I gripped the sink's edge, the porcelain biting into my palms. In the foggy mirror, a stranger stared back, me, Rei. The nobody who'd traded instant noodles for serpent scales and a one-way ticket to erasure. There was no green HUD flickering in my vision, no coiled armor humming under my skin. Just a faint scar on my knuckle from a box cutter and the dull throb in my temples, a reminder that the venom hadn't fully let go. It lingered like bad coffee, gritty and insistent, whispering with echoes instead of words.
Mira's laugh, sharp as shattered glass.
Lena's gaze, steady as a blade's edge.
Allies. Squad. Mend. Lies spun from scorpion's silk, meant to drag me under. But damn if they didn't ache like the truth.
Phobos's voice threaded through my skull, cool as wire. *Breathe through it, Rei. The coil tightens when you pull.*
Deimos rumbled in counterpoint, gravel over silk. *Or snap it. Bite back, kid, venom's just another flavor of fight.*
I exhaled slowly, fogging the glass again, and splashed cold water on my face. It stung, shocking the haze back a step. The boarding house groaned around me, pipes rattling like distant thunder, a neighbor's radio bleeding faint dangdut beats through the thin walls. Normal. Mundane. A lifeline.
Dressing was a ritual. Faded jeans, a supermarket polo, sneakers laced with trembling fingers. I slipped the twin pendants under my shirt and they warmed against my chest, Phobos and Deimos stirring with a low vibration. No words, just presence. It was enough to keep me from completely unraveling. My backpack slumped by the door, textbooks peeking out like accusing eyes. I zipped it shut, slinging it over one shoulder. In my wallet, the black card from Ophy sat like a splinter I couldn't dig out. *Call my name if you're ready.* I'd called. And now the world's rules were bending, and mine were cracking.
Outside, the September dawn hung heavy, thick with exhaust and the promise of another scorcher. I unlocked my rusty bike and pedaled into the waking streets of Blacksand. Streetlights flickered off as vendors sparked up their carts with a sizzle and smoke. School first. Even forbidden Riders had algebra to fake.
Class dragged like wet cement. The math teacher's drone blurred equations into sigils, variables twisting into serpents that mocked the doodles in my margins. I slumped in the back, tapping a pencil against my notebook.
*Focus, pup,* Phobos hummed. *The whisper preys on drift.*
*Or doodle sharper,* Deimos chuckled. *Turn those loops to strikes.*
My mind snagged on the warehouse ping from the OS last night: *Shadows in the Stacks. 8 PM.* Vague and insistent. What shadows? Tar-beasts from Scorpio's labs, or just the industrial ghosts of a city chewing its own bones?
Lunch was a reprieve. I grabbed cold nasi goreng and headed for the roof, away from the chatter about K-dramas and weekend plans. Leaning against the chain-link fence, I watched the city sprawl below like a glitchy map. My phone buzzed. A text from my manager: *Shift tonight? Andi's slot open. Pay bump.*
Andi. The name clawed fresh, a hollow no dream could fill.
As if summoned by the thought, Ophy's mist shimmered at the fence's edge, emerald eyes flickering like faulty code. "Rough unravel, pup?" His voice was smooth, a salesman's lilt over something rawer. "The venom's got teeth. Dreams like that... they're the hook before the haul."
I snorted, pocketing my phone. "You could've warned me."
He chuckled, a low, liquid sound. "Warnings are for the tame. You needed the taste. You woke spitting venom. That's the crack we need." His gaze sharpened, piercing the haze toward the industrial district. "Warehouse tonight. The shadows are real leaks, zodiac spills fraying the veil. Check them out. It'll burn the dream-dross and steady your hum."
The pendants on my chest warmed. *Purge grounds the coil,* Phobos approved. *Hunt sharpens it,* Deimos added.
Ophy's mist dissolved. "And Rei?" his voice echoed. "Allies aren't dreams. They're choices. Make one."
By the time I biked into the industrial district, the sun was a low bruise in the sky. The warehouse loomed, its rusty jaw half-open. 8:02 PM. The air was thick with diesel ghosts and the first patter of rain. I was alone. No silver-green hurricanes dropping from the sky this time.
Then, footsteps crunched on gravel, two sets, perfectly synced.
A figure burst from the gloom, a powerful lantern swinging like a captive star. "Rei! Score one for the living dead, you showed!" Mira. Her grin was all teeth and zero pretense as she hip-checked the gate open.
