Marvo woke up on the same bench in the city park. His eyes didn’t open right away — it felt as if he were still in that dream, standing atop a skyscraper, looking down at the night city from above. But a cold wind quickly brought him back to reality. He pushed himself up and looked around: the long park alleys were empty, only a few passersby hurried along on their business, paying no attention to the lone boy.

  For a moment, he even doubted:

  “Was that journey real at all? The old man, the cart, the conversations… Or was it just a long dream?”

  But the dry leaves under his feet, the fresh air, and the heaviness in his legs after the long walk were reminders — it had all been real.

  The birds were hardly singing. The sky was clear, without a single cloud, but the sun was deceptive — it shone, yet gave no warmth. The wind crept through his clothes, as if deliberately finding weak spots. Marvo shivered, zipped his jacket higher, and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. His fingers were cold and slightly trembling from the night chill that had seeped into his body.

  He got up and slowly walked along one of the alleys. Not yet knowing exactly where, but feeling that he had to keep moving. His stomach was already beginning to growl, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since the night before. But hunger was not the main concern now. Much stronger was the uncertainty gnawing at him:

  “What now? Where do I find a place to sleep? Where can I earn money?”

  He passed flowerbeds, streetlights, trees drooping tiredly. He walked past a café, from which the smell of fresh pastries and coffee drifted out. These aromas only intensified the feeling of loneliness — as if the city was living its own life, and he was merely a passerby here, a stranger.

  Yet there was something alluring in this uncertainty. Everything was new, unfamiliar. And in this chaos of possibilities, Marvo felt something akin to hope.

  He wandered along the street, pressing his arms to his chest, trying to warm himself at least a little. The cold wind seemed to deliberately slip under his jacket, whispering unpleasant things:

  “You won’t survive here.”

  “Go back.”

  “You came here for nothing.”

  But Marvo pushed these thoughts away. He had come too far to give up at the very first step.

  He felt his stomach painfully tightening with hunger. He hadn’t eaten anything for several hours, aside from vague memories of yesterday’s bread. And now, with every step, it became clearer — if he didn’t find food and a place to sleep, it could turn into serious trouble. And it wasn’t even about comfort. He understood: if he got sick, if he couldn’t endure it — his dreams would remain just dreams. His determination was strong, but the body had its limits.

  “I need to find a job. Today. Right now,” he thought, stopping at an intersection and scanning the street.

  The city had come alive. Shop signs were glowing, street stalls were open, people hurried past — some with briefcases, some with coffee in hand. Everything about this day seemed to say:

  “There is work — you just have to find it.”

  Marvo looked around at the surrounding buildings. Somewhere nearby came the sounds of unloading — someone was bringing boxes to a supermarket. Farther down the street were small cafés, and near one of them the boy noticed trash bags being taken out — perhaps the staff was ending a shift. He remembered that place.

  “I don’t know where I’ll sleep tonight, but if I find at least some temporary work, I’ll have a chance,” he told himself.

  Resolutely, with a tired but straight back, he headed toward the busier part of the city, where there was bustle in the air and the smell of coffee — a place where he might latch onto at least something.

  Marvo purposefully wandered the streets of Novoel, stepping into every café, supermarket, and small grocery store. His steps were confident, but inside the tension kept growing stronger. He politely approached shopkeepers, managers, waiters, all with the same question:

  “Hello… do you happen to need an extra pair of hands?”

  The first few times he heard a polite “no.” Then — indifferent shrugs. Sometimes — “leave your number, we’ll contact you if we need someone,” even though the boy didn’t even have a mobile phone. But most often — just a look full of doubt.

  When someone did ask about his experience, the conversations quickly hit a dead end. He said that he had helped in a village shop for several years — unloading goods, cleaning, sometimes working at the counter. But that was clearly not enough for city work.

  “No education?..”

  “You’re underage?”

  “Where do you live?..”

  “Do you have family nearby?..”

  “No place to stay?..”

