Aether Bound

Chapter 1: Where Light Begins

He shot her a look—then laughed.

They reached a small shop with a painted sign of a gear and quill crossed over a crate. The windows were open; the smell of oil and ink drifted out.

A man hurried to the door the moment he saw the parcel.

"You must be from AetherBound," he said, bowing. "Thank you, truly. That ledger is important."

Aria bowed slightly as she handed it over. "Here you go. We were asked to deliver it safely."

"You did just that," he said, relieved. "I was worried it was lost."

Ryoto waved. "No worries. Lost stuff, found stuff. That's us."

"Please tell your guild I'm grateful."

"We will," Aria said.

They stepped back outside. The harbor was busier now. A distant ship horn echoed across the water.

"My first quest is complete," Aria murmured.

"See?" Ryoto stretched. "Easy. You did great."

"I only walked and handed something over."

"Yeah, and you didn't trip once," he said proudly. "Achievement unlocked."

She bumped his arm lightly, still smiling—

—and then a scream ripped through the air.

Sharp. Frightened. Echoing off stone.

Aria froze.

Ryoto's expression hardened instantly.

"Aria—"

"Right," she said, already turning toward the alley.

Her heart pounded.
She didn't like fighting.
But she didn't like the idea of someone being hurt even less.

They ran.

The scream led them into a narrow side alley, where two tall warehouse walls funneled sound like a tunnel. Crates were stacked unevenly, some broken, and a loose fishing net lay coiled near the entrance. A single lantern flickered above, its weak glow struggling against the daylight.

At the far end of the alley—
stood a girl.

Not a child.

A teenager, maybe seventeen, with sharp posture and sharper eyes.
Her short mint-green hair framed her face unevenly, the kind of cut done quickly for practicality rather than style. She stood firm, back straight, one foot subtly angled as if she were ready to pivot or counter.

A massive, overpacked engineer's backpack weighed on her shoulders—so full that every tiny shift of her body made it clank and rattle like a traveling workshop.

She wasn't trembling.
She wasn't cornered like prey.

If anything...
she looked annoyed.

Five thugs circled her, older men with the swagger of people who picked easy targets. One stepped forward, jabbing a finger at her chest.

"Last chance, girl. Drop the bag. Tools like that fetch good money."

Sylvi's arms were crossed.
Her glare was flat and tired—like someone whose morning had already gone wrong, and this was somehow the last straw.

"Touch my tools," she said coldly, "and I swear I'll weld your hands to your own face."

Aria froze at the firmness in her tone.
The girl sounded older—far older than Aria, almost like one of the guild's senior teens back home.