The city did not fade gently the further they walked.
It changed.
Clean stone gave way to cracked pavement and tired brick. Magic-infused lamps flickered with inconsistent light. Tram lines rattled overhead—but fewer of them stopped here. Charming storefronts vanished in favor of patched doors and shuttered windows. Bright advertisement screens disappeared, replaced by peeling paint and the smell of smoke, metal, and survival.
The city didn't end.
It simply decided this part mattered less.
Senior walked alongside Aiden with dignified calm that somehow didn't belong in a place like this, yet fit perfectly as if the world simply adjusted itself to justify his presence.
This district breathed differently.
It did not bustle.
It endured.
People glanced up as Aiden passed. Not suspicious. Not hostile.
Just… tired.
Eyes measured him the way only people who have lived without safety can measure strangers. He didn't glow here. He wasn't extraordinary here. He was simply another variable in a world that already demanded too much.
He felt it almost immediately.
Not magic.
Not faith.
Not city structure.
Want.
Hearts aching not for power or wealth or grandeur…
…but for enough.
Enough food.
Enough safety.
Enough breath.
Enough not-hurting.
And layered over all of that…
a soft thread of something gentler.
Hope.
It drifted here like something fragile that kept refusing to die.
He slowed.
Senior noticed.
"Feel it?" the fae asked softly.
Aiden nodded.
Warmth pooled beneath his ribs like sunlight sneaking into his chest. It wasn't overwhelming like the city's roaring noise. It wasn't sharp like the squirrel's fury. It didn't burn like vengeance.
It soothed.
A wish that wasn't frantic.
A wish that wasn't screaming.
A wish that had been heard.
More than once.
"Someone's been… helping," Aiden murmured.
Senior's lips curled faintly.
"Yes. Someone has."
That wasn't surprising.
The surprise was that they were good at it.
Reality here didn't feel scarred or twisted. No warped aftermath. No ugly rebound. No sense of sloppy interference. Instead…
Things simply… hurt a little less than they should.
Aiden watched a child laugh—too thin, too worn, but laughing anyway.
Watched a mother carry water with just a bit less shaking in her arms.
Watched an old man breathe without struggling quite so hard.
Subtle.
Careful.
Real.
"Whoever it is," Aiden whispered, "they're doing this right."
Senior tilted his head.
"That depends on one's definition of 'right.'"
They walked deeper.
Posters still hung here.
The same stern, polished message.
WISHES ARE FAIRYTALES.
THE WORLD RUNS ON MAGIC, WORK, AND FAITH.
GROW UP.
Someone had drawn a childish smile under the last line.
Someone else had written:
Says who?
Aiden smiled softly.
Then the warmth changed.
It sharpened.
Centered.
Focused.
The wish wasn't abstract anymore.
It wasn't lingering.
It was right here.
He turned a corner.
And saw her.
A girl sat on cracked stone steps beside a worn building—no older than her late teens, hair tied back, clothes faded but clean. A line of quiet people waited in front of her.
She wasn't performing magic.
She wasn't chanting.
There were no circles.
No sigils.
No divine glow.
She just listened.
Really listened.
A woman spoke softly to her, voice breaking.
The girl placed a hand on hers.
Something shifted in the air.
Very gently.
Reality leaned forward…
like a friend.
The woman exhaled.
Relief trembled.
Nothing flashy happened.
But something changed anyway.
And the crowd believed.
Senior spoke quietly.
"There she is."
Aiden swallowed.
The rumor wasn't rumor.
The hidden miracle wasn't myth.
The world said wishes didn't exist—
—but the slums already knew better.
The girl's eyes lifted.
And without knowing who he was…
She saw him.
Not with fear.
Not with awe.
Not even with shock.
Just recognition.
Like two match flames noticing each other in the dark.
And Aiden realized something terrifying and wonderful all at once.
He wasn't the first.
He wasn't the only.
And maybe…
he wasn't the strongest.
Far away, the city above continued as always.
Officials remained confident.
Temples remained composed.
Academies remained certain.
And the Universe Department quietly updated the observation file.
The Void watched with quiet interest.
And Desire smiled.
Because now…
the story had options.