---
The sky had forgotten how to be blue.
It hung above the ruins like a dying ember, a pale bruise of red and gray that never changed no matter the hour. For Kael Verran, that endless twilight was all he had ever known. It was the color of hunger, of exhaustion, of a world too tired to keep living.
He crouched among the skeletons of towers, scavenger mask filtering the dust as he pried open a rusted locker. A stale gust escaped it, carrying the scent of oil and rot. Nothing but a cracked data slate. Useless. He tossed it aside and scanned the street through his visor lens.
Motion detected — thirty meters north.
Kael froze. The symbol pulsed faintly on his screen: a heartbeat-shaped echo. Not human. He reached for the rod strapped to his back—a scavenged conduit staff, its tip bound with copper wire and fragments of soulstone. He powered it on; faint arcs of blue crawled over the metal.
The echo came again. Louder. Closer.
He exhaled slowly, trying to steady his hands. Shade Diver training was simple—don't die before the relic comes out. But this was his first solo run beyond the Citadel's walls. If he failed, no one would even find his body.
Something shifted in the dust ahead. A ripple, like smoke moving against the wind. Then it solidified—eyes like molten glass, body made of shivering ink.
A Shade. Lesser class, maybe a "Drifter." Still deadly.
Kael aimed the staff. "Come on, then," he whispered.
The Shade screamed.
Sound split the air like broken metal grinding together. Kael's ears rang as he slammed the staff down, releasing a flash of blue lightning. The Shade twisted away—too fast—and the bolt hit a wall, blasting debris everywhere. He ducked, coughing as ash filled his lungs.
The shadow lunged.
Instinct screamed at him to run. But if he fled, he'd be torn apart before he reached the safe line. He planted his feet, jabbed the staff forward—and missed again. The Shade's tendrils lashed his arm, slicing through fabric and flesh alike. Pain flared white.
He dropped to one knee, clutching the wound. Blood dripped onto the ground, sizzling where it touched the dust. The Shade halted, sniffing the air like it was tasting him.
Then something strange happened.
The blood shimmered—not red, but black, glimmering faintly as it spread across the cracked earth. The Shade trembled, its body flickering like a candle about to die. It stepped backward, hissing. Kael stared at his hand, at the black fluid crawling toward his veins.
The world blurred.
A whisper slid through his mind—soft, feminine, and impossibly distant.
> "You shouldn't be here… Kael."
He spun around. No one. Only the ruins and that whisper echoing in his skull.
> "You will die if you stay."
The Shade lunged again. Reflex took over. Kael swung the staff, more in desperation than skill—and for an instant, the world went silent.
The lightning didn't come from the weapon this time. It came from him.
A black pulse exploded outward, devouring the Shade in a spiral of darkness. The creature shrieked once, twice—and vanished. Not into ash, not into light. It simply ceased.
When the dust settled, Kael fell backward, gasping. His vision swam. The mark burned on his chest, beneath his scavenger suit—a symbol like an eclipse, a circle of black flame etched into his skin.
He had seen that mark once before.
On the night his sister vanished.
---
Hours passed. He didn't remember walking back to the checkpoint—only the trembling in his hands and the faint voice whispering inside his mind.
By the time he reached the outer gates of Citadel 9, dawn should have come. But there was no dawn anymore, only the pale twilight that painted everything in ghostlight.
Guards in reinforced armor stood above the gate wall, scanning him through scopes. One of them spat down. "Another Diver back from the dead. Didn't think you'd make it, gutter-rat."
Kael ignored him and handed over the identification shard. "Relic run complete. One confirmed Shade neutralized."
The guard scanned the shard, frowned. "No relic signature."
Kael hesitated. "It… dissolved. I couldn't retrieve it."
"Then it doesn't count." The guard smirked, tossing the shard back. "No relic, no credit. You want to eat, find another corpse to rob."
Kael's jaw tightened. His arm still bled through the bandage. But he said nothing and pushed past the gates into the slums beyond.
---
Citadel 9 was a corpse pretending to be alive.
Layers of metal and stone, stacked like bones around a dying heart. The higher you went, the brighter the lights. Down here, in The Gutter, even the air tasted like rust.
He passed a cluster of children huddled around a burn-barrel, their eyes reflecting the flame like tiny animals. One of them called out, "Hey, Diver! Bring back something shiny next time!"
He managed a tired smile. "If I live that long."
When he reached his bunkhouse, he collapsed onto the cot. The voice returned immediately.
> "You felt it, didn't you? The hunger. The darkness."
He clutched his head. "Who are you?"
> "Someone who remembers the sun."
The room darkened, shadows crawling up the walls until they gathered before him, shaping into the outline of a woman—a silhouette made of smoke. Her face was blurred, but the warmth in her tone froze his heart.
> "Kael… you have my mark."
He couldn't breathe. "No. That's impossible."
> "You were supposed to die with me that night," the shadow said softly. "But the Eclipse chose you instead."
Her form flickered, breaking apart into ribbons of darkness that coiled around his arm. They sank into his skin like ink soaking into paper.
> "Find me," the voice whispered, fading. "Before the Citadel burns again."
Then she was gone.
Kael sat in silence, the hum of the city far above him sounding like a heartbeat he no longer trusted. The mark on his chest pulsed once—slow, steady, alive.
For the first time in years, he felt something colder than fear.
He felt destiny stirring.