The defense house smelled like fear and wet concrete.
Sable pushed through the crowd—bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, some sitting against walls with their heads between their knees, others pacing in tight circles like animals in cages. The air was thick with the stench of unwashed humanity and the metallic tang of black water tracked in on boots.
His blue eye cataloged faces automatically. Brown hair, blonde hair, red hair. Wrong ages, wrong builds, wrong—
There.
Near the far wall. Small figure in an oversized black coat. Blonde hair plastered to her skull.
Ellaya.
Sable's chest unlocked. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath.
She sat with her knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. Elvor slumped beside her, head lolled back against concrete. An empty bottle lay in his lap, fingers still curled around the neck.
Bang whistled low. "That the kid?"
"Yeah."
"She looks—"
"Don't."
Sable walked faster. Weaving between refugees. Someone grabbed his sleeve—an older woman, eyes desperate—but he pulled free without looking.
Ten feet away. Five.
Ellaya's head snapped up.
Her brown eyes found his.
She stood. Slowly. Deliberately.
Didn't run to him. Didn't smile. Didn't move at all.
Just stood there with her small hands curled into fists and *waited*.
Sable stopped three feet away.
The words caught in his throat. All of them. Every prepared speech, every logical explanation—they died somewhere between his brain and his mouth.
"Ellaya—"
"You left me."
The words landed flat. Final. Not an accusation. A fact.
Something in Sable's chest cracked. "I gave you the pass. You were safe. That was the priority."
"You *promised*." Her voice didn't rise. Didn't break. Just stayed level and cold in a way that made his stomach twist. "You said you'd find me after."
"I did find you—"
"You were gone for the *whole Rain*." Ellaya's jaw tightened. Small muscle jumping beneath pale skin. "Didn't know if you were dead. If the monsters got you. If I'd—" She stopped. Swallowed hard. "You promised you'd find us *soon*."
Behind her, Elvor stirred. His head lifted slowly, like it weighed fifty pounds. Bloodshot eyes struggled to focus on Sable.
"She wouldn't eat," Elvor said quietly. His voice was gravel and broken glass. "Just sat there. Watching the entrance."
Sable looked at Ellaya. At the exhaustion carved into her seven-year-old face. At the anger that was really fear wearing a different mask.
His analytical mind kicked in automatically: *She was safe. Protected. The logical outcome was achieved. Survival probability increased by 87%. Why is she—*
"I kept you alive," he said.
"I didn't *ask* you to leave me!" Ellaya's voice finally cracked. "I asked you to *stay*!"
The silence stretched.
Bang shifted his weight. Looked at the ceiling. Started counting water stains with intense focus.
Second chirped from Sable's pocket. The bird hopped out, landed on the floor between them. Looked up at Ellaya with black eyes that somehow managed to convey apology.
Ellaya stared at the bird.
Then crouched down. Extended her hand.
Second hopped onto her palm. Settled there. Made a soft, questioning trill.
"You came back," Ellaya whispered to the bird.
*Because I made him*, Sable thought. *Because I carried him. Because—*
"I'm here now," he said. The words felt inadequate. Wrong. Like using a scalpel to perform surgery through a brick wall.
Ellaya stood. Second perched on her shoulder, small body warm against her neck. "I'm sorry for shouting at you." She wouldn't meet his eyes. "Are you mad at me?"
"No."
"Are you still taking me to my father?"
Sable knelt. Met her eye level. Concrete cold and wet through his pants. "Yes. Of course."
"Then we go." Her voice went flat. Empty. The same tone Sable used when explaining death to patients. "But next time you leave me, I'm not waiting."
She walked past him. Headed deeper into the crowd.
Sable stayed kneeling. Hand half-raised. Not knowing what to do with it.
Elvor pushed himself upright. Swayed. Caught himself against the wall with a hand that left a sweat print on concrete.
"She'll forgive you," he said. "Eventually."
"I did the right thing."
"You did the *smart* thing." Elvor's voice carried something that might have been pity. "Not the same as right."
He shambled after Ellaya, leaving Sable kneeling in the middle of the crowded room with Bang and the growing realization that logic didn't fix everything.
