The Emberlight Market greeted them with a wave of sound and color of flags fluttering from windows, dense stalls shoulder to shoulder, the sizzle of spellcoin sparks blazing like fireflies between vendors. Coins clanked and sang with each transaction, some vibrating softly with concealed magic. Steam hissed from gratings in the stone, and a woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat juggled glowing pebbles while shouting over a brass-lunged vendor hawking "legit lightning, bottled fresh!”

  Cael took it all in, his eyes wide open. Even now, agony and purpose were intertwined in his heart, this city hummed with an otherworldly kind of existence. The smell of toasted nuts blended with the acrid odor of oil and melted copper. Spells were exchanged in open sight here, secrets handed over like sleight of hand under the stalls.

  “Stay close,” Tovin muttered, angling his body just slightly in front of Cael as they ducked into a narrower path between rows of awnings. “We don’t need to buy anything yet. Just listen. Watch. We’re looking for people who watch us too long.”

  Cael nodded, though his hand hovered over the pouch at his hip. The coin inside seemed heavier here, like it knew something he didn’t.

  They passed a woman selling coin-crafting kits with fake certifications, and a trio of teenagers flipping small silver coins between their fingers in a rhythm that didn’t feel like chance. One locked eyes with Cael for too long. Tovin veered left.

  Down a back alley of shadowed brick and rusty signs, the world hushed. The market sound faded behind them. Cael wondered where they were going when he saw Tovin stiffen.

  Three figures stood in the alley ahead. One leaned against the wall, flicking a steel coin between his fingers. The other two stepped forward with casual menace.

  "Well look what the market spat out," said the first, voice smooth and slick. "You wandered too far from the shine, boys. Don't guess either of you are interested in selling?"

  Tovin kept his coin at his side, eyes roving over the three. "We're not buying either."

  One of the thugs laughed and rolled his neck. "See, you're already lying. I can see that coin pouch bulging."

  Cael felt his pulse spike. His fingers brushed the top of the silver coin. Not yet. He didn’t even know what else it could do.

  "Hand it over," the smooth one said, taking a step forward, "and perhaps we permit you to depart with teeth."

  Cael didn't wait. He gave a flash of a look to Tovin, who was already moving faster than a snake, kicked the heel of his boot into a pile of loose crates, and one went into a thug's knees. That momentary distraction was all he needed.

  The bronze coin in Tovin’s hand flared. A sudden shimmer rippled over his body. A shield, hazy and humming, snapped into place just as a steel bolt flung from the hand of one of the attackers. It struck the shield with a burst of light and fell smoking to the ground.

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  Cael ducked to cover behind a stack of crates, heart racing. His father's voice boomed back at him through the coin in his pouch

  "You don't win. You survive. Then make something better."

  But Cael wasn't fleeing this time. Not now. Not with Tovin outnumbered out there.

  He withdrew the copper coin from his pouch, the kindle coin, and gripped it tightly.

  The thug was almost on him when he slammed the coin into the stone. As the coin struck the stone it cracked. A blinding flash of light exploded outward, searing white against shadow and brick. The attacker screamed, stumbling and clawing at his face.

  Tovin grinned and took advantage, shield flaring as he charged and struck a savage blow into the gut of the second thug.

  The leader came to his senses first. He hissed and produced something from under his coat, a flat electrum coin, smooth and lethal.

  Tovin swore. "He's gonna spark—!"

  But before the leader could activate the coin, Cael threw his shoulder into him. They both went down, skidding against rough cobble. The electrum coin clattered from the man’s hand and rolled into a drain.

  The man snarled. “You’ve made enemies, boy.”

  Cael’s eyes blazed. “Good.”

  With a final shove, he backed away, hand clenched around the silver. Tovin grabbed his arm, already moving.

  “We run now,” he growled. “Now, Cael.”

  But the last thug wasn’t done. From behind, Cael heard a shouted word and the chime of spellmetal activating. Something cracked the air and then fire lanced across his shoulder.

  He screamed and stumbled, nearly falling.

  Tovin yanked him up with one arm and half-dragged him the rest of the way, plunging into a shop front and slamming the door behind them. They crouched behind a curtain of frayed bolts of cloth, panting, waiting for any indication of pursuit.

  None came.

  Just the throbbing pain in Cael's shoulder, the stinging, rising pain, and the acrid reek of burned fabric and skin.

  "Let me see," Tovin said, his voice growing serious, level. He tore open Cael's coat and shirt, wincing. "You got lucky. If that coin had been more powerful…"

  Cael clamped his teeth together. "It burns."

  "Yeah, well, getting hit with a fire-laced brass'll do that. We need to get that cleaned. I've got some stuff, but. we'll need assistance. Soon."

  Cael leaned back against the wall, gritting, breathing uneven. His eyes darted to his pouch. His silver coin had rescued him once. The kindle coin as well. But he'd had nothing to hurl back.

  "I need more," he said.

  Tovin stared at him. "More what?"

  "More than light and defense. I need coins that can fight back. That can rescue people. If someone else had been there, if that had hit you."

  Tovin gave a small nod. “Then it’s good you’re thinking like that now.”

  Cael looked down at the scorched edge of his coat and the dark smear of blood on his sleeve. “I’m going to need help learning how to craft them.”

  Tovin offered a hand, helping him stand. “Then we’ll find someone. Veymere’s full of coinfolk. Some are shady, some are worse. But some? They know what they’re doing. And maybe one of them owes me a favor.”

  Cael nodded, jaw set. The ember inside him had grown. Not just grief now, but resolve.