Chapter 10 · A Childhood on Loan

The first hunter fired before Evelyn could breathe.

A line of white contract-light split the dead end, striking the wall where her head had been. Brick screamed. Ink burst from the mortar and crawled across the alley in frantic, living letters.

Evelyn dropped behind an overturned handcart with Noa in her arms.

Noa’s head lolled against her shoulder. Her skin was gray beneath the blood and soot, her lashes motionless. The letters that had written her full name across the wall still glowed behind them, each stroke pulsing like a second heartbeat.

Noa Vey.

The name had torn open the street. Doors that had not existed a moment ago trembled in the brickwork. Windows blinked into being, revealing rooms full of frightened residents and half-remembered furniture. A woman leaned out of one doorway, clutching a child who kept asking why the hallway had moved.

At the mouth of the alley, three Council hunters advanced through the smoke.

Their coats were black, their collars silver, their faces hidden behind lacquered masks stamped with the Sanctum’s eye. Contract seals hovered over their wrists, ready to become weapons.

“Evelyn Rook,” one of them called.