelen sat under the shade of a worn wooden post, his body aching from the morning's toil. Beside him, Tenny crouched, his face shadowed but his eyes sharp, scanning the dusty horizon as though searching for some adventure to shake off the day's monotony.
The silence between them stretched, only filled by the rhythmic sounds of hammers in the distance. Kaelen stared at the ground, tracing patterns with his fingers, his thoughts a haze of weariness.
Then it came—a whisper. Soft, almost elusive, but distinct.
"Listen."
Kaelen's head jerked up, his brow furrowed. He blinked, the world around him still the same, but that word... it echoed in his mind, as though the air itself had spoken it.
"What is it?" Tenny asked, glancing sideways, his tone casual.
Kaelen's eyes narrowed, his head tilting slightly. His ears strained, catching the faintest ripple of voices—not nearby, but distant. A conversation, muddled and blurred, like murmurs underwater. But they grew clearer, sharper, the longer he focused.
"...they'll search their section first... no one will suspect us."
Kaelen froze, his heart thudding painfully.
"...we hide it under the storage by dusk. If they don't find it, they'll punish the wrong ones. The quiet ones."
Kaelen's chest tightened. The words crawled into his mind, sharp and unforgiving. Someone had stolen something. And worse, they planned to frame others—laborers. His section.
People like him.
The punishment could be severe. Here, guilt was rarely questioned. Sometimes, it meant beatings. Other times, worse. Much worse.
Tenny noticed the change. "Kaelen?"
Kaelen's lips moved before he could stop them. The words came out low, almost a breath. "They're framing us."
"What?" Tenny blinked, confusion flashing across his face.
Kaelen swallowed, shaking his head as though trying to clear the fog from his mind. "I... I heard them. Just now. They're going to hide something... and blame it on our group."
Tenny frowned, glancing around. "Who did you hear?"
Kaelen hesitated. How could he explain it? That the voices were too far, and yet too clear? That a single whisper had sharpened his senses in an impossible way?
"I don't know," Kaelen said, his voice low. "But they're close. Talking about setting us up."
Tenny's gaze darkened. He sat up straighter, tension rippling through his frame. "You sure?"
Kaelen nodded once. "If they do, and the guards find out... it won't matter if we're innocent."
Tenny's jaw clenched. "They'll blame us because we're weak."
Kaelen didn't answer. The fear settled deep in his chest, heavy and suffocating.
Tenny leaned closer, his voice a hushed whisper. "You… how did you hear them? No one else is talking nearby."
Kaelen hesitated, his throat dry. "I… don't know." The words felt wrong. Untrue. But what else could he say? He couldn't explain the way the sound had split the air, sharp and perfect, like his ears had reached out across the distance.
Tenny studied him, confusion shadowing his features. But he didn't press.
"What do we do?" he finally asked.
Kaelen glanced over his shoulder, his instincts sharp, his heart racing. "We need to find out where they'll hide it. If we don't… when the guards come, it'll be our heads on the block."
Tenny nodded, his expression grim.
And deep down, Kaelen felt something stir—a quiet, lurking dread. A sense that this was more than just a coincidence. That something inside him had changed. Something he doesn't know.
For now, there was no time to dwell. There was danger ahead.
And if they didn't act, it would consume them.
But for now they had to work.
---
The evening had settled with a heavy stillness, casting long shadows over the worn streets. The day's labor was behind them, but Kaelen's mind wasn't at ease. The words he had overheard haunted him—sharp whispers about hiding stolen items. And the name of their work section, uttered like a curse, clung to his thoughts.
Sitting on the cold ground outside his home, Kaelen relayed the details to Tenny. The faint glow of lanterns nearby cast light over their tense expressions.
"I heard them," Kaelen said firmly, his eyes locked onto the dirt. "They said they'd hide it here… in our section."
Tenny frowned, leaning back on his hands. "You sure about that?" His tone was light, but doubt shadowed his gaze. "I mean, Kaelen… you really heard them? From that far?"
Kaelen didn't respond immediately. The truth felt heavier than the air between them.
"I don't know how, but I did," he said finally. "And if they frame us—"
Tenny cut in with a nervous laugh. "Frame us? Come on, Kaelen. You think they're really going to risk that?"
Kaelen's gaze was sharp. "We don't have much. No power. No protection. If they dump stolen goods there, it's over."
Silence stretched between them. The weight of that reality pressed hard.
Tenny sighed, rubbing his face. "Alright, fine. We watch. Tonight."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "Midnight. That's when they'll come."
Tenny groaned, already regretting it. "You're lucky I'm your friend."
Kaelen gave a small, grim smile. "I know."
---
Kaelen and Tenny waited, resting as much as they could. The hours dragged, heavy with exhaustion and anticipation. The moon was high when they finally rose, slipping through the silent paths. Shadows swallowed them as they crept past empty homes, moving through the maze of dirt and stones.
The field stood silent, its worn ground faintly glowing under the moon. Kaelen led the way, his steps light, cautious. Tenny followed, muttering under his breath about how this was a "terrible idea."
They crouched behind a low, splintered crate near the edge of their section, close enough to watch but hidden from view. The air was cool but thick, every sound sharp against the silence
Tenny broke it first. "So… we wait?"
Kaelen nodded, eyes locked ahead. "We wait."
---
The minutes dragged. Time slowed until it felt like hours. Shadows shifted with the wind, and every soft rustle made Kaelen's heart pound.
Tenny huffed. "You sure they're coming tonight?"
Kaelen's jaw was tight. "I'm sure."
But as the hours passed, doubt crept in. Each whisper of the wind, each crack of old wood, came and went with no sign of footsteps. No hushed voices. No shadows slipping through the dark to hide stolen goods.
Tenny shifted, rubbing his arms. "They're not coming." His voice was low, edged with frustration.
Kaelen's eyes remained locked forward. "Wait."
Tenny chuckled bitterly. "Wait? It's midnight, Kaelen. Maybe they're smarter than you think. Maybe they saw us."
Kaelen didn't answer, but his chest tightened. What if he was wrong?
More minutes had turned to hours, and as the silence stretched, it felt like a weight pressing them into the ground. Finally, Tenny stood, dusting off his pants.
"This is stupid," he said, his voice louder now. "We've been sitting here like scared mice, and for what? Ghosts?"
Kaelen glanced up, his brows furrowed. "I heard them."
Tenny's laugh was dry. "Sure. You heard them. From how far? Across the whole field? Maybe you've got ears like a hawk now, huh?" He shook his head, smirking. "Maybe next time you'll hear the moon talking too."
Kaelen's lips tightened, but doubt was curling in his gut.
Tenny clapped him lightly on the back. "Come on. Let's go. I need sleep, not ghost stories."
Kaelen hesitated but eventually stood. His legs ached from crouching. The chill of failure settled into his bones.
"Maybe… maybe I was wrong," he admitted quietly.
Tenny grinned. "Told you. You'll owe me for this."
---
They walked back, their footsteps heavy. The night was cool, but Kaelen felt flushed with frustration and confusion.
"I know I heard them," he murmured again, more to himself than to Tenny.
Tenny laughed softly. "And maybe I'll start hearing whispers too. Come on, Kaelen. Sleep. Tomorrow, this will all be a dream."
But Kaelen wasn't so sure.