The cold of the subway tunnel was a constant, metallic pressure against Sable's back. He sat with his knees drawn up, Ellaya curled against his side, her small body finally still. Second, the robin, was a warm, heavy knot beneath his jaw.
He tried to sleep. He failed.
Every time his consciousness managed to drift, his body would snatch him back from the edge of unconsciousness. It wasn't a jarring start, but a subtle, instinctual re-alerting—a tiny muscle tremor, a sudden tightness in his chest, signaling that something had changed in the environment.
A footfall too close, a shadow shifting, the sudden silence of a distant conversation. His body was a tripwire, taut and ready to snap. Four years in the Dredge had taught him that peace was a delusion, and his recent acts had guaranteed he'd never be granted it again.
He had isolated himself in the darkest, most secluded corner of the platform, fulfilling the agreement with Nash.
Now, he was just a liability waiting to be dealt with, a ticking clock in the periphery of everyone's fear.
And Nash, of course, was still watching.
Sable didn't need to look.
He could feel the weight of that gaze, a steady, burning pinprick from the center of the platform. Nash was standing near the makeshift entrance, his posture rigid, his face a mask of calculated regret. He wasn't watching Sable like prey; he was watching him like a disaster waiting to happen—a disaster Nash himself had invited.
The man was terrified, already counting the cost of his momentary gamble, and Sable found a grim satisfaction in that fear.
After nearly an hour of this strained vigil, the hyper-alertness began to translate into action.
Sable's eyes, restless and dark, began to trace the boundaries of the space.
This was an abandoned subway station, though the tracks were long buried under rubble and grime.
It wasn't a shelter; it was a trap with a single egress point—the stairwell Nash was guarding. Sable mapped the space: Three industrial lamps. Equally spaced.
The eastern one closest to the stairs—if that goes out, half the platform goes dark. the fractured walls, the heaps of refuse that could hide knives or stim injectors, gasolines, the dark, gaping holes where the maintenance shafts branched off. Exits, entries, lines of fire. It was a good place to hide, a terrible place to survive an attack.
As he scanned the details of the cavernous platform, he noticed something odd about the lighting. The space was bright. Too bright for the Dredge.
He watched the few figures milling around, wrapped in rags and fear, their faces pale under the stark, yellowish glow. Several of them were carrying small, electric lanterns, swinging them as they walked.
Why the lamps? he thought, his brow furrowing. It's not that dark.
The thought slammed into him with the cold precision of a revelation. It is not that dark for me.
He closed his eyes, then opened them again in the corner's deepest shadow. The interior of the station was perfectly visible.
The textures of the cracked concrete, the subtle dust motes floating in the air, the fine details of the faces twenty feet away—all rendered in perfect, low-light clarity.
He recalled the system interface that had flashed up after the confrontation with Nash's men. He hadn't bothered to look closer then, busy with the rush of survival.
He didn't need to summon a screen or voice the command; the information was simply there, an overlay of passive data he was now unconsciously processing.
— GRACE ACQUISITION PROTOCOL ACTIVE —
Borrowed Grace: Enhanced Dark Sight
Passive Effect: Perfect vision in low-light environments.
Borrowed Grace: Truth Evasion
Passive Effect: Detects attempts at deception/bullshit in direct speech.
Borrowed Grace: Aquatic Lung
Passive Effect: Allows user to hold breath for five (5) minutes.
The memory of the three men—their final, collapsing breaths—was vivid. He hadn't just stolen their Bestowed Graces in the heat of the moment. He had absorbed their Borrowed ones.
The Grace can't be severed from the Bestowed. The inherent, unique power belonged only to the owner, woven into their core existence. But the borrowed Graces—the mundane, transferable perks that people could buy, beg, or fight for—those were just layers of external power, shallow things that could be stripped away and layered onto a new host. It was a ruthless, efficient system, a cruel law of the Dredge: what you kill for, you keep.
The realization settled deep in his gut, a cold, clinical confirmation of his rising power. He was now a predator with better eyes, a lie detector built into his nerves, and lungs that could buy him time.
The enhanced sight was what mattered now. He continued his scan, seeing the whole platform with unnerving clarity.