  “You understand, boy, this isn’t a shelter…”

  Marvo began to hear these phrases more and more often. Some didn’t hide their irritation. Others showed pity. But increasingly, people looked at him with suspicion, as if he might steal if he didn’t get a job. Or cause trouble. The city was not kind to strangers — especially to lonely teenagers without an address or documents.

  Each failure seemed to crumble his determination piece by piece. And yet he kept going. He wouldn’t allow himself to give up. But for the first time in a long while, he sharply felt just how hard it was to be nobody in a big city.

  He realized: in Novoel, it took more than just the desire to work. Here, documents, stability, references, and experience were valued. And he had nothing except a name and a dream.

  “I’ll manage. Maybe not today. But I will manage…” he repeated to himself, clenching an empty hand in his pocket.

  Wandering the streets, between yet another attempt to find at least some kind of work, Marvo made an important note for himself: he definitely needed a phone. Not right now, perhaps, but in the near future — for communication, for job searching, for the chance to be at least a little closer to the rest of the world.

  Unfortunately, Inna had never allowed him to have such a “luxury.” A phone, according to her, was an excess, a useless toy. He remembered how her daughter had changed three of them over the past couple of years — one broke, the second drowned in the bathtub, the third simply became “outdated” and boring. And he wasn’t even allowed to touch someone else’s screen.

  As if the right to stay connected was something he didn’t deserve…

  It was getting colder and colder. With every minute the wind grew stronger, cutting through his thin windbreaker. His fingers were freezing, and even the raised collar did nothing to protect him from the gusts.

  At least in one of the cafés Marvo encountered a bit of kindness. The manager, learning that the boy had arrived in the city that very morning and hadn’t really eaten, took pity on him. He brought him a mug of hot chocolate and yesterday’s sandwich, reheated in the kitchen. It wasn’t much — but to Marvo it meant a great deal.

  He thanked him sincerely, from the bottom of his heart. Not loudly, without unnecessary words — but his eyes spoke for themselves.

  Marvo went deeper and deeper into the city, memorizing the streets he passed through. Again and again he noticed familiar signs, corner buildings, strange little shops — his own map of Novoel was forming right in his head.

  “Feels like I’ve walked at least half of the eastern part of the city on foot,” he thought, pressing his hands into his pockets.

  Buses rumbled past along the streets, but he didn’t even try to board them. He had no pass, and as for money… whatever was left he had placed under the door of the house that now belonged to his past.

  He even stopped by a community center. There, surprisingly, the people weren’t all that cold. They handed him a form — a sheet with dozens of questions. Half of them remained blank: education, experience, emergency contact number, address…

  “What was I supposed to write there? ‘Nowhere,’ ‘No,’ ‘None’?”

  The employee flipped through the filled-out form, nodded reservedly, and advised him to come back tomorrow after noon.

  “Maybe we’ll be able to find something for you,” — he said with a cautious smile.

  Toward evening, Marvo came across a small supermarket. Calling it that was a stretch — a cramped space, old shelves, a persistent smell of dust and cheap vegetables.

  The owner — a stocky, balding man with tired eyes — listened to him and shrugged.

  “You can help unload the crates and put the goods on the shelves. I’ll pay a little. Two hours work for you?”

  “Of course it is,” Marvo thought and agreed without hesitation.

  He worked silently, deftly and quickly. He carried crates, arranged jars, wiped down shelves. His body was tired, but there was only one thought in his head:

  “I didn’t give up.”

  In the end, the owner did hand him a couple of crumpled bills and even a bottle of water. It wasn’t enough to live on, but it was enough to feel the first tiny success.

  “Maybe this is where it all begins.”

  He and the man — the owner of that “supermarket” — agreed that Marvo would come back the day after tomorrow at seven in the morning to help receive and unload a new shipment of goods. No documents, no records, no formal hiring — the boy immediately understood that there would be no officialities here. But for now, that didn’t frighten him.

  “If you’re going to start, you start with something small,” he thought.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The man needed hands, not a spotless biography — and Marvo was ready to work “in the shadows,” at least for the time being.

