The sword wouldn't stop humming.
Elias hadn't touched it. Hadn't unsheathed it. But it pulsed like a heartbeat beneath his bed—hot one second, ice-cold the next.
He was trying to read a file. Trying to work. Trying to pretend today would be normal.
But then the whisper returned.
> "She called for justice."
---
🕯️ The Vision Comes
He blinked.
One second, he was in his apartment.
The next—he was standing in the warehouse.
The smell hit him first: iron, rot, and burned hair. Then the silence. Not emptiness—a held breath, like the room itself knew what had happened here.
He turned—and there she was.
Lana Mirek.
Or what was left of her.
Face-down. Camera shattered near her hand. Blood pooled under her head, seeping into her coat. But it wasn't just blood—the skin on her neck was blackened, like it had been cauterized from the inside.
Something was burned into the floor beneath her—a symbol scorched into the concrete.
Elias stepped closer. He couldn't stop himself. The Mandate forced him to see.
The moment his foot crossed the symbol's edge—
> The warehouse changed.
---
🎥 The Replay (Echoes of Testimony)
He was no longer watching.
He was inside the moment.
The lights buzzed above. Lana was crouched, camera raised. Kells entered from the shadows, smiling. Friendly. Calm. And then—
> "You never learned when to quit," Kells said.
He walked toward her slowly.
"You dig and dig, hoping there's a bottom. But you never consider what happens when you reach the bones."
Lana's voice was steady. "I have your records. Lab reports. Footage. I've got names."
"I know," Kells replied. "And they're all going to die. Starting with you."
He removed a syringe from his coat. It glowed faintly blue. Elias felt his body react—rage, revulsion, helplessness.
Kells jammed it into Lana's throat.
She screamed. But it wasn't from the pain.
It was what came next.
Her eyes rolled white. Her veins turned black. Steam rose from her mouth as if something were cooking her from the inside.
> She clawed at her skin.
She tried to breathe, but her lungs refused.
She died choking on her own voice.
Then came the final cruelty.
Kells leaned down beside her, whispering:
> "The dead don't publish."
He crushed her camera underfoot.
And walked away.
---
🕱 Elias Returns
The vision broke.
Elias collapsed to the floor of his apartment, gasping, vomiting bile.
He crawled to the sink and splashed water on his face, but the smell of burning flesh wouldn't leave his nose. The scream echoed in his ears.
He looked down at his palm.
The symbol was glowing brighter than ever.
The sword whispered in his mind—not words, but a need.
A hunger.
A direction.
> Adrian Kells.
---