The Orchid Forge, Fracture Belt
New Boston, North Atlantic Federation arc zone
Western Hemisphere,
United Earth Federation
2435 A.D.
The sunfire sphere descended like a falling star, its roar drowning out the fractured hum of the district below. The molten glow consumed everything in its path, vaporizing the metal platforms, turning steel into liquid light. But Elias didn't flinch.
The blade in his hand—the Saber of Conviction—thrummed with a resonance that reached beyond the physical. The Oath Inscriptions along the guard ignited, glowing with searing gold script that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. His vow had taken hold, burning through his body like a living promise. He drew the saber in a single, perfect arc.
The world flashed white. The blade cut through the oncoming inferno—not as a weapon, but as a law of negation, a counterforce inscribed by will and oath. The fire didn't explode; it folded, collapsing inward as the Relic Gem within the saber devoured the attack's energy. The heat vanished in an instant. Flames froze in mid-motion, their motion turned into still matter—sculpted glassy fragments of crystallized ice that shimmered with trapped light.
Where a sun once burned, a frozen monument now hung suspended in the air. Elias's swing continued, his saber cleaving through the inert mass with effortless precision. The frozen inferno shattered, breaking apart into thousands of translucent shards that cascaded like falling stars.
He landed softly on the warped platform below, the soles of his boots hissing against the frost that now spread outward across the metal. The temperature had plummeted; mist curled from his breath as chunks of glacial debris rained down, striking the steel with a muted chime. The Fracture Belt's eternal heat had been silenced, replaced by cold, crystalline stillness.
Elias exhaled, lowering his blade. His opponent was gone—vanished completely, leaving not even a trace of resonance in the air. Only faint flickers of residual energy danced along the horizon, already dissipating.
He scanned the skyline, but there was nothing—no signal, no movement. Just the fractured hum of the city returning to its own rhythm.
Below, figures began to emerge from the ruins. The residents of the district—scavvers, smugglers, scrap merchants—peered out from behind broken conduits and torn tarps. Their faces were pale in the reflected frostlight, their eyes wide with a blend of awe, fear, and accusation.
They looked at him—the agent of the GSA, the dynasty-born enforcer wielding a weapon that could rewrite the laws of nature—and their expressions said it all. Mistrust. Fear. Resentment.
Elias sheathed the Saber of Conviction. The weapon dissolved into motes of golden light before being drawn upward by magnetic pull. The courier drone, still hovering overhead, caught the blade midair with a quiet hum, its wings folding inward as it locked the weapon in containment mode.
Elias took one last glance around the frozen ruin—the shattered platform, the lingering haze of mist, and the silence left behind by the killer's retreat.
Then he leapt from the platform, boots striking the fractured metal walkways below. His descent echoed softly, his breath steady as he began the long walk back toward the Orchid Forge—now half-buried under frost and rubble.
His only lead was gone. The woman who held the answers lay dead because someone had silenced her. And as the frost melted behind him, Elias felt the quiet weight of his vow settle on his chest—the price of conviction pressing against his heart like the edge of his own blade.
****
Ellira wasn't sure how to feel as she followed Naia down the long, sterile corridor of the GSA Autopsy Department. The air was cold and dry, filtered to clinical perfection, carrying faint undertones of antiseptic and metallic chill. Overhead, strips of pale white light hummed softly, casting elongated reflections on the polished floor that stretched endlessly ahead.
Naia walked with quiet confidence, her boots striking the floor with an even, purposeful rhythm. The faint glow of her ocular lenses had dimmed, but she still carried an air of composure—someone who had done this far too many times to be fazed by the weight of it. Ellira, however, felt the heaviness pressing at her chest with every step. She was used to energy signatures and living resonance, not the muted silence of death.
They turned a corner. Voices carried softly from the adjoining hall—calm, muted, professional tones masking the grief beneath. Several officials stood gathered near a viewing window, their uniforms crisp and dark against the silver-blue light. Among them were a few Luminia, their luminous markings dimmed out of respect.