  He stepped out of the shop around nine in the evening. It was already dark outside; streetlights illuminated the thinning sidewalks. In his pocket was money earned through honest work.

  Of course, it wasn’t much — spending the night in a hotel or even a hostel would have cost far more. But he managed to buy himself a cup of hot tea at a modest street café and some fast food near a bus stop. And that felt good.

  Very good.

  He sat there on a cold bench by the station, holding the hot cup in both hands. His fingers were already numb with cold, but the tea was returning warmth not only to his body, but to something deeper inside him as well.

  “Today I took a step. A small one, but a real one. I didn’t sit idle — I tried…”

  He felt tired, yet satisfied. Even in an unfamiliar city, among strangers’ faces, he had taken the first step on his path.

  But Marvo’s journey did not end at the bus stop. On the contrary, it was from there that it truly continued. The young man set off again, walking wherever his eyes led him, avoiding wide, noisy avenues and turning into narrower streets — where the streetlights shone more dimly, where the asphalt was cracked and the walls of houses were peeled by time.

  October showed the city no mercy with its wind — the gusts were sharp, as if trying to knock him off his feet. Shivering, Marvo pulled his hood over his head and pressed his arms to his sides. He was searching — not just for a place, but for any chance at all to find shelter for the night.

  “Maybe climb somewhere higher?” the thought flashed through his mind. “An attic, a roof, a construction site?”

  Or, on the contrary, find a low spot — a nook between buildings, where the walls would shield him from the piercing wind.

  He walked along an old brick building, past an empty courtyard where rusty pipes jutted out of the ground. On his right, a passage opened to some kind of warehouse — unguarded, with a half-broken door. He peeked inside, but it was too damp and smelled of mold. He kept walking.

  “Damn it, it’s just one night…” he thought. “I can handle it.”

  Marvo didn’t complain. He knew it would be hard. But to wander alone in a cold city, searching for a place to sleep… that was something he had never done before.

  The dark night swallowed the city, leaving only the dim lights of street lamps illuminating paths and narrow lanes. The moon was nearly full, but its light was lost amid the brightness of the city, and the stars were almost invisible — only visible in the darkest courtyards, where there were no streetlights and no light from windows. Marvo wandered down these streets, unaware of how far his footsteps were carrying him into the night.

  He walked, thinking of nothing, when suddenly some sounds caught his attention. He stopped, listening. Around the corner of a building came an argument, followed by some demanding voices. He cautiously peered around the wall, looking into a dark alley where two men seemed to be trying to take something from a woman who was walking slightly apart from them.

  The voices grew louder, and Marvo felt his heart quicken. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but something about the situation set him on edge. The men were acting aggressively, and the woman was trying to move away, but they continued to press her. This did not look like a normal conversation.

  Marvo froze, trying not to draw attention to himself. He didn’t know what to do: intervene or just leave. But he understood that staying there for long would be risky.

  The situation was becoming increasingly tense. One of the men, ominously calling the other “Pooch,” grabbed the woman by the elbow, trying to twist her arm. She struggled fiercely, trying to break free, but the man did not relent.

  “Trash, animal!” they shouted at her, and Pooch swung to hit her, but the woman dodged skillfully.

  “I will not go to him of my own will, nor against it,” the woman said firmly, despite everything happening around her.

  The men continued to insult and humiliate her, but she did not stop fighting, refusing to let them seize her. Every movement she made was full of desperate determination to escape.

  “Once we get to Boss, you’ll understand everything yourself,” one of them said, still trying to force the woman to obey him.

  Marvo realized that these men clearly intended to kidnap the woman. The situation was unmistakably dangerous, and he felt he could no longer stay on the sidelines. If she ended up in their hands, she would be in serious trouble.

  He quickly assessed the situation: he could not allow these men to take her, and he himself had become part of this tense moment. The decision was made instantly — to intervene.

  Overcoming his fear and hesitation, Marvo stepped out of hiding and called out to the men, catching them off guard. The woman, dressed in a simple but elegant long black dress and a brown wrap-style coat, tried again to break free from their grip, almost succeeding — but one of the men struck her in the face.

