Morning in Nexus came late to the slums.
When light finally broke through the metallic haze, it wasn't sunlight, it was the gleam of drones sweeping overhead, their beams slicing through smoke like judgment. The citizens below squinted, shielding their eyes, while city guards in matte-black armor spread through the alleys like a tide of silent silver.
The investigation had begun.
Governor Kael Varros stood on the balcony of the central administrative tower, a hand on the rail as he watched the movement below. From this height, Nexus looked deceptively serene—a lattice of light and motion, order shimmering over chaos. But Kael knew better. He could feel the unrest shifting under the streets, coiling like a wounded animal.
"Reports from the lower sectors, sir," said his aide, placing a holo-slate on the desk beside him. "The slum districts are… quiet."
Kael arched an eyebrow. "Quiet?"
"Yes, sir. Too quiet. The black markets have gone dark. The betting circuits are down. No fights, no deals, no movement."
Kael frowned, his voice low. "That means they're afraid."
"Of you?" the aide asked.
"Of something worse," Kael murmured.
He turned back to the city, its metallic veins pulsing beneath layers of smog and felt the familiar weight settle over his shoulders. The title of Governor sounded noble on paper. In truth, it was a cage woven from politics and corruption. Every decision was a trap; every victory, a compromise.
Still, he had sworn to protect this city.
....
By noon, the investigation teams were everywhere.
Interrogations swept through the slums like wildfire. Dens were raided, pit masters dragged into the light, data cores seized from hidden terminals. But every suspect had the same story: they knew nothing. They were small fish, terrified, expendable.
Kael spent the day sifting through report after report and each one leading nowhere. Every name the investigators caught was either a corpse, a decoy, or an actor paid to die with silence.
He slammed a hand down on his desk. "They're feeding us ghosts."
Selene, reclining on the couch across from him, looked up from her holo-pad where she was pretending to read but very obviously eavesdropping. "You're angry," she observed lightly, legs crossed and eyes sparkling. "That's good. It means you're still human."
"Selene," he said warningly, "not now."
"Especially now," she countered, setting her pad aside and rising to pour him a drink. "You've been brooding all morning. The last time you looked like this, the Trade Council nearly declared you clinically dead."
Kael sighed. "This isn't a joke."
"Darling, nothing about you ever is," she said sweetly, pressing the glass into his hand. "But that doesn't mean I can't try to keep you from turning into a statue."
He looked at her, exasperated, but couldn't quite suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. "You really have no sense of timing."
"Oh, I do," Selene said, leaning close enough for her pheromones to drown out the scent of recycled air. "That's why I'm here before you decide to order an airstrike on the slums. Drink."
He obeyed—mostly because it was easier than arguing.
For a moment, the office was quiet except for the hum of city generators below. Selene moved to stand behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders, her voice softening.
"You'll find whoever's responsible, Kael. You always do.
The sincerity in her voice disarmed him more than her teasing ever could. He nodded once, the tension in his shoulders easing.
Then his comms chimed.
A voice crackled through, urgent, shaken. "Governor, we've found something. Warehouse Twelve, Sector Nine. You'll want to see this."
The drive through Nexus was swift and silent. The city's veins glowed beneath tinted glass, endless layers of steel and neon reflecting in the hovercar's hull. By the time Kael arrived at the warehouse, dusk had painted the skyline in bruised colors.
Inside, the air reeked of rust and blood. The officers had uncovered a sub-level—an arena, half-collapsed, filled with broken holo-screens and dried stains no rain could wash away.
Kael walked slowly, boots echoing through the silence. Rows of restraints hung from the ceiling like skeletal remains. The sigils burned into the floor still pulsed faintly with dormant energy.
He crouched beside a shattered camera core, running a hand across its surface. "The data?"
"Already wiped, sir," the lead investigator said grimly. "Every terminal scrubbed clean. Whoever was here knew we were coming."
Kael stood, jaw tightening. "Of course they did."
A cold wind slipped through the broken vents, stirring the ash on the floor. Kael looked up, and for a heartbeat, thought he saw something move among the shadows above.
A small figure—pale, watching.
Then it was gone.
He turned sharply. "Who's there?"
No answer. Only the hum of distant power and the faint sound of a shutter creaking.
Outside, his guards exchanged wary glances.
Meanwhile, far across the city, in the quiet refuge of the alchemy shop, Jade was mixing tinctures by lamplight. The glass shimmered faintly in his hands, threads of mana spiraling through the liquid like veins of silver. His face was calm, but his mind… wasn't.
He could feel the shift. The quiet that had settled over the slums wasn't peace, it was the hush before a storm. The kind that made your instincts whisper move even when the world looked still.
Amara entered quietly, wiping her hands on a cloth. "They're tightening security," she said. "Governor's men everywhere."
Jade nodded absently. "Good. Maybe it will make them panic."
Amara hesitated. "You think this will reach us?"
"It already has," he said softly, eyes glinting like tempered steel. "They're watching."
"Who?"
"The ones who lost her."
The room fell silent. Amara swallowed, glancing toward the back room where the rescued girl lay sleeping, her breathing shallow but steady.
For now.
.....
And in one shop lit by the hum of alchemical glass, a boy with silver-grey eyes waited too, watching the storm come closer with a calm that was far too quiet for his age.
