Kael Varn awoke to the sterile hum of a medical bay, the air thick with the acrid scent of antiseptic and burnt metal. Pain throbbed in his chest and shoulder, a dull echo of the chaos that had torn through his dorm. His eyes fluttered open, meeting the harsh glare of overhead lights. The ceiling was cracked, veins of damage spiderwebbing across it, a grim reminder of the Abomination's rampage. His body felt like a broken machine, each breath a struggle against the weight of his wounds. But worse was the sensation in his soul—a searing, jagged pulse where the fractured Veil Sigil lay, leaking energy like blood from an open wound.
Why am I still alive? The thought clawed at him, sharp and relentless. He tried to move, but a sharp stab from his shoulder pinned him to the cot. A bandaged wound, hastily patched, covered the spot where the beam had pierced him. His chest was worse—stitched and wrapped, but the mirror shards were gone, removed by medics unaware of their significance. Yet the Sigil's burn remained, a constant reminder of the curse now etched into his being. Fractured. Like those monsters. The senior operative's words echoed in his mind, each syllable a noose tightening around his future.
He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, but the Sigil pulsed unbidden, sending a jolt of pain through his core. A faint vision flickered in his mind's eye—a single spectral chain, delicate and shimmering with jade-green runes shaped like leaves. It coiled around the fractured Sigil, tightening as if to hold the broken threads together. The chain's presence was soothing, almost alive, whispering of restraint and control. But the effort cost him dearly—his head throbbed, a migraine blooming behind his eyes, and a wave of nausea threatened to spill over. This power… it's killing me.
"Hey, you awake?" A familiar voice cut through the haze. Taryn stood at the foot of the cot, his usual grin replaced by a tight-lipped frown. His jacket was smeared with ash, his dark hair disheveled, as if he'd been running through the city's chaos. "You look like hell, Kael. Thought you were done for when they pulled you out of that wreck."
Kael forced a weak smile, his voice raspy. "Takes more than a collapsing dorm to finish me." The lie tasted bitter. He shifted slightly, wincing as the movement tugged at his stitches. Don't let him see it. Don't let anyone see. He pressed a hand to his chest, subtly covering the faint glow that threatened to seep through the bandages. The Sigil's energy flickered, barely contained by the spectral chain in his mind.
Taryn's eyes narrowed, catching the gesture but not pressing. "Yeah, well, you're lucky. Half the block's gone. That thing… it tore through everything." He hesitated, then leaned closer, voice low. "Heard the Scarlet Hunt talking. They're saying it was no random rift spawn. Someone's messing with Sigils, making those Abominations on purpose."
Kael's heart skipped, the senior's words resurfacing: They experiment on Sigils, trying to fuse multiple threads. He swallowed hard, keeping his face neutral. "Who'd be insane enough to do that?"
Taryn shrugged, but his eyes were sharp, watching Kael too closely. "Dunno. Some cult, maybe. The kind that promises power and immortality but delivers… that." He jerked a thumb toward the window, where the faint glow of District Seven still lingered, a scar of red against the night sky. "Anyway, I gotta run. More jobs to scrape by. You rest up, alright? Don't go dying on me."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Kael muttered, watching Taryn head for the door. The moment his friend was gone, Kael exhaled, the weight of secrecy pressing harder. Taryn was sharp—too sharp. If he suspected anything, if anyone did, Kael's life was over. The Awakened didn't tolerate fractured Sigils. They'd see him as a ticking bomb, a potential Abomination to be contained or eliminated.
He forced himself to sit up, ignoring the fire in his shoulder. The medical bay was a chaotic sprawl—cots filled with injured civilians, medics rushing between them, and the distant hum of scanners checking for miasma corruption. Kael's gaze darted to a nearby medic, her Sigil glowing faintly as she channeled healing energy into a patient. If they scan me now… Panic surged again, but he pushed it down, focusing on the spectral chain in his mind. Hide it. Like last night. He clenched his fists, willing the chain to tighten around the Sigil's fractures. The glow dimmed, the leak slowing, but the effort brought a fresh wave of pain, his vision spotting with black.
A medic approached, her expression weary but professional. "You're awake. Good. Name's Lira, Scarlet Hunt Covenant, medical division. You're lucky to be alive after that blast." She held up a scanner, its light sweeping over Kael's body. His breath caught, but the chain in his mind held firm, suppressing the Sigil's signature. The scanner beeped, registering nothing but human vitals.
"No miasma corruption," Lira said, frowning slightly as she checked the readings. "But you're in rough shape. Stay put. We'll move you to recovery soon."
