The Dominion did not fear many things.
But they feared her.
Far above the clouds, in a wing of the Skyhold known only to High Inquisitors and whisperlords, a door opened with a sound like a blade unsheathing. Beyond it was a chamber blacker than shadow—where the air itself trembled and the walls breathed like lungs.
The girl sat in the center of it.
She was no older than Chris. Seventeen, maybe eighteen. Pale skin. Eyes like twin voids—black from edge to edge, as if they had seen stars die and never forgot. Her hair hung in long cords, dipped in ash and silver.
She didn't speak. She listened. Always listening.
Vex entered the chamber with a soft clank of gold-plated boots.
He bowed slightly. "Seeker."
She didn't look at him.
"You have a target," Vex said. "Designation: Emberborn. Male. Eighteen. Name: Christopher Vey. Powers awakening."
Still no response.
Vex's eyes narrowed. "I know what your dreams have shown you. Fire. Ruin. A boy with a mark on his chest. You've seen it too, haven't you?"
A flicker. Almost imperceptible.
"Yes," Vex said, stepping closer. "He's the one."
The girl finally moved. She stood without sound. Her long coat of stitched shadows flared slightly as she walked past him.
"I want him alive," Vex called after her.
She paused at the threshold.
Then: "No."
And she was gone.
Driftspire — Undercogs, Level 32
Chris lay awake on the cot, staring at the ceiling. The mark on his chest still burned faintly beneath his shirt. It didn't hurt—it felt like an ember resting on his heart.
Mira was snoring softly in the corner, wrapped in a blanket, goggles still on her forehead. She'd passed out after hours of decoding the scrolls they'd stolen. The walls around them hummed with the slow, rhythmic breathing of the city—pipes expanding, turbines whispering, the deep pulse of the skycore in the distance.
Chris couldn't sleep.
He walked to the window—a square hole looking out over the Driftfall. Beyond, the endless storm churned beneath the floating continent, flashes of red lightning spiraling through the clouds.
Somewhere out there, his past waited.
His real one.
All his life he'd wondered why he could punch through walls, why he could run faster than anyone in the Cog tournaments, why he could survive falls that should've killed him. People in the Undercogs just said he was lucky.
But this wasn't luck.
He was something else. Something ancient. And the crystal had known it the moment it touched him.
A faint pulse of gold flickered in his palm.
He didn't even summon it. The power was becoming easier to feel—like it was awake now, stretching, growing stronger every hour.
Suddenly, a high-pitched chime rang from the outer door—an alert crystal. Someone was approaching.
Chris tensed. He crossed the room in three strides and shook Mira.
She bolted up instantly, gun drawn. "What?"
"Company."
She didn't waste time. Within seconds, she was at the console, checking the perimeter cam through her cyber-eye. What she saw made her go still.
"Oh no."
"What is it?"
She turned to him, all the color drained from her face. "Black-coat. Alone. No insignia. That's Dominion Special Class."
Chris frowned. "Just one?"
She swallowed. "That's not a good sign. That means she's a Seeker."
Chris had heard the stories.
Seekers weren't soldiers. They weren't agents. They were weapons. One-person extinction events the Dominion only used when they were afraid.
The power inside Chris stirred in warning.
Mira was already grabbing her bag. "We go out the turbine vent. Now. No time to fight."
But it was too late.
The lights went out.
Every rune-powered lamp, every glyph lock, every crystal panel—gone in an instant. Darkness swallowed the room, heavy and thick, and with it came a silence that pressed on their ears like pressure at the bottom of the sea.
Then…
A voice.
Not loud. Not angry. Just there—in Chris's mind, in his bones, in the floor under his feet.
"Emberborn…"
A shape appeared at the far end of the corridor.
The Seeker.
She didn't walk. She drifted. Like shadow made flesh. Her eyes locked on Chris and something sharp and ancient filled the room—like the memory of death.
Mira fired a stun bolt.
The blast of light arced toward the Seeker.
She raised one hand.
The bolt froze mid-air, glowing bright for half a heartbeat… then reversed. It shot back and shattered the wall above Mira, dropping rubble.
Chris was already moving—he grabbed Mira and launched them both backward through the vent shaft. Metal shrieked as they slid, sparks flying around them.
Behind them, the Seeker watched.
Then she raised both hands.
The walls around her warped and burned as black flame erupted from her body.
Falling Again
Chris and Mira landed hard on a lower platform, rolling out of the shaft and scrambling to their feet.
"She's not normal," Mira coughed, wiping blood from her temple. "That was Voidflame. You can't block Voidflame."
Chris's skin was glowing again. Brighter than before. The Ember crystal's energy pulsed through his limbs like thunder.
"No," he said. "But maybe I can push it back."
He turned to face the corridor behind them.
Mira grabbed his arm. "You're not ready."
Chris looked at her. "If I don't fight now, we won't get another chance."
And with that, he charged.