Ellira slowed as her gaze landed on a familiar figure. Marienne, her superior from the Luminia Concord, stood at the center of the group, her usually radiant form subdued. She was speaking quietly with two other envoys, her expression grave, the light along her markings faint as candle glow.
The sight struck Ellira harder than she expected. Three Luminia had died in the explosion. Three lives extinguished—each one a voice in the fragile bridge between humanity and her people. The tension in her chest deepened; she knew this investigation was no longer just about identifying a bomber. Whatever they uncovered here could decide the future of human–Luminian cooperation. One mistake could collapse years of diplomacy.
Naia's gaze flicked briefly toward the group of Luminia as they passed. Her expression remained neutral, though her posture shifted ever so slightly—an acknowledgment without words. She didn't linger. Instead, she pressed on, her confidence steady as she pushed open the door to the mortuary.
Inside, the air was colder. The faint hum of cooling systems underscored the rhythmic hiss of ventilators. Rows of stasis drawers lined the walls, their crystal surfaces fogged with condensation. The smell of sterilized metal mixed with the distant tang of preservatives—a scent that had long lost its shock for those who worked here.
A man sat at a desk near the far wall, hunched over a holoscreen filled with autopsy reports. His sleeves were rolled up, and the exhaustion etched into his face made it clear he'd been working without pause. The moment the door slid open, he looked up.
Naia reached into her coat and produced her identification badge, holding it up so the holographic emblem of the GSA shimmered in the cold light. "Agent Naia Vasselheim," she said clearly, her voice breaking through the hum of machinery. "Intelligence Division. I'm here regarding the Radiance Hall bombing."
The mortuary officer sighed, closing his datapad with a quiet snap. "Of course you are," he said under his breath as he rose from his chair. His tired eyes flicked from Naia to the figure behind her.
When his gaze landed on Ellira, he froze for just a heartbeat. The faint light emanating from her markings reflected in his pupils, and he straightened instinctively, posture snapping into formality. "A Luminia delegate," he said quietly, almost to himself.
Naia stepped forward, lowering her badge. "This is Delegate Ellira Solenne, representative of the Luminia Concord. She's been assigned to the investigation by the UEF authority."
The man nodded, visibly uneasy but compliant. "Understood, Agent Vasselheim. How can I assist you?"
"We need access to the body of Malcolm Hynes," Naia said, her tone firm but not unkind.
At the mention of the name, the mortician's eyes dimmed with recognition. He turned toward the stasis drawers, inputting a command on the nearby console. The soft whir of mechanics filled the air as one of the drawers slid open, releasing a breath of cold mist that spilled across the floor.
Ellira's hands clenched at her sides as she took in the sterile weight of the room—the stillness, the silence, the realization that every answer they sought came at a terrible cost.
Naia stepped closer to the open drawer, her expression tightening just slightly, professional calm cracking under the faint echo of sorrow.
"Show us," she said.
The mortician gave a brief nod, turning back toward the stasis drawer. With a tap on his wrist-console, the crystalline compartment hissed open, releasing a faint exhale of chilled vapor. The mist curled around his hands as he pulled the drawer outward, revealing the still, pale body of Malcolm Hynes—the late UEF representative.
The man's face was eerily serene beneath the white light, his skin smooth and untouched by the trauma one would expect from an explosion. The faint glint of residual stasis frost clung to his hair and lashes. Naia leaned closer, her brows knitting together as her gaze swept over the body.
No burns. No shrapnel wounds. No fracturing of the skin from pressure impact. The skin was intact—too intact.
And then she saw it.
A single, precise incision—a thin, clean line encircling his neck like a ring of shadow. It was surgical in accuracy, almost beautiful in its precision.
"As you can see," the mortician said, his voice subdued but edged with unease, "Malcolm Hynes did not die in the explosion at the Hall. His cause of death was this—" he gestured faintly to the mark, "—a single, clean severing wound."
Ellira took a step forward, her breath catching. "Wait… that can't be right." Her golden markings flickered faintly in agitation, her voice barely above a whisper. "I—I focused the barrier to protect the humans. I was sure of it." Her throat tightened. "No one should've been killed like this. I failed…"
The mortician gave her a careful look but said nothing. He returned to his desk, leaving the silence to settle thickly over the three of them.