Kael nodded, his throat dry. "Thanks," he managed, keeping his voice steady. As Lira moved to the next patient, he let out a shuddering breath. Close. Too close. The Sigil pulsed again, defiant, and the jade-veined chain flickered, its runes glowing brighter for a moment before fading. It was trying to help, to bind the chaos, but it wasn't enough. Not yet. He needed answers—how to stabilize it, how to survive. But answers meant risking exposure, and exposure meant death.
His thoughts churned, a storm of fear and defiance. I'm not one of them. I'm not an Abomination. But the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. The senior operative's words about mending fractures—rare cases, miracles—felt like a cruel taunt. If such knowledge existed, it was locked away, out of reach for someone like him, a nobody in a city ruled by the Awakened.
Hours passed, the medical bay's chaos settling into a grim routine. Kael lay still, pretending to sleep, but his mind raced. The Sigil's fracture was a death sentence, but it was also something else—a power, however broken. The fleeting visions of the jade-veined chain hinted at possibilities he couldn't ignore. Binder Path, he thought, recalling scraps of knowledge from basic of combat path, books available in college library. Binders used chains to restrain, to control. If he could master it, maybe he could seal the fracture, stop the leak. Maybe he could live.
A commotion at the bay's entrance snapped him out of his thoughts. Two Scarlet Hunt operatives entered, their armor battered but their Sigils glowing with authority. One was a Channeler, her hands crackling with Veil energy, the other a Seer, her eyes scanning the room with unnatural precision. They spoke in low tones, but Kael caught fragments: "…another rift in District Nine… cult activity… need to sweep for survivors with latent Sigils…"
His stomach twisted. Latent Sigils. They were looking for people like him—newly awakened, vulnerable. If they scanned him again, if his control slipped for even a moment, they'd see the fracture. He forced his breathing to slow, focusing on the chain in his mind. Stay hidden. Stay alive. The jade runes pulsed, their whisper softer now, almost playful, as if the chain had a will of its own. A name surfaced in his mind, unbidden yet undeniable: jade-veined chain.** The sound resonated through him like a half-forgotten memory, as if the chain had whispered it into his soul.
Kael's breath caught. This wasn't just the fractured Sigil leaking its chaos. This was his path—the mark of a Binder. The chain wasn't an accident; it was his awakening. His Sigil had chosen, even in its broken state. jade-veined chainwasn't just a vision—it was the first manifestation of his Binder ability.
The operatives moved through the bay, scanning patients. Kael kept his eyes half-closed, feigning weakness, his hand pressed to his chest to mask any stray glow. The Seer's gaze lingered on him, her eyes narrowing as if sensing something amiss. His heart pounded, the chain tightening in his mind, the migraine flaring. Don't look. Don't see. The scanner's light passed over him, and for a moment, he thought he'd failed. But the Seer moved on, her attention shifting to another patient.
Relief flooded him, but it was short-lived. The Sigil pulsed again, stronger this time, and a faint emerald light seeped through his bandages, visible only to him. He clamped his hand tighter, his nails digging into his palm. Not now. The chain responded, coiling tighter, but the effort drained him further, his vision swimming. He couldn't keep this up forever. He needed to learn how to control it, to wield it, before it consumed him—or before someone noticed.
As night fell, the bay quieted, the injured either stabilized or moved. Lira returned, her expression softer now. "You're cleared for release tomorrow," she said, handing him a data slate with recovery instructions. "Rest up. And stay out of trouble. The city's not safe these days."
Kael nodded, his mind elsewhere. Safe. The word felt like a mockery. There was no safety for someone like him, not with a fractured Sigil bleeding his life away. He waited until Lira was gone, then slipped the slate into his coat and eased himself off the cot. His legs wobbled, but he forced them to move, each step a defiance of the pain. He had to get out, find answers, before the Covenant or worse found him.
Outside, the city was a wounded beast, its streets scarred from the Abomination's attack. Hover-trams lay overturned, their lights flickering like dying stars. The air was thick with the stench of miasma and ash, and in the distance, Scarlet Hunt operatives patrolled, their Sigils casting eerie glows. Kael pulled his hood up, keeping to the shadows. The Sigil pulsed again, a reminder of his dwindling time. Find a way. Learn to bind it. The jade-veined chain flickered in his mind, its runes glowing faintly, as if urging him forward.
He didn't know where to start, but the black market was his best bet—hidden stalls, forbidden texts, whispers of rogue Awakened who might know about fractures. It was dangerous, reckless even, but he had no choice. The alternative was waiting for the Sigil to consume him or for the Covenant to discover his secret. Survive, the chain whispered, its voice clearer now, tinged with a playful lilt. Bind the chaos.