The market was crowded.
That made it easier to disappear.
Seraphina stood beside a stall selling old books and watched people move through the street.
She wasn’t expecting anything.
That was probably why she noticed him.
The man wasn’t particularly remarkable.
Early thirties, perhaps.
Plain clothes.
Average height.
Nothing about him suggested danger.
He was carrying a small paper bag.
He stopped beside a fruit stall.
The vendor said something.
The man smiled.
Then reached for an orange.
Seraphina watched.
Nothing happened.
She almost looked away.
Then the orange rolled from the stall.
It fell toward the ground.
The man didn’t move.
The orange stopped.
Not on the ground.
Not in his hand.
It simply—
stopped.
For less than a second.
Then it rolled gently back toward him.
The man caught it.
Seraphina froze.
There was no visible mechanism.
No drone.
No magnetic device.
Nothing.
She looked around.
Nobody else seemed to notice.
The vendor continued talking.
The man paid.
Then walked away.
Seraphina’s heartbeat quickened.
She didn’t follow immediately.
That would have been stupid.
Instead, she waited.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Then she moved.
Not too close.
Not too far.
The man turned into a smaller street.
Seraphina followed.
He walked normally.
He wasn’t running.
He didn’t seem to know she was there.
She kept her distance.
After several minutes, he entered a narrow alley.
Seraphina stopped at the entrance.
She waited.
Nothing.
She took another step.
Then heard his voice.
“You can come out.”
Seraphina’s heart stopped.
The man was standing at the other end of the alley.
He hadn’t turned around.
She considered leaving.
Then he slowly looked over his shoulder.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Seraphina studied him.
He looked nervous.
Not confident.
Not powerful.
If anything, he looked frightened.
The man glanced at her.
Then at the street behind her.
“Who are you?”
Seraphina didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she asked:
“What did you do with the orange?”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But she saw it.
Fear.
Not the fear of being caught.
The fear of being understood.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You stopped it.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Silence.
The man looked down at his hand.
His fingers were trembling.
Then Seraphina noticed something.
The dark mark around his wrist.
The same symbol.
Her stomach tightened.
The man noticed her looking at it.
He pulled his sleeve down.
“Forget you saw me.”
Then he walked past her.
Seraphina let him go.
She didn’t chase him.
Not immediately.
She stood alone in the alley.
For two years, she had searched for evidence.
Now she finally had it.
And somehow, that was more frightening than not knowing.
Because if that man was real—
then all the stories were possible.
The rituals.
The strange objects.
The people who disappeared.
The ancient records.
The impossible abilities.
Everything.
Seraphina looked toward the street where the man had disappeared.
She took out her phone.
Opened her notes.
And typed one sentence.
At least one of them is real.
She stared at the sentence.
Then deleted it.
She replaced it with:
One person demonstrated an unexplained phenomenon.
Further investigation required.
She saved the file.
Then followed him again.