[Malach]
The first night in the new estate passed without sleep. Malach lay awake until dawn, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the glitter of starlight to return through the blinds. It never did.
A pale sun rose, the same as always, and for a moment he wondered if he had imagined the blackout. But when he stepped outside for fresh air, the sky remained smooth and empty. A perfect sheet of morning blue. No pinpricks. No shine. Only the moon lingering faintly in the west, pale and ghostlike.
The absence pressed on him in a way he could not describe.
Over the next few days, the government and all the major news forums repeated the same message. Citizens should remain calm. Citizens should trust the Citadel. Citizens should consider enrolling in higher magical institutions or state programs that could strengthen the nation. These announcements always came wrapped in patriotic tones and soft-voiced reassurance, but the meaning beneath was hard to miss.
Albion was preparing for something.
Malach found himself drifting back into the rhythm of his daily life. Morning lessons. Magical practice. Meals. Reading. Exercise. Evening ritual attempts. Sleep. Yet everything felt slightly out of place, like a familiar song played one key lower.
The Laketown Quarter was quiet, refined, and almost too pristine, lined with tall trees and tasteful gardens. It was worlds away from the sprawling estate he had grown up on, yet it had a similar polished elegance. His home sat on a gently curved street that overlooked a lake shimmering faintly under the sun. Several estates stood nearby, all similar in size, all belonging to families that clearly occupied high circles within the capital.
He did not intend to meet the neighbors so soon, but the Quarter made it difficult to hide. On their third day, Allest Morroine crossed the street to greet him.
Allest was in his early twenties, warm-eyed and polite, wearing the sort of effortless composure one only saw in those raised within the upper echelons. He introduced himself as the youngest son of the Morroine household.
"Illya, my sister, serves in state parliament," Allest said as they stood before Malach's gate. "Your father works with her on some committees. They speak well of him."
There was a pause. Allest studied Malach lightly, as if trying to arrange memories in his head. Not hostile. Not suspicious. Just curious.
"You are still being tutored privately, yes? Not entering one of the academies?"
"Not yet," Malach answered. It wasn't a lie, exactly. It was simply that the decision had never been up to him.
Allest nodded with an easy smile. "I look forward to seeing you around the Quarter. If you ever need help settling in, let me know."
He left with a small wave, and Malach watched him go, unsure how to feel.
Later that same evening, while Malach and Ellor sorted through boxes in the foyer, another visitor arrived. A tall man in uniform, bronze trim catching the hallway light. His presence filled the doorway like a gust of heat.
"Wells Horn," he introduced himself. Malach learned he was the Urban Military Prefect for New Birmingham's 3rd legion.
Malach straightened instinctively. Even someone as sheltered as him knew the Third Legion was responsible for the capital interior. Its officers rarely mingled casually with neighbors.
Wells looked nothing like Malach expected. Not intimidating or standoffish with and air of command. More like a weary soldier who had learned to keep his vigilance tucked beneath a steady, approachable exterior.
"My wife Sheldry and I live across the street," Wells said, gesturing toward a stately house with pale stone walls. "I heard the Stillon family moved someone in here. Thought I should greet you."
Malach bowed politely. "It is an honor. I apologize for the mess. We have only just arrived."
Wells gave a low laugh. "No need. Most people do not move in during a national emergency."
The humor faded as he said it. Malach wasn't sure how to respond.
Sheldry appeared from behind her husband, offering a kind smile. Their two sons were nowhere in sight.
"We heard your father works with some of the policy divisions," she said. "Estrin Stillon has been involved in emergency planning before. Wells knows him from a few advisory meetings."
Malach nodded slowly. "I see."
Wells tilted his head. "What are your plans? Will you be studying in the city? Joining a state academy? There is a push for new recruits in the military right now."
Malach froze internally. Outwardly, he kept an even expression.
"I am still considering my options. My tutors expect I will continue with advanced instruction."
"A solid path," Wells said, though he studied Malach with more interest than the words suggested. "If you ever want a tour of the Legion headquarters, I can arrange it."
Malach thanked him politely. The conversation ended soon after, and the Horns returned home. Malach stood in the doorway long after they left, feeling something unsettled sitting in his stomach.
He met other neighbors in passing over the week. Retired officials. Merchants. A few minor aristocrats. A pair of researchers from one of the metropolitan laboratories. All were polite. All spoke well of his father and mother.
Yet every time, without fail, the same strange pattern emerged.
"Oh, you're Estrin Stillon's? I knew he had a daughter, but I wasn't aware he had a son."
Sometimes phrased differently. Sometimes softened with an apology. But always the same sentiment.
It gnawed at him.
By the sixth day in Laketown Quarter, Malach found himself waking before dawn. The sun was rising again, painting the lake a faint silver. No stars greeted him. Only the cold, familiar moon fading into the brightening sky.
He sat on the edge of his bed, listening to the quiet hum of morning insects.
The world was changing. The government was changing. Even the sky had changed.
But he remained the same.
He pressed a palm against the glass.
Somewhere in this sprawling city, decisions were being made. His parents were involved in them. Something about tension with the angels. Something about preparations. Something serious enough to uproot him and move precious assets from his family's estate.
He had been hidden his entire life.
Now, for the first time, he wondered if that hiding was about to end.