The ruins of the Forgotten Quarter were silent.
A thick mist clung to the alleyways, curling between broken stone and rotting wood, whispering through the cracks of abandoned homes. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of damp earth and something colder, something older.
Raine Solis sat perched atop a crumbling rooftop, his silver eyes fixed on the city below.
He had never known another home.
The slums of Elarion had raised him, shaped him, taught him how to survive. In a city ruled by gold and blood, he had neither—just his wits, his instincts, and the ability to move unseen.
It had always been enough.
Until tonight.
The dreams had been growing worse.
Every night, the same battlefield. The same burning sky. The same voice whispering his name. And tonight—
Tonight, he had felt it.
The burning city. The shadowed king. Always the same, always too real.
The weight in the air. The shift in the shadows. The sense that something inside him was waking up.
His hands tightened into fists.
He didn't understand it. But he knew better than to ignore it.
A gust of wind rustled through the alleyways below, carrying with it the unmistakable sound of marching boots.
Raine stiffened.
Imperial Sentinels.
He ducked lower, pressing himself against the rooftop as the patrol passed beneath him. Five soldiers, clad in obsidian armor, their faces hidden behind silver masks. They moved in perfect formation, their movements sharp, controlled, practiced.
Hunters.
But that wasn't what made Raine's pulse quicken.
It was the man leading them.
He was different.
Draped in a flowing black cloak, his face concealed beneath a hood, the figure exuded something unnatural. A stillness. A presence.
A Seeker.
Raine's stomach twisted.
He had heard the stories. Seekers were not ordinary soldiers. They were the Emperor's hounds, trained to hunt down those who carried forbidden blood. Those who wielded magic.
They shouldn't be here.
Not this deep.
Unless they were looking for someone.
Unless they were looking for him.
His breath came shallow, controlled.
He had seconds.
Slowly, he inched backward, careful not to make a sound. The shadows around him flickered, twisting unnaturally. He didn't have time to question it. Didn't have time to be afraid.
Then—
The Seeker lifted his head.
And their eyes met.
A cold, crushing silence.
And then the Seeker whispered a single word.
"Found you."
A surge of darkness exploded from his hands.
Raine moved.
He leapt from the rooftop just as the shadows lunged toward him, tendrils of black smoke clawing through the air where he had just been. He hit the ground running, boots slamming against the cobblestone, breath ragged as he sprinted through the labyrinth of the slums.
Shouts erupted behind him.
The chase had begun.
A bolt of dark energy whizzed past his ear, splintering a wooden crate beside him.
He didn't stop.
Another shot.
Raine twisted, and without thinking—
The shadows moved.
A tendril of darkness lashed out, slamming into the projectile, shattering it into nothing but black dust.
His pulse pounded.
That wasn't normal.
That wasn't possible.
But he had no time to process it.
Because the Sentinels were gaining ground.
And he was running out of places to run.