Rain descended on Duskfall like a thin veil of silver light, each drop clear and pure, untouched by ash or smoke, falling with a quiet patience that made the vast city appear softer than it truly was. The towers drank in the pale glow of the heavens, the bridges shimmered beneath the falling threads of water, and the pavestones mirrored the lanterns as if the ground itself held tiny, trembling fragments of the stars.
In the midst of this tranquil downpour, a lone figure ran.
The boy's footsteps rippled through puddles that sparkled under the lanterns, his breath came out in uneven bursts that blended with the soft hiss of the rain, and every movement of his body carried the urgency of someone who had been running for far too long. Water streamed along the edges of his hood, slid over his cheeks in cold, delicate trails, and clung to his dark clothes in a way that only made him blend deeper into the shadows.
He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, but a glint of amusement still lingered beneath the strain.
Of course. Running through the night under a rain this pure… because calm evenings are apparently illegal for me.
A faint smile tugged at his lips even as he pushed harder, slipping around a corner, brushing past a wall that gleamed under the rainfall. The city's narrow corridors bent and twisted like veins in a giant stone body, and he flowed through them with the instinctive grace of someone who had always known how to survive in tight spaces.
But he was not alone.
No crowd of soldiers chased him.No clatter of armored boots echoed behind him.No shouts of guards rang through the night.
Just a single set of footsteps.
Measured.Unhurried.Unavoidable.
They followed him with the patience of a hunter who knew his prey would tire long before he did.
Who walks during a chase? Who does that? What sort of creature decides that running is unnecessary?
He felt a shiver crawl down his spine, though the rain kept it well hidden.
He burst into another alley, boots splashing lightly against clean puddles, then skidded to a halt as the path ended abruptly before a towering wall. It rose fifteen meters into the air, its dark surface polished by centuries of rainfall, offering nothing but a sheer climb toward uncertain safety.
He stared upward, strands of water running down his hood.
Beautiful. Spectacular. Truly a masterpiece of bad luck. And I suppose the only reasonable response is to climb it, because my life is a collection of excellent decisions.
He inhaled deeply, letting the cold rain fill his lungs with clarity.Then he jumped.
His fingers latched onto a narrow seam in the stone, his foot found the faintest of ridges, and he began to climb with the urgency of someone whose existence depended on it. The rain made everything slick, treacherous, but it also sharpened his senses, focused his mind, awakened the quiet fire beneath his skin.
His breathing quickened.His muscles tightened.Drops of water slid along his arms, chilling the warmth from his skin.
Higher. Just keep climbing. He won't follow here. He can't.
For a moment, his hand slipped.His heart stopped.Then his fingers found another hold and he pushed himself upward, inch by inch, fighting both gravity and the cold burn of fear.
He reached the top with a final, desperate pull and rolled onto the elevated platform, the rain soaking him anew as he caught his breath.
And then he saw it.
The Upper Plateau of Duskfall.
It unfolded before him like a vision conjured from a dream: towers of translucent metal stretched toward the rainwashed sky, their surfaces gleaming under the lantern lights. Bridges of silver and glass arched gracefully between the buildings, their outlines softened by the streaming rain. Floating rings of arcanium turned slowly above rooftops, their rotation casting ripples of gold across the misty air.
It was a world built for the powerful, the gifted, the untouchable.A world he was never meant to see.
He stood there for a heartbeat, stunned by the beauty of it all.
"…You win this time, Duskfall," he whispered. "You really are breathtaking."
A quiet laugh escaped him, warm despite the cold.
Then he ran again.
His steps carried him across rooftops slick with rain, over narrow beams and vibrating walkways, across the shimmering plates of the Engineer's District. He leapt over a glass dome that chimed beneath his weight, slid along a slanted metal rail, and crossed a crystalline footbridge where each step rang like a note in the rain's silent song.
Every movement felt alive.Every breath tasted like survival.
He reached the outer edge of the plateau, a wide, open space where the rain fell without interruption and the lower city stretched far below, swallowed by a sea of shadow and fog.
He slowed.Stopped.Allowed himself a single moment of relief.
I've lost him. He shouldn't be able to follow me here. No one should.
The thought had barely formed before something pierced him.
A cold, precise intrusion of steel.A shock so sudden it tore the air from his lungs.A bloom of pain that radiated through his chest like fire battling ice.
His scream rose without permission.
"Ah—Aaaah!"
The rain continued to fall, gentle and pure, dripping along the blade that protruded slightly from his side.
A voice spoke behind him.Calm.Warm.Almost serene.
"I would advise against struggling. I avoided anything vital… for now."
The boy turned his head slowly, every movement drowning him deeper in pain.
The man stood close.The only one who had followed him.The only one who had needed no speed to catch him.
He was young, or appeared to be, with hair the color of silvered ash swept back despite the rainfall, an immaculate uniform clinging to him without losing form, and eyes that shone with an unnatural light, as though something ancient stirred behind them.
