Three days later, The Rusty Bucket docked at Port Aero.
Zain had lived his entire life on Edge Island, a desolate rock on the fringes of civilization. He thought he knew what a "city" looked like.
He was wrong.
Port Aero was a masterpiece of chaos and commerce. It was a cluster of fifty small islands chained together by massive suspension bridges. Airships of every shape and size—from sleek Royal Cruisers to bulky ore-barges—swarmed around the docking spires like flies around a carcass.
The noise was deafening. Steam whistles, shouting merchants, and the constant hum of mana-engines filled the air.
"Close your mouth, rat," Vera said, nudging him as they walked down the gangplank. "You look like a tourist. Tourists get robbed."
Zain snapped his jaw shut, adjusting the hood of his cloak. He was terrified of being recognized, but Silas had assured him that Port Aero was a "Grey Zone"—Temple Guards had no jurisdiction here. It was a haven for mercenaries, smugglers, and Junkers.
"Where are we going?" Zain asked, clutching his pouch of fifty coins tightly against his chest.
"Captain is selling the Cores at the Exchange," Vera explained, walking with a confident swagger that made people step out of her way. "You and I have a different errand. You said you wanted to send money home, right?"
Zain nodded vigorously. "To Yamen. My brother."
"Then we need a Shadow Courier," Vera said. "Official mail channels are monitored by the Temple. If you send a package with your name on it, they'll trace it back to you in an hour. Shadow Couriers don't ask names. They just ask for gold."
The Courier's office was located in the lower districts, tucked between a fish market and a tavern that smelled of stale ale.
The courier was a bird-like man—literally. He had feathers growing out of his cheeks and beak-like nose. A Harpy-kin.
"Destination?" the courier squawked, not looking up from his ledger.
"Edge Island. Sector 4. The Old Clinic," Zain said. He placed a heavy bag on the counter. It contained forty of his fifty coins.
It was a fortune. It was enough to buy medicine for two months and pay for a nurse to watch Yamen.
"Recipient?"
"Yamen," Zain said. "Just Yamen. Tell the doctor... tell him it's from 'The Ghost'."
The courier weighed the bag in his taloned hand. He smirked. "Steep fee for Edge Island. Dangerous route. Ten coins for delivery."
"Fine," Zain agreed instantly. He didn't care about the cost. He just needed Yamen to survive.
He watched the courier stamp the package and toss it into a pneumatic tube. It vanished with a thump.
Zain let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding for a week. It's done. He'll get the medicine.
He had ten coins left. Enough to buy a better weapon, or maybe some real clothes.
"Come on," Vera said, checking the sun. "Captain gave us two hours of shore leave. I need to buy whetstones. You should buy a dagger. You can't keep punching things with your bare hands forever."
They walked through the "Scrap Bazaar," a winding street lined with shops selling salvaged artifacts from the Abyss.
Zain wasn't paying attention to the weapons. He was listening to the voice in his head.
"Hunger..." Nox rumbled, but it wasn't the usual demand for food. It was a low, vibrating hum of curiosity. "I feel... something familiar."
"What is it?" Zain whispered.
"Stop," Nox commanded.
Zain stopped dead in the middle of the street, causing a goblin merchant to bump into his legs.
"Watch it, tall-walker!" the goblin spat.
Zain ignored him. He looked to his left.
It was a dusty, run-down shop with a sign that read: OLD WORLD CURIOSITIES. The windows were grime-covered, filled with rusted gears and broken compasses.
"Vera," Zain called out. "I want to go in there."
Vera looked at the shop and frowned. "Old Man Rictus's place? He sells junk. Broken relics from before the Void War. Why do you want to go there?"
"Just a feeling," Zain said.
He pushed the door open. A bell chimed softly.
The interior smelled of old paper and ozone. Shelves were stacked floor-to-ceiling with useless trinkets—stone tablets, cracked mana crystals, and pieces of unknown machinery.
Behind the counter sat an old man. He was human, but his skin was like parchment paper, covered in intricate, faded tattoos. He was polishing a glass eye.
