The East Quarter was one part of Silver City that everyone avoided. Shattered windows and rotting warehouses lined the streets, the remnants of a once-thriving industrial district. Now, it was the breeding ground for the city's most notorious criminals—an underworld that thrived in the forgotten fringes of society.
Zara walked quietly through the alleys, her nerves heightened. Every creak of movement, every whisper of sound, was a potential threat. She had put on something more suited to the work ahead of her—a black hooded jacket which obscured her face, so that she blended in. The darkness obliged her instinctively, twirling round her like a mantle.
The transaction was taking place in one of the rundown warehouses—a massive, rusted monolith which decades ago the city had allowed to fall into ruin but reimagined the natives who worked most effectively in darkness. Zara moved into the cracks, going around the crowds of heavily barricaded entrances. Internally, there was urgency. The environment pulsed with expectation, and also danger.
There were scoundrels of all descriptions there—drug kings, gun runners, and shady figures whose faces were hidden behind elaborate outfits and masks. Zara sized up the scene, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the raised dais in the middle, where the auctioneer would begin to peddle.
Her heart racing, she wove through the crowd, not wanting to be noticed. She was certain that the Order would be there, lying in wait, waiting for their moment to strike and seize the Shard. The Broker had been right—it was a trap. But she was ready.
When the auctioneer stepped onto the stage, the audience fell into a hush. Zara tensed, her fingers shaking with anticipation. The auctioneer began to call out various rare artifacts, each one more lethal and valuable than the last. None of them piqued Zara's interest, however. She was waiting for something—the Shard.
"And now," the auctioneer declared theatrically, "the pièce de résistance of the evening—the Shard of Aether, a relic of some forgotten civilization, said to be charged with the power of the gods themselves."
The crowd buzzed in expectation as the auctioneer pulled out a small, crystalline object on the stage. It was about the size of a fist, its surface shining with a strange glow. Zara could feel its energy even from where she stood at the other side of the room, like a pulse beating in time with her own.
Before bidding had even begun, chaos erupted.
A series of blasts rocked the warehouse, sending shockwaves in the room. The crowd panicked and scattered asmasked men invaded the stage, their bodies gleaming with the same unusual light in their eyes as the mercenaries who had assaulted Zara. The Eclipsed Order was here.
Zara cursed. She knew they'd attempt something, but not so quickly. Off the cuff, she acted instinctively. The shadows followed her order and enveloped themselves around her, protecting her as she sprinted toward the stage.
The Order's mercenaries were already encircling the auctioneer, their guns aimed at anyone who attempted to reach the Shard. Zara's thoughts flew by as she sidestepped their bullets, her mind fixed on the relic. She had to get it first.
But before she could cover the ground, a familiar figure intervened in her way.
It was the man from the rooftop—the one who had warned her to stay out of forces she didn't understand. His calculating, cold eyes met hers, and Zara's rage boiled.
"I warned you, Kane," the man stated, his voice firm amidst the chaos. "You're in over your head."
Zara said nothing. Instead, she released her power, striking out at him with tendrils of darkness. But the man was quick—too quick. He dodged her blow as if it was nothing, shifting with a poise that led Zara to believe he wasn't an average mercenary.
"You won't be able to," he went on, his tone coming close to gloating. "The Shard is property of the Order. So are you."
Zara's eyes pinched. "We'll see about that."
She burst forward, her power howling more desperately than ever before. The man struck back at her, but Zara refused to give in. She no longer fought just for the Shard now—she fought for freedom, for justice, for the sake of living itself.
But as their battle lingered, Zara awoke something else within her. The closer she got to the Shard, the stronger her powers became. It was as if the relic was stirring a call within her, growing her powers beyond anything she had ever experienced.
And in that moment, Zara realized the truth.
The Shard of Aether was not a relic.
It was a part of her.