Ember 23, 2999 | 12:00 PM – Lena's Mansion, War Room
The projection orb in the center of the war table flickered to life, casting hazy blue glyphs across the air. Dez stood beside it, shirt untucked, goggles on, still smelling faintly of rust and spice.
He leaned in, voice clipped. "Alright. Morrow's definitely moved operations."
The map shifted, focusing in on a remote stretch of Lower Cirrus—except most of it was grayed out.
"Secret lab," Dez continued. "Buried under the Cirrus Reclamation Zone. High-level cloaking glyphs, probably Choir-funded. Half-alive guards, relic-bonded junk stitched into them. I barely made it out without a hole in my ribs."
Shiro leaned on the table, shirtless again, arms crossed. "How bad?"
Dez snorted. "Let's just say if Lena hadn't reinforced your ass, they'd have tracked me through your blood pressure."
Zarrah folded her arms, pacing. "Then we go now."
Lena's eyes flicked to her. "We wait."
Zarrah turned. "Why? We have the location."
"Because we don't know what's there," Lena snapped. "You want to go blind into an arcane biolab crawling with Choir meat experiments and a guy who bends spirit and bone? Be my guest."
Zarrah clenched her fists. Grakka, watching from the corner, grinned.
"Come blow off steam with me, little devil," she said, standing up and stretching. "Training floor's open. Let's see how that tongue of yours holds up in a spar."
Zarrah smirked despite herself. "Fine. But if I break your jaw, I'm not healing it."
Grakka winked. "Just don't break the floor."
As the two women left the room, Dez rubbed his neck.
"Oh," he added, "and this might be nothing, but… there's someone you might wanna talk to before storming in."
Shiro raised a brow. "Yeah?"
"Name's Belladira. Vampire. Ginger hair, red eyes, hips like gravity and a mouth like silk dipped in venom."
Shiro grinned. "Sounds fun already."
Dez continued, "Rumor says she wandered the Wild Spine for fun… came back unbothered. People think she's a lunatic. Owns a club in Duskhaven. Goes by a bunch of names, but yeah—might be worth a chat."
Lena's jaw tightened.
Dez noticed immediately. "What?"
Lena turned away, too casual. "Nothing."
Shiro narrowed his eyes slightly. "You know her?"
"I said it's nothing."
Shiro smirked. "Uh-huh…"
⸻
12:47 PM – Duskhaven Outer Street Sector
The sun had risen high, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement and merchant signage. Shiro strolled down the district in new combat boots and low-slung pants, still stretching his neck from the Apex fight.
People stared. As usual.
A group of elven teens stopped talking when he passed. A beastkin woman dropped her fruit. A dwarf paused mid-joke and forgot the punchline.
Then—
He felt it.
Movement.
The slight shift in the air behind him.
He didn't turn.
"Been followin' me long?"
No answer.
A flicker of silver hair whipped past his vision—and a blade came flying.
He caught it mid-air.
Turned.
And locked eyes with the surviving Sable Wing twin.
She was thinner now. Paler. Her robes torn and stitched, rage in her eyes—but underneath it… something else.
"Came to die too?" he asked calmly.
She launched forward with a scream.
Shiro dodged easily, grabbed her wrist mid-strike, and twisted it.
She collapsed to her knees.
"I should kill you," she gasped.
"You should've brought backup," Shiro replied.
Her blade clattered to the ground.
Silence fell between them.
Then—her voice cracked.
"…I just want her back."
Shiro looked down.
"Your sister's alive. Locked up. Not harmed."
She looked up, eyes wide, tears forming but not falling. "…Please."
Shiro let go.
She didn't run.
Didn't move.
Just dropped her head, fists clenched, trembling.
Ember 23, 2999 | 1:02 PM – Duskhaven Outer Streets
The twin—Vaelira, her name finally whispered through clenched teeth—trembled where she knelt, head bowed, body shaking from exhaustion, grief, and fear.
Shiro crouched in front of her, his voice low but steady. "Look… I ain't gonna hurt you. I got no reason to."
Vaelira didn't look up.
"I just… need to know. Tell me what you know about Morrow. About what he's doing."
A long pause.
Then she nodded. Once. Twice.
And began to speak.
⸻
🧬 Vaelira's Confession:
"He's not working for the Choir anymore. Not really. They fund him, sure. Feed him relics, test subjects, mercs… But Morrow's doing this for himself now.
He used to study relic corruption. Try to separate magic from flesh. Then he realized—he could bind it instead.
He started merging them. First objects. Then beasts. Then… people.
He's building something, Shiro. Not soldiers—vessels. Vessels for… things. Old things. Dead things. I don't know if it's spirits or gods or worse, but he thinks he can put their essence into living bodies.
That's why he needs beastmen. Tieflings. Any bloodline that resists mutation.
My sister and I? We were part of the early testing phase. But we survived, so he pushed us deeper."
She swallowed.
"I think he's trying to create something that can walk through the Wild Spine and not just survive… but awaken it."
Shiro's jaw clenched. "And the Choir's letting him?"
"They're afraid of him now. But they need him. His tech, his research… they're gambling."
She looked up, finally. Her eyes no longer burning with hate—just the numb weight of someone who'd already accepted death.
"I'm dead anyway, right? Doesn't matter what I say."
Shiro stood slowly.
"…You done?"
She blinked.
He turned his head slightly.
"I clocked the two tails behind us ten minutes ago. Black Choir scouts."
Vaelira's heart dropped.
"Oh no…"
"They saw you talkin'. That's enough."
Shiro moved fast—grabbing her arm and pulling her into an alley. The second they turned the corner, he dropped into a crouch, pushed off the wall, and vanished with her using a rooftop leap and three quick turns through shadowed streets.
⸻
1:15 PM – Lena's Mansion | Front Courtyard
By the time the mansion gates opened, Shiro had her draped over his back like a tired sibling.
She didn't resist. Didn't speak.
She just held on.
Rena opened the doors, blinking wide. "Master—uh, you brought another one?"
Lena and Zarrah were sitting in the lounge just inside, watching crystal screens of training data. Grakka was still in the dojo, probably throwing golems through walls.
Lena glanced over.
Saw the second Sable twin.
Rolled her eyes.
"Oh for f—Shiro. Really?"
Zarrah smirked. "He just collecting sisters now?"
Shiro set Vaelira down gently. "She talked. She's done with the Choir."
Lena sighed dramatically. "Might as well order another maid uniform…"
Vaelira barely heard them. Her eyes had locked onto the doorway ahead—where her twin, shackled but fed, bruised but alive, sat watching the room with a quiet scowl.
They locked eyes.
Then—
She ran.
The first twin stood.
And they collided.
The embrace was instant. Fierce. Silent sobs. Shaking shoulders. Hands clutching hair and robes and flesh like they didn't believe it was real.
No words.
Only the sound of sisters breaking—then healing.
Shiro stepped back, arms crossed, watching quietly.
Rena leaned beside him.
"…You really are just building your own little kingdom, huh?"
Shiro grinned faintly. "Nah. Just collecting what the world throws away."