Lilith
Gluttony bond Palace
Sonora City
Zellux Region,
Kingdom of Ashtarium
April 13th 6415
This time, we skipped the Feast of Lamentation—and I'll admit, part of me felt bad about it.
The Mircalla... they know how to eat.
Ever since that first bite of their lavish, mana-rich cuisine, something inside me had stirred. Something I hadn't fully recognized at first. A sensation I'd never associated with myself.
Hunger.
Not the kind driven by survival or necessity. Not the biological impulse of a starving body. No, this was something deeper—craving. Desire. A gnawing pull toward indulgence. Toward consumption.
It unsettled me.
I had never given much thought to hunger. Not truly. My body passively absorbed ambient energy, feeding on mana and vitality in ways most couldn't. I'd never been malnourished, never felt the pangs of real deprivation. Eating was... functional. Social. A routine, not a need.
But now?
Now the idea of hunger lingered. It curled around my thoughts at odd moments. Not just for food, but for sensation. For flavor. For experience. And it all began with the Mircalla House—a family of vampires so deeply entwined with gluttony, their very aura seemed to whisper indulgence into your bones.
And somehow, it had whispered to me.
I didn't know what it meant yet. Whether it was just curiosity or something inherited. Maybe Eduardo was right—maybe his blood had changed something in me.
Or maybe…
Maybe it had just awakened what was already there.
I thought it was just the food at first. The way it melted on the tongue, saturated with mana and memories. But this wasn't about flavor anymore.
Something deeper was awakening.
And I could feel it—tugging at the edges of my soul.
It wasn't Mircalla blood in me. Not directly. But Eduardo was right—his blood had touched mine. Not through lineage, but through bond. And beneath my own heritage... there was something far more ancient. Far more ravenous.
The Kain Line.
We were not born gluttons. We were carved from loss. From the pain of betrayal. Our power was rooted in denial—of the world, of pleasure, of peace. But denial breeds hunger in its purest form. Not of the body... but of the soul.
And now, surrounded by the Mircalla—whose very legacy was predation—I felt that hunger begin to resonate.
It wasn't the same as theirs. Theirs was a hunger of excess, of pleasure. Mine was quieter, deeper. A hunger born of pain unspoken. Of wrath unspent. Of death deferred.
I began to wonder…
Maybe I wasn't immune to the Sin of Predation.
Maybe I carried a mirror of it—not born from indulgence, but from the need to consume what would otherwise consume me.
Was it possible the Kain and Mircalla bloodlines weren't so different? One devours for pleasure. The other for control. But both devour.
And what would that make me?
A vessel of both denial and indulgence. Gluttony and restraint. A paradox wrapped in flesh.
I didn't speak of this to Eduardo. Not yet. I didn't even want to look in the mirror.
Because when I did...
There was a part of me—growing, watching, waiting—that liked the hunger.
"So, Princess Ariella, I hear you've become a Dungeon Raider," Lady Ravana said, her voice light with curiosity.
"Oh! Yes, I have," Ella replied with a proud smile.
"And where did you get your license, if I may ask?" Rafael added, glancing over with mild interest.
"Oh, it's no problem. Lil and I got our license at Thornhill," Ella said.
"Thornhill? Oh my, that's all the way in the North," Ravana said, brows lifting. Then she turned her gaze to Ben, who had been watching her with the intensity of a lovestruck puppy. "And you're from the North as well, Benjamin?"
"Yes," Ben said quickly, clearing his throat as he tried to regain some composure. "That's where I met Lil and the Princess."
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, questioning his sanity. He was clearly trying way too hard.
"It must be exciting, exploring dungeons," Ravana said, turning her attention back to Ella. "I did a few raids fifty years ago, but it's been a while since I stepped inside one. I've almost forgotten what that thrill feels like."
"Why did you stop?" I asked.
Ravana smiled faintly. "I guess... being a raider wasn't for me."
I raised an eyebrow at that. There was something behind her words, a hesitation that hinted at a deeper story—but I didn't press.
