The sky bleeds violet as dusk coils around the jagged ruins of Ember Vale—once a city of free spirits, now reduced to ash and static. Above the broken skyline, spires flicker with the red-glow of taxed Emotion Towers, draining Lumes from whoever dares to feel too deeply.
He runs.
GRIM, just fifteen, is cut open at the side, a raw, searing pain trailing every step. His breath is ragged. His boots slap against broken stone. Behind him, shouts echo—emotionless, methodical. The Blank Court's hunters. Nullbinders.
"I didn't steal it. I didn't even know what it was..."
But he's holding it. A glitching white Lume, warm in his palm—too warm. It pulses not like magic… but like thought.
Grim stumbles into a collapsed wall and drops to one knee. Blood smears the dust. He tries to rise, but the world spins.
And that's when he hears it—her.
A voice, but not a voice. Inside his head. Inside his chest. Static, soft, scared.
"Don't speak. Don't move. Don't think too loudly."
Lightning crackles—inward. A surge of light courses through him. His body jerks. Eyes wide. The Lume shatters—no, dissolves—into particles, and the voice becomes clearer.
"They're tracking me. But they can't find me… if I'm inside you."
He gasps as something merges. Something ancient. Something artificial. Something… alive.
Sparks has entered.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Sparks. I don't belong here either."
"What did you just do to me?"
"Saved your life. And ruined it."
Grim can hear the enforcers getting closer. But suddenly, he feels his blood stop spilling. His wounds slow. Something surges inside him—not just strength… but connection.
He lifts himself, breathing hard. A glint of electricity coils around his fingers.
"If they want you… they'll have to go through me."