The first crack was a sharp, sickening sound that cut through the quiet morning a whip striking flesh. It jolted me upright in my bed, my heart immediately hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
A shout of pain followed, then the angry roar of a crowd. These weren't the sounds of my normal routine. My world was usually bounded by the high stone walls of my family's property but this noise was different.
It was raw, real chaos from the outside world, and it was happening right on the other side of my back wall. A cold knot of dread tightened in my stomach, but it was nothing compared to the burning curiosity that followed. I had to see.
I slipped out into the backyard, the morning dew cool on my feet. It was a pointless habit, really. I could walk right up to the heavy iron gate. I could press my face against the cold bars and see the world I was never allowed to be a part of. That was always the limit. As I reached the gate, the scene in the alley came into horrible focus. A mob of neighbors had two boys cornered.
They looked about my age. One was on his knees, clutching his arm where a fresh whip mark bloomed across his skin. The other stood tense in front of him, trying to shield his friend while arguing desperately with the crowd. "We're not thieves!" he yelled, his voice cracking with panic. But the man shaking a pair of heavy manacles just laughed. They were outnumbered, trapped, and alone. Just like me.
The crowd's angry shouts suddenly shifted into uneasy murmurs as three figures in crisp, grey uniforms shoved their way through. Each wore a silver pin on their collar—a stylized, broken chain. Rehab Wardens.
The largest of them, a man with a jaw like granite, raised his voice, immediately silencing the mob. "These two are escapees from the Magical Rehabilitation Facility! They are unstable and dangerous!" A wave of understanding, then relief, washed through the neighbors. Their righteous anger had been validated. But then the warden's eyes scanned the rooftops and alleys, his expression darkening.
"And there was a third. He's still out here. Where is he?" The question hung in the air for a tense second before the lead warden's patience snapped. His explanation done, he drove his fist into the stomach of the kneeling boy, who crumpled with a choked gasp. "That's for making us run!" The other wardens joined in, and the crowd's satisfaction curdled into shock. "They're just kids!" someone yelled. "Stop hittin' 'em!" shouted another.
As soon as the transport vehicle turned the corner and the alley fell silent again, the strange energy drained away, leaving just the quiet hum of the mana-lines.
The show was over. I turned my back on the gate, deciding to check on the sun-peppers I was trying to grow in a patch of dirt near the front of the yard. But I'd only taken a few steps when a movement in the next yard over caught my eye.
I froze. There, crouched behind my neighbor's overgrown hydrangea bushes, was a boy. His clothes were dirty and torn, and he was breathing hard. Our eyes locked over the low stone fence that divided our properties. He looked even more terrified than the other two had.
He brought a finger to his lips, his eyes wide and pleading. "Please," he whispered, the word barely reaching me across the distance. "Don't... don't shout. Don't say anything." I just stared at him. The third escapee. He wasn't in the alleys or on the rooftops. He was right there.
A normal person would have screamed. A hero would have tried to help him. I wasn't sure I was either of those things. I was just a guy who wanted to check on his plants.
After a long second of just looking at him through the fence, I gave a slow, single nod. Then I turned my back on him completely and walked over to my sun-peppers. I crouched down, gently touching the leaves to see if they needed water.
The world outside the walls was loud and violent and complicated. My yard had rules. And the most important rule was to never, ever draw attention to yourself. What happened on the other side of the fence wasn't my business. Helping him would cause noise. Turning him in would cause noise. Ignoring him was the quietest option. It was the only thing that made sense.
I decided the plants were fine. The less time I spent outside today, the better. I turned to head back inside, my bare feet quiet on the grass. I'd almost reached the back door when his whisper cut through the quiet again. "Wait." I stopped, but didn't turn around.
My hand was on the cool metal of the doorknob. "Please... just a glass of water." The request hung in the air between us, simple and impossibly complicated. My mind immediately began racing, mapping out every possible branch of this decision like one of my logic puzzles.
If I give him water, I am helping an escapee. If the wardens find out, I will be in trouble. If I don't give him water, he might get desperate. He might make noise trying to get it himself. He might get caught right outside my house, bringing all that attention and those questions to my doorstep. Both paths were dangerous. Both paths led to noise.
The quietest option was still to do nothing. To walk inside and pretend I never heard him. But that was also a choice. That would leave a desperate variable unsupervised in the equation.
I stood there, frozen with my hand on the knob, trapped by the logic of my own rules. Every outcome was bad. But one outcome the one where I controlled the variable might be slightly less bad.
With a sigh that felt like it came from the bottom of my soul, I turned the knob and slipped inside. I didn't look back at him. I didn't promise anything. I just disappeared into the dim quiet of my house, leaving the door slightly ajar behind me.
I came back out a minute later, a single glass of cool water in my hand. I didn't step over the fence. I just placed it on the top of the stone divider and then took three steps back.
The boy stared at it for a second, as if he couldn't believe it was real, then scrambled forward and snatched it, gulping the water down in a few desperate swallows. He let out a shaky breath and placed the empty glass back on the wall. "Thank you," he said, his voice a little stronger.
"I... I didn't think you would." I just shrugged, shoving my hands in my pockets. The silence stretched out. "I'm Ren," he offered. I didn't offer my name back. "Rough day," he tried again, with a weak attempt at a laugh. I just nodded. He was trying to make this a conversation. I was trying to make it end.
But as the silence returned, his brief moment of comfort seemed to crumble. The fear returned to his eyes, and the words started spilling out of him, as if he'd been holding them in for years and my silent presence was finally a safe enough place to let them go.