"So, I take it you two don't have to attend the feast?" Greta asked, looking between Rafael and Ravana.
"Like Eduardo, we don't bear the Sin of Predation," Rafael said. "So we're not required to participate in the full rite."
"Oh!" Ella said, glancing at me. "I didn't realize that."
"Is that something that happens often?" I asked. "The Sin factor skipping some of you?"
"It happens," Eduardo said with a shrug. "Not always, but it's not exactly rare."
"But to clarify," Rafael added, "Ravana and I did inherit Sin factors. Just... not Predation."
"Oh?" Ella tilted her head. "So there are others?"
Ravana smiled, but this time it was thin—sharp around the edges, like a blade sheathed behind polite conversation. There was something unreadable in her expression, a flicker of memory or pain veiled behind elegance.
"Sorry," Ella said quickly, her voice tinged with concern. "Forgive me. I shouldn't have asked. I know most vampire families prefer to keep their bloodline factors... private."
"It's alright," Rafael said, offering a soft smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Curiosity isn't a crime. But in House Mircalla, blood defines more than power. It defines purpose."
Before anyone could respond, a figure in black appeared at the edge of the courtyard.
A butler—tall, composed, dressed in the traditional midnight-lacquered uniform of the inner household. His presence was like a blade through the haze of casual conversation, and all eyes turned toward him.
"Raul," Rafael said, standing slightly straighter. "Is something wrong?"
"Lady Renee has requested the presence of Prince Eduardo and Princess Ariella," Raul replied, his voice even but unmistakably firm.
Ella and Eduardo exchanged a glance. There was a moment of hesitation—silent and thick. Ella then smiled at me, gentle and composed, but I saw the tension behind her eyes. Going alone to face Renee Mircalla—the second in command of the House—was not something to take lightly.
And something about the timing felt… off.
"Aeternum, follow Ella," I commanded silently.
In the depths of my soul realm, Aeternum stirred. Though its vessel remained bound within me, its projection began to fragment and pull away—an ethereal thread of sentient code, imperceptible to the world unless it chose otherwise.
Ella likely sensed it, as she had before, though Aeternum remained cloaked in its unseen state.
"While you're there, link me to your senses. Can you do that?" I asked.
"Easily," Aeternum responded. "But splitting your perception between two sensory streams will take a toll on your mental stamina. You'll need to open a parallel stream within your Star Core. I'll manage the split, but maintaining it will burn through your reserves."
"Do it."
"As you command."
I felt the shift immediately—like a veil peeling away from the back of my mind. My awareness doubled, layered. My body remained seated, but part of me began to see and feel through Ella's proximity, filtered through Aeternum's perception. It was like dreaming through another's eyes while staying awake in your own.
The conversation around me dulled into background noise. I kept one part of myself grounded, but the rest drifted alongside Aeternum, watching over Ella as she and Eduardo rose from their seats and began following Raul across the polished marble.
Rafael and Ravana exchanged a glance behind them—one I caught just as the shadows of the palace swallowed their path.
The journey through the palace was quiet, save for the soft taps of Raul's polished shoes on the obsidian tiles. Each corridor grew narrower and colder, lined with silent statues of past Matriarchs and Lords, their eyes carved with predatory precision—always watching, always judging.
Finally, Raul stopped before an ornate door framed by silver-veined blackwood and adorned with the Mircalla crest: a fanged chalice over a coiled serpent. He knocked once, then opened it.
"Lady Renee," he said with a slight bow. "They're here."
The chamber beyond was dim but elegant. A study, not a throne room—lined with bookshelves, floating display sigils, and aged maps of ancient territories carved into stone. At the far end sat Lady Renee Mircalla, framed by tall arched windows veiled in blood-red silk. She didn't rise. She didn't need to. Her presence filled the room long before we entered it.
"Come in," she said coolly.
