Led by a cop, Hedi stepped out of the station; her words fluttered like trapped sparrows, then sank into the cold pocket of her chest.

On one side, she knew what that phone call would bring; on the other, this escape felt like a debt, not a medal—no fuel for bragging, no blade for mockery. So she chose silence, a stone dropped into still water.

“About earlier… sorry,” the cop muttered, fishing out a cigarette as if from a dark river. “Your name—did your parents give it?”

“A Priest.”

“The Priest from Molokov Bay Chapel? For real?”

Hedi’s answer drifted like fog. “Who can say?”

“First time I’ve seen someone sharing the Holy Maiden’s name. Your hair color’s close too.”

“Do you read? Papers, books?”

“What’s that?”

He hadn’t expected the question. He froze in the doorway like a statue mid-crack, forearms bent, fists clenched tight as stones.

“No sarcasm,” Hedi said, her tone flat as rain.

“So, you’re famous?”

Hedi answered with quiet, the hush of snow.

“The losses you caused, Lord Claire will handle. But who knows what people think.” He blew smoke; it curled like pale snakes. “It’s weird—use magic and still walk free. Not everyone’s got your kind of connections…”

“Try being friendly. I’m easy to get along with.”

“Heh.”

Hedi rubbed her wrist; the iron chill of the cuffs lingered like winter on skin.

“Have a pleasant night,” the cop called as she stepped out, his voice soft as ash. “And a beautiful dream.”

This time Hedi’s laugh was a thin blade. “Heh.”

She pushed the door. Outside, a crowd thickened like moss on stone.

Under a murky night, only a few noticed Hedi. The dim light made faces unreadable—thinking, maybe, about why she was free. The rest were locked on a black-haired woman, their argument crackling like dry twigs.

“This is framing!” Selina threw up her arm; a food bag swung like a lantern. “Professor wouldn’t do that!”

“Using magic is a fact. We all saw it!” a resident shouted.

“So scary! Boom—and the roof was gone!” another chimed in.

Selina fought back. “It’s a structural issue. Not Professor!”

“I saw the glow! Magic light!”

“Not listening!” Selina clapped her hands over her ears and shook her head like a wet dog. “Slander, slander—just slander!”

“Be reasonable—”

“Professor’s character is the reason. She’d never do that!”

“She got arrested, and you still—” The resident stopped, eyes snagging on a splash of gray-white hair in the crowd. “What… what’s going on?!”

Hedi grabbed Selina’s arm and tried to pull her out of the crush, her breath thin as thread.

“See?” Selina spun Hedi around and pushed her forward like a banner. “Professor walking out proves it wasn’t her—it was that building!”

“She… really came out…”

“That was magic light, I swear!”

“Makes no sense!”

In the choppy, rising chatter, Selina stood like a returning hero. She braced Hedi under the arms and hoisted her high—like that classic Lion King moment with Simba at dawn. Hedi burned with shame, wishing she could flee into the night like a startled deer.

“Don’t crowd here, for f—sake.” The cop who’d escorted Hedi bit down on his smoke and waved people off, his hand cutting the air like a broom. “Go mind your own business.”

They swarmed him anyway, hungry for a reason. He gave none—just watched the smoke drift like gray ghosts, then watched Hedi’s shadow stretch under the streetlamp like a river of ink.

The street was narrow, a throat of stone. Birds flared up from eaves and wires, scattering like spilled pepper into a rain-scented sky.

Hedi pressed her cool hands to her cheeks. The chill evaporated; heat surged and roiled like a pot on full boil. What just happened replayed like a silent film—looping frames burned into memory. She knew this embarrassment would become another bedtime thorn, the kind that made her curl her toes under the blanket—like that heroic saga where she mistook a rat for a pet hamster.

“Their faces—” Selina grinned and gulped the wet air like water, then pressed on, sharp as a whistle. “But why did the room suddenly blow? That’s way too unsafe!”

“Because I used magic.”

“Ah… ah… ah?!”

Hedi looked at the fine lines on her palm, like rivers etched in clay. “I had no choice.”

“You must’ve had a reason.”

“Not my fault? You just defended me to a crowd, and it really was me.”

Selina smiled, her head dipping like a willow. “After the Institute—after that hesitation—I’ll stand on your side no matter what.”

“Believe me, I’m not a reckless Spellcaster. Let me tell you why…” Hedi’s voice turned inward, dim as a stairwell. “The man was crouching on the balcony eating a cat. He kept making hiss-hah, hiss-hah sounds.”

“A cat?”

“You saw it—the black cat in the woman’s arms behind him.”

Selina thought for a heartbeat, waiting.

“At first, I wondered why the food ran. He said, ‘It runs too fast, and I’m too hungry.’ Then he bit it, right in front of me. ‘When a person’s hungry, they eat,’ he said.” Hedi’s tone dropped cold as a well. “That’s when I felt danger—like frost cutting skin. If I didn’t act, I’d die there.”

“You could’ve gone downstairs for help. I don’t blame you, it’s just—” Selina paused, a beat of rain. “No need to cause this kind of chaos.”

“Look at my build. Look at his. That glass balcony door is thin as ice; it wouldn’t hold.” Hedi exhaled, a whistle through teeth. “It’s hindsight, maybe—but he dodged my spell in an instant. With speed like that, there’s nowhere safety can live.”

“Then there’s no way a cat outruns him.”

Hedi fell quiet, a stone in her mouth. Then: “Have you ever been stalked?”

“No.”

“He felt like that.” Her words moved slow as fog. “You sense something closing in—step by step—but you can’t tell its distance. When you strain to warn yourself, the threat has slid behind you and breathes on your neck.”

Selina’s eyes widened, painting the scene like a charcoal sketch.

“His pattern is stalker-sharp: most days, near and far, like a ghost. But the moment he said he was hungry, it was a cold draft racing across your nape. The invisible follower turned solid, and entered your space with bare, deliberate malice.”

“I’m sorry.” Selina took Hedi’s hand; she felt the tremor like a wire humming. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“It’s not on you.” Hedi shook her head, soft as a leaf. “You know spells need a channel. If someone approaches before the channel completes—that’s a Spellcaster’s dead end.”

“Maybe… he let you go on purpose? You said he’s fast…”

Hedi glanced back. A tall man drifted out of the station. The night wrapped him in shadow like wet cloth. He flicked his eyes at Hedi and raised his right arm, casual as a wave.

“Hello, pretty girl.”

But the distance was wide, the air thick. Maybe he didn’t speak at all. Maybe no words pierced the quiet.

Let it go. It might’ve been nothing more than a fabricated sound in a silent night.

An auditory hallucination.