Chapter Eight — Among Strangers

  The city was louder than the forest.

  Not all at once—no alarms, no shouting—but a constant background noise that never stopped. Footsteps on pavement. Doors opening and closing. Distant horns. Snippets of conversation drifting past like radio static.

  Aethyrion kept his head down.

  He’d retracted most of the armor, leaving it layered beneath simple outer plating. From a distance, he probably looked like a tired kid in oversized clothes. Up close… maybe not. He avoided getting close.

  People passed him without a second glance.

  That surprised him.

  After years of being watched—monitored, evaluated, tracked—the indifference felt unreal. No one stared. No one pointed. Everyone was too busy living their own lives.

  He followed the flow of foot traffic, mimicking what he saw. Stop when others stopped. Walk when they walked. Cross streets only when the lights changed.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  It felt like learning a new language without knowing the rules.

  Aethyrion paused near a bakery as warm air drifted out when the door opened. The smell hit him hard—bread, sugar, something sweet and unfamiliar.

  His stomach twisted painfully.

  A woman stepped out carrying a paper bag. She caught him staring and frowned slightly.

  Aethyrion looked away immediately, heart pounding.

  Too obvious.

  He moved on, hands shoved into his pockets, trying to ignore the hunger clawing at his insides. He didn’t know how money worked here. He didn’t know how to ask for help without sounding suspicious.

  He didn’t know how to be normal.

  By mid-morning, exhaustion started to creep back in. Not the sharp kind from fighting—this was dull, heavy, the kind that made his thoughts slow.

  He found a quiet alley between two apartment buildings and leaned against the brick wall, closing his eyes just for a second.

  Just a second.

  “Hey.”

  Aethyrion’s eyes snapped open.

  A boy stood a few feet away, maybe his age, holding a plastic bag with a logo Aethyrion didn’t recognize. He wore headphones around his neck and looked more curious than afraid.

  “You okay?” the boy asked. “You look… wrecked.”

  Aethyrion hesitated.

  Every instinct told him to leave. To run. To avoid attention.

  But the boy wasn’t reaching for a weapon.

  “I’m fine,” Aethyrion said quickly.

  The boy raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look fine.”

  Aethyrion swallowed. His voice came out quieter this time.

  “I just haven’t eaten.”

  The boy glanced at the bag in his hand, then back at Aethyrion. After a moment, he reached in and pulled out a wrapped sandwich.

  “Take it,” he said. “I already ate.”

  Aethyrion stared at it like it might disappear.

  “I can’t—”

  “You can,” the boy said, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal.”

  Slowly, carefully, Aethyrion accepted it. Their fingers brushed for half a second. Nothing broke. Nothing exploded.

  “Thanks,” Aethyrion said.

  The boy smiled faintly. “Yeah. No problem.”

  He left without another word.

  Aethyrion unwrapped the sandwich with shaking hands and took a bite.

  It was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

  As he ate, the city moved around him—alive, unaware, indifferent in the best possible way. For the first time since he escaped, Aethyrion didn’t feel hunted.

  Just lost.

  And maybe… not alone.

  End of Chapter Eight