Through Aeternum's link, I observed the scene unfold—not with my own eyes, but through the codex's perception. The senses were crisp, sharpened, too intimate to ignore. I felt the pressure of the room, the pulse of Lady Renee's aura like a coiled serpent in a velvet cage. It was strange, sharing the same perception as Aeternum like being a ghost tucked behind the others.
Aeternum adjusted the stream to balance both input and distance. I remained unseen, but I was there. Eduardo and Ella entered the chamber quietly.
Lady Renee Mircalla sat behind a desk carved from soulwood, polished black with faint veins of silver that glowed faintly under the candlelight. Her posture was perfect—composed, immovable. The office was colder than the rest of the palace, lined with ancestral books, arcane scrolls, and darkened maps of long-dead empires.
"Sit."
They obeyed, and I watched Ella's shoulders straighten just slightly as she crossed her legs. Eduardo stayed still, like a wolf surrounded by older beasts.
"Princess Ariella Ashtarmel," Renee said at last, voice smooth as still water. "I trust you understand the nature of the bond that once existed between our houses."
"I do," Ella said calmly.
"And you are also aware that bond has thinned… almost to breaking."
Ella nodded. "Which is why I'm here. I hope to restore it."
The air shifted—not magically, but politically. A pressure born from centuries of expectation.
Renee finally looked up, her gaze sharp and deliberate.
"Your words are admirable," Lady Renee said, her voice cool and precise, "but they are not enough."
Her amber gaze hardened.
"The attack on my mother—the Matriarch—was executed under your uncle's orders. We of House Mircalla refuse to be leashed by Ashtarium so long as a usurper sits upon its throne."
"That's why I intend to become Queen," Ella replied, steady and unflinching. "I intend to take back what was stolen from me."
Lady Renee gave a soft, scornful laugh—almost pitying. "Queen. You speak the word like it's a title you can claim with a name and a noble cause. Do you intend to simply walk into his court and demand the crown?"
"No," Ella said. "I intend to challenge him. In ritual combat. I will invoke the Rite of Sovereign Reclamation."
At that, the temperature in the room dropped. Even through Aeternum's perception, I could feel the shift in tension.
Lady Renee leaned forward slowly, as if weighing the weight of the words Ella had just spoken.
"And you think that will be enough?" she asked, her tone edged with disbelief. "Your uncle is over a thousand years old, Princess. While he is a New Blood Vampire, he is still a highborn vampire of royal descent. Even with his power sealed... you stand no chance. You are what, sixteen?"
"Seventeen soon," Ella said flatly.
Renee raised an eyebrow at the retort—bemused, but not amused.
"This must be Jack Kuria's plan, isn't it?" she asked, glancing sideways at Eduardo.
"Yes," Eduardo said without hesitation. "Jack believes in her. And so do I."
Lady Renee exhaled slowly. Her gaze flicked between the two of them. Her silence wasn't uncertainty—it was calculation.
"The idea of you ruling Ashtarium," she said at last, "maintaining the marriage alliance between Ashtarmel and Xibalba… these are outcomes that benefit House Mircalla. Make no mistake, your victory would restore what was lost and strengthen our influence across the New World. "
She paused.
"But realistically... I don't see how you can win."
"Aunt," Eduardo said firmly. "Ella is far more capable than you give her credit for."
"I have no doubt she's capable," Renee said without missing a beat. "Born of the Ashtarmel and Lionheart lines—two of the most formidable bloodlines in the old world. That union alone is enough to stir admiration... and perhaps something close to envy."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"But admiration isn't support. Not yet. The risk is too great. If we gamble on you and fail, House Mircalla suffers more than shame—we suffer retribution."
Ella sat straighter, her voice firm. "Then what must I do to earn your support? What would it take for you to truly back my claim and restore our alliance?"
Lady Renee was quiet for a long moment. Then she stood, slow and deliberate, walking to the tall arched windows behind her desk. The red silk curtains swayed gently in the cold air.
"To speak is easy," she said, her voice quieter but sharper. "But power must be proven. Authority must be taken, not gifted."
She turned back to face them both, her presence like a blade drawn in ritual.
"If you want our support… you must prove your mantle."