"Man." Bang scratched his head. "She's seven, right?"
"Yeah."
"She doesn't care about smart. She cares that you came back."
"I *did* come back."
"Yeah." Bang offered his hand. Pulled Sable upright. "Let's go. This place is cramped as hell."
-----
Outside, the grey light was wrong.
Not daylight. Not darkness. Just—*between*. The kind of illumination that made everything look like a memory of itself.
The defense house entrance was crowded. Refugees milling near the doors, not quite willing to leave but unable to stay still. Some were smoking. Some were praying. Some just stared at nothing.
And blocking the exit: armored figures.
Not the local security Sable had bribed to enter Prulla. *Blackwater*.
Five of them. Dark blue plate armor seamless as water, pristine despite the Rain. They stood in formation—two flanking a woman in command regalia, two more scanning the crowd with the predatory focus of apex predators.
Behind them: three citizens in official-looking coats. Defense house administrators, probably. Looking small and pale next to the knights.
Sable's hand found Bang's arm. Squeezed. *Wait*.
Bang tensed but didn't move.
The lead Blackwater knight—the woman—stepped forward. Her helmet was tucked under one arm. Dark skin. Sharp features. Eyes like chips of obsidian.
"Attention." Her voice cut through the crowd murmur like a blade through silk. "Prulla is now under HARD LOCKDOWN."
The murmuring died.
She continued. Calm. Clinical. Like reading a weather report about the apocalypse.
"We are hunting a Bestowed-rank aberration. Designation: THE SINNER."
The word landed like a grenade.
*Sinner*.
People looked at each other. Whispered. Someone near the back made a sound between a laugh and a sob.
The knight didn't pause. "Confirmed kills: one Anointed-rank Blackwater operative. Knight-Captain Rheena Varthon. House of Varthon. Age twenty-four."
Sable's blood went cold.
"Confirmed abilities: unknown. Suspected biological manipulation or Torrent-born control. Possibly Paragon-threshold power scaling based on tactical analysis of the kill site."
*No*, Sable thought. *No no no—*
"Physical descriptors recovered from damaged recording equipment:" The knight pulled a small device from her belt. Holographic display flickered to life above her palm.
A silhouette. Grainy. Dark.
Sable's silhouette.
Standing in the subway station. Barely visible in the damaged footage. But there—unmistakable in the green emergency lighting.
And beside him: Second. Not robin-sized. *Massive*. Wings spread. Talons extended. Eyes glowing crimson.
The crowd gasped.
The knight continued. "Male. Late teens to early twenties. Dark hair. Messy. Approximately five-foot-nine. Travels with a biomutated avian familiar capable of Deluge-scale transformation."
She paused. Let the image burn into their minds.
"Knight-Captain Varthon's recording equipment was damaged during the confrontation. The device captured approximately forty-seven seconds of footage before complete failure. Visual data is severely compromised—the station's emergency lighting had been destroyed, leaving only residual illumination from damaged chem-strips."
The hologram shifted. Zoomed. Enhanced.
On Sable's face in the footage: a single point of blue light.
His right eye.
Catching the emergency lighting just right. Reflecting it back like a cat's eye in headlights. The rest of his face was shadow—indistinct, grainy, barely visible through the darkness and damaged footage.
But that eye.
That *fucking* eye.
Clear. Unmistakable. Glowing blue in the dark like a beacon.
"Due to lighting conditions and equipment damage, we could only confirm one eye color," the knight said. "Blue. Right eye. The left eye's color could not be determined from available footage."
*Fuck.*
*FUCK.*
"The footage also captured the Sinner's biomutated familiar engaging Knight-Captain Varthon in direct combat. The creature displayed Deluge-class strength and size transformation capabilities. However—" The knight's voice went colder. "—the familiar responded to the Sinner's presence with apparent recognition and coordination. It did not attack him. It appeared to *protect* him."
The hologram showed Second—massive, terrifying—landing between Sable and Rheena's body. Wings spread. Defensive posture.
"This suggests either Grace-based control over Torrent-born entities, or a unique mutation bond between the Sinner and the creature. Either scenario classifies him as a Class-III existential threat to civilian populations."
She paused. Let that sink in.