Lena followed, hoodie up, her gaze scanning the perimeter. She gave a faint nod that was almost a smile. "Traffic. Mira insisted on a detour for 'authentic ghost bait.'" She dangled a plastic bag filled with candy bars, glow sticks, and a battered Ouija board.
My heart hammered, but there was no hostile ping, no whisper swell. Just the low hum from Phobos: *Caution, pup.* And Deimos: *Or bait worth biting.*
"Tar-beasts are more likely than ghosts," I said, locking my bike. "But if it summons my algebra homework, I'm out."
Mira laughed, shoving a green glow stick into my hand. "Sounds epic! Spill the stories." She looped her arm through mine, casual as breathing, and pulled me inside. Lena fell in on my other side, a cool counterweight to Mira's fire. The heavy doors groaned shut behind us.
The warehouse swallowed us whole. The lantern beam cut through dust motes, illuminating towering crates stamped with faded ink: *Zodiac Imports, Fragile.* The air smelled of oil, rust, and a faint ozone that made my pendants thrum.
*Leak here, but faint,* Phobos noted.
*Smells like boring,* Deimos grumbled.
Mira hopped onto a crate. "Stories, Rei! That factory roof bailout, Leo's flames, Aries charging. We dropped in, but you vanished before we could say thanks." Her grin turned sly. "Don't drag us into erasure with that Ophiuchus hum, yeah?"
Suddenly, the air grew thick. Shadows in the corners pooled and stretched like fingers testing the light. We all froze. My hand hovered over my pendants. Mira's stance shifted, becoming fluid and ready. Lena's fingers twitched.
But the shadows receded. The ozone scent faded, and the thrumming in my chest died down.
Mira let out a sharp breath, her laugh bubbling up, fractured but real. "All that buildup for... dust bunnies?" She snapped another glow stick, pink this time, and tossed it to Lena, who cracked it blue.
Lena's faint smile deepened. "Clean. No leaks tonight." She pocketed the Ouija board. Her gaze met mine, steady and searching. "Stories instead? Your security gig's gotta beat algebra."
I didn't pull away. The whisper in my head was just faint static. This felt different from the dream. This was tentative, real. "Yeah," I muttered. "Stories. But fair warning, mine end in explosions that get erased as 'brake failures.'"
Mira whooped. "Sign me up! Lead the way, coil-boy."
We wove deeper into the stacks, our makeshift camp lit by the lantern and a growing web of neon glow sticks. I leaned against a crate as Lena offered me half a candy bar. The cheap chocolate was grounding.
"It was my coworker, Andi," I said, the words tumbling out. "Gone in the glass rain. Erased. Just… an accident." The hollow twisted, but sharing it here, in the dim, lessened its clawing grip.
Mira's grin softened. "Erasure's their favorite trick. Our folks were fogged out after a Taurus stampede. We just glitch the edges, keep the scraps."
Lena nodded, a blue glow stick tucked behind her ear casting her face in fractured light. "Duality's our edge. But yours? One life, forbidden static. Pulls hard."
The hours blurred. We swapped tales, Mira's clone mishaps, Lena's precision scouting missions, my own halting stories of alley encounters and cryptic warnings. Mira broke out the Ouija board, her giggles echoing as the planchette spelled out *G-H-O-S-T-S-A-R-E-B-O-R-I-N-G*. Candy wrappers piled up like offerings. The whisper faded completely, replaced by their easy rhythm.
Eventually, Mira yawned. "Ghost hunt: zero. Hangout: ten. But algebra awaits."
At the gate, Lena paused. "Ping us if shadows wake for real. Glitch squad's an open invite." Mira gave my arm a brief squeeze. "Choices, right? Yours."
We slipped out into the damp night. As I pedaled home, the OS steadied: *Quest Complete: Shadows Checked. New Pending: Fracture's Edge.* Allies weren't dreams. They were this, candy-sticky, glow-lit, and chosen in the quiet.
Back in my room, the mirror's reflection seemed less haunted. The haze in my head was thinner.
*Nest holds,* Phobos hummed. *Build slow.*
*Or crash it,* Deimos chuckled. *Fun either way.*
I collapsed onto my bed. Sleep came, and for the first time in a long time, the dreams weren't of raids and venom. They were of glow-stick webs, quiet laughter, and shadows that stayed put. The hollow in my chest echoed less, filled now with scraps of a night that felt real: a swinging ponytail, a steady gaze, and the sweet taste of cheap chocolate.