The yard noise faded behind him, replaced by the muffled echo of boots on stone. The containment facility was cool inside; the air touched with the faint metallic tang of old ward-ink and disinfectant. Faded sigils ran along the walls in flaking blue paint, their patterns long since replaced by the layered wards humming faintly underfoot.
Kaelen stepped aside as two Enforcers passed, one limping, the other hauling a damaged net frame. The scent of blood and burnt resin clung to them. Somewhere deeper in the building, a clerk's pen scratched steadily across parchment.
Renn was waiting in the records hall, gloves off, coat draped over the back of a chair. He glanced up as Kaelen approached.
"Not bad," the Handler said, his voice carrying that measured weight Kaelen had noticed in the yard. "Seen Couriers run out of charge halfway through a pursuit, but you… you barely looked winded."
Kaelen gave a small shrug. "Good routes. Kept it tight."
Renn's mouth quirked. "One of those freakishly efficient runners, then?"
Kaelen winced internally, "I get by."
Renn's brow lifted. "What was that Spark? Looked like Tier 2 to me."
"It is, it's called SkyStep"
"How long you been running it?"
"Issued two months back. First time I've used it in the field was last night."
Renn leaned an elbow on the desk, studying him. "Hnh. I remember using SkyStep when I was Resonant. Didn't look half as clean as that. I could keep it going but not like you. You make it feel like you're riding the air instead of pushing against it."
Kaelen said nothing.
"Mobility's a hell of a thing," Renn went on, "but when you climb ranks, you start prioritising other Sparks. There's only so much your tether and Soulfire can take. Some people keep mobility Sparks like SkyStep as a secondary, but most focus on offense, defence, or utility. Plenty of those give secondary mobility boosts anyway, so people tend to drop full mobility Sparks."
Kaelen's mouth twitched. "Mobility's kept me alive more than once. So, I tried to make the most of it"
"You'd get further with a trial," Renn said, leaning back against the desk. "That's not just Guild formality. Soulfire won't grow without it, it's how the world works. You can run a thousand jobs, and you'll still hit the wall unless you face one."
Kaelen didn't answer right away. Trials were voluntary at his level, but the word 'voluntary' carried more weight than comfort.
Renn went on. "They're dangerous. Some fail and just… stop. Soulfire burns out. Others lose more than that. And getting one approved?" He tapped the desk once. "Central Guild runs it, unless you can find one yourself. Not East Docks. You apply, they decide if you're worth the ink. No faction, no Handler to back you, chances are slim."
He paused, studying Kaelen for a long moment. "You ever decide to go for it… I could put my name to your form. Consider it a favour for today."
Kaelen looked past him, tracing the flicker of wardlight along the far wall. He could think of more than a few reasons not to put his name forward.
Before Renn could press, an Enforcer stepped into the hall, helm tucked under his arm. "Clean-up's done, containment sealed. We were supposed to be pulling a Black Cord safehouse today, guess we got lucky you were here."
Renn gave a small nod, already straightening his coat. "Luck or not, we'll take it."
The Enforcer left. Kaelen filed the name away. He'd heard it in passing that morning at the East Docks branch, another scrap of chatter, and the flicker of Black Cord's insignia between Enforcers in Ironcross. Black Cord again. A coincidence?
Renn turned back to him. "Go collect a crown from the clerk before you disappear, Renn said. "Hazard bonus. The rest will be waiting for you at East Docks, don't get used to it."
Kaelen allowed himself a nod. "Appreciate it."
The archives were quiet, lit by a few sputtering ward-lamps. Behind the counter, the payment clerk tallied slips with the unhurried precision of someone who'd survived three decades of Guild bureaucracy. Varric stood at the next desk, signing off on a damage report.
The Enforcer glanced up as Kaelen passed. "Great Courier work," he said, dry as old paper. "Delivered the monster straight into our lap."
Kaelen almost smiled. "Glad to help."
A single rune-stamped crown note slid across the counter, crisp, pale, and smelling faintly of ink and ward-dust. Bonus pay, straight into his pocket. He folded it once and stepped back into the street.
Brassrest's air was heavy with the smell of rain on hot stone. He moved at an easy pace toward East Docks, cutting through narrow lanes where wardlight pooled in pale puddles. Halfway across a quiet stretch, he called up his rune window.