That was when the anomaly stepped into his line of sight.
A man was approaching their corner. He was young, maybe twenty or twenty-one, with hair so black it absorbed the dim light.
His eyes were the same shade, soft and deep. The most striking thing, however, was his attire: a bespoke black suit, tailored and expensive, but completely wet—damp, clinging to his frame as if he'd just walked out of the relentless rain above.
It was an outfit that screamed Middle City citizen, not a Dredge denizen.
The man's face was soft, almost painfully gentle. It was the kind of open, trustworthy expression people naturally confide in, a perfect camouflage in a place where trust was currency.
He approached Sable and Ellaya with a small, easy smile.
"Hello there," the man said, his voice quiet, melodic, and entirely out of place. He paused a comfortable distance away. "Nash said you two might be needing some sustenance."
He was holding a ration kit—a plastic container filled with protein bars and packaged bread—which he extended toward Ellaya.
"I'm Malvric," he introduced himself.
Ellaya looked at the food, then glanced up at Sable, her eyes wide with desperate hunger.
Sable's entire posture was rigid, his gaze locked on Malvric's hand.
The offer felt too generous, the timing too perfect, the smile too sincere. Nash had been broadcasting his paranoia; this could easily be a test, or a slow-acting poison, or a sedative.
Stimulants and toxins were as readily available as water in the Dredge.
Ellaya's stomach rumbled, a pitiful sound in the tense silence. She reached out, hesitated, and then took the food, tearing the wrapper open immediately. She started eating, but her eyes never settled, darting nervously between Sable and Malvric.
Second, the robin, instantly detected the food. The bird hopped onto Sable's shoulder and let out a demanding, insistent peep.
Malvric laughed, a soft, genuine sound that crinkled the corner of his eyes.
"Oh, your little familiar wants some, too. Here, eat, eat." He tore a piece of bread from his own ration and offered it to the bird.
Sable didn't move. He didn't trust the offering, but Ellaya was eating, and she seemed fine. He remained silent, letting the suspicion stew in the air.
Malvric sighed, his smile fading slightly, replaced by a look of weary sympathy.
"Look, I get it," he said, shifting his weight. "Everyone here is on edge. Nash was pretty clear that you're dangerous. A real problem, the way he told it." Malvric lowered his head slightly, his black eyes meeting Sable's. "But seeing you now, hunkered in a corner with a little girl and a hungry bird... you don't seem so much like a threat."
Sable said nothing. His eyes dropped to Malvric's hands. They weren't rough, calloused, or scarred like those of a Dredge worker.
They were smooth, pale, and well-cared for. They were the hands of someone who signed papers, didn't break rock.
Middle or Upper City, Sable assessed instantly. Someone who got caught in the weather. He's not one of them.
Malvric didn't seem perturbed by the silence. He started talking, an anxious, meandering flow of confession. "God, I'm exhausted. The rain... I just want to go home. I'm anxious about my family, you know? They have no idea what's going on down here."
Sable felt a sudden, unexpected spike of emotion—a sharp, nostalgic pang. Home. His adopted father.
Four years. Where was he? Safe, hopefully, in the relatively livable borderlands of the Middle City, a world away from this fetid, lower dredge.
"And my Grace," Malvric continued, his voice dropping to a whine. "It's useless.
It's barely a flicker, and I feel utterly doomed. It's not enough to get me out of this." He looked from Ellaya to Sable. "You two... you have Graces, right? Nash said you were… enhanced. I suspect you do," he said to Sable, a slight emphasis on the word suspect. "But what about the little one?"
He turned his full attention to Ellaya. "What is your Grace, little one?"
Sable's mind screamed. No, don't answer him. He flicked his eyes to Ellaya, a look of desperate, silent command: The plants. Say the plants.
Ellaya swallowed a piece of bread, her eyes wide with fear, caught between Sable's intensity and Malvric's soft gaze. She opened her mouth.
"I can hear—" She cut herself off, her brow furrowing in confusion. Her eyes darted back to Malvric's face, then to Sable, a genuine
moment of internal bewilderment. She finished the sentence, the words coming out fast, compelled. "—I can heal fast."
