Chapter 35 - Pilse Arc
The next morning, Zoa returns to Sonny’s room. She pauses at the doorway, studying him.
“How are you feeling?” she asks. “Can you walk?”
“I can,” Sonny replies.
“Good. Come on,” she says, motioning toward the hall. “We’re getting food at the market. I’ll show you around the village, and you can tell me about your life on the outside.”
Sonny hesitates for a moment. It does not feel like an invitation. Still, he nods, rises from the bed, and follows her outside.
The air is cool, but tolerable. Sunlight stretches across the village, bright and steady. A stark contrast to the weather when he first arrived in Pilse. The market is alive with movement. People drift between vendor stalls, sampling food, trading coins, laughing with one another. Families gather around long tables, and the smell of grilled meat and sweet bread fills the air.
Zoa walks beside him, pointing things out as they go.
“That’s spiced root,” she says, gesturing to a stand. “Only grown in the hills east of here. And over there, that sweet paste is made during festivals. We usually share it with neighboring villages of the basin.”
Sonny listens, taking everything in. The vibe is unfamiliar. Peaceful yet happy and exciting. Almost distracting. No fear. No command. No structure. Just people.
It reminds him of the ball he and Ellie attended. He is still not used to the good energy of these moments.
Eventually, they buy a simple meal and sit on a wooden bench near the edge of the market. Zoa wastes no time.
“So,” she says, leaning forward, “what’s it really like outside Pilse?”
Sonny eats quietly for a second before answering.
“Magic runs everything,” he says. “If you have it and can wield it well, you matter. You can have a great future. If you don’t, people look past you unless you offer something else. Energy. Intelligence. Healing. Wealth.”
Zoa nods, focused. “And the schools?”
“They shape the future,” Sonny replies. “The Academy of Magic, BU, UP and others all strive to harness and mold magic potential. They train and educate students, push their limits, and directly funnel them into guilds or the Bronze Corps. It’s all so systematic. Everything feeds into power. They even have tournaments to determine your ranking amongst your peers and showcase your talents to the world.”
Zoa studies him. “How did you get into a place like that without magic?”
“I had an arrangement with the dean,” Sonny says. “That’s all.”
“And the others? How did they treat you?”
“Most didn’t even acknowledge my existence,” he answers. “A few did.”
Zoa narrows her eyes slightly but moves on. “Did you ever compete in the tournaments?”
“I did.”
“And? How were they? Did you place?”
“Fourth place,” Sonny plainly says. “In both tournaments I was in.”
Zoa blinks. “Wow. That is so impressive. You must be a strong ether user. I was not aware that ether could trump magic.”
Sonny shrugs, offering nothing more. He leaves out how impactful and important those tournaments are to students and their futures. How they are loved by society as a showcase of magic potential.
Zoa continues asking questions. Classes, exams, guilds, rivalries. Sonny answers what he can and avoids what he will not share.
About an hour passes before the mood breaks.
A truck rolls into the market. The sound alone is enough to shift the crowd. Conversations die. Movement halts. Then panic spreads. Vendors rush to close their stalls. People scatter, grabbing children and whatever belongings they can carry. The once lively market collapses into chaos within seconds. Sonny turns to look at Zoa. Fear is written plainly across her face. Her hand tightens slightly against the bench.
Three men step out of the truck, grinning as they take in the scene. They move like they’ve done this before. Relaxed. Amused. One of them stretches his arms, like he’s arriving at something entertaining.
“Stop moving!” one of them shouts. “Everyone, stay where you are!”
Some freeze. Others keep running ignoring the commands.
A second man lifts his hand and fires a bolt of lightning into an empty stall. The blast explodes wood into splinters. The crack silences what little movement remains.
The third man laughs softly. "See? That wasn’t so hard."
The first man steps forward, voice rising, yet casual, almost bored. “You know how this works. We need three people. You’ll serve our great leader, Ruin.” He scans the crowd, then grabs a nearby child by the collar. “If no one volunteers, we start killing and this child is first.”
The child trembles in his grip.
The market falls silent, broken only by quiet sobs.
Sonny shifts, preparing to stand. Zoa grabs his hand and pulls him back down. “Don’t,” she whispers. “They’ll kill you, or someone else if you interfere.”