[Rune Record – Mobility-Class Spark]
Designation: SkyStep (Altered)
Overlay Source: NΞXUS [Fragment Bound 1/??]
Domain: Momentum & Spatial Positioning (Expanded)
Primary Function: Spatial compression, short-burst acceleration, heightened agility, and aerial control.
Alteration Effects: Uncatalogued. Unknown secondary functions present.
Charge Status: 61%
Integration Type: Overlay applied to existing tether.
Charge: 61%
After a run like that, it should have been scraping empty, a quarter full at best. Twenty-five, maybe thirty-five percent. Instead, it still sat comfortably above half. Nexus's overlay wasn't just smoothing the bursts; it was holding the charge longer.
This way, he was sure he could squeeze at least three or four more runs out of it, the same kind he'd just pulled while baiting the Stalker. When he'd first been approved for SkyStep, he'd assumed it would be something to use sparingly, a last-resort sprint. The Guild issued charges monthly, and with a Tier 2, he'd risk running it dry well before the next allotment, due to his low rank. FleetingStep could stretch the supply. This one? It was meant for emergencies.
He dismissed the window. A breath later, he called up the other record, the one the Guild's framework hadn't made, the one it couldn't catalogue.
[NΞXUS–ORIGIN]
Fragment Bound: 1 / ??
Status: Incomplete / Integration Unstable
Primary Function: [REDACTED]
Secondary Functions: Acquisition, consume / assimilate / merge.
Linked Sparks: 1 (SkyStep – Altered)
Still the same. No new functions, no hints at what it was really doing.
He kept walking, eyes forward, the faint taste of ward-dust lingering in his mouth. Whatever Nexus was, the Guild didn't have it recorded. If they did, it would have shown up in the standard Rune Record, flagged, catalogued, annotated. Instead, he had two separate readouts: one official but stripped, the other entirely outside their framework.
It made sense to keep them separate. The Guild couldn't control what it didn't know existed, or didn't publicly acknowledge as far as he knew. And maybe that was the only reason he still had it.
But ignorance cut both ways. Without knowing what Nexus could do, or what it might demand in return, he was gambling blind. Every use might be feeding something he didn't understand.
Where had it even come from? His mind flicked back to last night, the woman Veyr had attacked, the frantic way she'd looked past him as if searching for someone else. Her colleague's name had come up in the chaos, half-buried in the clash and the roar of the Spark. He couldn't pin down the exact words now, only the urgency behind them, and the way she'd kept glancing past him as if someone else should have been there. Veyr had thrown a name at her, too… Keelbrand. It had lodged in his head without context, a loose thread he hadn't tugged yet.
Black Cord flickered through his thoughts. He'd heard the name twice today, once this morning in the branch and now from an Enforcer in Renn's debrief. They were a big enough threat for the Guild to mobilise Handlers and strike teams. Could they, or someone like them, have something to do with Nexus? Or would they just try to take it if they found out?
Black Cord wasn't the only player in Brassrest's underbelly. Plenty of outfits operated outside Guild law, smugglers, artificers, brokers of things that shouldn't exist. If he wanted answers without lighting up the Guild's notice boards, he'd have to go lower. The Under Market had a way of spitting up information the surface tried to bury.
Too much in the dark. Too many unknowns. Without answers, he couldn't hope to understand the spark, much less control it.
He was halfway through that thought when the rhythm of footsteps behind him shifted. Not loud, but there. Close enough to keep pace, far enough to vanish if he turned too fast.
He kept his pace steady, shoulders loose, every instinct telling him not to look. The narrow lane ahead bent toward a busier street, good for losing a tail, bad for confirming one.
A ripple of wardlight rolled over the cobbles as he passed under a hanging lantern. In the reflection off a rain-slick window, a blur of movement ghosted into view, then melted back into shadow.
Not Guild. Their Enforcers didn't skulk, and they sure as hell didn't keep their distance this way.
He turned into a side street that looped back toward the East Docks, counting his steps, listening for the faint scuff that always came a second after his own. Still there.
If it was someone from the underground, they were playing patient. If it wasn't… well, that narrowed things down to only a dozen other problems.