The alleyways twisted like a maze of rotting bones, narrow and suffocating, suffused with the scent of damp stone and decay. Raine's boots struck the cobblestone with frantic precision as he darted through the shadows, heart hammering like war drums in his chest.
Behind him, the pursuit did not slow.
The Imperial Sentinels moved like wolves, their formation unbroken, their heavy footfalls never missing a beat. The Seeker, however, did not rush. He did not need to. He moved with measured, deliberate steps, as if he already knew exactly how this chase would end.
And that terrified Raine more than anything.
He skidded around a corner, nearly slipping on the rain-slicked stone, lungs burning as he pushed forward. His mind screamed for an escape, for a way out—but the streets of the Forgotten Quarter were as unforgiving as the city that had abandoned them.
Dead end.
Raine's momentum nearly sent him crashing into the towering brick wall that loomed before him. His breath came in ragged gasps as his eyes darted for another route—another rooftop, another alley, anything—
A whisper.
A presence like ice sliding down his spine.
He spun.
The Seeker was standing at the mouth of the alley. He had not run. He had not needed to. His hood remained undisturbed, his face still hidden in shadow.
But his eyes—
They were wrong.
They were not the dull, lifeless gaze of the Sentinels. Nor were they the fierce golden irises of an Imperial Knight.
They were black.
Not the black of night, nor the black of ink—but void, pure and depthless. A darkness that swallowed light, devoured it, left nothing behind.
Raine's breath hitched.
The shadows around him moved.
They curled at his feet, shifting unnaturally, mirroring his fear, his uncertainty. The Seeker tilted his head, as if observing something curious.
"You have his blood."
His voice was smooth. Unhurried.
Raine's fists clenched. He didn't know what the man meant. He didn't want to know.
The Seeker lifted a single gloved hand.
Dark tendrils slithered from his fingers, coiling like living smoke. The alley around them grew colder, the air heavy with something unseen, something unnatural.
Raine acted.
He didn't wait for an explanation. Didn't hesitate. He spun on his heel and ran.
The shadows erupted behind him.
The brick wall at his back shattered as the tendrils lashed forward, jagged spikes of black smoke tearing through stone as if it were paper. Raine threw himself to the side, rolling onto the damp cobblestone as debris rained down around him.
A sharp sting flared across his cheek—he'd been grazed.
But he didn't stop.
He launched himself upward, grabbing onto the iron railing of a rusted balcony, scrambling onto the wooden ledge with practiced ease. His muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself to move.
Faster.
He bounded across the rooftop, the shingles shifting beneath his weight. The city stretched before him in all its grim, rotting glory—the distant glow of the noble districts standing in stark contrast to the abyss of the Forgotten Quarter.
A shadow leapt after him.
Raine barely had time to react before something crashed into the rooftop beside him. The wooden beams groaned and splintered beneath the impact, dust billowing into the air.
Not a Seeker.
A Sentinel.
The masked soldier rose to his feet, sword drawn, stance unwavering. Behind him, two more followed, landing with eerie precision.
They weren't human.
Raine could feel it.
The way they moved—mechanical, efficient, empty.
The city guards he had evaded all his life had been corrupt, lazy, predictable. These were not. These were trained hunters.
And they had him surrounded.
His mind raced. He could still escape—he had to. The next rooftop was just a leap away. If he timed it right—
A voice.
Soft. Unnatural.
"Your blood calls to the dark."
Raine turned.
The Seeker had not moved from the alleyway. He remained far below, watching from the shadows, but his voice reached Raine's ears as if he were standing right beside him.
"Let it awaken."
A chill ran down Raine's spine.
No.
No, he didn't know what that meant. Didn't want to know. He wasn't like them. He wasn't—
A Sentinel lunged.
Raine reacted.
His body moved before his mind could catch up. He twisted, his foot colliding with the masked soldier's chest, sending him staggering backward. But another came from behind, blade arcing downward—
He ducked.
The sword cleaved through air where his head had just been. He spun, using the momentum to drive his elbow into the soldier's side.
Then—
The shadows surged.
Not the Seeker's.
His.
The darkness at his feet coiled, snapping upward like a serpent. The Sentinel closest to him was thrown back, hurled off the rooftop like a ragdoll. Another stepped forward—only for the shadows to lash out, gripping his leg, dragging him down.
Raine froze.
His own breath felt foreign in his lungs.
He had not meant to do that.
He had not willed it.
But the shadows had obeyed.
His shadows.
A slow chuckle drifted through the air.
The Seeker had seen.
And he was pleased.
Raine's chest heaved. Panic clawed at his throat, but there was no time to think. No time to question. The remaining Sentinel moved forward, his blade slicing through the black tendrils as if they were mist.
Raine moved.
He sprinted toward the rooftop's edge, muscles coiling, heart pounding. The wind roared in his ears as he leapt—
The world tilted.
For a split second, he was airborne.
Then—impact.
He rolled across the opposite rooftop, barely catching himself before skidding off the ledge. His limbs ached. His breath was ragged. But he was still alive.
He scrambled to his feet. The slums stretched before him—a labyrinth of rooftops and alleyways, dark and endless. He could still escape. He could still—
Pain.
A searing agony tore through his shoulder.
His vision blurred.
He stumbled, nearly collapsing as the pain burned through his veins. His knees buckled. His balance faltered.
Something was wrong.
His hands trembled as he reached for the wound.
Blood.
No.
Not blood.
The darkness coiled from the gash, writhing, twisting, as if something inside him was trying to crawl free.
A shadowy mark began to spread across his skin.
The Seeker whispered from the abyss.
"The blood of the Eclipse has awakened."