The courthouse clock struck six with a hollow, metallic groan, as if even time was tired of pretending justice still lived inside those walls.
Auren Vale stepped out into the fading evening, the city breathing around him in slow exhausts of heat and neon. His suit jacket hung loose over one shoulder, tie undone, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the faint inked scars on his wrist—old reminders of battles fought not with fists, but with words sharp enough to ruin lives.
He won again.
Not because the man was innocent.
But because the law allowed him to.
Auren had learned early that the courtroom was not a place for truth—it was a battlefield of interpretation. Evidence bent. Morality diluted. Whoever controlled the narrative controlled the verdict.
And Auren Vale controlled narratives better than anyone.
"Counselor," the bailiff muttered as he passed, eyes avoiding Auren's.
They always did.
Outside, rain threatened but never fell. The kind of sky that felt like it was watching.
Auren exhaled slowly and checked his phone. Three missed calls. All from the same unknown number.
He frowned.
Unknown numbers didn't persist unless they had something to sell—or something to warn.
He ignored them.
That was his first mistake.
The walk home was routine. Too routine.
Street vendors packed up in silence. A stray cat watched him from a rooftop without blinking. Even the traffic felt subdued, like the city was holding its breath.
Auren stopped under a flickering streetlamp.
The light buzzed.
Then—
It went out.
Every lamp on the street followed.
Darkness poured in, thick and unnatural, swallowing sound. The city didn't sleep—yet it felt dead.
Auren's heartbeat quickened.
"Alright," he muttered. "Cute trick."
A voice answered from behind him.
"Is it?"
He turned.
The man stood where the sidewalk should have been empty—tall, featureless in the dark, wearing a coat that looked stitched from shadows themselves. His face was… wrong. Not hidden. Not masked.
Undefined.
Like reality refused to finish drawing him.
Auren took a step back. "If this is intimidation, you picked the wrong lawyer."
The man tilted his head.
"I know exactly which lawyer you are."
The air tightened.
"You defend monsters," the figure continued calmly. "Not because you believe in them. But because you believe in the system that protects them."
Auren swallowed. "You done stalking me, or is this where you threaten me?"
The figure stepped closer. The darkness moved with him.
"I'm here because the law broke today."
Auren scoffed. "The law breaks every day."
"No," the man corrected. "Today… it blinked."
The ground beneath Auren cracked.
Not physically.
Conceptually.
For a split second, Auren felt it—like something ancient had noticed him. A pressure behind his eyes. A sensation like falling upward.
Then—
Pain.
White-hot, unforgiving.
Symbols burned into his vision—circles, chains, fractured scales. Words without language. Rules without ink.
Auren screamed.
The man's voice echoed through the chaos.
"You've argued your way out of consequence your entire life, Auren Vale."
"How—how do you know my name?" Auren gasped.
"Because you've been selected."
The world snapped back.
Streetlights flickered on. Sound rushed in. The city resumed as if nothing had happened.
The man was gone.
Auren collapsed to one knee, breathing hard, sweat dripping onto the pavement.
His phone vibrated.
A new notification.
UNKNOWN CONTACT:
You are no longer protected by the law you worship.
Run.
Auren stared at the message, hands shaking.
Something inside him shifted.
Not fear.
Recognition.
For the first time in his life, Auren Vale wasn't standing above the law.
He was standing outside it.
And whatever he had become—
The law could no longer define him.