They followed Zeven through shadowed alleys and crooked rooftops. Gone were the polished towers and glass lanterns — this part of the city breathed smoke and grime. The lower ring, where the dust didn’t dance — it clung.

  “Shortcut,” Zeven said. “Only nobles get carriages. We walk.”

  The slums curved like a coiled snake. Homes stacked on homes. Wood warped with sunburn. Rell’s eyes flicked left and right, watching starving children beg by dry fountains.

  “Why they let this… rot?” he muttered.

  Zeven stepped across a broken pipe. “Because it’s cheaper than fixing. You can polish the front of the kingdom, but back here? Nobody looks.”

  As they moved, the crew passed a soup line. A bent elder elf was handing out watery broth to a dozen kids in torn tunics. Dustguards stood nearby, watching, but not helping.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Lowest caste,” Zeven explained. “We call ‘em drain tiers. No noble blood, no blessings, no rights. Not quite criminals… not quite citizens.”

  Thessia’s gaze darkened. “This is wrong.”

  “Wrong don’t pay taxes,” Zeven said.

  They ducked under a loose banner and cut through a broken courtyard. Rell stopped when he saw a boy coughing blood in the corner — ignored by all.

  “Where Lirah?” he asked.

  “We’re close,” Zeven said. “But I wanna show you something first.”

  They passed an old tower converted into a storage depot. A cart rolled by, covered in cloth. Neyxa’s eyes narrowed — something glowed faintly under the canvas. Arc thread seals.

  She slowed her pace and peeled off quietly from the others, tailing the cart from a distance.

  Meanwhile, the rest of the crew followed Zeven to a quiet balcony overlooking a drained canal. He sat on the edge, letting his legs swing.

  “She was twelve,” he said.

  Rell turned.

  “My sister. Smart. Magic-born. They marked her for court training. Said she’d live good. Next week, she gone.”

  He didn’t look up.

  “I thought maybe she made it. Got picked by a noble house. Years passed. Then I saw a ledger in a guard’s office. Slave route. Her name.”

  Silence.

  “She got sold for five pounds of ethereium.”

  Thessia clenched her fists. “By who?”

  Zeven pointed toward the highest tower in the palace. “The one who runs the books.”

  Rell said nothing. His fingers curled over the edge of the railing. The city glittered in the distance, blind to the truth behind its glow.

  Far below, Neyxa trailed the cart down a back stairwell, where the Dustguards opened a stone hatch with an insignia she didn’t recognize. The crate was pushed inside.

  She slipped behind a column and watched — pulse steady, eyes cold.

  Chapter End.