Ezra Kane stumbled out of the elevator and into the chaotic depths of New Avalon, the city's vibrant neon lights beating in sync with his anxious heart. The air around him was thick with the acrid smell of burnt circuits and a sense of despair, as street vendors shouted about their cursed wares beneath flickering signs. The curse that haunted him buzzed louder than ever, a fierce energy pulsing through his veins, and Kael Voss's parting words—"I'll find you"—burned in his mind like a searing brand. He knew he had to keep moving, to shake off that relentless pull. The athame strapped to his back felt heavier, its iron vibrating as if it could sense the encroaching shadows.
He darted into an alley, its walls covered in peeling sigils and graffiti that seemed to murmur in dark languages. The curse was indifferent to his defiance; it gnawed at his insides, urging him to return to Apex Dynamics, to return to Kael. Then he heard a low hum that made him freeze. A drone hovered above him, its lens shining like the eye of a predator. Apex tech—Kael's tech. "Not exactly subtle, are you?" Ezra muttered, giving it the finger before slipping into a bustling market street. The drone followed, weaving through the vibrant chaos, a tether he couldn't escape.
Making his way through the crowd, Ezra passed rift-walkers with glowing scars and oblivious mortals. Suddenly, his phone buzzed—Lila, his cubicle mate. "Ezra, where are you? Hale's furious. The data's acting up again." "Tell her I'm on it," he texted back, knowing it was a lie. The glitch wasn't technical; it was him. His curse was infiltrating Apex's systems, twisting sigils into disorder. Kael was aware of this. Kael was counting on it.
As Ezra hesitated outside a dive bar with a flickering sign reading "Abyss & Ale," the magnetic pull intensified, drawing him inside despite his better judgment. The atmosphere was thick with smoke and shadow, filled with demons in human guise nursing softly glowing drinks. At the far end, Kael lounged with an air of casual charm, his amber eyes locking onto Ezra like a missile.
"Running doesn't suit you," Kael said, his voice cutting through the bar's noise. He slid a glass of something dark and shimmering toward Ezra. "Sit. Drink. We need to talk about your... problem."
Ezra's hand hovered near his athame, the curse urging him to stay and listen. "You're my problem," he snapped, but his feet remained rooted. Kael flashed a sharp smile. "No, Ezra. I'm your solution."