The city pulsed with life as the sun began to dip beneath the horizon. The once bright streets now flickered under the cold glow of the neon signs, casting long shadows across the faces of the few late-night wanderers still daring enough to be out. The air was thick with tension, like a storm waiting to break.
Jace moved through the city's back alleys, his boots clicking against the cracked pavement with a steady rhythm that echoed his thoughts. Zariah walked silently beside him, her presence a quiet reassurance in the otherwise oppressive stillness.
Neither of them spoke as they navigated through the maze of abandoned warehouses and poorly lit streets. They didn't need to—there was an unspoken understanding between them, an unspoken bond formed in the wake of the chaos they had left behind. The Guildhound was a distant memory now, its body discarded in the cavern like the failed experiment it had been. But Jace knew that their real battle had only just begun.
His mind kept returning to Selene's words—the cryptic promises, the dangerous allure she held over him. She had offered him power, a chance to control the shard within him, to understand it… But at what cost? There was always a price for such things, and Jace wasn't sure he was ready to pay it.
Zariah broke the silence, her voice low, but her tone unmistakably sharp. "You're not going to just ignore what happened back there, are you?"
Jace's jaw tightened at the question, but he kept his eyes forward, his gaze sharp and focused. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Zariah scoffed, clearly not buying his act. "Don't play coy. You felt it, didn't you? The way the shard reacted. The way it—" She paused, searching for the right words, "—fed off the blood. Off the chaos."
Jace's hand instinctively brushed over the place where the shard sat inside him, hidden beneath his skin like an unwelcome guest. The sensation of power still lingered in his veins, a reminder of how close he had come to losing control. It was a heady feeling, one that promised more—more power, more influence, more danger.
"I felt it," he admitted, his voice dark. "But that doesn't mean I want to embrace it."
Zariah gave him a sideways glance. "You don't have a choice. Not anymore."
Her words stung more than he wanted to admit. She was right. There were forces at play here—forces far beyond his control—and the shard, whatever it was, had a mind of its own. It wanted more. It wanted him to submit, to become one with it, to wield its power as if it were his own.
And he hated it.
"You're wrong," Jace said, his voice harder now. "I'll never give in to this."
Zariah didn't respond immediately, but there was something in her eyes—a mixture of concern and something else, something that Jace couldn't quite place. She didn't say anything else as they walked in silence, the only sounds now the soft thrum of the city and the distant hum of traffic.
They arrived at a small, inconspicuous building on the edge of the industrial district. A faded sign hung above the door, barely legible in the dim light. The building had an air of neglect about it, the windows boarded up and the door barely hanging on its hinges. It was a far cry from the gleaming towers that dominated the city's skyline, but to Jace, it felt like the perfect place to hide.
"This is it," Zariah said, her voice low. "Inside, there's a contact. Someone who can help us understand what's really going on."
Jace raised an eyebrow. "Help us? How?"
Zariah pushed the door open, revealing a dark, musty hallway beyond. "They know about the shard. They know what's coming. We don't have time for questions."
Jace didn't argue. He stepped into the building, his senses immediately alert. There was something off about this place, a strange energy in the air that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
The hallway was narrow and dimly lit, but as they moved further in, the sounds of muffled voices grew louder. It wasn't long before they reached a door at the end of the hallway, and Zariah knocked once, a sharp rap that seemed out of place in the otherwise silent building.
The door creaked open, revealing a man standing in the doorway. His features were sharp and angular, his hair long and unkempt, his eyes sharp with the knowledge of someone who had seen too much. He didn't look surprised to see them, nor did he seem particularly welcoming.
"You've come," he said simply, his voice thick with an accent Jace couldn't quite place. "I didn't expect it to be so soon."
Zariah didn't waste time on pleasantries. "We need answers," she said. "About the shard. About what's coming."
The man nodded slowly, stepping aside to let them in. "I figured as much. Come in, and I'll tell you what I know."
Jace stepped over the threshold, immediately feeling the weight of the room settle around him. The man led them through a cluttered room filled with arcane artifacts, books piled high in stacks that threatened to topple at any moment.
"This," the man said, turning to face them, "is not just about power. This is about control. Whoever controls the shard controls the fate of this city."
Jace's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"
The man's eyes darkened. "I mean that the shard is more than just an object of power. It's a key—a key to something far older, far darker than you can imagine. And there are those who will stop at nothing to claim it."
Jace's grip tightened around the dagger at his side. He knew what came next, and it wasn't going to be easy.
"We're in this together now," the man continued, his voice low and dangerous. "And you're going to need all the help you can get."