If Port Aero was a hive of commerce, Black-Harbor was a hive of scum.
There were no sun-bleached white stones or golden temple flags here. Everything was constructed from black volcanic rock and rusted iron. The lighting came not from the sun—which was choked out by the violet smog of the Gravity Belt—but from thousands of neon-green and crimson mana-lamps flickering in the gloom.
The Rusty Bucket docked at a pier that looked like it might collapse at any moment.
"Rules of engagement," Silas barked as the crew prepared to disembark. "One: Don't stare at the locals. Two: If you buy a drink, check for poison. Three: We leave at dawn. If you aren't on the ship, we leave you."
He looked at Zain.
"Boz is coming with me to the Black Market to sell the cores. Vera, you stick to the kid like glue. Take him to the Archive. Find out what that thing in his arm is. And try not to start a gang war."
Vera nodded, checking the knives concealed in her boots. "Understood, Captain."
Zain pulled his hood low. The chill from his Void Step had finally faded, replaced by the humid, sulfur-smelling air of the city.
"Ready, garbage eater?" Vera asked.
"Ready," Zain said.
He stepped onto the black stone of the dock.
"Filth," Nox commented immediately, though he sounded almost nostalgic. "This place reeks of desperation and cheap magic. I like it."
The streets of Black-Harbor were a sensory assault.
Zain saw species he had only heard about in stories. A massive Orc with cybernetic limbs was arm-wrestling a Dwarf for a pile of gold. A group of Night-Elves—pale-skinned outcasts shunned by the surface—were selling glowing vials of illicit potions.
"Keep your hand on your purse," Vera warned, steering him through a crowded bazaar. "And don't make eye contact with the Red-Sashes. They run this district."
Zain kept his head down, but his eyes darted everywhere. He saw weapons that hummed with dark energy, beasts in cages that snarled at passersby, and slaves being sold in open auctions.
It was barbaric. It was free.
"Where is this Archive?" Zain whispered.
"Lower District," Vera said. "Near the Bedrock."
They descended a series of steep, slippery stairs carved directly into the side of the floating island. The deeper they went, the darker it got. The neon lights faded, replaced by old oil lanterns.
Finally, they reached a dead-end alley.
At the end stood a building that didn't fit. It wasn't made of metal or rock. It was carved from the gigantic skull of some ancient, dead leviathan. The door was set into the nasal cavity.
A faded wooden sign hung above the door: THE ARCHIVE OF DUST - ENTRY FEE: ONE SECRET.
"Friendly," Zain muttered.
"Stay behind me," Vera said. She pushed the heavy door open.
The inside smelled of old paper, dry ink, and something herbal.
It was a library, but not a neat one. Scrolls were piled in chaotic heaps. Books floated in mid-air, drifting like lazy fish. The walls were lined with glass jars containing strange specimens—eyes, teeth, claws.
Sitting behind a desk made of driftwood was a woman.
She was ancient. Her skin was like crumpled papyrus, and she wore heavy robes covered in moth holes. She was smoking a long, thin pipe that puffed out purple smoke.
She didn't look up as they entered.
"We don't want trouble," Vera announced, her hand resting on her dagger. "We just want information."
The woman chuckled. It sounded like dry leaves rustling.
"Everyone wants information, child," she rasped. "But few can pay the price."
She looked up. Her eyes were solid black—no whites, no irises.
"I am Madam Kora," she said. "And you..."
Her black eyes bypassed Vera completely and locked onto Zain. Her expression shifted from boredom to sudden, sharp interest.
"You smell of the Grave," Kora whispered.
Zain stepped forward, ignoring Vera's warning arm. "I have something inside me. I need to know what it is."
"Show me," Kora commanded.
Zain rolled up his sleeve.
The Onyx Seal was pulsing slowly. The black ink seemed to absorb the dim light of the library.
Kora didn't gasp. She didn't scream like the Priest had. She leaned in, blowing a ring of purple smoke over the mark.
The smoke didn't disperse. It was sucked into the seal.
"A witch," Nox growled in Zain's mind. "Be careful. She sees more than she speaks."
"The King of the Deep," Kora murmured, leaning back in her chair. "I haven't seen this mark in... oh, three hundred years? Maybe four."
"You know it?" Zain asked, his heart pounding.
"I know the legend," Kora said. "Long before the Sky Temples, before the Void War, there were seven Calamities. Seven Kings who ruled the Abyss below. They were... voracious."
She pointed her pipe at Zain's arm.
