The aroma of freshly baked eclairs wafted through the dim alley, clashing against the otherwise musty odor of the lower district. Kairo stood there—half awake, half wary—staring at the bakery sign that read: "Elma's Emporium of Exquisite Eclairs." For a second, he forgot the world was trying to kill him.
"This is ridiculous," Samhael muttered beside him, her hood shadowing most of her face. "Why are we stopping for pastries while we're being followed by a cult?"
"Because," Kairo replied, placing a hand on his grumbling stomach, "I think better with sugar in my system. And that cult's not catching me unless they can beat a lightning-charged sugar rush."
Samhael sighed, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity as the door chimed open and warm light spilled onto the cobblestones.
Inside, the bakery was an odd sanctuary—rows of golden pastries neatly arranged under glass, the air filled with the hum of enchantments keeping them warm. An old woman with silver hair and a wand-shaped spatula peeked from the back.
"Ah, customers! And not the shady kind for once. Welcome!"
"Define shady," Kairo said under his breath.
They purchased two eclairs and a flaky lemon tart, which Kairo insisted on trying despite Samhael's disapproving glare. She caved in the moment he offered her a bite. They sat by the window, briefly pretending the world outside didn't involve death, curses, and secret societies.
"So," Samhael began, wiping cream off her lip, "we need to talk about what happened at the Archive."
Kairo sobered instantly. The Archive—a forbidden, ancient library they'd narrowly escaped—had revealed more than dusty books. It had echoed when he spoke. The walls themselves had listened, reacted.
"Yeah," Kairo said. "Whatever this ability is, it's tied to something much older than the 'Voice' magic they teach in Ardent's Tower. That place... it knew my name before I said it."
"And it responded when you said that phrase."
Kairo nodded. "'The world hears when I speak.' I thought it was just something I said out loud in frustration. But it's like those words unlocked something."
"Or someone," Samhael added grimly.
They were silent for a beat.
Suddenly, the bakery door burst open.
A man in a feathered hat and extremely tight pants stumbled in, wheezing. "Hide me! The Custodians of Code are after me!"
The baker pointed to a flour barrel without missing a beat.
"Thanks, Elma," the man whispered and dove inside.
Kairo blinked. "Do I want to know what he did?"
"He re-shelved restricted books in alphabetical order," Elma said casually. "In the Forbidden Wing."
Kairo and Samhael exchanged glances.
"Anarchist," Kairo whispered.
Outside, the street had grown too quiet. Then came the sound of heavy boots and cloaks fluttering in the wind.
"They found us," Samhael said, standing.
Kairo stuffed the last piece of lemon tart into his mouth and grabbed his satchel. "Guess we'll need that sugar rush after all."
---
They burst through the back door into a maze of alleys. The Custodians—neither part of the Tower nor of any law Kairo recognized—were a militant force devoted to maintaining the 'Sacred Order' of magical records. And for some reason, they were tracking him.
"Split up?" Samhael offered.
"Bad idea. I need your sarcasm to stay grounded."
"Fine. Left then."
They darted left.
Behind them, a Custodian shouted: "Invoke the Ledger of Pursuit!"
Pages of parchment flew into the air, glowing red with tracking runes.
"Great," Kairo muttered, turning a corner and nearly colliding with a cart full of cabbages. "We're being hunted by bureaucratic ghosts."
Samhael drew a dagger, enchanted with sigils that shimmered in the fading light. "If we can get to the shrine, I might be able to break their link to us. But you need to slow them down."
Kairo raised an eyebrow. "With what, my charming personality?"
"Use your voice, idiot. They're tracking you. Speak. Command. Whatever it is you do."
He exhaled and turned around.
The pages were swirling in formation now, forming a glowing net.
Kairo stepped forward, feeling the buzz in his chest that had become familiar since the Archive.
He spoke, not loud, but firm:
"Unwrite."
The word hit the air like a thunderclap. The parchment pages ignited midair, burning from the edges inward before turning to ash.
The Custodians halted, stunned. One of them began scribbling notes.
"Retreat! Reclassification required!"
And just like that, they were gone.
Kairo stumbled back, the energy fading from him. Samhael caught him.
"That... was new," he gasped.
"You're going to need training. Real training. Not just Tower stuff."
"Yeah. And maybe a nap."
They resumed walking, and as the alleys quieted again, Kairo couldn't help but mutter:
"I miss the eclairs already."
Samhael smirked. "We'll go back. Once the world stops trying to archive you."