Sable's breath hitched. He stared at her, dumbfounded. Why? Why would she expose her actual, valuable Grace? Ellaya looked just as surprised as he did, shaking her head slightly, as if the words weren't hers.
Malvric's gentle smile widened, his black eyes suddenly gleaming with a possessive joy.
"Wow," he whispered, leaning in slightly. "That's a strong Grace! You're blessed, little one! I'm almost so jealous."
Sable gritted his teeth, the tension in his neck tightening to a painful knot. He interrupted, his voice rough.
"She's confused," Sable lied, pushing the words out with forced calmness. "She told me earlier her Grace was that she could hear plants talking.
She must be scared and mixing it up. The regenerative one—she can heal fast. That's what she has."The words caught in his throat.
—I can rewind time for a whole min—.
He clapped his hand over his mouth instantly, the silence deafening.
His eyes widened, fixing on Malvric. The man's grin had solidified, cold and hungry. Malvric's pupils began to dilate, flooding his black eyes until they were completely rimmed in a searing, arterial red.
He took a slow step forward.
"Oh wow," Malvric purred, his voice losing its melodic softness, now edged with something hard and dangerous. "Isn't that kind of overpowered?"
Sable felt the profound, devastating realization crash over him. This man wasn't a lie detector. He was a truth compeller. Answer him, and you cannot evade. You cannot lie.
Shit.
The panic was absolute, the regret a physical, sickening flood. He had exposed his only lifeline, his reset button, his secret weapon to a man whose face screamed innocence while his eyes now burned with malice.
I have one minute.
Sable's mind snatched the command before the word regret had fully formed.
[T I M E S H I F T]
The reality inverted, colors blurring into a single, reverse smear of light and sound. The scent of dust and fear rewound, sucking back into the source. The weight of Malvric's greedy gaze vanished.
One minute.
Sable was on his knees, gripping the rough concrete. Ellaya was still pressed against him, He reached out, seizing Ellaya's shoulders, his grip tight enough to hurt.
"Don't say a word," he hissed, his voice raw. "Do not open your mouth. Not a peep."
Ellaya froze, her eyes widening in confusion.
"Wha—why?"
"Just don't. Not a single word to the man who approaches us. He's dangerous. Silence is your only shield."
Sable barely finished the sentence before the voice appeared behind them, exactly on time.
"Hello there," Malvric's melodic voice sounded. "Nash said you two might be needing some sustenance."
Sable slowly stood up, turning to face the smiling man in the wet, black suit. Same black hair, same soft, open face, same black eyes that Sable now knew held a coiled, deadly hunger.
"I'm Malvric," he introduced himself, offering the ration kit to Ellaya.
Ellaya, eyes fixed on Sable's tense expression, took the food silently.
She didn't eat immediately, just held it. Second chirped, demanding.
Malvric laughed gently, the sound grating on Sable's nerves, knowing the hidden malice beneath it. He offered the food to the bird again. Sable ignored him.
"Look, I get it," Malvric began, launching into his practiced monologue. "Everyone here is on edge. Nash was pretty clear that you're dangerous. But seeing you now, hunkered in a corner…"
He finished the lead-in, turning to the central moment. "You two... you have Graces, right? What is your Grace, then?" he asked Sable, his voice still soft, expectant.
Sable looked him dead in the eye. He reached into the inventory of his new passive abilities, plucking the most mundane, least revealing truth.
"I can see in the dark," Sable stated flatly.
He watched Malvric's face carefully. Malvric's eyes didn't flash red.
The pupils didn't dilate. He paused, his expression shifting from eager expectation to slight disappointment.
"Ah," Malvric murmured. "Enhanced Night Sight. Practical. Very handy down here." He hadn't expected such a common, Borrowed-level Grace. It was a truth, and a simple enough one that it didn't seem worth the effort of compulsion.
Malvric turned to Ellaya. "And the little one? What about you, dear?"
Ellaya looked at Sable. Sable gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head. Ellaya looked back at Malvric, took a defiant bite of the bread, and chewed slowly.
Silence.
Malvric's smile wavered, a flicker of irritation crossing his gentle features. He let out a slow, controlled sigh. He didn't press it. The Grace required a response to work; silence was the perfect defense.