The hum of mana conduits filled the air like a soft pulse. Pale light spilled from glass veins running along the ceiling, painting everything in hues of gentle blue and silver. The scent of healing salves drifted through the hall.
The girl stirred.
Her eyelashes fluttered, crusted with fever-sweat, and for the first time in three days her breathing deepened. The sound was small, fragile—like something the room itself had been holding its breath for.
Lio was the first to notice. He'd fallen asleep with his head against the edge of the bed, still wearing the same tunic he'd worn the night they found her. When her fingers twitched against the blanket, he jerked upright, blinking.
"Jade! Niamh! Amara—she's awake!" he called, his voice cracking.
In moments, soft footsteps echoed through the corridor. Niamh entered first, her silver hair tied back, eyes shadowed with exhaustion but glinting with relief. Amara followed with a basin of warm water, and Jade came last quiet as always, his expression unreadable, though something sharp flickered in his silvery-grey eyes.
The girl's gaze darted between them, wide and glassy. Her lips trembled. Instinct made her curl in on herself, clutching the blanket to her chest.
"It's alright, sweetheart," Niamh murmured, crouching beside her. Her voice was soft but steady, a mother's balm. "You're safe now. You've been asleep for some time."
The girl flinched at the sound of a cup being set down. Amara froze, recognizing the reflex of someone who'd learned to expect hurt from the smallest noises.
"No one here will harm you," Niamh added gently. "You're under the Governor's protection now. You remember where you are?"
The girl's throat worked, but no words came. Her eyes flicked toward Lio, who offered a tentative smile, the kind of pure-hearted grin that came from someone who didn't know how to fake kindness.
"I found you," he whispered, almost shyly. "Near the docks. You were bleeding bad. Jade healed you."
At the name, her gaze shifted to Jade. He said nothing, only inclined his head slightly, his tone calm. "You were in critical condition. Your wounds have closed, but your body still needs rest."
Her lips parted. "...Why?"
"Why what, dear?" Niamh asked.
"Why… help me?"
The words barely held together.
Lio frowned. "Because you needed help."
Something in the simplicity of that answer seemed to undo her. Her shoulders shook, and before anyone could say another word, the first sob slipped through her lips—thin, broken, unstoppable.
Amara set the basin aside and crossed the room quickly, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Hey, hey, it's okay," she whispered, wrapping an arm lightly around the girl's shoulders without forcing closeness. "You're safe here. No one's going to send you back."
The girl shook her head violently, gasping. "You don't understand… they'll come for me. They always come for us—"
Jade exchanged a glance with Niamh. His tone stayed quiet, but the air around him shifted, heavy and still. "Who will?"
The girl didn't answer. She bit down on her trembling lip, eyes darting toward the door as if she expected monsters to walk through it.
Niamh reached out, taking her hand. "Listen to me, child. This place—" she gestured around the luminous hall "—is safe. No one enters without Jade's permission. And you're under Kael Varros's protection, the Governor himself. You're safe. Truly."
The girl's breathing hitched. She looked between them. These strangers, their warmth, and for a heartbeat, disbelief wavered against longing.
"Governor… Varros?" she repeated softly.
"Yes," Amara said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Lady Selene Varros herself ordered that we care for you."
The name seemed to break something inside her. She pressed a hand to her mouth and began to cry again, not in fear this time but grief. Pure, shaking grief.
Niamh let her cry. Lio reached for a towel, awkwardly offering it like he might break her if he touched her.
When the sobs finally softened into hiccups, Jade knelt beside the bed. His tone was low, almost a whisper. "When you're ready," he said, "tell us what happened. You don't have to rush. We'll listen."
The girl wiped her eyes, trying to steady herself. Her voice came haltingly. "You wouldn't believe me…"
Niamh smiled faintly, that motherly kind of sadness in her eyes. "Try us."
Silence. Then, slowly, the girl spoke.
"I don't know my real name anymore," she whispered. "They called me… Fourteen."
Amara's breath caught. Niamh's expression hardened.
"They said… Omegas are property," the girl continued, trembling. "We were taken when we were little. Sold, traded, branded."
Her hand went to her wrist unconsciously, where a faint scar still glowed with a seal half burned away.
Jade's eyes narrowed.
"There were others," she went on. "Boys and girls. Mostly Omegas. We were kept underground, under the East Docks, in the old tunnels. They made us fight sometimes…and they....." she trailed off as her body shook like someone reliving a horror, tears spilling anew from her eyes.
"The masked men", she continued "I don't know their names, but they smelled of perfume and iron and wine."
Her breath hitched, a small cry breaking out again. "My sister. She's still there—please, you have to help her—please!"
Her desperation filled the room like a physical weight.
Lio's face went pale. "There are more of them?"
The girl nodded frantically. "So many. They call it the Game. If we lose, we disappear. If we win… we still lose."
Niamh held her close as she broke down again, her hand smoothing the girl's hair while her gaze met Jade's over her shoulder. For a long, silent moment, no words were needed.
Jade's expression didn't change, but the air around him cooled. The conduits along the walls flickered faintly, responding to the pulse of his mana.
He stood, quietly, every motion deliberate. "Rest now," he said softly. "You've done enough."
But his voice carried something else beneath the calm, something cold and lethal.
When he turned away, Lio shivered, sensing it and he understood why.
.....