Chapter 6 – Shadows at the Edge
The city never truly slept — it only pretended to.
Neon lights blinked against the night rain, painting broken reflections over the narrow alleys of Dockline District. Andrew walked among them, hands deep in his coat pockets, his breath mixing with the fog like smoke from a dying flame.
He had been restless since that night — since he saw the man die without a trace of human mercy. It wasn't just the violence that haunted him; it was the silence that followed, a silence too absolute, too deliberate.
He knew what a killer's work looked like. He had seen — and done — enough of it to tell the difference between vengeance and something far more exact.
This was precision.
This was purpose.
A whisper crackled through his comm-link.
"Andrew, you there?" The voice of his handler, Kellen, came sharp through the static. "You've been off the grid for two days. You trying to vanish or something?"
Andrew didn't answer right away. His eyes scanned the rooftops. A drip of water hit his cheek — but he felt something colder beneath it. Watching. Measuring.
"Kellen," he muttered, "you ever felt like the city's watching you back?"
The line went silent for a second too long. Then came a forced laugh.
"Lay off the paranoia, man. You're just seeing ghosts again."
Andrew turned the corner into an empty alley.
Ghosts.
If only it were that simple.
He crouched near a metal crate, flicking open his old ledger — the one he used to track his contracts. The most recent name, Dorian Vesk, had a single red mark beside it. Dead.
But below it, something new had appeared — an unfamiliar black sigil that pulsed faintly, as if alive.
He frowned. "What the hell—"
A faint vibration ran through the ground beneath his feet. The puddles quivered. Somewhere in the distance, a metallic hum filled the air, low and resonant, like a distant choir.
Andrew froze. His instincts screamed, run.
But curiosity held him still.
Then, between two flickering street lamps, a shadow moved — tall, fluid, and silent. Its outline wavered like smoke shaped into a man.
Andrew's hand went to his pistol, but before he could draw, the shadow was gone.
Only the echo of a voice remained, drifting through the fog like a thought in someone else's mind.
"Balance will find you."
The lights flickered — and the black sigil on the ledger burned into ash.
Andrew stumbled backward, breathing hard, clutching the book as if it might vanish too. He didn't know what was coming for him — only that the city's silence had started to breathe again.
And somewhere, deep beneath the sea, something stirred in response.
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