Location: Undisclosed Interior – Kaelthorn Outskirts, Secure Room
Time: 02:18 AM | Three Days After Incident 9A-VE
The room was dim—lit only by the flicker of a fractured holoscreen mounted to the far wall. A single chair. One table. No windows. Just metal, dust, and silence.
Taz Moreno stood at the center, coat half-unzipped, one glove off, fingertips stained with something dark. He wasn't tired. He never got tired. Not when the job was shifting.
A static pop preceded the connection. The screen stabilized—grainy, but clear enough.
The figure appeared cloaked in shadow. No facial data. No identifiers. Just a deep, modulated voice that came through like ice in the bloodstream.
"The core… it bonded to her?"
Taz nodded once. "According to my left hand, yeah. Korr saw it himself. The sigil's active. No shard imprint. No forge markings. Not one of ours."
A pause on the other end. Then:
"This wasn't the deal. I said retrieve the object. Quietly."
Taz didn't blink. "Plans change. Turns out the object isn't just some relic anymore. It's bonded to a person. A girl."
"And you're telling me… she activated it without direction?"
Taz's voice dropped a half step, smooth and sharp like a blade unsheathed. "Without knowing what she did. That's Korr's theory."
He leaned slightly forward, one hand resting on the table. "And Korr's usually right."
The figure exhaled—a sound more annoyed than surprised.
"If what you said is true... then you'll have to bring her to me. Alive."
That made Taz pause.
Not because of hesitation.
Because he knew what that meant.
He straightened, rolling his exposed knuckles once before sliding the glove back on.
Then, voice low, calm, clinical:
"That's a different contract."
Another beat. The figure didn't respond.
Taz raised an eyebrow. "You want goods delivered clean, living, unbroken… You pay for that. Or I take her apart piece by piece and hand you whatever's left."
The figure sneered, even through the modulation.
"Fine. Just do it."
Taz's hand lowered from the screen.
His next words were measured.
Almost quiet.
Almost amused.
"With pleasure, sir."
No smile followed.
Only the cold echo of steel being buckled.
And the faint click of a tracker activating.
Location: Kaelthorn – Sector 3 Interior, Sixth Fang Safehouse
Time: 03:07 AM
The room was low-lit and quiet, filled only with the hum of old shard batteries and the soft grind of Kaen cracking his knuckles. Korr sat on a crate near the back, legs stretched, posture lazy—but eyes sharp. Taz stood near the center, coat still buttoned, gloves clean.
He'd just finished speaking.
Korr was the first to react.
"So it bonded to her," he said, voice level. "Makes sense why she didn't break."
Kaen leaned forward against the table, jaw ticking.
"So we can still break her and keep her alive—like you said before, yeah?"
Taz didn't blink.
"No."
Kaen's head tilted.
Taz's voice came cold.
"Before, she was someone I wanted to punish. Now she's cargo. And I don't bring in damaged goods."
Korr chuckled—dry, like gravel in his throat.
"Yeah, dumbass. Why don't you try using that brain of yours for once."
Kaen's eyes narrowed. He stood slowly—one boot dragging just enough to echo.
"Say that again," he said.
Korr didn't stand.
Didn't even shift.
He looked up from where he sat—calm, bored, calculating.
"You're a fucking dumbass."
The silence hit like a dropped blade.
Kaen took a step forward. Shoulders squared. Jaw set.
One more second and—
"Enough."
Taz's voice cut through the room like a blade across glass.
They both froze.
Not out of fear. Out of instinct.
Because when Taz said that word, people stopped breathing.
His gaze moved between them. Cold. Empty.
"You two playing cockfight while the asset's skipping around Kaelthorn like it's her playground?"
He let the question hang—just long enough to sting.
"Get your heads straight. I want her clean. I want her quiet. And I want her fast."
Kaen looked away.
Korr didn't move.
Taz stepped back toward the wall, tapping the side of his shard once.
"No more mistakes."
And just like that, the air shifted.
Business resumed.
The hunt was on.
Location: Abandoned Metro Line — Lower Verge
The old metro tunnel groaned beneath the weight of memory.
Flickering lights above cast faint shadows across rusted rails and shattered tile. Graffiti marked the walls like forgotten prayers—names, dates, warnings long since drowned by dust and silence.
Ember moved through it all like a storm held back by a single thread.
Her breath echoed in the empty space, slow and steady. Each swing of Axel's torchblade cut through the air with more frustration than form. The blade, still cracked, burned with flickers of red-gold—alive, but unsteady. Like it didn't trust her yet.
She stepped forward. Swung again.
The weight in her arms wasn't the blade. It was everything else.
Axel.
Renna.
The ones she left.
The ones she lost.
The girl she couldn't be anymore.
Each strike brought them back.
And each time, the sigil beneath her collarbone responded—glowing faintly with heat she couldn't control. The fire didn't answer her. It challenged her.