Her eyes are wide, pleading, but there is something else underneath. Recognition. Familiarity. "They don’t stop," she breathes. "Not until they get what they came for."
Sonny’s gaze flicks back toward the men. This fearful energy he understands. It’s similar to how he felt every day with the Omegas. Control through fear, but on a much larger scale.
Across the market, one of the men notices. A slow smile spreads across his face. He leans toward his companion, mutters something, then starts walking toward them.
Zoa tightens her grip. “We need to go.”
She pulls Sonny up and leads him away, moving quickly, slipping along the edge of the market.. Behind them, three men step forward as volunteers. The two remaining instigators greet their volunteers with fists, beating them without hesitation while everyone else watches. Sonny catches only a glimpse before turning the corner with Zoa.
They turn down a side street, but the man is already there.
"That was quick," he says, smiling. "Thought you might run further."
He steps forward, blocking the path. "Didn’t you hear the order? Quit moving."
His gaze lands on Zoa. Recognition sparks. "Wait… you look familiar."
His sinister smile widens. "We picked up your little sister last month, didn’t we?" He chuckles softly. "Lively one. Cried a lot. But has been a lot of fun."
Zoa’s breath catches. Her body folds inward, one step back.
"You’re better looking though. You should come back with us. I can show you a good time." The man says as he winks at her.
Sonny moves in front of her.
“Leave us be,” he says. “We don’t want any trouble. And it looks like you three got what you came for.”
The man’s attention shifts. He looks Sonny up and down, unimpressed. He holds a small device up and points it at Sonny, but nothing happens. The man’s expression hardens. Lightning gathers around his hand.
“Haven’t seen you before,” he says. “Can’t sense any magic from either. Worthless and magicless. I’ll show you what happens to worthless people who interfere.”
The man strikes fast. His lightning-coated fist drives forward, aimed at Sonny’s chest. Sonny shifts half a step to the side. The punch passes his shoulder. In the same motion, Sonny catches the man’s wrist, stopping him cold. The impact snaps through the alley.
Before the man can pull back, Sonny turns his body, using the man’s own momentum. He steps behind him and forces his arm up, locking it tightly against his back. The joint strains. A sharp crack echoes as pressure rises to the edge of breaking.
The man stiffens, breath catching. An instant later, something cold presses against the side of his mouth. A shuriken, formed from Sonny’s ether, perfectly shaped.
He could kill the man and think nothing of it, but he restrains himself. Instead, he offers an alternative.
Sonny’s voice is quiet.
“Apologize,” Sonny says, voice low. “Then walk away.”
The man’s mood has shifted.
“If you don’t,” Sonny continues, “your arm breaks. And you won’t be speaking for a while.”
The lightning fades from the man’s hand and his confidence collapses. He nods quickly. “I’m… sorry,” he mutters through the shuriken stuffed in his mouth, barely able to form the words.
Sonny releases him.
The man stumbles forward, then backs away, keeping his distance before turning and jogging back toward the truck. When he returns to the other two, they glance at him confused and ask what happened.
“She’s not worth it,” he says, brushing them off to save face.
They gather the beaten volunteers and load them into the vehicle. The truck pulls away, leaving behind a shaken, silent market.
Zoa exhales and lunges forward, wrapping her arms around Sonny.
“Thank you,” she says, voice shaking. “You saved me.”
Sonny looks at her, expression steady. “You said people have been causing trouble,” he says. “That was more than trouble.”
Zoa looks down and away for a moment. “Well, you’re an outsider. We didn’t know what to think. If you were in cahoots with those people who just ransacked our village. We didn’t want to say too much.”
A fair point that Sonny absorbs that without reaction.
She steps back, glancing at his hand. “That weapon… where did it come from?”
“I constructed it with ether.” He claims as it fades away from his hand.
Zoa frowns. “I thought ether was only used for healing.”
“That seems to be a common misconception,” Sonny replies.
Zoa studies him again, differently this time. Not with curiosity. With caution. And something close to understanding.
She looks toward the village center. “We should report this to Chief Calo.”
Sonny nods once. Together, they make their way to Calo’s office.
As they walk, the noise of the market returns slowly behind them. Quieter now. Uneven.
Sonny doesn’t look back. But he feels it. The fear in Pilse is real.
