The coin hit Serina's face before she even saw it coming.
"Move, Null trash!" The merchant's son laughed as copper bounced off her cheek and clattered into the trash. "You're blocking paying customers."
Serina's jaw tightened, but she stepped away. Fighting back would only make things worse. In Aethelburg, people without magic weren't just poor—they were unseen. Worse than invisible. They were targets.
She picked up the coin anyway. Pride didn't fill belly.
The narrow street reeked of sewage and rotting veggies. Morning fog hung thick between the crumbling buildings, hiding the gleaming towers of the Upper City where real witches lived. Down here in the Nulls' Quarter, nobody had magic. Nobody counted.
Serina pulled her threadbare cloak tighter and hurried toward the kitchen. Her first job started in ten minutes, and Master Grent would dock her pay if she arrived late. Again. "Please, just one healing spell!" A woman's desperate scream echoed from an alley. "My kid can't breathe! I'll pay anything!" "Anything?" The healer's smooth voice dripped with contempt. "You have nothing. No magic, no money, no worth. Stop wasting my time."
Serina didn't look. She couldn't afford to feel. Couldn't afford to care. She had her own dying family member to think about.
Leo.
Her chest ached just thinking his name. Ten years old and dying like a candle in the wind. The black lines spreading up his neck meant the Mage-Rot was winning. Maybe two weeks left. Maybe less.
The bakery's back door stood ajar. Serina slipped inside, glad for the warmth from the ovens. Her hands were numb from the cold. "Late again, girl?" Master Grent didn't look up from his dough. Flour dusted his round face and stained his apron. "That's coming out of your wages."
"I'm not late. The church bells haven't—" "Don't argue with me!" His fist hit the counter. Flour puffed into the air. "You're lucky I hire Nulls at all. One more word and you're out."
Serina bit her tongue hard enough to taste blood. She needed this job. Needed all three jobs. Even then, it wasn't enough.
Never enough.
She spent the next four hours hauling hundred-pound flour sacks, scrubbing burned pans until her fingers cracked and bled, and dodging Master Grent's anger. When he finally removed her, she'd earned exactly twelve copper coins. A loaf of bread cost three.
Her second job was worse.
The laundry house sat beside the river where industrial waste turned the water grey and thick. Serina's job was simple: wash the Upper City's fine clothes without magic. What took a witch thirty seconds with a cleaning spell took her six hours of scrubbing, wringing, and hanging.
The supervisor, a cruel woman named Mistress Hark, liked finding fault. "These sheets still have a spot! Do them again. No pay until they're perfect."
Perfect meant impossible.
Serina's shoulders screamed in pain. Her back felt like someone had driven knives between her spine. But she couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop.
Leo's drug cost thirty silver coins per bottle. She had four coppers saved.
She needed eight hundred copper coins to make thirty silver.
The sun was setting when she finally stumbled toward her third job. Her legs trembled with tiredness. When was the last time she'd eaten? Yesterday morning? The day before?
The tavern called The Broken Wand catered to low-level mages slumming in the poor neighborhood. They came to drink cheap ale, talk about their magic, and harass the serving girls. "Here comes the Null!" someone shouted when Serina entered. Laughter exploded from a corner table.
She ignored them. Collected empty mugs. Dodged grabbing hands. Smiled when they ordered it. Swallowed every shred of dignity and self-respect because Leo needed medicine and medicine cost money and money meant living another day. "Your brother's dying anyway," one drunk mage slurred, blocking her path. Blue magic flickered around his fingers. "Why bother? Nulls like you are better off dead."
Something cold and hard settled in Serina's chest. Her hand tightened around the empty mug she carried.
Smash it into his face. Watch him bleed. Make him hurt like you hurt.
But then what? They'd kill her. Or arrest her. Either way, Leo would die alone. "Excuse me," she said quietly, stepping around him.
More laughter followed her.
She worked until her hands shook and her vision blurred. Until the tavern owner finally released her with eight copper coins and a warning that she was lucky to get that much.
Twenty copper coins total for the day. Tomorrow she'd earn maybe the same. The day after that, if she was lucky, a few more.
But Leo didn't have time for "maybe" and "lucky."
Midnight had come and gone when Serina finally stumbled home. Home. What a generous word for the falling shack she shared with Leo in the worst part of the Nulls' Quarter. The roof leaked. The walls had holes. Winter wind cut through like knives.
But it was theirs.
She pushed open the door, and her heart stopped.
Leo lay on his mattress—really just old blankets piled on the floor. Even in the darkness, she could see the black veins had spread. They crawled across his pale face like cracks in china. His breathing sounded wet and wrong, each inhale a rattling battle.
This morning, the veins had only reached his neck.
Now they touched his jaw. "Rina?" His voice was barely a whisper. "That you?" "It's me, little bug." She knelt beside him, smoothing his sweat-soaked hair. His face burned with fever. "I'm home."