She lunged. Pivoted. Slashed.
On the final swing, the torchblade flared too bright—veins of energy lashing out without control. The force snapped through her arms. The blade tore from her grip and clanged against the far wall, hissing.
She staggered back, chest heaving.
"What the fuck…" she whispered, staring at her hands. Her palms still burned, even without fire.
She reached for the blade.
That's when she heard it.
A sound—small, deliberate. Not like a rat or pipe settling.
A step.
Soft. Measured.
Her body moved before her thoughts caught up. She snatched the torchblade, spun around the rusted pillar, and leapt around the corner—
And nearly slammed into Vale.
"Is that how you greet a guest?" Vale asked, unbothered, leaning against the side of an overturned train car.
Ember froze, then exhaled hard through her nose. "How the hell did you find me?"
Vale gave a half shrug. "It wasn't that hard. Not for me."
Ember turned away, walking back toward her gear. She didn't want to deal with this—not here, not now.
"What the hell do you want?" she snapped, grabbing her coat from the rail post and stuffing her things into the satchel.
"I'm here to finish the conversation you walked out on," Vale said, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned. "Back at the tavern. You remember—the one where you got up and left instead of answering."
"Maybe I had nothing else to say."
"Or maybe," Vale said, voice quieter now, "you're running from yourself."
That made Ember stop.
Her fist clenched around the strap. Her head lowered.
"Shut up."
She spun, swinging the torchblade with practiced rage—but Vale wasn't there.
By the time Ember registered the dodge, she was already on the ground—pinned. Vale had moved like wind through a crack in stone, disarming without drawing. One hand on Ember's wrist, the other pressing her down just enough to remind her she could break her if she wanted.
"You're angry," Vale said, voice low. "Good. That means you still care."
"Get off me," Ember hissed, not from fear—but humiliation.
Vale held for a beat longer.
Then released her.
Ember pushed herself up fast, back to her feet, eyes burning—not from fire. From everything else.
"You can't keep hiding," Vale said calmly. "Not from the world. And not from yourself."
Ember's voice cracked as it rose. "What the hell do you know, huh? You show up out of nowhere, talk like you've got me figured out. Like you earned a say in what I do."
Vale didn't blink.
"I don't need to know everything about you," she said. "I just need to see what you're becoming."
Silence followed.
A long one.
Somewhere in the tunnel, water dripped from a cracked pipe. The sound echoed like a countdown neither of them asked for.
Ember didn't move right away.
She stood with her back to Vale, shoulders tense, torchblade lowered but still flickering faintly in her grip. The fire had calmed, but it hadn't vanished. It never really did.
Behind her, Vale didn't step forward. Didn't push.
Just waited.
Finally, Ember spoke—quietly, like she wasn't sure the words were hers.
"I didn't ask for this," she said.
Her voice wasn't angry anymore. Just tired.
"I didn't ask to carry anything. Not the sigil. Not the memories. Not whatever the hell this power is."
She turned halfway—just enough to glance at Vale over her shoulder.
"I just wanted to survive."
Vale's gaze didn't soften. But it didn't harden either. It held.
"You did," she said. "Now the question is—what for?"
Ember's jaw clenched. She looked away.
"I don't know."
"That's the second honest thing you've said since I found you."
Location: Lower Verge – Near the Old Metro Line
Time: Later That Night
The rain flickered like static across the street, thin sheets dancing beneath broken glowpanels and gutter lights. Ember walked alone—hood up, boots splashing through shallow puddles that reflected nothing but distortion.
She wasn't heading home.
She wasn't heading anywhere.
After the metro… after Vale… she thought she had answers.
She didn't.
She only had noise.
The things Vale said stuck like ash in her lungs.
You're angry. Good. That means you still care.
Ember had care burned out of her. She was sure of it. Until she wasn't.
Her pace slowed.
The rain began to mock her—each drop hitting like questions she couldn't answer.
What now?
What are you?
What will you become?
She stopped.
Not for any reason she could name. Just… stopped.
A storefront to her right—shattered glass in the frame.
A reflection.
She caught her own eyes in it.
Not hard. Not angry.
Worried.
And then—just for a second—she wasn't alone.
Behind her, in the fractured glass, stood Renna.
Hair soaked. Expression soft.
Ember spun around, heart clenched.
No one there.
Just steam curling up from a street grate. Just silence.
Her hand trembled slightly as she turned back to the reflection.
Gone.
Like she'd never been.
Her throat tightened. She didn't mean to speak. The words just slipped out—cracked and low:
"I miss you."
That's when the world tilted.
Something hit her.
Hard.
Like a rail car out of nowhere—no warning, no build-up. Just impact.
Her body flew sideways—slammed into a rusted wall with a crash that sent sparks dancing across the wet pavement.
Pain flared white-hot through her ribs. Her ears rang.
And then—
A voice.
Cocky. Cruel.
Too familiar.
"Found you, Goldilocks."