"The Sinner carved his designation at the scene. Evidence suggests premeditation. High intelligence. Tactical awareness sufficient to defeat an Anointed-rank Blackwater operative despite being only Bestowed-rank himself." Her obsidian eyes swept the crowd. "Do not engage. Do not approach. If you see an individual matching this description—dark hair, blue right eye, accompanied by any avian creature—report immediately to Blackwater personnel."
She deactivated the hologram.
"All evacuation houses will be searched. All refugees will be verified. All citizens will submit to Grace scanning." Her gaze was absolute. Final. "Anyone harboring this individual will be tried for conspiracy against the Upper City. Sentence: summary execution."
Silence.
Complete.
Absolute.
Then: "One blue eye…"
"Heterochromia's rare—"
"That bird thing—did you *see* it—"
"Killed an *Anointed*—"
"How is that even *possible*—"
The murmurs built. Cascading. Panic spreading like infection.
Sable's hand was shaking. His blue eye was screaming at him—*COMPROMISE IMMINENT TACTICAL OPTIONS DEGRADING SURVIVAL PROBABILITY—*
His brown eye just saw the knight's gaze sweeping the crowd.
Searching.
*Hunting*.
Bang leaned close. Whispered: "Dude. Your eye."
"I know."
"Like—your *blue* eye."
"I *know*."
"We need to—"
"Move. Now." Sable grabbed Ellaya's hand. Elvor's sleeve. Started walking. Away from the entrance. Toward the blind spot he'd mapped when they first entered—corner near the supply stacks, out of sight lines, partially obscured by support pillars.
They pressed into the corner. Backs against cold concrete.
Ellaya looked up at him. "Sable? What's—"
"Quiet." His voice came out harder than intended. "Please."
She went silent.
Elvor's bloodshot eyes focused with effort. "What's happening?"
Sable's mind was racing. Cataloging. *Calculating*.
*They have my silhouette. My eye color. My general description. The bird.*
*Second's presence doesn't confrims identity . Second is small. To them second is just a normal robin bird. Can hide inside my pocket.
*Blue eye is the primary identifier. Most distinctive feature. Damaged footage only captured one eye—the blue one. If I eliminate that—*
His hand moved to his coat. Found the multipurpose chain looped through the collar. Pulled it free.
The metal was cold. Heavy. The inner hook sharp enough to puncture leather. Sharp enough to—
Sable looked at Bang. At the red-haired lunatic who'd saved him. Who'd shared beans. Who'd followed him here without question.
"Are you coming with us?" Sable asked. His voice was flat. Clinical. "When we leave. Are you staying or going?"
Bang didn't hesitate. "Going. Obviously."
"You're sure."
"Dude I just spent like three hours running from monsters with you. I'm not bailing now." Bang grinned. "We're a team."
Sable's blue eye tracked the chain in his hand. His analytical mind spun through scenarios:
*Bang comes with us. If we're stopped—questioned—they'll use truth detection Graces. Standard Blackwater protocol. They'll ask about injuries. About how the eye was damaged.*
*If Bang did it, they'll detect coordination. Premeditation. Intent to deceive. Bang's presence as a witness compromises the deception.*
*But if someone who's* staying *did it—someone who won't be with us during questioning—*
His brown eye found Elvor.
The old man pressed against the wall. Face grey. Hands shaking worse than usual.
*Elvor's staying. He's registered here. Civilian. No Grace. If they question us separately, we can say—*
The logic clicked into place.
*We fought. That's true—we had that conversation yesterday, the screaming match about the past. Anyone who saw us knows we're not close. If they check, witnesses can confirm tension between us.*
*He stabbed me during an argument. That's* going to be *true. Physical evidence will support it—his fingerprints on the weapon, my blood, defensive wounds or lack thereof consistent with restraint during the act.*
*Most importantly: he won't be there to contradict the story. He's staying in Prulla. We're leaving. Separate jurisdictions. Different testimony locations.*
*The deception becomes plausible because the deceiver isn't part of the group being investigated.*
Sable extended the chain toward Elvor.
"I need you to do something," he said.