Sable lowered himself back down, leaning against the cold wall. He looked up at the impeccably dressed man towering over him.
"Is that food poisoned?" Sable asked, his voice low and direct. "The one you were offering me. Did Nash ask you to do this?"
Malvric, taken aback by the sudden shift in attack, laughed awkwardly. "No," he said, shaking his head. "No, of course not. That's crazy. I just wanted to help."
Sable felt the subtle, internal shift of his new Passive Grace: Truth Evasion. It was not a grand flare of power, but a cold, certain clarity. Verdict: True. Malvric was not lying. The food was clean, and Nash had not sent him. He had come on his own.
A corner of Sable's mouth twitched up—a faint, dry smile.
He took the ration from Ellaya, broke off a small piece, and gave it to Second. The robin snatched it instantly, gulping it down.
Malvric watched the interaction, a faint, curious smile returning.
"Say, now that I told you about my Grace," Sable continued, meeting Malvric's gaze, turning the tables. "What about you? What is it? The one that's 'useless' and 'doomed'?"
Malvric paused, his easy confidence returning. He assessed Sable, a man who had only claimed a common, passive ability. He seemed to decide Sable wasn't a threat to his actual secret.
"I can tell people whether they're fucking with me or not," Malvric said, leaning in slightly, his smile now a self-satisfied smirk.
The Truth Evasion Grace worked again.
Verdict: Malvric believes this to be true.
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth either. He had cloaked the lethal compulsion in a vague, plausible claim.
"I pre-assumed that Nash already told everyone I was dangerous," Sable continued, his voice calm, even bored. "So you came here by yourself to assess me. You wanted to know what my Grace was. Is that it?"
Malvric shook his head quickly. "No. I just wanted to help the kid, honestly."
The internal mechanism of Sable's Grace went taut.
Verdict: False.
Sable smiled again, a cold, predatory display.
"Cut the bullshit, Malvric," Sable said, his voice now dropping to a cutting whisper, the sudden shift in tone making Malvric freeze. "You see, I'm like you, too. I can sense if people are spouting bullshit or trying to fuck with me. And I'm very good at it."
Malvric's smile vanished completely. His eyes, the soft, trusting black eyes, narrowed instantly.
"You're telling me that after all that whining about your anxiety and your 'weak' Grace, you're here using the oldest trick in the book: false sincerity to disarm a target."
Sable let the tension coil, the silence stretching between them until the background noise of the subway faded completely. "Having a Grace like yours, one that roots out deception, means you must hate people who mess with the truth.
Yet you come down here, wrapped in a wet black suit that doesn't belong, spouting pathetic lies, just to get a glimpse of someone's power.
It's ridiculous. You're just as fake as the rest of them."
Sable tilted his head, his eyes ice-cold. "And you know what I hate the most, Malvric? Those pretentious fuckers."
Malvric paused for a long moment. He didn't deny it. He didn't flinch. The mask of sincerity had been discarded, replaced by a calculating, cold intelligence.
He absorbed the flat insult, letting the challenge hang heavy in the air.
Then, a new smile returned, slower, harder, more genuine in its malice.
"Oh, don't worry," Malvric replied, his voice a low, chilling purr. "I'm fully aware and comfortable with what I am. A necessary evil, perhaps.
But you should ask that of yourself."
Malvric lowered his head, finally meeting Sable's eyes on equal ground, their faces inches apart.
The air between them crackled with the silent understanding of two people who saw past the masks, and who now recognized a fatal threat in the other.
"Are you comfortable with what you are?"
The question hung, unanswered. Malvric held the stare for one breath, two, then straightened, his wet suit glistening in the dull light. He turned his back on Sable and walked away, melting back into the crowd of terrified, oblivious people.
The tension only released when Malvric's retreating figure was completely lost. Sable let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, the adrenaline still surging.
"He could have killed us," Ellaya whispered, clutching the bread.
"No," Sable muttered, his eyes tracing the path Malvric took. "He could have taken me. He needed your silence to confirm my deception. He walked away because he knew I'd caught him.
He knows I'll be ready next time."
He looked down at Ellaya, his expression hardening. "And there will be a next time. Eat your food."