The underground forge didn't appear on any Guild map.
Kael had heard whispers about it long before he met Ryn — a place where black market craftsmen could stabilize stolen beast genes, or crack a rival's blood to study their secrets. The forgers who worked there were half-genius, half-madman, and entirely uninterested in Guild law.
Ryn led the way through the twisting backstreets of the tanners' quarter, down an alley so narrow Kael's shoulders brushed the walls. At the end was a rusted grate set into the street itself. She crouched, knocked in a pattern — three short, two long — and a voice below hissed, "Who's at my gate before sunrise?"
"Customers with coin," Ryn said. "And something no one else has."
The grate scraped open. A rope ladder unfolded into the dark.
The forge's air was thick and hot, heavy with the scents of heated metal, charred leather, and raw magic. Kael's boots hit the stone floor, his eyes adjusting to the flicker of forge-fire reflecting off steel tables and racks of tools.
The man who greeted them was tall and lean, with skin the color of sunburned copper and a lattice of burn scars crawling up his arms. His eyes were pale as polished bone.
"Ryn," he said, voice gravelly. "Didn't think you'd crawl back here. Who's your shadow?"
"Kael," Ryn replied. "He's paying."
Kael grunted. "I'm bringing the work."
The forger's gaze sharpened when Kael pulled the vial from his coat. The glow lit the man's scarred face in an eerie heartbeat rhythm.
"Where did you get that?"
Kael didn't answer. "Can you analyze it or not?"
A slow grin spread across the forger's lips. "For the right price."
"Name it."
"Three stones."
Kael glanced at Ryn. She nodded once. He pulled the stones from a hidden pouch and set them on the table. The forger swept them up with the same motion he used to snatch the vial.
"This will take time," the forger said, already moving toward a heavy iron table under a bank of glass tubes and rune-inscribed cylinders. "You don't rush something that's still moving."
"Moving?" Kael asked.
The man set the vial in a clamp, angled it toward a tube connected to a humming crystal apparatus, and began to chant under his breath. "This blood isn't dead. It's not alive, either. It's… becoming."
Kael and Ryn exchanged a glance.
The forger drew a single drop into the tube. The crystal flared red, then black, then back to red, pulsing in time with the liquid inside.
"See that?" the man said. "It's layered. Three separate gene structures, braided together. One's beast — standard predator class. The second's foreign — I can't place it. The third…" He trailed off, frowning.
"The third what?" Kael pressed.
The forger leaned closer to the glow. "The third is human."
The words hit the air like a blade point.
Kael felt his gut twist. "You're saying the Shaper is mixing human genes into beasts?"
"That's not mixing," the forger said grimly. "That's rewriting. The human strand isn't just present — it's dominant. This isn't shaping beasts to serve humans. It's making beasts part human."
Ryn's voice was low. "That explains the control. The beasts are carrying pieces of their shaper in them."
Before Kael could respond, the forge's only entrance — a heavy steel door set into the far wall — shuddered under a massive impact.
The forger froze, eyes darting to Kael. "You bring company?"
Kael's knife was already in his hand. "Not the kind you want."
The door shuddered again, this time with a screech of tortured hinges. Then it blew inward in a shower of sparks.
Three figures stepped through the smoke — cloaked, masked, moving with the same silent precision Kael remembered from the docks. Behind them came something larger: a shaped beast, low and squat, with too many eyes and skin like black iron.
"Take the blood," one of the masked figures said. Their voice was cold, clipped.
The forger backed toward his worktable, hands raised. "Not mine! Not mine to give!"
The lead attacker moved forward — fast. Kael intercepted, his Stonehide flaring under the impact of a twin-bladed slash.
Ryn fired from the side, her bolt catching the second attacker in the leg. The figure staggered but didn't cry out, pivoting toward her with a hooked dagger.
The beast moved last — a slow, deliberate crawl that made the forge's floor groan under its weight. Its eyes glowed faintly in the blood's same pulse-rhythm.
Kael feinted left, then drove his knife toward the lead attacker's ribs. The man caught his wrist, twisting — only to curse as Kael's reinforced skin held against the torque. Kael slammed his forehead into the man's mask, felt it crack, and followed with a knee to the gut.
The forger had gone to ground behind his worktable, muttering curses in a language Kael didn't know. He yanked a lever, and a set of overhead chains dropped, spilling a cluster of iron ingots into the path of the second attacker.
Ryn took the opening to fire again, this time hitting the man high in the shoulder.
The beast surged forward. Kael barely had time to shove the first attacker away before the creature's bulk smashed into him, knocking him across the table. Tools and glass shattered under him.
Pain flared along his side. The beast's weight pinned him, its claws scraping along his Stonehide with a screech like metal on stone. Its breath was hot, reeking of blood and something foul.
Kael drove his knife up into the joint of its forelimb. The blade sank halfway before the beast roared and reared back, dragging him to his feet with it.
Ryn's voice cut through the chaos. "Kael — the vial!"
His eyes darted to the clamp where the vial had been secured. It was gone.
The lead attacker had it in one hand, the glass glowing like a captured star.
Kael ripped free of the beast's grip and lunged — but the man was already retreating toward the shattered doorway.
The forger swore and grabbed something from under his table — a small sphere etched with runes. "Clear!" he barked, and threw it.
It hit the floor between the attackers and the door, flaring with blinding light and a thunderclap of force.
When Kael's vision cleared, the doorway was empty. The attackers — and the beast — were gone.
Only the scorch marks remained.
Kael's chest heaved. "They took it."
The forger grimaced. "Not all of it." He held up a second vial, identical but only a quarter full. "I drew a split sample before you got here. They don't know it exists."
Ryn stepped forward, eyes hard. "Then we're still in the game."
The forger set the smaller vial back in its clamp. "You want my advice? Burn it and run. Whatever the Shaper's making, it's beyond anything the Guild can stop. And if they know you've got this…" He shook his head.
Kael's jaw tightened. "If we burn it, we lose the only lead we've got."
Ryn's gaze met his. "Then we make sure it's not the only one."
They left the forge before sunrise, the smaller vial hidden under Kael's coat. Aboveground, the city's noise was just beginning, merchants opening stalls, guards changing shifts.
But Kael couldn't shake the feeling that the Shaper's net was already tightening.
They had part of the blood. The Shaper had the rest. And now, both sides knew the other existed.
The next clash wouldn't be in shadows.
It would be in the open.