Navir's boots tapped against the uneven pavement as he strolled through the busy street, mind spinning. He tried to piece together why certain gifted had been abandoned in the wasteland, why betrayal might linger so close, even within his own circle. Each thought tugged at him, restless and unresolved.
The scent of roasted coffee drifted from a small café ahead, mingling with the faint tang of exhaust and warm asphalt. Something made him slow, curiosity nudging him forward.
Inside, a man sat alone at a corner table, stirring a cup with slow, deliberate movements. Silver-black hair fell low around his face, and sharp, calculating eyes scanned the room with quiet control.
There was a presence there that made the hair on Navir's arms prickle, an inexplicable weight that drew him closer.
Navir stopped just outside the café, studying the man. "That's odd," he muttered under his breath.
The man lifted his eyes at last, steady and unreadable, as if he'd been aware of Navir long before he looked. He finished his coffee unhurriedly, setting the cup down with a soft, deliberate click against the saucer. There was something in the economy of the motion, calm, controlled, quietly assured, that stirred a sense of familiarity Navir couldn't place.
Navir hesitated, then pushed open the café door and stepped inside. The bell chimed once, too loud in the sudden quiet. He crossed the floor without fully meaning to, drawn closer by an instinct he didn't trust.
"Excuse me," Navir said, frowning slightly. "You look very familiar. Do I know you?" The question escaped him before he could weigh it.
The man paused, a flicker of surprise passing across his features, brief, quickly mastered. He studied Navir for a heartbeat, then let his expression settle back into calm restraint.
"No," he replied evenly. "I don't believe we've met."
Navir hesitated, his frown softening as he took the man in, the faint crease between his brows, the subtle angle of his head, the composed way he carried himself. There was a sense of depth there, hard to name, as if experience lingered just beneath the surface. After a moment, he spoke more carefully, voice tentative.
"You… carry yourself like someone who's been through things," he said, almost apologetically, as if unsure whether the thought should have been voiced at all.
The man replied evenly, eyes now focused on his coffee again. "Perhaps, I'm just weary of strangers."
Navir's heart thudded, an unshakable sense of connection pressing at him, though he had never met this man before. That presence, it lingered like a shadow, leaving him unsettled, questioning, and intrigued all at once.
Navir realized he was standing too close to the corner table and forced himself to move, crossing the café to the chalkboard menu as if that had been his intention all along. He lingered there longer than necessary, eyes skimming prices he didn't register, while his attention kept drifting back.
From across the room, he watched the man lift his cup, the measured pause before each sip, the precision that left no motion wasted. The restraint in it tugged at something buried, echoes of drills, of discipline learned under pressure, of habits forged where mistakes were costly.
The man shifted slightly, angling his chair just enough to keep the room in view. Not nervous. Aware.
Navir's unease deepened. Betrayal, he realized, was never loud. It lived in habits. In silences.
Their eyes met again, briefly. This time, the man didn't look away. Instead, he rose, slow and unhurried, and moved past Navir as if they were strangers bound only by coincidence.
Outside the door, he stopped, as if someone was conversing with him.
Then, without a word, he lifted his hand and pointed down the street, toward a lone figure standing far too still.
Then he was gone, leaving Navir with a direction and far too many questions.
Navir lingered inside the café a little longer, watching through the glass as the man stepped outside and stopped beside a familiar figure.
Samaveh stood half-turned from him, wrapped in traditional Argathe dress, a long ankle-length cloth in muted river-blue, its hem threaded with intricate beadwork of spirals and triangles.
A second sash of cloth crossed one shoulder, resting against her back like a quiet mark of status. Around her ankle, white and green spirit beads caught the light as she shifted, symbols of pure intent and living growth, the unmistakable sign of a healer's calling.
The man spoke quietly, gesturing once toward something down the street, his movements controlled, deliberate. Samaveh listened, head tilted slightly, her expression attentive, thoughtful. Navir couldn't tell what was being indicated, only that the exchange carried weight.
The man lingered a moment longer, saying something Navir couldn't hear, then straightened. Without another word, he turned and merged into the slow current of the street, his presence dissolving as quietly as it had arrived. Navir remained where he was, watching through the café window as the space the man left behind seemed to settle.
Only after Samaveh shifted, scanning the street as if deciding where to go next, did Navir move. He stood up, reached for the door, and pushed it open, and stepped outside, the cool air catching his breath, his pulse still uneven from the encounter.
He closed the distance between them, recognition finally locking into place.
"Samaveh?" he called softly.
Samaveh stood near the curb, sunlight catching in her braided black-silver hair. Her gentle, rounded face was set in concern, freckles soft against copper skin, deep red eyes searching his. She lifted one hand in a small, relieved gesture when she noticed him, a healer's calm woven into every movement.
"Navir," she said quietly. "You looked shaken."
"You know him?" Navir replied, the words slipping out. "That man."
Samaveh hesitated, fingers tightening together. "Tarefin?" she said at last. "Yeah, he was a prodigy. Academic circuits, school quizzes, his face used to be all over the media back."
Something clicked. A memory surged, after the final exams, weeks ago. A bike tearing past. A cold stare that lingered too long. The same eyes.
Navir's breath caught.