Naia's eyes, however, had hardened. She circled the examination table, her gaze sharp and assessing. Every movement was deliberate—her hands clasped behind her back, her steps slow and measured as she studied the faint aura clinging to the corpse.
Then her Hue stirred.
Subtle at first—a shimmer behind her eyes, a flicker of resonance dancing across her skin. Her senses reached beyond sight and touch, feeling for the emotional echoes imprinted in the air around the dead man.
The silence shifted.
A whisper—not sound, but vibration—brushed against her awareness. Faint traces of fear, confusion, and anger. The emotional residue of a soul violently severed from its body. The echoes coiled around her like threads of static, whispering fragments of the moment before death.
Her expression changed—tension replacing focus, disbelief replacing control. She stepped back from the body, one hand pressed lightly against her temple as if steadying herself from the flood of impressions.
"Naia?" Ellira asked softly, her own energy dimming with concern.
Naia's gaze flicked up to meet hers, the faint glow in her eyes flickering with realization. "Don't tell me…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her eyes moved once more to the wound around the man's neck—too clean, too silent, too intentional. Something—or someone—had acted from within, under the shadow of the explosion.
****
Later, the sterile lights of the mortuary gave way to the softer luminescence of the parking lot as the Luminia had collected the bodies of their fellow Luminias. Ellira stood beside Marienne, her superior, the faint hum of the lot's lumen channels echoing through the walls. Naia was still inside the GSA building, on the phone, calling her brother. The earlier conversation with Naia and Elias still lingered in her mind like static.
"Ellira," Marienne said, her tone low but firm, "be careful with the humans."
Ellira turned, puzzled. "You mean Naia?"
"Yes," Marienne replied, her golden markings dimming into a more somber hue. "The Vasselheim siblings. Especially them." She clasped her hands behind her back, her stance as rigid as the crystalline walls around them. "Elias Vasselheim is one of the GSA's most effective field agents. He's dismantled entire Gemcrafter cartels and neutralized radical Luminia enclaves. He's not just dangerous—he's efficient."
Ellira frowned, tilting her head slightly. "And Naia?"
Marienne's lips tightened. "Naia Vasselheim is far more dangerous than her brother. Elias hunts threats. She understands them. She might be the most dangerous one of the two. Never forget that humans have learned how to weaponize empathy."
Ellira's brow furrowed. That didn't fit with the woman she'd met—the gentle calm in her voice, the quiet kindness in her eyes. Naia had been nothing but polite since their meeting, and her warmth had felt genuine.
Elias, on the other hand… his courtesy carried edges sharp enough to cut.
"I think you're mistaken," Ellira said softly, though her tone lacked conviction.
Marienne studied her in silence for a long moment. "Maybe," she said finally, turning away. "But remember this—kindness and danger often wear the same face."
Ellira said nothing. She only stood there, caught between loyalty and doubt, the echo of Naia's glowing eyes and calm voice still imprinted on her mind.
"Stay safe," Marienne said softly. Her tone carried the weight of both duty and affection. She raised her hand, tracing a slow circular motion in the air—an ancient Luminian gesture of farewell that signified light parting from light.
Ellira returned the gesture, her movements slower, more reluctant. The faint luminescence along her fingers shimmered before dimming again.
She stood on the platform and watched as Marienne's hovercar ascended, its crystal engines emitting a soft hum that echoed through the courtyard. The vehicle tilted upward, joining the stream of glowing transports weaving toward the upper atmosphere. Beyond the clouds, the Concord Mothership glimmered faintly—an orbiting sanctuary where their people's fallen would be laid to rest in the Lumen Chambers. The thought made Ellira's throat tighten.
The hum of the hovercar faded, replaced by silence—and then, a chime.
The elevator doors slid open behind her.
Naia stepped out.
