The hideout of the rebellion lay deep within the crumbling underbelly of the city, a place where torchlight struggled to cut through the damp stone walls. Here, men and women huddled together on wooden benches, voices hushed as if the very air might betray them.

Emmeline pushed open the door with urgency in her steps, her cloak damp from the night mist. Her sharp eyes scanned the room before she strode toward the back, where the leader sat behind a makeshift table, maps and letters scattered before him.

“You’re late,” the leader said without looking up. His voice was low, steady, the kind that carried both weight and danger.

“I brought something worth the time,” Emmeline replied. Her fists clenched at her sides, betraying the emotion she fought to keep hidden. She had never been one to waste words, but tonight her heart raced with what she had seen.

The leader finally looked at her, one brow raised. “Speak.”

She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “There’s a man in the market named Arthur. He makes bows, but he barely survives with 7 kids. He's not just a bowyer, he is street wise. He snatches from people daily to feed on. Today of all day, he had a clash with the law enforcers, his store was destroyed and in the end, he discovered magic.. he made use of fire magic to fight them. The news has been spreading and I witnessed it.”

The man rose to his feet instantly, the thin white cylindrical stick of tobacco-filled paper with a filter tip falling to the floor. “He could be the key we’ve been searching for.”

Emmeline smiled underneath, she was not only happy that she got meaningful news for the boss. She was proud that they were getting closer to their destination. She could make a comeback if it's broken entirely.

Then, with a measured breath, he said, “If what you claim is true, then he is either a weapon to be forged or a curse to be silenced.” His gaze fixed on her, cold and unyielding. “You will go to him. Scout him. Convince him to join us. If you cannot…” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over her. “…then do not bother returning here.”

A hush fell over the room. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared speak.

Emmeline’s jaw tightened, but she bowed her head. “Understood.”

She turned sharply, cloak swirling behind her as she headed for the door. Her heart pounded not out of fear of failing the leader’s order, but from the fire that burned in her chest.

She had been denied the right to touch magic, because of a silly mistake. If Arthur truly held the power that defied their order, then she would not only find him she would make sure he understood the fight they were in.

Emmeline didn't mind going, despite that the night had fallen. Her task was more important than her life.

And if she failed… she knew there would be no place left for her among the rebellion.

Without another word, Emmeline vanished into the night, her footsteps quick and resolute, carrying her toward Arthur’s shabby house.

»»»»»

The Upper Tenure are the wealthiest group of families in Moderniaeth. They are the ones in line with the royals and contain the same magic level.

The Lancashire Dynasty of the Upper Tenure had once been the envy of all Moderniaeth. Their towering castle. It was not just a family, it was a family containing Dukes and Duchesses. They were the first to be on par with the royal family.

Their halls glittered with chandeliers spun from raw magic, their fountains never ceased flowing, and even their shadows whispered with power.

But now, the gilded halls had grown dim. Candles sputtered instead of burning bright. Servants whispered behind closed doors of spells that fizzled, wards that broke without reason.

The Lancashire were losing their magic.

And no one knew why.

Duke Damaris sat rigid in the council chamber, his jaw set tight as the silence stretched. Across from him, Duchess Briona’s fingers dug into the armrest of her chair.

“This boy,” she said at last, her voice sharp and cutting through the still air. “The one the streets whisper about. The one who unleashed magic without a crest or coin. He is the cause or the cure. Either way, we cannot wait for others to act.”

Her husband inclined his head once. “Then we send a hand before the rest of the city scents him. Our strongest. Our fastest.”

The Lancashire were the first among the Upper Tenure to hear about the news of this boy. He was exactly what they needed. If not they would lose their magic and never be able to make a comeback into the Upper Tenure.

At those words, Sir Kael, the most feared knight in their service, stepped forward from the shadows. His armor gleamed faintly in the torchlight, but it was the beast that pawed behind him which stole the air from the chamber.

The horse portal. Black as midnight, its eyes burning faintly blue. Its hooves struck sparks though it stood on marble. This was no mere steed but a relic beast bound to the Lancashire centuries ago. A creature that could rip through distance like tearing silk.

People had tried to build their horses like that but they've never been able to do som

Briona’s lips curved, satisfaction hardening her features. “Bring the boy to us. Tonight.”

Sir Kael bowed once. “As you command.”