Ampelius felt his pulse hammer in his ears as order unraveled around him. People darted in every direction, their shouts tangling together in the dark. Fear and desperation swallowed everything else, especially with common sense.

  Someone nearby shouted, “Take what you can, they’ll be back by morning!”

  A sudden metallic crash split louder than everything else, followed by the scrape of something heavy dragged across the concrete. Somewhere close, a store gate must have been ripped open. Cold sweat prickled Ampelius’ skin, while his body was caught between the urge to run, but with the dread of what waited beyond. Every sound made him question just how thin that line was between safety and danger.

  Ampelius noticed people around him were clinging to whatever scraps of light they could create. Some carried torches made from broken furniture wrapped in cloth, the flames sputtering and smoking as if they might die off at any second. Others had rigged handmade lanterns out of bottles and bits of wire, which made their glow a bit faint and uneven. Together they turned the street into a jagged patchwork of light and shadow, with every wall bending and twisting beneath the flicker.

  Ampelius found it to be unsettling, almost primitive, as though the city had slipped back into some darker age. Just an hour before, Vetera’s streets were bright and orderly, as Rome's pride stamped into every polished stone and glowing streetlamp. Now that same city was lit like a camp of vagrants, firelight standing where progress had once been.

  Ampelius couldn’t decide what these torches meant. Were they acts of resilience, using the small flames to force back the dark, or were they signs of desperation, showing how quickly everything had fallen apart? Each flicker blurred the line between the two.

  He’d spent most of his childhood growning up believing that Rome was unshakable, as if its order was as permanent as the streets beneath his feet were. But as he stood by, watching these shadows twist and stretch, he realized just how fragile it all really was.

  This wasn’t just survival anymore. It felt like the city itself was desperate to hold on, grasping at the last scraps of a life that might never return.

  The crack of a distant gunshot echoed through the city. The fear continued to eat away at him with every step, but he forced himself forward, clinging to the thought of finding his cousin, and of making sense of the madness swallowing Vetera.

  Across the street, two shirtless men slammed into each other, their shouting boiling over into an act of violence within a blink of an eye. Their voices dropped into guttural roars as their fists tore through the air, landing with a raw energy that felt more like a brawl. Ampelius flinched at how loud the crack of knuckles on flesh was, the dull thud of bone meeting bone.

  The fight was over almost as quickly as it began. One man crumpled after a brutal blow to the head, collapsing onto the pavement. The victor, who was now panting and bloodied, didn’t linger. He dropped to his knees, rifled through the fallen man’s pockets, and pulled something dark and small from his grip. Without a second glance, he melted back into the shadows, leaving the limp body sprawled and silent in the street.

  Ampelius’ chest tightened as he stared at the motionless figure. Violence had always lurked beneath Vetera’s surface, but never so unrestrained in the open, as if the city itself had given permission. Rome knew how to keep people in line with their authority, but with that fear gone, people lived like outlaws without laws.

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  He thought of Emmett for a brief moment. What if his cousin was caught in something like this? Trading blows in the street, maybe even dying, lying on the cold hard street like an animal. The image made his heart twist, so unsettled that it bothered him more than that fight itself.

  The city had twisted into a place where violence wasn’t just an act, this was a retreat to human instincts, the only way a person can claim control and survive. Ampelius wanted to look away, to pretend he hadn’t seen it, but something kept his eyes locked on the scene, forcing him to face it.

  He knew that desperation can strip any person bare. It could easily tear off the civility they wore like armor. And as much as he despised it, he couldn’t shake the dark understanding that stirred within him. He felt a grim respect for the great lengths people would and will go when there was nothing left to lose in order to survive. That thought alone unsettled him more than the fight itself. He only prayed he wouldn’t be pushed to that same edge.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ampelius caught sight of a strange glow bleeding into the street, a shifting mix of yellow and orange that pulsed against the night sky. It flickered from the mouth of an alley, then as if on cue, a ball of flame and smoke erupted above the adjoining building, the fire clawing upward and staining the sky with its glow.

  Ampelius froze, every instinct of his being shouted to keep moving, to steer clear of whatever waited in that alley. But his eyes wouldn’t let go of the rising smoke. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and still, something in him pulled forward. Curiosity cut against fear, each step a tug-of-war. His heart thudded hard in his chest as he edged closer, caught between the danger it promised and the answers it might hold.

  Something about the sight pulled him in. Maybe it was duty, that nagging urge to know what was happening in his city, like if he could just understand the chaos it might give him a sliver of control back. The flames flickered almost like they were mocking him, daring him to come closer. Part of him needed to face it, to see what Vetera had really become instead of hiding from it. Or maybe, if he was honest, it was just curiosity, such as a moth drifting toward the fire even when it knew better.

  When he reached the alley's entrance, Ampelius carefully leaned around the edge of the building and took a cautious peek. A group of masked thugs had gathered around a roaring fire in the center of the alley. Two of them were tossing wooden chairs and crates into the flames, making it surge even higher. Ampelius spotted the charred remains of what looked like a desk and a mattress among the burning debris. What are you guys doing? he thought, bewildered.

  He studied them one by one, taking in the black hoodies, the beanies pulled low, the bandannas hiding everything but their eyes. They looked like bank robbers who were stripped of any identity but the threat they carried. He had no idea who they were or what they were capable of, and he wasn’t about to test it. Confrontation would be suicide. He wanted a closer look, but needed a way to concel himself.

  His eyes flicked around the alley until they landed on a dented dumpster a few steps away. It wasn’t much, but it was cover, something solid to put between him and them. Heart pounding, he edged toward it, every movement careful, and ducked behind the rusted metal before daring to peek over the rim.

  Ampelius darted toward the dumpster, adrenaline surging through his veins. The metal stank of rust and rot, but it was cover, and that was all that mattered. Pressing his back against the cold surface, he forced out a shallow breath before daring to lift his head over the edge.

  One of the thugs hauled a wooden chair draped in damp cloth toward the fire and tossed it in. The flames roared to life the instant it landed, bursting upward in a violent column that lit the alley like daylight. Heat rolled over Ampelius even from his hiding spot, stinging his face and arms. It had to be doused, he thought grimly. Shadows jumped like predators across brick and metal, twisting and clawing with every surge of firelight.

  The blaze turned the alley into something closer to a ritual than a fire, the masked figures standing in the glow like they belonged to an older, darker time. Ampelius ducked lower, gripping the edge of the dumpster until his knuckles ached. Every instinct screamed he was too close, that one slip would turn all those firelit eyes his way.

  And yet, he stayed frozen there, unable to look away.