Elvor stared at the hook. At the sharp point catching grey light. "Sable—"
"My eye. The blue one." Sable spoke fast. Clinical. Like explaining a medical procedure. "It's a compromise. The footage captured it. They're searching for heterochromia. If I eliminate the identifier—"
"You want me to—" Elvor's voice broke.
"Stab my eye. Yes." Sable positioned the chain's hook. Sharp point aimed at his right eye socket. "Quick. Deep. Destroy the iris. I'll heal—Ellaya's Grace will regenerate it over time but the immediate damage removes the blue coloration from visual identification."
"I can't—"
"You can." Sable's voice went colder. Flatter. "You've hurt me before. This is the same thing."
The words landed like a slap.
Elvor flinched. "That's not—I didn't mean to—"
"I know. And I'm not asking you to mean this either." Sable's gaze was steady. Unwavering. "But if you don't, the Blackwater will find me. Will execute me. Will probably execute anyone traveling with me for conspiracy." He looked at Ellaya. Small. Scared. "She'll be alone."
Ellaya's hand found his. Squeezed. "Sable don't—"
"It's okay." He squeezed back. Gentle. Reassuring. "It's going to hurt. But I'll heal. I promise."
Elvor took the chain. His hands shook so badly the metal rattled.
Bang stepped forward. "Wait—why not me? I can—"
"You're coming with us," Sable said. Not looking away from Elvor. "If they question us separately and you're there, they'll detect the coordination. The planning. Truth detection Graces will catch it."
Bang's eyes widened. Understanding.
"But Elvor's staying," Sable continued. His voice was mechanical. Precise. "He's registered. Civilian. We have documented history of conflict—yesterday's argument, the tension. Anyone who saw us can confirm we're not close." His jaw tightened. "If they investigate, the story is simple: we fought. He stabbed me. I left. He stayed. Separate testimonies. Different jurisdictions. No coordination to detect."
The logic was airtight.
Cold.
*Efficient*.
Elvor's face crumpled. "You're using me."
"I'm using the situation," Sable corrected. "You're just—" He stopped. Started again. "You're the variable that makes it work."
"I can't," Elvor whispered. "I can't hurt you again."
"You already have." Sable's voice was matter-of-fact. Clinical. "This time it's helping."
He positioned himself. Knelt. Head tilted back against the wall. His right eye—the blue one—open. Unblinking.
Elvor stood over him. Chain raised. Hook positioned.
His hands were shaking. His face was wet.
"This is going to hurt," Elvor said. His voice broke.
"I know." Sable's throat was tight. "Make it quick."
Silence.
Three heartbeats.
Four.
Elvor's hand descended.
The hook *drove*.
Into the corner of Sable's eye socket. Not the iris—too protected, too centered—but the sclera. The white. Where tissue was softer. Where the hook could *punch* through.
The metal *penetrated*.
Sable's world exploded white.
Not pain. Not yet. Just—*pressure*. Overwhelming. Absolute. The sensation of something *wrong* occupying space that should be empty. His body's alarm systems screaming at him—*FOREIGN OBJECT FOREIGN OBJECT REMOVE REMOVE REMOVE*—
Elvor's hand twisted. Not much. Just—*slightly*.
The hook caught on something. Dragged. Tore.
The sclera *ripped*.
Like fabric under tension. Like skin splitting under a blade. The sound was wet. Organic. Wrong.
Now the pain hit.
Fire poured directly into his skull. Every nerve ending in his face igniting simultaneously. His spine tried to arch—animal response, trying to escape—but he *forced* himself still.
*Can't move. Can't scream. Can't draw attention.*
His hands pressed flat against concrete. Fingers spread wide. Nails scraping. Finding purchase in microscopic cracks.
Elvor pulled the hook sideways. Dragging it through tissue that was never meant to be penetrated. The sharp point scraped against bone—orbital socket, hard and unyielding—before catching on the iris.
The hook *tore* into it.
Blue tissue separating. Fragmenting. The delicate structure that filtered light and color coming *apart* under crude metal intervention.
Blood poured.
Hot. Viscous. Running down Sable's face in sheets. Into his nose. His mouth. Tasting like copper and salt and failure.