Ellira turned. The human girl looked… unsettled. Her long brown hair—usually tied neatly in a braid—was slightly disheveled, strands escaping and curling around her fingers. Her gold-and-lilac eyes were distant, shadowed by something heavy on her mind. Even the light from the hall seemed to cling uncertainly to her.
"Looks like we have to meet up with Elias," Naia said, her voice quiet but tense.
"Where is he?" Ellira asked.
"He's at his place," Naia replied, glancing at her lumenpad briefly before slipping it away.
Ellira hesitated, the echo of Marienne's warning still whispering at the back of her thoughts. "About what you said earlier…"
Naia cut her off, her tone quickening. "Let's get going. Elias didn't sound like he was in good shape—I need to see him." She brushed past Ellira, her pace brisk, the faint scent of rain and perfume trailing in her wake.
She stopped by the door to the landing pad and turned back slightly. "Are you coming?"
Ellira blinked once, then nodded. "Yes." She pushed the memory of Marienne's words aside. Now wasn't the time for doubt.
The ride through New Boston's sky lanes was cloaked in quiet. Naia drove, her expression set, eyes fixed on the horizon. The Glowcar hummed smoothly as it sped along the blue lane, weaving between translucent transport beams and the glittering lights of the Wardspire district.
From her seat, Ellira looked out the window. The city stretched endlessly beneath them—glimmering towers laced with gemstone conduits, mag-rail lines cutting through the skyline like veins of light. Even in the night haze, the faint shimmer of the Solar Crown Array reflected across the harbor waters far below.
Naia said nothing. She didn't need to; her worry was palpable. Ellira could feel it—not through any Luminian sense, but through the subtle cues of human fragility: the tightening of her jaw, the way her fingers drummed absently against the steering column.
"Where does your brother live?" Ellira asked finally, if only to break the silence.
"Sommers Avenue, Wardspire District," Naia said. "He's been here since joining the GSA. Left the Vasselheim Dominion years ago."
Ellira tilted her head slightly. "So he's been away from your family for a while."
Naia nodded faintly, her gaze unfocused. "We both have."
The hovercar glided into the Wardspire's residential quarter—a quiet sector overlooking the harbor. Rows of luxury high-rises glimmered along the waterfront, their mirrored facades catching the soft blue glow of the city's gemlights.
They approached a gated terrace suspended over the bay. A security drone descended, its lens flashing as it scanned the vehicle. "Identification," it intoned in a neutral voice.
Naia held up her lumenpad. "Agent Naia Vasselheim, clearance 6-C."
A brief pulse of blue confirmed her identity. The drone chirped in acknowledgment, hovering aside as the gates slid open with mechanical grace.
As the car entered the complex, Ellira glanced at the view—a panoramic sprawl of ocean and city lights meeting at the edge of the horizon. The place was undeniably beautiful, and unmistakably expensive.
"I guess being part of a corporate Dynasty has its perks," Ellira murmured under her breath.
Naia blinked, glancing at her in confusion. "What?"
Ellira gave a quick shake of her head, a faint smile ghosting across her lips. "Never mind."
They parked in the private bay. The hum of the car's engine faded, replaced by the soft wash of waves against the harbor pylons.
As Naia powered down the vehicle, Ellira spoke again, her voice tentative. "Are you… Worried about what you said? About Malcolm's death?"
Naia froze for a moment, her hands resting on the steering console. Then she shook her head quickly. "What? No. No, it's not that." She exhaled, the tension showing through the faint tremor in her voice. "It's Elias. The way he sounded—it reminded me of when he used to come back from the field."
"From battle?" Ellira asked softly.
Naia nodded. "Yes. I have to check on him."
The moment the words left her lips, she pushed open the car door, the cool ocean air rushing in. Ellira followed as they stepped out onto the landing platform. The faint hum of the building's energy lattice buzzed under their feet, guiding them toward the glass doors of Elias Vasselheim's residence.
As the doors slid open, Ellira cast one last glance at the city stretching out beneath the night sky—a web of light and shadow—and couldn't help but wonder what kind of man waited for them inside.
