She knew that, given how heavily guarded the facility was, sneaking out would never be easy, and she was not yet familiar enough with all of her abilities to risk improvisation. So, she did not hesitate once she decided.
The sun was still high when she moved, but she did not leave by any path meant for people who intended to be seen. Instead, she followed the faint pull beneath her skin, the same subtle pressure that had guided her ever since the limiter settled into place. It was quiet but insistent, like a memory masquerading as instinct.
Earlier, when she had been escorted back to her room, she had noticed something strange about the eastern wing. Parts of it felt hollow, untouched by routine or presence, like a section of the building that had quietly slipped out of use. It was like a ghost town stretch inside a place built on vigilance. Where there was absence, there were usually secrets, and she found them with unsettling ease.
Once she was certain she was unobserved, she slipped back into that forgotten stretch and found what she was looking for. There was a narrow maintenance stair concealed behind a storage alcove. The wards there were old, designed to keep things contained rather than watched.
As she passed through, the limiter softened her presence just enough for the sigils to accept her without resistance. The door slid shut behind her with a muted click that felt final in a way she deliberately refused to think about.
She descended step by careful step, the air cooling as polished steel gave way to bare stone. The disciplined order of the headquarters faded away the deeper she went, replaced by something older, rougher, and far less forgiving. When she finally emerged again, it was not into a courtyard or an administrative passage, but into the city's forgotten spine, a service corridor that spilled into a web of alleys never meant to exist on official maps.
The city changed immediately.
Light dimmed, not because the sun had faded, but because it was filtered through neglect, hanging charms, and crooked buildings that leaned too close together, as if sharing secrets. The air thickened with smoke, sweat, and unbound magic that clung to her skin like a second shadow.
This was not Selene's city, this was where the laws lost their value, where rules became suggestions and consequences depended on who was watching. A place for outcasts, traffickers, and those who knew far too much to remain clean.
She adjusted her cloak and moved forward, posture loose, steps unhurried, letting herself merge with the rhythm of the streets. The limiter hummed low and steady, shaving the sharpest edges off her presence without erasing it. It did not make her invisible, only ambiguous, and ambiguity here was both shield and bait.
Eyes found her quickly. Some glanced once and dismissed her, fooled by the restraint woven into her aura. Others lingered, their gazes sharp and calculating, sensing value without understanding its shape. She felt herself being measured in silent equations, and she measured them back just as carefully with the system's help, noting exits, distances, and threat potential without breaking stride.
She caught fragments of muttered conversation as she passed and her brows furrowed, many could tell she was not from here.
Before she could ask any questions, the whisper returned, not from beneath the city this time, but threaded through it, woven into brick, breath, and blood.
"Left."
She obeyed without questioning it. It was dangerous, she knew that, but at this point it was also her only option.
The street narrowed, lamps flickering unevenly overhead as she moved beneath them. Charms clinked softly in the breeze. Stalls crowded the walls, their wares deliberately half-hidden, artifacts wrapped in stained cloth and quiet intent. Her gaze caught on weapons etched with sigils that belonged to no recognized school, and for a brief moment she wondered if this was where she would obtain her first true weapon as well.
Yet, despite her needs, she did not stop; instead, she passed and conversations dipped in volume, not because she was known, but because something about her presence unsettled the fragile balance this place clung to.
She slowed near a knot of voices she had not intended to hear.
"…confirmation came this morning."
"…knights sealed it fast, but something slipped."
"…a resonance. Not a breach."
Her ears twitched beneath her hair before she could stop them, and she cursed herself silently as she turned her attention to a rack of blades she had no interest in. Her body listened while her face remained neutral.
The pressure surged again, sharp and sudden, and her instincts flared. She stepped back, only to feel the space behind her adjust in response, footsteps shifting, presences closing in with practiced ease.
They had found her, the same men who had tried to capture her when she first entered the city.
"How?" The thought barely had time to form.
"Careful," a voice murmured near her shoulder, smooth and confident. "You'll draw attention moving like that."
A low growl slipped from her chest before she could stop it, vibrating with instinctive warning. Heads turned towards her and a few faces paled as recognition flickered far too quickly to be coincidence.
"That's her," someone muttered. "The one from the other day."
The circle tightened. Her heart thundered as she calculated the cost of violence. Even restrained, she could break bones, leave scars, make examples. But the consequences unfurled just as quickly in her mind, that would raise the alarms, possibly draw the knights.
She lowered her gaze, knowing that it could break the trust she was now forming with Selene's, causing the woman's attention to slam down on her like a hammer. And beneath it all, a stubborn thread of resistance pulled at her, reminding her that this kind of bloodshed was not something she accepted easily.
While weighing the pros and cons, she saw an opening.
A woman stood at the edge of the street, not yet part of the chaos but unmistakably its center, surrounded by men who moved with disciplined restraint rather than predatory hunger. Their armor was darker, older, etched with sigils that carried weight rather than rank.
The whisper surged, some were pleased and urgent, yet she did not think of that. She simply moved.
She dashed toward the woman and jumped over her, cloak flaring, and her hair spilling free. The men around her drew blades instantly, and the woman's purple eyes widened beneath the streetlights before a slow, amused smirk curved her lips.
"Little foxes don't belong in places that can eat them alive," the woman said smoothly. "If you're looking for something, you should speak to someone who knows the cost of secrets. My bounty alone says enough."
The girl faltered for half a step, then recovered, landing lightly on her toes just behind her, eyes narrowed as she glanced back at the closing figures.
The woman turned fully toward her, grinning. Her hair flowed freely, her body armored but unapologetically exposed, with steel guarding her shoulders and torso while tattoos spilled across her arm and chest. She radiated danger and confidence in equal measure.
"Let's play," the woman said.
She snapped her fingers and purple energy flared around them, swallowing light and sound in an instant, and then both of them vanished from the street.