His right eye—the blue one—was a ruin. The iris visible through the torn sclera, already losing shape. Already turning colors that eyes shouldn't be. Purple-black bruising spreading. Tissue swelling.
The vitreous humor leaked. Clear gel mixing with blood. Dripping from his chin onto concrete.
Elvor pulled the hook free.
The extraction was worse than the insertion. Tissue clinging to metal. Being dragged. *Ripped*.
Sable's teeth clenched so hard something in his jaw popped.
Ellaya made a sound. High. Broken. Like a small animal watching something die.
Bang pressed his hand over her mouth. Muffling it. "Shh. Shh. I know. I know it's bad. But quiet. Please."
Sable's left eye—the brown one—was still working. Tracking. Cataloging.
His right eye saw nothing. Just—*red*. And pain. And the wet sensation of something leaking that shouldn't be leaking. Internal structures exposed to air. Nerve endings firing distress signals his brain couldn't process fast enough.
The regeneration Grace activated.
He felt it. Subtle warmth spreading through the damaged tissue. Cells dividing. *Slowly*. Painfully slowly. The Grace wasn't meant for catastrophic damage—it was meant for cuts, bruises, minor trauma.
This was major trauma.
It would heal. Eventually. Hours. Maybe a day.
But for now—
Now his eye was destroyed.
And that was *exactly* what he needed.
Elvor dropped the chain. It clattered against concrete. The sound impossibly loud in the small space.
Blood and vitreous humor stained the hook. Still warm. Still wet.
"I'm sorry," Elvor whispered. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm—"
"It worked." Sable's voice came out thick. Slurred. Blood in his mouth. Running down his throat. "That's what matters."
He stood. Swayed. The world tilting—no depth perception, distances wrong, everything flat and strange.
Bang caught him. "Dude. *Dude*. That was—that was the most metal thing I've ever seen."
"Need to—" Sable's throat worked. Swallowed blood. "—need to move. Before they search this section."
"Your eye—"
"Will heal. Ellaya's Grace. Just—" He blinked his left eye. Testing. The world was flat now. Wrong. Distances refusing to make sense. "—just need to avoid the Blackwater until it's less obvious."
He reached down. Picked up the chain. The metal was slick. Warm. He wiped it on his coat—smearing blood across fabric—and looped it back through his collar.
*Part of my arsenal. Can't leave it.*
Ellaya was crying. Silent tears streaming down her face. Staring at the blood covering Sable's face. At the destroyed eye socket already swelling shut.
"It's okay," Sable said. Trying to sound reassuring. Failing. "I'm okay."
*Liar.*
"SECTION TWO CLEAR. MOVING TO SECTION THREE."
The Blackwater search was getting closer.
They moved through the crowd. Sable keeping his head down. Right side of his face angled away from sight lines. Blood still seeping through the makeshift bandage Bang had torn from his own shirt.
Someone gasped. "Oh God—his eye—"
"Rain debris," Bang said quickly. "Fell during evacuation. We're getting him to medical."
"Does he need—"
"We're handling it." Bang's voice was firm. Final. Kept moving.
The Blackwater knights were beginning systematic searches. Starting at the entrance. Working inward. Two sections away.
They reached the side door. The one the administrators used for supply runs.
Locked.
Of course it was locked.
Bang looked at Sable. "I could kick it."
"Too loud."
"I could kick it *quietly*."
"That's not a thing—"
A sound.
Footsteps.
Not running. Not rushing. Just—*walking*.
Measured. Unhurried. Wrong for the chaos.
Expensive boots on wet stone.
Everyone in the corner turned.
A man emerged from the crowd.
Black suit. Perfectly pressed despite the Rain. Wet but somehow immaculate. Black hair combed back. Black eyes that should have looked warm but didn't.
Malvric.
He walked toward the Blackwater checkpoint. Hands in pockets. Posture relaxed. A man taking a stroll through a park instead of a lockdown zone.
The lead knight's head snapped toward him.
Her hand moved to her sword. "You. Stop."
Malvric stopped. Turned. His expression was polite curiosity. Nothing more.
"Identification," the knight said.
Malvric pulled a card from his pocket. Extended it. The motion was smooth. Practiced.