Ella met her gaze without flinching. "How?"
"By action," Renee said. "Show me you're not just a royal bloodline wrapped in desperation. Show me a ruler. Conquer something. Command loyalty. Survive what would kill others. Only then will House Mircalla return to the fold of Ashtarium—under your banner."
Her eyes locked onto Ella's one last time.
"Prove to me you are inevitable."
Lady Renee returned to her seat behind the obsidian desk, folding her hands over a thin silver tablet etched with shifting runes. A faint pulse of mana danced across its surface as she activated a hidden seal, releasing a low hum from the desk's core.
"There is something I want retrieved," she said.
Ella leaned forward slightly. "A trial, then."
"A necessary one," Renee replied. "If you wish to prove your claim—not just to me, but to all Houses—you will retrieve an artifact of significance to my lineage. One that predates even the founding of Ashtarium."
A glowing sigil projected into the air—a map of the North Pillar Ocean, its jagged coasts dotted with island ruins and swirling currents.
"The artifact lies here," Renee said, pointing to a small, unnamed isle shrouded in storm glyphs. "Beneath a Dungeon formed from an ancient celestial collision. Few have ventured there and returned intact. Fewer still have reached the final chamber."
"What is the artifact?" Eduardo asked, voice steady.
Renee looked at him, her expression unreadable. "Something once kept sealed by your grandmother. A relic bound by hunger and command—an inheritance meant to be buried, until the right blood called it back."
Aeternum, still hidden, captured everything—projecting the room, the map, and Renee's words directly into my mind. But then—something shifted. A pulse. A tremor of energy. The projection shimmered strangely, distorting for just a second.
Then it hit me. Like a blade of glass behind my eyes. A sharp metallic taste filled my mouth. And then—blood. Warm and thick, running from my nose.
"Lilith!" Greta's voice broke through, followed by the clatter of a teacup hitting the table. "You're bleeding!"
I staggered to my feet, clutching the edge of the table as the sensory link with Aeternum wavered, then snapped. My breath caught, vision warping as a dull throb hammered in my skull.
Ben was immediately beside me, hands steadying my shoulders.
"What happened?" Ben asked, his voice tight with concern. "Are you alright?"
"Yes," I said, breathing steadily as I wiped the blood from under my nose. "I'm just… a little woozy. Nothing a bit of rest won't fix."
I managed a weak smile—enough to stop him from pushing further—and excused myself, turning away from the others. I could still feel their eyes on me, especially Greta's. But I didn't look back.
I made my way through the long halls of Gluttony Palace, my footsteps unsteady but controlled, until I reached the room I'd been given. The door sealed quietly behind me.
****
I spent the rest of the night in silence, nursing the dull ache behind my eyes. The ruptured aneurysm had already healed—my Ascendant physiology ensured that—but the residual disorientation lingered.
Too much strain. Too much pressure.
Opening my Star Core to maintain a dual stream of perception through Aeternum had pushed me past my limit. I had stretched not only my mental field, but neurological capacity as well. The rupture had been sudden—violent—and even though my body had adapted, the fallout was still echoing through me like a psychic aftershock.
It wasn't something I ever wanted to attempt again. Not without reinforcement. Not without preparation. I missed the rest of the meeting in that moment. Physically, at least.
But Aeternum had seen it all. It had remained inside the room with Eduardo and Ella, collecting every word, every gesture, every flicker of mana from Lady Renee. With a thought, I could reach into our bond and retrieve the memories—live them secondhand, as vividly as if I'd been there myself.
And yet... I didn't. Not right away. Because some part of me didn't want to see that artifact through Aeternum's lens. Some part of me wanted to hear it from Ella's lips.
The Next Morning I rose just after dawn. Not that the palace had one. Gluttony Bond Palace remained in a state of perpetual gloom—its high windows filtering crimson light from the ever-dim sky of Zellux. Still, there was a quiet to the hour, a heaviness that clung to the corridors like velvet. The aftermath of a long night.
