In the dream, the water was no longer a threat. It was a throne.
Elias stood on the deck of a vessel far finer than his father's rotting skiff. He was dressed in a black turtleneck of the finest weave, the fabric clinging to his powerful frame like a second skin.
He didn't look like a fisherman or a street-thug; he looked like a man who owned the horizon. In his right hand, he gripped a singular, jagged fang—white as bone, sharp as a diamond.
The Leviathan rose.
It didn't crash through the waves this time; it ascended like a dark god. Its string-like scales, long and ethereal, began to coil around the boat, cinching tighter and tighter. But the terror was gone. In its place was a radiating, rhythmic warmth that pulsed in time with Elias's own heart.
"Fragment of the Abyss," the voice vibrated through his marrow, more intimate than before. "You carry the salt in your blood and my mark on your skin. Run to the towers of glass, hide in the smoke of the burning world—it matters not. You are the Curse Breaker. I will find you in every shadow. I will hear you in every silence."
The creature didn't strike. It leaned in, its massive, glowing eye reflecting Elias's transformed self. Then, that titanic, warm tongue wrapped around him in a crushing, wet embrace—a hug from the ancient dark.
Elias bolted upright in his bunk, his lungs burning. The neon light of a "Sleep-Easy" sign across the street stropped through his blinds, painting his room in frantic bars of pink and blue. He was drenched in sweat, but as he wiped his face, his fingers felt... slick. For a fleeting second, the air smelled not of smog, but of deep-ocean ozone.
He looked at his bedside table. He had enough credits now. He'd "harvested" enough from the city's underbelly to buy his way into the High Sector—the place where the air was filtered and the past was erased. This was his last day. He was done being Jax's "hook."
But the city doesn't let go of its teeth easily.
As Elias reached for his bag, the door to his small apartment hissed open. It wasn't the hydraulic failure he'd been expecting.
Jax stood there, flanked by the "nice fellows" who had taught Elias the ropes. Their shimmering jackets looked duller in the early morning light, and their smiles were gone. Jax was holding a high-frequency pulse-pistol, his eyes fixed on Elias's packed bag.
"Leaving so soon, Elias?" Jax's voice was smooth, but there was a serrated edge to it now. "We put a lot of 'credits' into your education. You're the best we've ever had. You don't just walk away from The Current. You are the current."
"I've paid my debt ten times over, Jax," Elias said, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous calm he'd learned from the sea. He stood up, his build towering over the city-bred boys. He wasn't the terrified boy on the boat anymore.
"The debt isn't financial, kid. It's structural," Jax countered, stepping into the room. "You know too much about our routes. Besides, the Boss has a special job for you tonight. A 'posh' gentleman in the High Sector needs to be... silenced. He's been talking too much over his expensive gin."
Elias thought of the fang in his dream. He thought of the Leviathan's hug. He realized then that these men weren't his friends—they were just different kinds of parasites.
"I'm done taking orders," Elias said.
Jax sighed, a sound of genuine disappointment.
"I was afraid you'd say that. Boys? Ensure our friend understands the gravity of his employment contract."
...