The knight took it. Scanned it. Her expression shifted—surprise, then annoyance, then something harder to read.
"You're cleared for Upper City access," she said slowly. "What are you doing in Prulla?"
"Visiting." Malvric's voice was pleasant. Conversational. "I have business in the artisan quarter."
"During a lockdown."
"The lockdown began after I arrived." Malvric tilted his head. "Unfortunate timing."
The knight's jaw tightened. She looked at the card again. At Malvric's face. Back at the card.
Whatever she saw there made her hand move away from her sword.
"You have clearance to depart," she said. Her voice was careful. Controlled. "But understand that re-entry will require—"
"Full verification. I'm aware." Malvric's smile was polite. "I'll manage."
He took the card back. Pocketed it.
Started walking toward the side exit.
Directly toward Sable's group.
The lead knight watched him go. Her expression was complicated. Frustrated. Like she'd just been outmaneuvered but couldn't explain how.
Malvric reached the side door. Pulled a key from his pocket—where the *fuck* did he get a key—and unlocked it.
Turned. Looked directly at Sable.
His black eyes tracked the blood. The destroyed eye. The way Sable was leaning against Bang for support.
His expression didn't change.
But something in his gaze *sharpened*.
He mouthed: *Coming?*
Sable looked at Bang. At Ellaya. At Elvor slumped against the wall.
*No choice. No time. No options.*
He grabbed Ellaya's hand. Started walking.
Bang followed.
Elvor pushed himself upright. "Sable—"
"Stay here," Sable said. Not looking back. "You're registered. You're safe. They won't—"
"I'm coming with you."
"No."
"You're my *son*—"
"I'm not." Sable's voice went flat. Final. "We needed each other. That's done now."
He stopped. Turned. Met Elvor's eyes with his one functioning eye.
"Thank you," Sable said quietly. "For the eye. For—" His throat worked. "For doing what needed to be done."
Elvor's face crumpled. "Sable please—"
"Goodbye, Elvor."
He walked away.
Didn't look back.
Behind him, Elvor crumpled against the wall breathing hard. Tears starting to fall.
And Sable felt the crack in his chest widen but didn't stop moving because feeling would mean the eye-stabbing mattered and it couldn't matter and nothing could matter except keeping Ellaya alive.
They reached the side exit. Malvric held it open. Still smiling that polite, pleasant smile that revealed nothing.
"Rough day?" he asked.
Sable walked through the door.
Into grey daylight.
Into whatever came next.
Behind him: Ellaya, clutching Second. Bang, still confused but loyal.
And Malvric, closing the door behind them with a soft *click* that sounded like a trap snapping shut.
The lock engaged.
Malvric pocketed the key.
Turned to face them fully.
His gaze swept over Sable—the destroyed eye, the blood, the way he was swaying on his feet—then moved to Bang, to Ellaya, to Second perched on her shoulder.
His smile widened.
"The Sinner," he said quietly. "In person. How fortuitous."
Sable's hand moved to his chain. Found it through the blood-soaked fabric.
Malvric's eyes tracked the movement. "Relax. If I wanted you caught, I'd simply inform the knights." He gestured down the alley. "Shall we? I suspect you'd prefer to be elsewhere when they finish their search."
"Why are you helping us?" Sable asked. His voice was wary. Suspicious.
"Helping?" Malvric's expression was thoughtful. "I'm walking. You're walking in the same direction. That's not help. That's coincidence."
[VERDICT]
[FALSE]
"Bullshit," Sable said. His voice came out slurred. Thick with blood. "You unlocked the door. You drew the knights' attention. You—"
"Made choices that benefited us both." Malvric's smile didn't change. "Your presence here complicates things I'd prefer remained simple. My leaving helps you. Your leaving helps me. Simple mathematics."
Behind them: "SECTION THREE CLEAR. MOVING TO SECTION FOUR."
The Blackwater search was getting closer.
Malvric started walking. "Come or don't. Your survival isn't my responsibility."
He moved down the alley. Steady. Unhurried. Confident.
Sable looked at Bang. At Ellaya.
Made a decision.
They followed.
Because sometimes the devil you didn't know was better than the devils actively hunting you.
And Sable was running out of devils to choose from.