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"Give me your arm,"
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A fine mist settled over the canals, veiling the darkened water in wisps of silver. Lanterns dotted the narrow streets, casting a pale glow that trembled with each faint breeze. Three children moved together, like whispers hidden in shadow, slipping between tall stacks of crates and leaning houses as if the night were holding its breath for them.
The girl, no taller than a rain barrel, wore a faded cloak that dwarfed her, its hem dragging along the cobblestone street. She clutched the edge of her companion's sleeve—a boy with a steady gaze and a soft, unspoken promise in his eyes. Beside them walked another, the tallest of the three, his figure slender and restless, like the bare branches of a young tree. He led the way, each step deliberate, head held high as though he saw a path the others could not.
They paused at the edge of a quiet canal, its water murky and still, dotted with the drifting petals of old blossoms. A lull in the night embraced them. The oldest boy leaned down, picking a stray flower from the water's edge, its deep blue petals vivid against his fingers. He turned, a mischievous smile brightening his face as he pressed the bloom into the girl's tiny hands.
"For you," he whispered, his voice barely louder than the lap of water against the canal's edge.
The girl blinked, tracing the edges of the flower, her gaze shifting between her companions, a quiet wonder filling her eyes. There was a certain reverence in her movements, as if she sensed the weight of the moment, as if she somehow knew these small, fleeting gestures would soon become distant memories.
She looked up, her voice soft but full of a quiet excitement. "Do you think magic is real?" she asked, her words lingering like a secret she'd been keeping. She held the flower delicately, as if expecting it to answer her.
The middle child, the quiet one with storm-gray eyes, watched her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Why do you think that?" he asked, his tone gentle, as though he'd heard her ask a hundred times before.
"Because I can feel it," she whispered, as if revealing a hidden truth. "Sometimes, I feel something... in the air, like it's waiting, hiding. Like we just have to look the right way to see it."
The oldest boy chuckled, ruffling her hair. "In a place like this, magic is rare," he replied, his voice a quiet echo against the water, "but perhaps you're the exception." He gave her a smile full of gentle mystery, as though she herself were an answer to the question she'd asked.
A faint, distant chime rang out, its sound slipping into the silence around them. The three exchanged a glance, some unspoken understanding that time was running short, yet none of them moved to leave. It was as if this one moment was theirs alone, guarded by shadows and whispers, and nothing—not even the dawn—could take it from them.