"We're closing," Rictus grunted, not looking up.
"There," Nox whispered. "On the top shelf. The black shard."
Zain scanned the shelves. Hidden behind a rusted helmet was a small, jagged piece of black metal. It looked unremarkable. It didn't glow. It looked like a piece of coal.
But to Zain, it felt like a magnet. The seal on his arm began to itch.
"How much for the black shard?" Zain pointed.
Rictus paused. He stopped polishing the eye. He looked up slowly, his real eye piercing Zain with an intensity that made the boy flinch.
"That?" Rictus asked, his voice rasping. "That's just a piece of meteorite. Worthless."
"How much?" Zain repeated.
Rictus narrowed his eyes. "Five coins."
"Zain, don't be an idiot," Vera hissed from the doorway. "That's a rock. You can buy a good knife for five coins."
"I'll take it," Zain said, reaching for his pouch.
Rictus didn't move to get the item. Instead, he leaned over the counter.
"Why do you want it, boy?" Rictus asked softly. "It's cold to the touch. It drains the heat from the air. Most people find it uncomfortable to hold. But you... you're staring at it like it's a lost friend."
Zain froze. He knows.
"Careful," Nox warned. "This human... his soul is dense. He is a retired Hunter. A strong one."
Zain tried to keep his face neutral. "I like cold things. I'm from the Edge."
Rictus stared at him for a long, agonizing moment. Then, his gaze dropped to Zain's right arm, hidden beneath the cloak.
"Five coins," Rictus said finally.
Zain slapped the coins on the counter. Rictus took a wooden pair of tongs, grabbed the black shard, and dropped it into a cloth bag. He handed it to Zain.
"A word of advice, customer," Rictus said as Zain turned to leave.
Zain stopped.
"The Abyssal Cults pay a lot of money for relics like that," the old man whispered. "And the Temple burns people who possess them. If I were you... I'd keep that in your pocket."
Zain felt a chill run down his spine. He nodded once and hurried out of the shop.
Back on the street, Vera looked at him like he had lost his mind. "You just spent half your fortune on a rock."
"It's not a rock," Zain muttered, clutching the bag.
He found a secluded alleyway behind a crate of cabbages. "Cover me for a second."
Vera rolled her eyes but turned her back to watch the street.
Zain opened the bag. He touched the black shard.
Zzzzt.
It wasn't painful. It felt like two magnets snapping together.
The shard dissolved instantly into black liquid. It flowed into his skin, merging with the seal on his arm.
"Yesss..." Nox sighed, a sound of pure ecstasy.
A rush of information flooded Zain's brain. It wasn't energy this time—it was memory.
He saw a sky that wasn't blue, but violet. He saw a city made of obsidian floating not in the air, but in the Void itself. He saw a throne, and he saw... himself? No, he saw a creature of shadow sitting on it.
The vision vanished as quickly as it came.
Zain gasped, leaning against the wall.
"A fragment of my memory," Nox explained, his voice sounding clearer, less distorted. "That shard was part of my armor. My physical form was shattered and scattered across this world centuries ago."
"Your armor?" Zain whispered.
"Listen closely, Zain," Nox said. "My power is sealed. But if you find these fragments... if you reassemble my form... I can give you more than just a rotting touch. I can give you the power to tear the sky apart."
Zain looked at his hand. The seal had changed. The chaotic scribbles were slightly more organized now. A small, sharp line had appeared on his wrist—like a blade.
"New Ability Unlocked," Nox announced, sounding like a dark gamemaster. "Void Step. You can now step through shadows for a fraction of a second."
Zain smirked. Teleportation?
"Hey, rock-lover!" Vera called out. "Captain is signaling. We're moving out. Apparently, someone tipped off the Temple that a 'Dark User' was seen near the docks."
Zain's blood ran cold. Rictus.
"Let's go," Zain said, stepping out of the alley.
He wasn't just a stowaway anymore. He was a hunter. And now, he had a grocery list:
Find the Shards. Rebuild the King. Survive the Sky.