  The woman’s scream ignited a surge of rage in Marvo. He couldn’t stand by and watch this violence.

  “How dare you!” he shouted, rushing forward and, without hesitation, punching one of the men squarely in the jaw.

  The man stepped back, clutching his mouth with his hand, and spat blood onto the asphalt, his eyes burning with fury.

  “Let her go! Now!” Marvo yelled, ready to defend against any counterattack.

  The woman weakened in the grip of the other man, letting out a soft moan. She barely lifted her eyes to Marvo, her gaze full of gratitude and astonishment.

  The men, however, were clearly not willing to surrender, and the fight was far from over.

  Marvo noticed that one of the men was called Pooch, and this clearly aggressive person stepped toward him. In the next moment, he swung a powerful spinning kick at Marvo’s side. Marvo tried to dodge, but the blow landed, and he staggered slightly — though he immediately braced himself for the next attack.

  Pooch, giving no time to recover, struck again instantly, shouting crude insults and threats as he attacked. The cries and curses mixed with the blows. At the last moment, Marvo grabbed the not-so-thick hair of the other man, who was still holding onto the woman. Marvo sharply bent his head downward, then jumped and struck him in the knee. The man cried out in pain, lost his balance, and collapsed to the ground.

  At that moment, it seemed the woman realized the grip on her had loosened, and taking the opportunity, she freed herself from the other man’s hold, managing to leap aside. She fell to the ground, breathing heavily, but her face showed a look of gratitude. She was free, though not yet able to fully stand.

  The struggle between Marvo and the men continued, but now they had noticeably slowed, seeing that their victim had finally escaped.

  “Grab her!” growled Pooch, trying once more to regain control of the situation.

  “Run! Go!” Marvo shouted back, trying to distract the men.

  “Shut up, pup!” the second man threatened, and seizing the moment, he landed a heavy blow to Marvo’s stomach.

  Marvo instantly lost his balance and fell to the ground, barely catching sight of the woman’s black shoes — she had worn them despite the weather — vanishing rapidly into the darkness. She ran without looking back, despite her exhaustion and injuries. Everything happened so fast that all he could do was watch her figure disappear around the corner.

  He smirked, but the pain in his side from the last hit was relentless. His cheek burned, and his head spun slightly, but Marvo was confident he could still hold off the men for a little longer. Clutching his side and gritting his teeth against the pain, he steeled himself to act. It was crucial now that the men did not reach their original target. Marvo had no intention of giving in easily — there was a fire in his eyes, a readiness to fight to the very end.

  Marvo didn’t know why he had done it. He was completely unprepared for a fight, had no training in self-defense. He had never faced a situation like this, didn’t know what to do, and, even more, didn’t understand why he had intervened. But when he saw how these men treated the woman—trying to grab and humiliate her — something inside him simply couldn’t stand by.

  He took another hit, which sent him back to the ground. But he managed to grab a metal rod lying nearby. Gripping it, he hurled it with all his strength at one of the men. The rod struck its target precisely, and the man, seemingly stunned by the blow, stumbled backward.

  Thoughts raced through his mind, each catching onto the next. The pain from the blows kept mounting, but now the cold that had tormented him before felt irrelevant. With every new movement, the struggle seemed more important than all his fears and anxieties.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small trickle of blood running from the back of the Pooch’s head. He had really hit him. And despite all his doubts and hesitation, this gave him a sense of victory, even if temporary.

  In the distance, in the dark courtyards that had been silent until recently, the sound of sirens began to rise. Apparently, someone from the nearby houses, which had remained completely quiet until now, had finally decided to call for help. But it was already too late to change anything.

  “That little brat — what the hell!” Pooch cursed, looking at Marvo with clear contempt. He raised his hand, and small stones began to rise from the ground, seemingly obeying his every gesture.

  He stared at Pooch, who now stood before him like the embodiment of a threat. When the man raised his hand, Marvo realized this was no ordinary fight. This wasn’t just hand-to-hand combat. This was magic.

