The wind howled through the ruined district, sweeping through the narrow alleyways like a restless spirit. The night was thick with the scent of damp stone, rusted metal, and the faintest trace of something burned long ago. Raine's breath curled in the cold air as he followed the masked stranger through the abandoned streets, his muscles still tense from the fight.
He didn't trust the man—not yet.
But trust wasn't something he could afford to question right now.
The Sentinels would regroup. More would come. And Raine had no idea what was happening to him or how to control the darkness that had burst from within him. That alone made the stranger—this ghost of a man with a voice like whispered smoke—his only option.
"You're quiet," the stranger observed without turning. His boots made no sound against the cracked stone, moving like a shadow among shadows.
"Not much to say," Raine muttered.
The man chuckled. "You're either thinking about running, or you're wondering how long before I turn on you."
Raine glanced at the figure's concealed face, noting how the silver-edged mask caught the faint light of the shattered moon. "I've been surviving on my own long enough to know no one helps without wanting something in return," he said, his voice edged with caution. "So what do you want?"
A pause. The man finally stopped walking, turning slightly to face Raine. "A fair question." He gestured to the darkened street ahead. "Come. We're nearly there."
Raine narrowed his eyes but said nothing. He had nowhere else to go.
The Hideout
The place was an old apothecary, long abandoned, its windows shattered and vines creeping through the cracks in the walls. The air inside was thick with dust and the faint, lingering scent of dried herbs. Wooden shelves still lined the walls, empty and crumbling, as if the past had clung to them and withered away over time.
A lantern flickered in the far corner, casting long, wavering shadows.
Then, Raine saw her.
A girl, standing near the old counter, her eyes locking onto his the moment he entered. She was wrapped in a dark cloak, her posture tense, as if she was poised to vanish at any moment.
Something about her struck him as different. The way she held herself—not just cautious, but dangerous. Like someone who had been running for a long time.
The stranger gestured lazily between them. "Raine, meet Lenora. Lenora, meet our newly awakened Eclipse-born."
She had learned to take what the city left behind—a coin folded back into a hand she'd already nicked; survival in Elarion tasted of small betrayals.
Lenora's gaze flickered over him, lingering for a moment too long before she scoffed softly. "He looks like a street rat."
Raine crossed his arms. "Thanks. That's real welcoming."
She shrugged. "Not here to be welcoming."
"Then what are you here for?"
Silence stretched between them. The masked man—who still hadn't given his name—sighed and moved toward a small wooden table. "Enough with the posturing," he muttered. "We don't have time for it."
Lenora let out a slow breath, finally breaking eye contact with Raine. He watched her closely now, noting the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers tapped absently against the wood of the counter.
She was waiting for something.
Or someone.
A Past in Shadows
"You're both here for the same reason," the masked man continued. He leaned against the table, arms crossed, his voice dropping into something quieter. "You've been hunted. Your past erased. You've both survived where you shouldn't have."
Raine frowned. "And what's her story?"
Lenora's eyes darkened. She turned slightly away, fingers still tapping. "It's not a story I tell to strangers."
"Then make it quick."
She hesitated.
Raine didn't push. He knew that look—the hesitation of someone who had buried something deep, something painful. But he also knew that if she was here, then her past was probably tangled in shadows just like his.
Finally, she exhaled, running a hand through her dark hair. "I used to be someone else," she murmured. "Before the Sentinels came."
Raine felt something tighten in his chest.
She didn't need to say more.
He knew what it was like to have a past stolen away, to wake up one day and realize the life you thought you had was never truly yours.
Lenora glanced at him. Her expression was unreadable, but something flickered in her gaze—just for a second. Something that made him think that, maybe, she understood him just as much as he understood her.
The masked man interrupted the moment. "Enough talk for now. We have work to do."
The Weight of Blood
Raine rubbed the back of his neck, his thoughts still racing. "You keep saying Eclipse-born like it means something," he muttered. "I don't even know what the hell that is."
The masked man chuckled. "No. But you will."
He moved to the far side of the room, pushing aside an old wooden panel. Beneath it, hidden in the floor, was a carved sigil—ancient, worn with time. It pulsed faintly, as if still alive.
Raine felt something stir deep inside him at the sight. A pull. A whisper.
His fingers twitched at his sides.
"You don't understand your power," the stranger said. "Not yet. But it runs in your blood. And blood remembers."
Lenora watched silently, her expression guarded.
The masked man gestured to the sigil. "This is where it begins. If you want to survive what's coming… if you want to control the darkness inside you… you have to be willing to face it."
Raine swallowed.
The whispers in his mind grew louder.
He took a step forward.