Rain swept across the neon-lit streets of New Arcanum in endless sheets, each drop catching the glow of crystal-powered streetlamps that buzzed with restrained energy. The city pulsed beneath the storm—alive, grim, and drenched in magic.
Three hundred and forty-seven years had passed since the Great Mutation—when the first children were born with glowing crystals embedded in their flesh. That day split history in two, transforming the world from mundane to arcane.
Now, skyscrapers reached into the clouds like steel obelisks, wyverns nested in their upper floors, and subway tunnels carried both daily commuters and things better left unnamed. Technology and sorcery had fused into a delicate ecosystem where survival required power, discretion, or both.
Kaine stood at the window of his modest apartment in Haven's Rest, watching as rain smeared the harbor lights into blurred streaks of gold and white. The port town had been his sanctuary for three years—quiet, anonymous, and far enough from the Temple's reach to let a man breathe.
His reflection in the glass stared back at him—gaunt, steady, with pale eyes that had long since grown tired of bloodshed. Faint glows pulsed beneath the skin of his hands. On his left palm, three crystals shimmered with impossible hues: violet with a slow, writhing pulse; shadow-dark like liquefied void; and one he still couldn't name, like the color of a forgotten dream. On his right, two more gleamed—a steady rhythm of energy, each beat reminding him of a life he had sworn to bury.
Everyone had at least one crystal these days. Most were born with simple augmentations: stronger limbs, minor elemental control, or tricks that made city life bearable. A few were luckier, blessed with multiples. But Kaine… he was an anomaly. A dangerous one.
The knock came at exactly midnight. Three sharp, even raps.
Temple protocol.
He opened the door with slow certainty. Commander Lydia Cross stood in the hallway—tall, severe, and untouched by time. Her silver hair was pulled into a tight bun, the same way it had been the day he walked away. Crystals glinted on her hands: Ice and Lightning on the left, Weapon and Shield on the right. She smelled of ozone and cold authority.
"Hello, Kaine," she said. "You look well. Peaceful, even."
"Lydia." He closed the door behind her, already feeling the sanctuary of his small home begin to corrode. "Three years."
"Indeed." She drifted toward the window, peering down at the misty harbor. "I hear you've taken up work with Maritime Security. Defending merchant ships from sea beasts and crystal raiders. A far cry from your previous assignments."
He said nothing. Words were traps with her—finely baited, delicately set.
She turned to face him. "You've built something here. A routine. A life. The schoolteacher—Sarah, isn't it? Lovely woman. Teaches dockworkers' kids how to read using her Light crystal. Admirable."
Kaine tensed, but she raised a hand to forestall the inevitable reaction.
"Relax. This isn't a threat. I'm here to discuss a contract."
From her coat, she produced a crystal tablet. Blue glyphs flickered across its surface as she activated it, casting Temple script into the air between them.
"Do you remember the terms of your augmentation agreement?"
Of course he remembered. The Temple didn't hand out rare crystal augmentations out of generosity.
"The debt clause," he murmured.
"Exactly." Lydia's tone was coldly pleasant. "At seventeen, you received two additional high-grade crystals—Element and Power. The procedures required to bond them to your... unique physiology were experimental and expensive. The total cost was over 2.3 million credits."
Kaine's jaw tightened.
"As of today," she continued, "you still owe 1.8 million, adjusted for interest and time away from service. At your current wage? You'd be paying it off well into your seventies."
She dismissed the projection with a flick of her wrist. "Fortunately, the Temple offers forgiveness."
He stared at her. "What's the catch?"
"One final mission. Complete it, and your debt is cleared. Clean slate. You keep your life, your freedom, your girl."
His fingers twitched, and the Weapon crystal in his palm stirred—responding not to aggression, but to the weight of the past pressing in. He didn't need to ask what the Temple considered worth 1.8 million credits.
"What's the target?"
"Senator Patricia Vance," Lydia said without pause. "She's leading legislation to dismantle the Temple's monopoly on crystal augmentation. If passed, her bill would hand regulatory control to a government body. Public clinics. Affordable implants. The end of our dominion."
Kaine felt his stomach twist.
"She's trying to help people," he said.
Lydia tilted her head. "She's trying to shatter balance. Imagine what happens when untrained civilians gain access to high-tier augmentations. When gangs arm themselves with unstable mutations. We both know where that path leads."
No, he thought. You fear equality. You fear losing control.
"You have forty-eight hours," she said, turning to the door. "She speaks at Central Plaza tomorrow night. The crowd will make it easy."
She hesitated in the doorway, looking back once. "This isn't exile, Kaine. Complete the mission, and you can return here. Build whatever life you want. No chains. No shadows. Just... closure."
When she left, silence reclaimed the apartment.
Kaine stood alone, staring at the harbor, heart pounding beneath layers of practiced calm. The Temple hadn't threatened Sarah. Hadn't demanded his return. They'd offered exactly what he wanted—freedom. All he had to do was become what he once was: a weapon.
The crystal in his hand pulsed again—soft, alive, and waiting. Stored inside it were the weapons of his past: blades shaped from fire, guns fused with wind, constructs of death crafted from his hybrid bond. He could summon them all with a thought. He hated that the temptation still lived inside him.
Outside, the horn of a cargo ship bellowed across the water. He was meant to be on that ship in a few hours, guarding its voyage through serpent-infested waters. Honest work. Dangerous, but clean.
Now, everything had changed.
He had forty-seven hours to decide: fulfill his contract and stain his soul one last time—or find another path, one the Temple hadn't planned for. One that might cost him everything, or save something worth saving.
The rain kept falling, drowning the city in silver and light.
And somewhere beneath that downpour, the killer he'd buried three years ago stirred in his bones..