"That is Nox. The Glutton. The Devourer of Eons. He was the one who ate the sun for three days and plunged the world into the Long Night."
Zain swallowed hard. He ate the sun?
"It was a metaphorical sun," Nox corrected quickly, sounding defensive. "I ate the God of Light. Different thing."
"How do I get rid of it?" Zain asked.
Kora laughed. A dry, hacking sound. "Get rid of it? Boy, you don't pluck a tick like that out. You are bonded. If he dies, you die. If you die, he sleeps for another thousand years."
She stood up and walked—or rather, floated slightly off the ground—to a bookshelf. She pulled out a rotting scroll.
"But you didn't come here to get rid of it," Kora said, unrolling the scroll. It showed a map of the world, but it was old. The islands were in different places. "You found a Shard, didn't you? That's why the seal is awake."
"Yes," Zain admitted. "A black stone."
"The Crown of the Void," Kora traced a line on the map. "Nox wasn't just defeated. He was shattered. His essence was sealed into seven pieces of his armor. The Shard you found was just a splinter."
She turned to face him.
"If you want to survive, boy, you have two choices. One: You hide in a hole and pray the hunger doesn't consume your mind. Eventually, you will turn into a mindless Void-Ghoul and the Temple will put you down."
"And the second choice?" Vera asked sharply.
"You finish the puzzle," Kora grinned, revealing sharp, yellow teeth. "You find the other shards. You rebuild the King. If you restore his form, he won't need to eat your soul to survive. He will be stable."
Zain looked at the map. "Where are they?"
"Scattered," Kora said. "Lost in the deepest Dungeons, buried in the bellies of Leviathans, or locked in Temple vaults."
She tapped a specific island on the map. A skull-shaped island.
"But rumor has it... the Second Shard has surfaced recently. Not in a dungeon. But at an auction."
"Where?" Zain asked.
"Here," Kora said. "In Black-Harbor. The Crimson Syndicate is selling a 'Cursed Artifact' tomorrow night. They say it drives anyone who touches it insane."
Zain looked at Vera.
"The Syndicate?" Vera went pale. "Zain, that's suicide. The Syndicate runs this city. If we try to steal from them, Silas won't just throw us overboard—he'll execute us himself to save the crew."
"We don't steal it," Zain said, a crazy idea forming in his head. "We buy it."
"With what money?" Vera snapped. "We have ten coins! That shard will go for thousands!"
Zain looked at Kora. "What is the Entry Fee? You said 'One Secret'."
Kora smiled. "I did."
"I don't have a secret," Zain said. "But I have a memory."
He closed his eyes. He focused on the vision Nox had shown him—the violet sky, the obsidian city, the Throne.
"Do not!" Nox roared. "That is MY memory!"
It's the only way, Zain thought.
He reached out and grabbed Kora's wrinkled hand.
"Transfer."
He didn't drain her. He pushed. He pushed the image of the Ancient Void City into her mind.
Kora gasped, her black eyes widening. She trembled, dropping her pipe. For a moment, she saw the world before the history books began. She saw the truth of the Abyss.
Zain let go. He stumbled back, dizzy.
Kora sat there, breathing heavily. A single tear of black ink rolled down her cheek.
"Magnificent," she whispered. "A true memory of the First Age."
She reached under her desk and pulled out a heavy iron token stamped with a red skull.
"This is an invitation to the Syndicate Auction," she said, tossing it to Zain. "Consider your fee paid. And boy..."
She leaned forward, the shadows in the room seeming to wrap around her.
"You aren't the only one hunting the King's pieces. The Eclipsed Hand is moving. Watch your back. They don't want to rebuild the King..."
She paused.
"They want to wear him."
Zain and Vera walked out of the Archive and back into the humid gloom of the alley.
Zain looked at the iron token in his hand. The auction was tomorrow.
"We need a plan," Zain said.
"We need a miracle," Vera corrected, checking the street for spies. "And we need money. A lot of it. The Captain's cores won't be enough."
Zain touched the seal on his arm. Nox was sulking, angry about the shared memory, but Zain could feel something else radiating from the entity.
Determination.
"The Syndicate..." Nox muttered. "Thieves holding my property. Very well, Zain. If we cannot buy it... and we cannot steal it..."
"Then what?" Zain asked.
"Then we break the auction," Nox snarled. "We create chaos. And in the chaos, the strong take what is theirs."
Zain looked up at the neon lights of Black-Harbor.
"Chaos," Zain repeated. "I think I can do chaos."