****
Elias floated motionless in the suspension pod as white vapor hissed upward in rhythmic bursts, alternating with jets of glowing amber liquid. The chamber lights pulsed in sync with his heartbeat, reflecting off the metallic walls of the recovery suite. Inside the pod, his body was submerged in a dense solution that oscillated between cryo-vapor and plasma-neutral saline—the two mediums shifting in precise intervals that caused the surface of the bath to shimmer like liquid glass.
The sudden cold made his breath catch. Frost crystals crept briefly along his forearms before the next wave of warmth swept through, dissolving them into steam. The cryo-thermal alternation was brutal but necessary—it flushed out residual energy, expanded his socket channels, and dissolved the microscopic crystal buildup that formed along his lattice network after extended combat. Each shift between temperatures sent ripples of light dancing across his skin as his internal Gem anchors adjusted, pulsing faintly beneath his chest and forearms.
He'd come straight here after the Fracture Belt mission, not even stopping by the GSA branch office. His body might have been intact, but his resonance threads had been frayed to the edge. The binding vow he had invoked during the fight had left his heart lattice scorched from within—a consequence of channeling too much through the Saber of Conviction.
Power always came with a price. Elias had learned that long ago.
For twenty minutes, the machine cycled through its phases—each pulse of vapor and plasma accompanied by the low hum of Lattice Regulators keeping his vitals stable. When the pod hissed open, a wave of superheated mist rolled out.
Elias stepped from the bath, steam coiling around his shoulders like ghostly armor. His skin glistened with condensation, tiny sparks of residual energy crawling across his veins before fading. He reached for the towel on the console, wiping his face as he exhaled a slow, deliberate breath. His muscles still thrummed with exhaustion, the kind that came not from strain, but from overextension of will.
He'd used five Facet Arts in a single engagement—Corona Shield, Promienence Drive, Ion Saber, Radiant Vein, Solid Sun field, and the Oath-Linked Vow Release with his Gem weapon. Any one of them would've been draining enough; using all five, plus the Relic Gem, had pushed his body into deficit.
Even with his Hardness stat—his body's tolerance to resonance strain—at the upper limits of human capability, the damage lingered. His veins ached with dull warmth. His sockets pulsed faintly, releasing residual sparks like dying embers. If he hadn't been born with dynasty-grade genetics and trained under the Vasselheim protocols, he would've been reduced to ash years ago.
The console at the far wall chimed—a soft tone that cut through the quiet hum of the recovery suite.
Elias turned, frowning, and glanced at the Lumenpad strapped to his wrist. The holographic interface bloomed into view, displaying the entry corridor's surveillance feed. Someone had just entered the threshold of his home.
His reflexes tensed for a moment before the system flagged a green seal across the display: No hostile intent detected. The Vowwalk security net, keyed to detect emotional resonance or violent impulse, registered nothing threatening.
Still, old instincts whispered caution. He tapped the feed open.
A familiar figure appeared in the doorway—Naia, standing with her arms crossed and that patient, knowing look she always wore when she was about to scold him. And beside her, radiant even in the dull light, was the unmistakable silhouette of Elira—the Luminian diplomat, her luminescent eyes reflecting faint gold as she stepped hesitantly into the hall.
Elias sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "It's only Naia," he muttered. His voice was calm, but the fatigue in it was unmistakable. Then, under his breath, he added, "And she brought the damn alien with her."
He reached for his coat, steam still curling from his shoulders, and prepared to face them both.
Down in the sunken living room of Elias's apartment, Ellira let her gaze wander, taking in the details that spoke volumes about the man who lived here.
The space was quiet—too quiet. Everything was in order, every surface cleared, the air faintly scented with ionized minerals from a built-in purifier. A shelf of databooks lined one wall, their spines coded with clean numeric sequences rather than titles. No holopictures, no personal keepsakes, not even the usual scuffs or clutter of someone who lived fully in a place.
The furniture, however, betrayed a touch of refinement. The sofa and recliners were upholstered in crystal-fiber fabrics, their surface refracting faint hues under the warm lamplight. The tables were composite glass, angular, minimalist. It was a home built by someone who valued discipline over comfort, order over expression. To Ellira, it felt like standing inside a person's mind—sharp, organized, and perfectly controlled.
