Chapter 9

Panting heavily, his heart pounding and legs burning from constant running, Xain glanced back over his shoulder to check for any signs of his pursuers. Seeing no one, he ducked into a narrow alley, away from prying eyes, and took a moment to slow his breathing and calm his racing heart. He doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping for air. "Those guys were relentless," he muttered, brushing strands of messy blue hair from his eyes.

Straightening up, he gave an exasperated shake of his head. "Seriously, what was wrong with those guys? Who chases a twelve-year-old over a hunch?" he grumbled, pulling a small, slightly tarnished chronoscope from his tattered tunic. "Sure, they were right, but it was only taking back what they stole from me... technically!" His voice echoed softly off the brick walls around him, his irritation clearly audible as he stuffed the chronoscope away again, and if anyone overheard, they might have thought he was a madman talking to himself, because he was, the talking to himself part, not the madman part. He sighed, glancing around to ensure the coast was clear before slipping further into the maze of alleys. "Whatever, let's just get this back to him," he mumbled, determined to avoid the officers as he continued toward his destination through the twisting passageways.

**Half an Hour Later**

Xain finally entered the slums, where his rough, worn clothing helped him blend in effortlessly with the crowds here. "Can't believe the clothes that I thought wouldn't bring me much attention are what made those two suspicious of me," he muttered, looking down at his outfit with a sigh. Shaking his head, he pressed on, careful to keep his pace quick, knowing that while he blended in here, he didn't want to linger longer than necessary as danger was around every corner.

Soon, he arrived at his destination: a small, rundown building at the edge of the slums. The place looked like it had barely survived a fire; charred wooden beams peeked through broken, weathered stone, and scorched black stains stretched across the remaining walls. The roof was partially caved in, and the few intact windows were grimy and covered with remnants of old, scorched curtains.

"Still don't get why he can't just come live with me," Xain muttered as he made his way to the makeshift 'door,' a heavy, weathered piece of wood covering the doorway. He grunted, shifting it aside before stepping in.

Inside, the space was worn and cramped, cluttered with mismatched furniture and salvaged blankets. Light filtered in from gaps in the ceiling and walls, casting a soft, uneven glow over everything, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise run-down surroundings. 

"Hey~" Xain called out, raising his voice slightly. "I got it back~" He waved the chronoscope in the air, grinning. In response, he heard the light patter of footsteps coming from the back of the room. Turning toward the sound, he saw a boy around his age, maybe even the same age, with golden hair that was white at the tips and striking magenta eyes that shone with a subtle, star-like gleam. His pointed ears hinted at his elven heritage, though they were shorter than a full elf's—the boy reminded Xain of a fairy creatures he read about with his overwhelmingly cute appearance.

"There you are," Xain greeted with a smile, stepping toward him. "Here. I got chased around the whole city to bring this back to you," he said, exaggerating for effect as he held out the chronoscope. The half-elf's eyes lit up, and he quickly took the chronoscope, clutching it tightly to his chest with visible relief, his eyes watering with gratitude.

"That really means a lot to you, doesn't it, Nori?" Xain observed, watching his friend's reaction. Nori, still clutching the chronoscope, looked at Xain and then, without hesitation, wrapped his arms around him in a grateful hug. Xain would've appreciated the gesture, if not for one small fact.

"O-ow, Nori—I get that you're grateful, but you're kinda crushing me," Xain gasped, struggling to breathe in the shorter boy's unexpectedly strong grip. Hearing this, Nori quickly released him and scampered off deeper into the house, leaving Xain catching his breath, still a bit winded from the hug.

Before long, Nori returned with a scrap of paper and a stub of pencil, scribbling a quick note, "Thank you, Xain."

Xain read it, then waved it off with a smirk. "Pshh, it was nothing. I just stole it back from those thugs, quick and easy," he said, trying to downplay himself despite having hyped up his efforts just a minute before.

"It had to be scary getting it back," Nori wrote, looking at Xain expectantly.

"Nah," Xain replied, brushing off the idea with a confident chuckle. "You know those thugs were never a threat to me. I didn't even have to fight them—I just acted scared when they pinned me, and some officers saw and helped me out," he claimed, though the truth was he'd been genuinely shaken when they cornered him.

"Anyway, Nori," Xain said, shifting the topic as he gestured to the chronoscope now tucked safely in Nori's pocket, "why don't you come live with me now? They'll probably come back to try and take that again."

Nori frowned slightly, pouting as he wrote, "I already told you, Xain, I'm not leaving this place. And don't worry—I'll hide if they try to take my chronoscope again." He waved the paper in front of Xain's face, a flicker of defiance in his gaze.

Xain raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I get it. I won't ask again," he said with a sigh, watching as Nori turned away.

Xain knew why Nori clung to this place; it was all he had left of his family, the same walls where he had lived with his parents—before the fire that had taken them both, leaving only Nori behind. Xain didn't fully grasp the feeling—he'd never known his own family and was most likely abandoned—but he understood that attachment mattered to Nori.

Feeling a surge of emotion he couldn't quite explain, Xain reached out and placed a hand on Nori's head, catching the half-elf by surprise. "I'll be here for you, always, Nori," he promised softly, the words spilling out before he could think. Somehow, it felt like a vow he had to make for the boy who had lost everything.

If only he'd been able to keep that promise.