I dressed simply. My strength had mostly returned, but the ache in my skull still lingered like a bruise beneath the surface. I had refrained from connecting to Aeternum's memory thread. I wanted the truth from her mouth, not filtered through mana signatures and strategic observation.
I needed Ella. And I needed her right this instance that nothing else mattered. After a brief check-in with Aeternum, who reported that Eduardo had left early to speak with Rafael, I made my way toward the guest wing. The one Renee had graciously given to the Ashtarmel heir.
I found her on the veranda outside her room, seated on a stone bench beneath the awning of an ancient tree that grew directly from the palace wall. She had a steaming cup in her hands—some herbal blend made to calm nerves and replenish mental focus. Her posture was straight, eyes distant, gaze fixed on the garden mist that rolled across the inner courtyard.
"Couldn't sleep either?" I asked gently.
Ella looked up, startled for just a moment, then smiled. "Morning, Lil."
"Mind if I join you?"
She shook her head, and I took a seat beside her. A quiet settled between us—not heavy, but calm, like the silence between thoughts.
"You okay?" she asked after a moment, glancing over. "I heard about the nosebleed."
"I am now," I said.
"I don't like you pushing yourself that far for me," she said softly.
"It was the only way I could be there with you," I replied. "Unless, of course, you preferred I barged into the meeting and made a scene."
Ella laughed—short and real. "Honestly? That does sound like something you'd do."
"But that would've pissed off the entire Mircalla bloodline," I added dryly. "And that's a diplomatic disaster we don't need."
Her smile lingered, gentler now. "Still... I could feel you in the room. It wasn't obvious, but... it gave me strength. Like I wasn't facing Renee alone."
She looked at me, eyes sincere. "So thank you, Lil."
I nodded, a quiet warmth blooming behind my ribs.
"Always," I said. "I've got your back. So what's this artifact that she wants from some old dungeon?"
"Yes," Ella said. "She wants the Moonstone that was sealed in the Dungeon by Matriarch Patricia."
The word hung in the air like a whisper traced in frost.
I turned toward her slowly. "A Moonstone...?"
She nodded. "Renee said it was sealed deep beneath the dungeon—protected by something ancient. Eduardo's grandmother was the last person to make contact with it. No one's seen it since."
I frowned, feeling a cold weight settle in my chest.
"The Mircalla have been trying to retrieve it for generations," Ella continued. "But the conditions in that dungeon are unstable."
"Moonstone. Isn't that connected to the Lykari civilization you wrote your thesis on?" I asked, watching her carefully.
Ella took a slow sip of her herbal tea, then gave a quiet nod.
"Yeah. I still remember the day they brought the fragment tablet into the Royal Academy's archaeology department," she said. "It was one of the few intact pieces of Lykari script we'd ever recovered."
Something shifted in the air.
That memory… it had always felt off. Even back then, I remembered the reaction she'd had when she first touched the tablet. A surge of mana, a flicker in her aura. Something had resonated. At the time, they'd dismissed it as a sensitivity to old mana echoes—but I hadn't forgotten.
Neither had she.
Ella's voice softened. "It's strange, isn't it? The Moonstone... buried inside a dungeon just off the edge of Mircalla territory. Hidden for who knows how long. And now Lady Renee wants us to bring it out."
"Convenient timing," I muttered.
She gave a small shrug. "If we want their support, then we don't really have a choice. The Moonstone is the key."
I looked at her, studying the calm determination on her face. "And you're willing to dive into a dungeon that's warped reality before—just to earn their approval?"
She met my eyes. "I'm not doing it for their approval. I'm doing it to win. If I can't face the Moonstone, I have no business facing my uncle."
I nodded slowly, though the paranoia in me coiled tighter. Another dungeon. Another ancient relic. Another trial that smelled too much like fate pretending to be politics.
"Sure," I said. "Let's retrieve the artifact."
But deep down, I couldn't help but feel a certain wariness towards this task that the Mircalla had given us.
