"…What's your name?" His voice was quiet, but it cut through the air like a blade.
"Hunter," I replied, trying to sound calm even as my pulse hammered in my ears.
He studied me for a heartbeat longer, then the tension in his eyes faded into something unreadable.
"Hmm… it's all good. I just thought I saw something," he said finally, closing the bag.
As he turned to leave, he added almost casually—
"Be careful what you carry around. Some things attract the wrong kind of attention."
And just like that, he was gone.
I stepped back into the house, the warmth hitting me like a wave after the crisp morning air. The shopping bag hung loosely in my hand, but my mind was far from breakfast or pancakes. The streets of Elton had felt… off today, and the man at the market still lingered in my thoughts.
"Hunter?" Katara's voice called from the kitchen. "Everything okay?"
I forced a casual tone. "Yeah, just… tired from carrying everything, I guess."
She narrowed her eyes, but didn't press further. Tyra appeared behind her, wiping flour from her hands. "You're quieter than usual," she remarked, a teasing edge in her voice. "What's up?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, setting the bag on the counter. My hands lingered on it longer than necessary, as if expecting something to jump out.
I moved to put the groceries away, trying to ignore the lingering unease. Flour into the pantry, milk into the fridge, eggs… careful not to jostle the carton too much.
Once done, I immediately headed upstairs. I paused at my door, then turned toward Jace's room. I really needed someone to talk to.
I gave a gentle knock on the wooden door, waiting for a reply.
"Jace?" I called.
"Come in." His voice sounded casual, but I could hear the curiosity. I walked in and shut the door behind me.
His room was neatly arranged, books stacked at the edge of his bed.
"Reading again?" I asked, noticing his favorite hobby.
He sat up, glancing toward me. "Yeah, I've got this book—I absolutely have to finish it."
He closed the book and laid it on top of the pile.
"It's rare to see you here. What's the matter?" he asked, tilting his head.
I sank into the nearby sofa, creasing my eyebrows. I recounted my encounter at the stall, explaining the man's words and the unease it had left me with.
"Hmmm… 'Be careful what you carry around. Some things attract the wrong kind of attention'…" He repeated the line thoughtfully.
"Actually," Jace said after a pause, "maybe he just means you should be careful who you help. Logically… there could have been an Aetheryte in there, and if he was a Purge officer, you might have been caught. Probably a warning."
Jace had a point.
"So you think he sensed my magic? Does he have magic? Or is he a Purge officer who just let me off the hook for today?" I asked, paranoia tightening in my chest.
"You needn't worry, Hunter. Just be careful next time. Elton may be small, but I doubt you'll see him again anytime soon."
I nodded, but a gnawing unease settled deep in my stomach. My gut told me that man knew more than he was letting on.
----
In the heart of Elton, where the sun glinted off the red-brick walls, a goldsmith hammered away at a glowing blade outside his forge. Sparks flew with each strike, scattering across the cobblestones. Beside him, a cobbler wiped the sweat from his brow, leaning against a cart stacked with neatly stitched boots.
"They say the Purge Units have been going from house to house," the cobbler said cautiously, glancing around as though the walls themselves might be listening. "I heard they took a whole family yesterday… a magic-using family, they say."
The goldsmith paused, hammer hovering midair. "Aye… that's what they're saying," he muttered, eyes narrowing. The heat from the forge reflected a mixture of fear and anger. "Folks whisper the father tried to hide it, but… the Units always find a way."
The cobbler shook his head. "Unsettling, isn't it? No one dares speak about it openly, yet the fear… it's in the air. Every time they march down the streets, everyone hides. Even the children."
"Aye," the goldsmith replied, returning to the metal. "And that's the danger of magic. Folks see it as a curse. The Purge… they're relentless. Best keep our heads down."
Their conversation died down as a deep, resonant horn echoed across the town—a signal that the Purge Units had entered another district. The goldsmith's hands clenched around the hammer before loosening, tension lingering like a shadow over the cheerful streets.
From the center of Elton emerged a prison cart, wheels creaking against the cobblestones, carrying a family tightly bound and guarded by stern Purge Units. Word spread instantly—this was the Dalton family, rumored to be magic users, though no one dared say it aloud.
"What's happening? Why are they taking the Daltons?" a woman whispered to her neighbor, clutching her basket.
"Magic, I'd wager," an older man muttered, shaking his head. "The Purge never misses a mark."
The cart slowly wound through the narrow streets, drawing a growing crowd. Children clung to parents, merchants abandoned their stalls, and murmurs of fear and curiosity swirled through the air.
"They're the Daltons!" a man shouted, pointing. "Everyone knows them! How did the Purge catch them?"
"They must have used magic!" another exclaimed, awe and fear mingling in his voice.
From upper windows, the Guardians peered out, sensing the unrest. Hunter, Zayn, Iris, Tyra, and the others exchanged glances, the tension immediate—the aura of worry and fear in the town almost palpable.
"I… I think we should check it out," Hunter murmured, eyes narrowing.
Master Xavier appeared behind them. "But quietly. And… carefully. Erasure method."
"Understood," Cody said, moving toward the window. "If they sense magic, it could get ugly."
They slipped on their cloaks, even Master Xavier, and moved toward the source of the commotion.
The sound of horns blared again, echoing through every alley and street corner, marking the Purge Units' path toward the central square. The Guardians moved silently, each aware of the gravity of the moment and the danger of even a single misstep.
And as they stepped into the streets, the Dalton family in the prison cart remained the undeniable center of every gaze—a focal point of the town's fearful, curious energy.