"They're not helping us in there," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Rehab. They're not fixing our magic. They're... they're draining it. Syphoning it off. Me and my friends, we figured it out. They're using us. That's why we ran." He looked at me, searching for a reaction. I kept my face perfectly still, but my mind was reeling. A facility that drained magic? It sounded like a conspiracy theory. But the raw terror in his voice was real.
He saw he had my attention, even if I wasn't speaking, and the words kept coming in a rushed, hushed torrent. "They hook us up to these machines during 'treatment.' You feel weaker afterward, not stronger.
They tell you it's for your own good, to stabilize you... but it's a lie." He wrapped his arms around himself, as if suddenly cold. "We planned it for weeks. Noticed a guard's pattern, found a blind spot in the outer fence. We were so close." His voice broke, and he looked down at his hands.
"But the alarm went off early. We split up. I... I hid in a garbage bin. I heard them catch the others. I heard... the sounds." He didn't need to elaborate. I'd seen it. The shame and guilt on his face were worse than any whip mark. He had gotten away, but his friends had paid the price.
"And that's how I ended up here," Ren finished, the words hanging in the air between us. The silence stretched out, but it felt different now. He'd trusted me with his truth. After a long moment, I found my voice, though it was quiet. "Kaito," I said.
It was all I offered, but it was enough. His face softened with a kind of grateful relief. "Kaito," he repeated, and managed a weak smile. Then his eyes darted toward the street, his fear returning. "Look, those wardens will be searching everywhere... Can I... can I just jump the wall? I'll just stay in your yard. If anyone sees me, I'll just say I'm a friend visiting. Please."
"No." The word was out of my mouth before he even finished, flat and absolute. His face fell, confusion and hurt flashing in his eyes. He thought I was just being cruel. He didn't understand.
"You can't come in here," I said, my voice low. "It's not that I don't want you to. You physically can't. It's not me who decides." As if on cue, the shadows at my feet deepened and swirled. Two forms emerged from them.
One was a wolf of pure shadow and sharp angles, with eyes that glowed like red embers. It fixed its gaze on Ren and let out a soundless snarl that promised instant, brutal violence.
The other was smaller, with fluffy white fur and bright blue eyes. It nudged my hand with its head, whining softly as if worried about me. I didn't look away from Ren. "That's Shade," I said, nodding to the black wolf. "And that's Snow. They're the reason I never have visitors.
They're the reason I can't leave. And they are the very, very least of what's guarding this place. If you put one foot over this wall, you will die before it touches the grass. I'm not refusing to help you. I'm telling you that this isn't a safe haven. It's just a different kind of prison."
Ren stared at the two wolves for a long moment, the color draining from his face. He understood. The hope in his eyes flickered and died, replaced by a grim acceptance.
"Right," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "Different kind of prison." He slid back down behind the hydrangea bushes, and I heard the rustle of a bag.
When he stood up again, he was wearing a faded grey hoodie that was too big for him and a clean pair of jeans. The Rehab uniform was stuffed into a small backpack.
"Can't walk around looking like this," he explained, his voice dull. He looked lost. "I don't... I don't have any money. And I have to get all the way to Oakhaven Township. I don't even know where I am right now, or how far that is."
"159 kilometers," I said. The number popped into my head instantly, pulled from a memory of studying a detailed map of the region just to feel like I knew something about the world. "As the crow flies. The roads would be longer."
Ren blinked, startled by the precise answer. He was asking for help, but a kind I couldn't give. I couldn't give him money. I couldn't give him a place to stay.
The only thing I had was information, and mine was years out of date, gleaned from maps on my terminal and old pre-recorded city tours. "This is the... um... the Eastern Residential District of Auraville," I said, the words feeling clumsy and unused. "The main station is... west. I think." I pointed in a direction that felt approximately correct. "If you follow the main road that way, you should... probably... see the signs for the magnetrain lines."
My directions were vague and useless. I was trying to pour a glass of water for a man dying of thirst in a desert. I'd never actually been to the station. I'd never even been to the end of my own street. I was the worst possible person to ask for directions in the entire city.
We talked for a little while longer, though it was mostly him talking. He told me about the wide, open fields near Oakhaven, so different from the cramped city around us. I mostly listened, adding a quiet "uh-huh" or a nod. It was the longest conversation I'd had with anyone my own age in years.
Eventually, the street fell into a lull. The distant city sounds were there, but the immediate area was quiet. No voices, no vehicles. Ren took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the road one last time. "I guess this is it," he said, offering me a shaky but genuine smile. "Thanks for the water, Kaito. And... for not screaming.
I hope I can see you again someday. Under better circumstances." Before I could even think of a response, he turned, grabbed the top of my neighbor's front gate, and hoisted himself over with a quiet grunt. He landed on the other side, brushed off his jeans, and then he just started walking.
He didn't run. He didn't look back. He just stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked down the sidewalk like any other kid, disappearing around the corner as if he'd never been there at all.
I stood there for a long time, staring at the empty space where he'd been. The only evidence he'd existed was the empty glass sitting on my wall.
The yard felt louder in its silence, the hum of the mana-lines suddenly oppressive. Shade and Snow had melted back into the shadows, their job done. My life could go back to normal now. The quiet. The solitude. The pre-recorded lectures. But it felt different.
The high walls seemed a little taller, the cage a little smaller. Because now I knew something. I knew a boy named Ren was walking through a city he didn't know, trying to get home. And I knew that the world outside wasn't just something to watch from behind bars.
It was a place where they built facilities to drain people of their magic. I went inside and closed the door. But the lock didn't feel like safety anymore. It just felt like a lock.