  Marvo felt something strange happening around him. The small stones began to spin slowly in the air, and with each passing moment, there were more and more of them.

  “No!” Marvo shouted, grabbing the nearest stone and, despite the pain, trying to deflect the attack. He tried to hold his stance, even as the stones began to fly at him with incredible force. One by one, they struck his body, causing sharp pain and leaving marks on his skin.

  He tried to dodge, but it was nearly impossible. With each hit, his body grew weaker, and his mind began to blur. But he could not allow himself to give up. He knew that if he fell, he wouldn’t get back up.

  Marvo made one last push, struggling to break free from the trap, each breath reminding him that his strength was running out.

  The sirens were drawing closer, but Marvo knew the police wouldn’t arrive in time. They were too far away. He had to act now, or he wouldn’t survive this moment.

  “What do I do?” he clenched inwardly, unsure how to face this horror.

  Mages… Rivenor… War… All of it surfaced in his memory. He remembered how his world had turned upside down when the war had taken his parents. And now, facing a mage, he realized this wasn’t just a coincidence. This moment was connected to his past.

  “You wouldn’t have been worth the effort if you hadn’t interfered,” the voice cut through the silence, his face twisted into a malicious grimace. He was clearly savoring the moment, aware that Marvo couldn’t stand against him.

  “Now I’ll have to destroy you. Sorry, kid.”

  Marvo felt his heart pounding faster than ever. Panic surged through him, but he couldn’t afford to lose his composure. He understood that if he stayed where he was, the stone Pooch had just lifted would certainly hit him, and his chances of survival would drop to zero.

  “I need to move,” he told himself.

  He leapt sharply to the side, taking cover behind a tall fence so the stone would miss him. In that moment, his mind raced, searching for a solution. His legs seemed to run on their own, instincts carrying him toward where there were people, light — where he could be seen.

  Marvo managed one last glance toward the men who were still shouting, but he was already running. Every step was a struggle, yet he felt he couldn’t stop. Ahead, a few buildings away, he saw the bright glow of streetlights, which seemed like his salvation.

  None of this quite made sense to him, but he was certain of one thing: if he reached a place where there were people, where he would be noticed, everything would be all right.

  With each step, the pain became unbearable, but Marvo barely noticed it. His only goal was the road leading to the light, to help.

  Marvo didn’t even manage to turn the corner. Just before escaping the courtyard, he felt a sudden, sharp pain at the back of his head — as if something heavy had struck him. Instantly, the world around him dimmed, and he felt his legs give way, his arms losing all strength. A wave of sudden weakness swept through his body, and he collapsed onto the asphalt, barely managing to throw out his hands to soften the fall.

  A dusty, heavy fog settled in his mind. The pain at the back of his head was unbearable, but even worse was that with each passing moment, his body felt increasingly alien, as if every muscle had surrendered to the pain and lost the ability to move. The world around him continued to spin in an endless storm.

  Pooch stood over him, his figure seeming massive and heavy, his gaze full of hatred and contempt. With each movement, the ground seemed to tremble, and the air grew thick, like lead.

  “Well, kid?” Pooch said, mockery in his voice. “Thought you could run? You don’t need to try anymore.”

  His words hit Marvo like a blow. He couldn’t even tell where reality ended and his nightmare began. He tried to gather himself, to find the strength to stand, but the terror of being unable to move only gripped him tighter.

  “This is the end,” he thought, feeling his consciousness darken and a terrifying, agonizing sense of losing control completely overwhelm him.

  “Maybe he’ll be more fun than I thought,” said the second man, his voice sounding from far away, as if from the other side of the black veil that shrouded Marvo’s mind.

  Every thought Marvo tried to grasp snapped like a thread being torn under pressure.

  “This can’t be how it ends.”

  He couldn’t believe it was all ending now, like this.

  Shadows blurred before his eyes, and his body stopped responding to any attempt at resistance. Time slowed, and with each moment, his consciousness slipped further away, as if refusing reality, knowing he no longer had the strength to fight.