"It hurts more today." Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. "The black stuff... it's rising. I can feel it moving inside."
Serina's throat closed. The Mage-Rot was increasing. She'd heard stories—when it started moving fast, the end came within days, not weeks. "Did you get the medicine?" Leo's hand found hers, fingers cold despite the heat. "Did you earn enough?"
The lie stuck in her throat. She couldn't force it out.
Leo saw the answer on her face. His thin shoulders sagged. "It's okay, Rina. You tried. You always try so hard."
"I'll get it." Her voice cracked. "Tomorrow. I'll find a way tomorrow." "How?" The question wasn't mean, just honest. Heartbreaking in its simplicity. "You work every hour. You never sleep. You never eat. What else can you do?"
Serina had no answer. She'd asked herself that same question a thousand times.
What else could she do?
Steal? She'd be caught and hanged.
Beg? The mages just laughed.
There was no "else." No backup plan. No surprise waiting around the corner.
Just a sick boy and a helpless sister watching him fade.
"I'm scared," Leo whispered. "I don't want to die, Rina. I'm only ten. I haven't done anything yet. Haven't seen anything. Haven't—" His voice broke into sobs.
Serina pulled him close, holding his fragile body. He felt so small. So light. Like he was already halfway gone. "Shh," she murmured, rocking him gently. "You're not going to die. I won't let you. I'll find a way. I promise."
Empty words. Meaningless promises. But what else could she offer?
Leo cried himself to tiredness, then sleep. His breathing evened out slightly, though that awful sound remained.
Serina sat in the darkness, watching him. Memorizing his face in case— No. She couldn't think like that. Wouldn't.
But her mind wouldn't stop spinning. Every possible answer crumbled under reality's weight. She'd already tried everything. Begged every doctor. Applied to every job. Sold everything they owned that had value.
She had nothing left to give except her life, and even that wasn't worth enough to save him.
The unfairness of it all crashed over her like a wave. Leo had never hurt anyone. Never asked to be born without magic. Never asked for this disease to eat him from the inside.
He was kind. Gentle. Always smiling despite the pain. Always glad for the scraps of food she brought home.
He deserved better.
Deserved to grow up. Fall in love. See the world beyond these dying slums.
But the world didn't care what people earned.
In Aethelburg, magic was everything. Power chose who lived and who died. And people like her and Leo? They had neither.
Serina's hands curled into fists. Anger burned hot in her chest—at the mages who looked through her like she was invisible, at the system that deemed her worthless, at the world itself for being so cruel.
But anger changed nothing.
She was still helpless. Still poor. Still watching her brother die.
A soft knock on the door made her jump.
At this hour? Nobody came to the Nulls' Quarter at night unless they were running from something or looking for trouble.
Serina grabbed the dull cooking knife they used for cutting bread. She crept to the door, heart beating.
Another knock. Quiet. Almost hesitant. "Who's there?" she called softly.
Silence.
Then a voice, old and cracked: "Someone with information. About the boy's sickness."
Serina's breath caught. She yanked the door open.
An ancient woman stood on the entrance. Her face was heavily lined, her back bent with age. But her eyes—sharp and clear as glass—pinned Serina in place.
"How do you know about—" "Mage-Rot." The old woman's eyes flicked to Leo's sleeping form. "Nasty business. Eats magic-touched genes from the inside out. Your brother has maybe three days left. Four if he's strong."
The words hit like physical blows. Three days. Not even a week. "Who are you?" Serina demanded. "Nobody important. Just someone who's seen this before." The woman pulled a small bottle from her cloak. Clear liquid glowed softly inside. "This will buy him one more week. Maybe two."
Hope surged so strongly Serina almost collapsed. "How much? Please, I'll find a way to—" "Free." The woman pressed the vial into Serina's shaking hands. "But know this: temporary help won't save him. Only real magic can fix Mage-Rot. The kind that doesn't live in this city anymore." "Then where?" Serina's voice broke. "Please. I'll go anywhere. Do anything."
The old woman studied her for a long moment. Something like pity crossed her wrinkled face.
"The kind of magic you need has been locked away for a thousand years. Buried. Forbidden." She turned to leave, then paused. "But desperate people have found desperate answers before. If you're willing to risk everything... well. That's your choice to make." "Wait!" Serina reached for her, but the woman had already disappeared into the darkness.
Gone like smoke.
Serina stood frozen, the vial warm in her hand. Her mind raced. What did that mean? Locked away magic? Desperate solutions? She looked at Leo, at the black veins crawling toward his face, and knew one terrible truth:
Whatever that old woman was talking about, whatever impossible thing she'd hinted at—Serina would find it.
Even if it killed her.
Because losing Leo wasn't a choice she could survive.