_
Royal Palace
Pandemonium City
Hudsonia City'
Kingdom of Ashtarium
April 6412
Several days had passed since the banquet, when Ariella first met Eduardo. Now, the two sat beneath the shaded canopy of one of the palace's many gardens—a marble-columned pavilion surrounded by swaying trees and softly humming mana-lanterns. They were attending a private luncheon, arranged by their mothers, Queen Marie and Queen Consort Rosa, under the guise of diplomacy but clearly meant to give the two time to know one another.
It was a modest affair by royal standards—just the four of them. A long table dressed in white silk sat beneath the archway, adorned with a spread of teas, pastries, and delicately arranged sandwiches, each infused with just enough nutrients and subtle blood-rich essence to satisfy even the refined palate of the Mircalla bloodline.
Queen Rosa, ever composed, sipped her tea without complaint. While it didn't match the delicacies of her own house, she found it acceptable.
At the opposite end, Eduardo and Ariella sat side by side, speaking in low tones. Their conversation had gradually drifted from formal niceties to something more personal—centered, to no surprise, around Eduardo himself.
"You should see the court ladies," Ariella said, rolling her eyes slightly. "It's honestly bizarre. They never linger when I'm near—not usually. But now? Now they can't stop finding excuses to talk to me... about you."
Her tone was light, but there was a subtle undertone beneath it—an unfamiliar discomfort, maybe even amusement.
The truth was, Ariella didn't have many friends. Not among the courtiers, not among her peers. She had been homeschooled, educated by private tutors rather than attending the Royal Academy, and most of the aristocratic girls either envied or feared her. They rarely stayed long in her presence. Even her handmaidens were more attendants than companions.
But ever since her name had been publicly tied to Eduardo's, nobles—especially the younger court ladies—had started to approach her, offering congratulations, subtle flattery, or poorly veiled curiosity.
She knew exactly why.
"I wonder why they didn't approach you before I came," Eduardo said, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. He had an inkling of the reason. His thoughts drifted—unwillingly—to a certain orange-eyed girl who had dismantled his guards like they were made of paper. "Where is she?"
"Who?" Ariella asked, caught off guard.
"Lilith," Eduardo replied.
"Oh…" Ariella paused. "She's out. Said she had an assignment—some errand outside the palace."
She stirred her tea absently, not bothering to hide the note of uncertainty in her voice. Lilith hadn't said much, just that she'd be away for a day or two. And when Lilith didn't explain, Ariella didn't press.
"Hmm," Eduardo muttered. "That's strange."
"What is?"
"She didn't strike me as the type to let you out of her sight."
Ariella laughed softly, the sound surprisingly warm. "I know what you're thinking—that Lilith's possessive. That she wants me all to herself."
Eduardo didn't deny it.
"But the truth is… Lil's a complicated person," Ariella continued, gaze distant now. "She's not a people person. She either ignores people completely… or wants to kill them. I'm the only one she can stand." She looked over at Eduardo then, more serious. "And she's the only one who gets me. You know what I mean?"
Eduardo stared at her for a moment. Yes. He did.
He knew exactly what she meant. Once, long ago, he'd had someone like that—someone who understood the parts of him no one else could see. Someone who didn't need words to know what he felt. Someone who loved him before he knew how to love himself. And he had lost that person ten years ago.
He looked away.
"I know exactly what you mean," Eduardo said quietly, his voice edged with something distant—memory, perhaps, or the echo of loss.
Ariella smiled softly, the kind of smile that didn't demand anything in return. "I knew you would," she said. "That's why… I really do want to get to know you. No pressure. No politics. Just—" she hesitated, "—maybe we could be friends. If nothing else."
Eduardo blinked, surprised not by the offer, but by the sincerity of it. In this world of veiled words and hidden motives, sincerity was rarer than magic.
"I'd like that," he said, meaning it more than he expected. Maybe this way… I can get close to her, he thought of Lilith. But as soon as the thought formed, he felt the weight of it. Close to what? Her trust? Her world? Or just her light?
He wasn't sure anymore.
