The car should have taken her to the tower. Instead, Nyasha gave the driver a different address—one burned into her memory since childhood.
The Lower Quarters.
Umbra's Gate glittered for the rich, but down here, the streets were a different city entirely—alleys soaked in rain and neon, stalls crammed with charms that hummed faintly of stolen magic. Relics changed hands here more often than bread.
She stepped out into the crowd and pulled her hood low. For a moment, it was like stepping through time. The smell of spiced oil, fried yam cakes, and the faint metallic tang of blood. Her mother used to bring her here, long before exile, when she was still a child learning to listen to the city's heartbeat.
And then she heard it—laughter, sharp and familiar, echoing from a nearby stall.
"Tell me you're not about to cheat me, Goro," the voice barked. "Last time you tried, I made you eat your dice."
Nyasha froze. It couldn't be.
But when she turned, she saw her.
Zara Omondi.
Once her closest friend, daughter of a relic-smuggler, sharp-tongued and dangerous even at fourteen. Now older, harder, but the same fire in her eyes. A dagger glinted at her hip, a charm woven into her braids.
Nyasha almost smiled. So some embers don't die.
"Still threatening men twice your size, I see," Nyasha said quietly.
Zara spun around, ready to strike. Then her eyes widened, the dagger slipping slightly in her hand. "Nyasha?"
The market noise fell away for a moment.
Nyasha lowered her hood, the Emberheart's faint glow tracing her collarbone. "Back from the dead," she said softly.
Zara's face shifted—from shock, to anger, to something like relief. She strode forward and pulled Nyasha into a rough embrace. "Ten years. Ten damn years, and you just show up here like nothing?"
Nyasha held her ground. "I didn't have a choice."
Zara pulled back, eyes narrowing. "This city chewed us up without you. You know what your father's done, don't you?"
Nyasha's jaw tightened. "That's why I'm here."
Zara studied her for a long moment, then smirked. "Then you'll need allies. And lucky for you, I don't hold grudges. Much."
The two women began walking together, weaving through the market. And though the night buzzed with danger and eyes followed them from the shadows, for the first time since she stepped foot in Umbra's Gate, Nyasha felt the spark of something stronger than revenge.
Home.