The Grey Market existed in the perceptual blind spot of a downtown parking garage. Stalls shimmered into existence between concrete pillars, selling everything from memory-vials to mummified angel feathers. The air buzzed with low-grade magic and paranoia.
Raguel led them to a stall draped in fraying velvet. Behind it hunched Greel, the fence, his eyes magnified by thick goggles.
"You came back," Greel whined. "That's bad for business."
"Where is Malphas making the trade?" Raguel's voice was low, leaving no room for negotiation.
"The old clock tower! At the high moon! He's meeting the smuggler Seraphix there!" The words tumbled out of Greel. "Now please, go away!"
As they turned, the market's ambient noise died. A path cleared as three hulking figures clad in razor-edged, black armor marched towards them. Razamon's enforcers—Hellknights.
"The bounty is property of Lord Razamon," the lead Knight intoned, its voice a grating scrape of metal. "You will hand over your tracking data and cease."
Cassiathon grinned, a wild, dangerous thing. "Come and take it."
Chaos erupted. Cassiathon engaged the lead Knight, her sword clashing against its massive axe in a shower of sparks. Raguel ducked behind a stall, providing covering fire with his pistol, each shot ringing against enchanted armor.
The second Knight charged Lilithiel. Instead of dodging, she stood her ground, her eyes glowing with a sudden, painful silver radiance. She didn't attack, but when the Knight was within feet, she released a silent pulse of light.
The Knight froze, its armor groaning in protest. For a split second, the hellish enchantments binding it flickered and failed. It was just enough.
"Now, Cassia!" Lilithiel screamed, falling to her knees, blood now flowing freely from her nose.
Cassiathon disengaged from her foe and plunged her blade into the gap in the frozen Knight's helm. It crumpled into a pile of inert metal and ash.
Seeing their comrade fall, the remaining two Knights hesitated. Raguel seized the moment.
"Market's closed!" he yelled, firing a shot into a stall of unstable alchemical orbs.
The resulting chain reaction of flashes and concussive booms filled the space with smoke and panic. In the confusion, the trio fled, leaving the enforcers and a ruined market behind.
In a nearby alley, Lilithiel leaned heavily against the wall, breathing ragged. The use of her celestial power had visibly drained her, leaving her skin pale and waxy.
"You said it had a cost," Cassiathon said, her earlier bravado replaced by something akin to concern. "You didn't say it was killing you."
"It's not," Lilithiel panted, offering a weak smile. "Not yet. But every time I use it, a part of that old life dies. And I feel… more mortal. More damned."
Raguel looked from the fallen angel to the hellfire in Cassiathon's eyes. Their debt was binding them to a path that was consuming them all, piece by piece. The clock tower awaited.