At the far end of the table, Queen Marie and Queen Rosa exchanged the faintest of smiles—measured, diplomatic, and entirely calculated. They didn't speak, but the look between them said enough. Their children were talking. Smiling. Engaging. The seeds were taking root. This alliance—however tentative—might prove fruitful after all.
Rosa sipped her blood-laced tea, her golden eyes watching Eduardo closely. She saw the flicker of longing in his posture, the hesitance behind his charm.
Marie, meanwhile, watched Ariella. There was no mistaking the guarded hope in her daughter's tone. Marie knew Ariella was the type to open her heart to anyone. There was no doubt that she would make an effort to get to know the Prince.
Perhaps, just perhaps, this match would be more than a political binding.
But across the garden, beyond the fragrant blossoms and rustling leaves, a single absence remained palpable.
Lilith.
Far from the polished gardens of the royal palace, Lilith Kain moved like a shadow through the underbelly of King's Crown City. The air was thick with smoke, sweat, and mana residue—dense, choking, and familiar. The district she was in wasn't marked on most maps. Locals called it Gravemarker Row, a sprawl of alleys and abandoned buildings where the law didn't reach and the corrupt ruled by fear.
Her blade flashed in the dim light.
A scream echoed as a manaborn thug slammed into the corridor wall, blood trailing behind him. Another came at her from the side, an axe pulsing with unstable wind mana—but Lilith didn't even glance. She spun low, slammed her elbow into his ribs, then cracked his jaw with the pommel of her sword.
Three more came. She welcomed them. They weren't Ascendants. Just regular Manaborns at best, with raw mana and cheap potion enhancements, loyal to a syndicate that had no idea who they were trying to stop.
Lilith tore through them.
Her movements were fluid, precise. She didn't waste motion. Physical strength surged through every limb, every strike reinforced by honed muscle and instinct. She ducked a burst of flame, twisted behind its caster, and struck him down with a clean blow to the throat.
The corridor reeked of ozone and blood.
She stepped over a groaning manaborn, blade still in hand, eyes glowing faintly in the flickering light of a broken mana-lamp.
The Broker was from this city. She had seen it in Zohan Amadi's memories—the crooked stairwell, the faded symbol over the door, the mirrored glass, and the rundown building. But the place had been cleared, the trail scrubbed clean.
So she came here, to the last registered affiliate of the building's original lease. A ghost company. A shell used by smugglers and informants alike. And now she was cutting her way to whoever was left guarding the lie.
As she neared the end of the corridor, she saw him. A lone figure, hunched over a desk lit by a single crystal lamp. His aura was faint but strange—unstable, like someone who'd once been powerful but had since decayed. He didn't look up as she entered, blood dripping from her sword.
"You're late," he rasped.
She stopped a few paces away, eyes cold. "You knew I was coming?"
"I heard what you did to the boys out front," he said, tapping the ash from a mana-burned cigarette. "Figured you weren't here for drugs or dreams."
"I'm looking for the one who rented the Obsidian Verge property two years ago," Lilith said flatly, her voice cold and unwavering. "The building tied to the Zohan Amadi case."
The man exhaled a slow stream of smoke, the end of his mana-burned cigarette glowing faintly in the dim light.
"You're digging into things best left buried, girl."
Lilith raised her blade just enough for the blood-streaked steel to catch the flickering light. Her eyes narrowed, unblinking.
"As much as I enjoy burying things," she said, her tone sharp with dry menace, "I'm afraid this time, I'll have to dig something up."
The man chuckled, a low, gravelly sound.
"Is that so?"
With a flick of his wrist, he popped a small obsidian-colored pill between his lips. The moment it touched his tongue, his aura flared—sharp, jagged, and unnatural. His slouched form straightened, and the mana in the room shifted violently as the chemical stabilizer forced his core into temporary overdrive. The air snapped with tension. Lilith's expression didn't change, but her grip on her blade adjusted subtly.
"Well," the man said, his eyes glowing faintly now, "looks like we've both come prepared."