The night smelled of gasoline and rain.
Kael's boots splashed against the puddled side walks as he went through the narrow backstreets. They had been chasing down a lead Lucian had whispered about in that maddeningly calm tone of his: "The past will repeat, unless you face the place where it first burned."
Kael wasn't sure what that meant, but the coordinates had led him here—an abandoned factory on the edge of the city, its windows broken, its walls blackened with old fire.
"This feels wrong," Kael muttered, scanning the shadows.
The factory groaned like an old beast, metal beams creaking under their weight. Kael tightened his grip on the flashlight, every step echoing in the hollow darkness. Broken machines and rusted pipes lined the walls, shadows stretching long across the floor.
"This place reeks," Kael muttered, voice low.
Riven gave a small grunt, scanning the upper rafters. "Stay sharp."
" You don't need to remind me. I have learned enough from the past experiences", said Kael with a scoff.
After leaving the dorm alone, Kael started to feel like someone trailing him secretly but not hiding his presence. It was kind of comforting but also heartbreaking as after some time he realised it was none other than Riven.
"Come outside. No need to follow me like that."
Riven could point out Kael's change in behaviour. The close bridge that they build with each other had been burned. Now Riven was nothing but an another acountance for him.
They had tracked the cloaked figure here. The trail of whispers, the encrypted messages, the warnings Lucian refused to fully explain—all of it had led to this abandoned place by the edge of the city.
The silence was too heavy. Kael could feel it pressing against his ribs.
Then—
Click.
The sound was small, almost delicate, but Kael knew it instantly.
"Riven—" he began.
The explosion tore the world apart.
Flames roared through the factory, heat slamming into them like a wall. The floor buckled, windows shattered, steel shrieked. Kael was thrown backward, his flashlight flying from his hand. For a heartbeat, he saw nothing but fire.
And then—Riven.
Riven jumped through the blaze, tackling Kael to the ground, shielding him with his own body. Kael felt the heat lick his skin, the air punched from his lungs. Riven's weight was heavy, protective.
The last thing Kael saw before darkness swallowed him was Riven's eyes—fierce, unyielding—as if promising, I won't let you go.
Darkness.
But not empty.
When Kael's eyes opened again, the fire was gone. The factory was gone.
The world was different.
He stood in a dimly lit room, the air heavy with smoke from a single lantern. Maps lined the walls, red strings crossing over pins and notes in languages he only half-understood. A clock ticked, slow and sharp.
He wasn't Kael anymore.
He was someone else.
The leather of his gloves was stiff, his trench coat heavy. A gun holster pressed against his ribs. His reflection in the cracked mirror showed sharper lines, colder eyes, a face weathered by secrets.
And across the room—
Another man stepped inside.
The stranger moved like shadow, every step measured, quiet but confident. His coat was darker, his gloves spotless, his boots shining with polish that screamed of discipline. His hair fell over his eyes in damp strands, his jaw tight.
The spy.
The enemy.
And yet—something in Kael's chest clenched, recognition striking like a spark.
This wasn't their first time. He knew this man.
The newcomer's gaze swept the room, sharp as a blade. His eyes landed on Kael, narrowing.
"So," the man said, his accent cutting, precise. "You're the one they sent."
Kael's mouth was dry. He forced his voice steady. "And you're late."
The other spy smirked faintly, though his eyes stayed cold. "Better late than dead."
They circled each other slowly, neither moving closer, both calculating.
Two enemies. Two predators.
Two lives already intertwined, though neither would admit it.
Kael broke the silence. "You're in my territory."
The man tilted his head, the smirk vanishing. "Territory doesn't matter in war. Only survival."
Something about his voice sent a chill down Kael's spine—not because it was threatening, but because it felt familiar. Like an echo from a dream he'd forgotten.
Their hands brushed their weapons at the same time, testing, waiting.
"Should I kill you now?" Kael asked, his tone flat.
The man's eyes flickered, sharp as steel in the lamplight. "If you could, you already would have."
The silence after was electric. Neither moved. The only sound was the ticking clock.
Then footsteps thundered from outside—the enemy patrol.
Without thinking, Kael grabbed the spy's arm, pulling him into the shadows. They pressed against the wall, breath held, as boots pounded past the door. Shouts rang in the night, orders barked in harsh tones, and then—silence again.
Kael's heart was still hammering when he realized how close they were. The other man's breath was warm against his cheek, their faces inches apart.
The spy's eyes locked on his, unreadable, steady.
"Seems we're both wanted men," the stranger murmured.
Kael didn't answer. He couldn't. His chest ached with something he couldn't explain.
Enemies. Allies. Strangers. Something more.
The line between them blurred.
And though neither lowered their guard, Kael knew one truth had already been written:
This was the beginning.
The beginning of a bond that would burn them both alive.