She was still taking in the surroundings when a soft creak echoed from the staircase behind her. She turned.
Elias Vasselheim descended the steps, steam still rising faintly from his shoulders. A dark shower coat hung loosely around him, water glinting in his hair as he dabbed at it with a towel. He looked utterly composed despite his exhaustion, the faint golden veins around his eyes dimmed but were still visible from the residual energy of recovery.
"You're quite noisy, aren't you?" Elias said without looking up, his voice carrying the effortless dryness of someone who didn't bother to hide his fatigue.
Ellira's cheeks flushed instantly. "Oh—sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."
He gave a small shrug. "It's fine. Just… not used to company."
Naia, leaning against the side of the couch, smiled faintly. "Don't mind him," she said, waving a hand. The tension that had stiffened her earlier was gone now; seeing her brother upright and talking had eased her worry. The concern in her eyes softened into curiosity.
Elias crossed the room and dropped into the single armchair opposite them, a towel draped over his shoulders. "All right," he said, his tone shifting into the calm professionalism that came so naturally to him. "What did you two learn from the autopsy?"
Naia exchanged a look with Ellira, then spoke first. "I think Malcolm Hynes was assassinated."
Elias's brow lifted slightly. "Assassinated?"
Ellira watched as Naia leaned forward, her voice measured but certain. "The initial blast didn't kill him. The bombing was a cover—meant to mask a targeted strike. Someone used the chaos to get close and finish him off."
Elias nodded slowly, his mind already moving through possibilities. "So, not a coincidence. A diversion."
"Exactly," Naia said. "But how they did it… We still don't know. There were no energy traces, no projectile signatures."
Elias's gaze turned distant for a moment as he processed her words, then he looked up again. "I see. Then let me tell you what I found."
Naia's eyes narrowed. "Who did you fight, Elias?"
He hesitated only a fraction before speaking. "I think the Luminia are involved somehow."
Ellira stiffened, her expression shifting. "What?"
"Why would you say that?" Naia asked sharply. She knew her brother—he wouldn't accuse without reason.
Elias leaned back, the light catching on the faint lattice scars that lined his neck. "I tracked the bombmaker—Kestrel Muir. She used to work for House Celestex before she went underground. When I found her, I tried to bring her in, but before she could tell me who bought the bombs, she was assassinated. Shot clean through the chest. The shooter was waiting for me when I followed the trail."
Ellira's heart thudded. "And you fought him."
Elias nodded once. "Couldn't see his face—he was using Glamour Tech to distort his features—but his movement, his technique… it wasn't human. It was Luminia. The energy flow, the rhythmic motion—everything screamed Flux Style."
Naia frowned. "Flux Style," she echoed quietly.
"Yes," Elias said."Gemcrafters express their power through Facet Arts, techniques derived from Gem cutting. But Luminia… they don't need Gems or sockets. Their power comes from the Lumenis Core—their inner energy organ. It's part heart, part soul chamber. They shape that energy through Luminis Weave, or what we call Flux Style."
Ellira looked away, her expression unreadable. "Flux Weave doesn't always mean Luminia," she said softly. "Some humans have learned fragments of it."
"Maybe," Elias replied, his voice calm but firm. "But this man wasn't imitating. He was fluent. And strong."
Naia leaned forward, studying him. "How strong? Strong enough for you to use the Saber?"
Elias's silence was answer enough. He nodded slightly.
"He was on my level," he said at last. "Same evolutionary scale—Crown tier."
Ellira's eyes widened.
The evolutionary scale—the measure of how deeply one's lattice harmonized with Gem energy—was the true ladder of power among Gemcrafters. Few ever rose beyond the Resonant tier, where body and Gem acted as one. The Crown tier was reserved for those who transcended physical boundaries entirely—where energy itself became their second nature.
Elias Vasselheim, a man born with a Bloodline Gem, was already at the lower end of that tier. If his opponent had truly matched him… then whoever this assassin was, he wasn't just another criminal. He was something else.
Something far more dangerous.