He smiled.Softly.Confidently.
"You ran well," he said. "Far better than most. But nobody escapes me."
The boy trembled, breath ragged, mind reeling.
Who… what is he? Why me?
Rain continued to fall in silent purity, each drop tracing a cold line down his skin.
And Duskfall, vast and alive, waited for what would come next.
****
The blade remained lodged in the boy's flank, motionless, perfectly embedded, as if it had grown out of him. The cold metal kept his blood from spilling freely, but every breath awakened a new spike of pain, sharper, deeper, almost scorching. Pure rain fell around them in thin silver threads, sliding down his cheeks, washing the blood without ever soothing the burn devouring him from within.
The silver-haired man watched him with an almost insolent tranquility.He seemed amused.Not triumphant.Not cruel.Simply entertained, as though this entire scene carried no real weight.
"You should avoid breathing like that," he said calmly. "Pain becomes far more… intrusive when you feed it."
The boy clenched his teeth. Rain plastered his hair to his forehead, and his fingers trembled against the slick pavement. Slowly, he raised his eyes toward the soldier, defiance glinting beneath the veil of pain.
"Would you prefer… I thank you?" he whispered in a dry breath.
A smile stretched the man's lips.
"Not necessary. But I appreciate the thought."
His gaze drifted briefly to the sword still buried in the boy's side.
"I could let you collapse into a puddle of your own blood, you know. Yet I am being rather delicate. You might want to keep that in mind."
"Duly noted," the boy replied, trembling but mocking. "You are a perfect gentleman. With a sword."
"Exactly."
The man crouched, resting an elbow on his knee, observing the boy as one might study an intriguing creature.
"You travelled far for someone your age. And you chose quite an interesting place to slip into tonight."
The boy blinked, fighting against the wavering fog of pain.
"I was taking a walk."
"A walk," the soldier repeated, amused. "All the way into a private apartment even the most influential engineers are forbidden to enter?"
The boy barely flinched.But it was enough.
The man noticed immediately.
"I see. You prefer silence to clumsy lies. Respectable."
He brushed his fingers against the sword's hilt.A shift no larger than a breath.Yet the pain rose like a burning wave through the boy's body, forcing a strangled cry from his throat.
"Do not worry," the man said gently. "If I wanted you dead, you would already be unconscious. I am… in a good mood. It is not a privilege many receive."
The boy let out a weak, broken laugh.
"Lucky… me."
"Very."
The man rose slowly, rain trailing down his silver hair in shimmering patterns.
"Since we are being honest now, answer me one thing."
The boy inhaled with difficulty.
"Why did you enter that place?"
"I was curious."
"Lies," the man said, without anger, without menace. Simply a fact. "You are not stupid. And people like you do not break into the den of a renowned inventor out of idle curiosity."
The boy tightened his jaw.He had not planned for this.Not the wound.Not the rain.Not this man.
"You want the truth?" he finally said, forcing a tight smile. "I was looking for something."
"Yes," the soldier replied, tilting his head. "I know."
He slid a hand into his coat.
The boy's breath hitched without reason.A cold tension crawled up his spine.
When the hand emerged, it held a small object.A gem.
Golden.Luminous.Alive in a way no stone had the right to be, pulsing faintly beneath the falling rain.
The same gem.Exactly the one he had stolen.There was no mistaking it.
The boy's eyes widened despite him.His breath caught.His throat tightened.
The soldier watched, satisfied.
"I wondered how long it would take before you understood I did not come to collect your corpse… but your answer."
He lifted the gem to their eye level, the golden light scattering across the raindrops in hypnotic flashes.
"So tell me, boy," he murmured, his voice sinking low, deep."Why did you steal this?"
The question pierced the boy's mind.Something in him cracked.
A memory rose, slow and heavy, wrapped in a warmth that did not belong to the cold night.
For a moment, the pain faded.
Seven hours earlier
A sharp clack.A faint vibration.A dim orange glow.
The boy opened his eyes in the trembling half-light of his narrow room, somewhere deep within the lower levels of Duskfall. The familiar scent of damp metal and old dust hung in the air. A lantern flickered weakly on the table, its flame almost gone.
He breathed in deeply.The pain was not there yet.The rain had not yet fallen.The night had not yet become a trap.
For now, only the cold breath of morning existed, the heaviness of sleep clinging to his limbs, and that strange silence that always came before trouble.
He pushed himself upright on his creaking cot.He stretched, his body sluggish.His feet touched the metal floor, and its chill climbed up his legs like a warning.
A new day was beginning.And he had no idea it would end on a blade.
He ran a hand through his tangled hair, sighed deeply, and muttered under his breath:
"Alright… let's see what Duskfall has for me today."
The day was beginning.And everything that would come after,everything that would lead to the blood,to the gem,to that silver-eyed man…
began here.