The morning after the storm never truly came.
Nocturne City existed in perpetual twilight — a half-light where the sun struggled to pierce the towers of glass and smoke.
Kael woke to the faint hum of the orb. It floated an inch above the counter, spinning slowly, its crack now pulsing brighter blue. Lira sat cross-legged on the floor, watching it with cautious fascination.
"You didn't sleep," he said.
"I couldn't," she replied softly. "It started doing that after you touched it."
Kael frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's reacting to power. To mine or yours."
"Or both."
He shot her a look, but she didn't back down. For someone who had nearly died in an alley twelve hours ago, she held his gaze with unnerving steadiness.
---
Kael leaned closer to the orb. The hum wasn't just sound — it was voices, layered whispers, too faint to make out but somehow pleading. He'd heard something like it before — in the catacombs beneath his father's mansion, where the old gods were buried and forgotten.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked.
Lira shook her head. "Only that someone would kill to keep me from finding it."
He sighed. "Welcome to Nocturne."
---
They left the bookstore before dawn. Kael pulled his hood low as they crossed the street into The Wastes, a district where even the city's security drones refused to patrol. Old temples leaned against high-rises; graffiti glowed with forbidden sigils that pulsed when you stared too long.
He led Lira to a narrow stairwell marked only by a faded symbol — a hand pierced by light. "Stay close," he said.
At the bottom was a door that opened to a forgotten subway tunnel. Inside, a single lantern flickered, revealing an old man hunched over a table cluttered with relics. His hair was white, his eyes clouded but aware.
Master Corren. Once a scholar of arcane sciences, now a relic himself.
"Kael Varyn," the man rasped without looking up. "I wondered how long before your blood dragged you back."
Kael ignored the jab. "I need a reading."
Corren's gaze lifted to Lira, then to the orb in her hands. His fingers twitched. "Where did you find that?"
Lira hesitated. "Under the Glass Quarter. It called to me."
Corren's expression hardened. "It shouldn't have."
He gestured for the orb. Lira hesitated, then placed it in his palm. The old man whispered a charm — and the blue glow flared white, flooding the room with light. Symbols danced across the walls, rearranging themselves into spirals.
Corren gasped and nearly dropped it. "By the fallen stars…"
"What is it?" Kael demanded.
The scholar looked up, fear sharp in his eyes.
"It's not a relic. It's a heartstone."
Lira frowned. "What's that?"
Kael answered first, his tone low. "A soul vessel. Used to imprison something — or someone."
Corren nodded. "Ancient. Dangerous. Only a Shadow Heir could open it fully."
The air thickened. Kael felt the weight of the old man's words like a noose tightening around his throat.
"Who's inside?" he asked.
Corren closed his eyes. "I can't tell. But the energy… it's familiar. Tainted. It reeks of your mother's line."
Kael's jaw clenched. His mother — the Shadow Witch of the Second War — had been erased from history, her name forbidden even in whispers. Yet here she was again, haunting him through blood and legacy.
Lira looked between them. "So this is connected to you?"
He didn't answer. The shadows at his feet stirred, restless.
Corren placed the orb carefully back on the table. "Destroy it before it wakes. Or you'll regret it."
Lira shook her head. "If someone's trapped, we can't just—"
Kael cut her off. "This isn't a fairy tale. In this city, the things trapped in cages are there for a reason."
---
They left the tunnel in tense silence. The rain had returned, falling harder now, thunder rippling through the city's bones.
Lira finally spoke. "You're afraid of it."
"I'm afraid of what it'll make me do," Kael replied.
She stepped closer. "You saved me last night. That doesn't look like someone who wants to destroy everything."
He gave a short, humorless laugh. "You don't know what I want."
Her gaze softened. "Then maybe you should find out."
Something in her tone cracked through his walls, just for a second — a flicker of warmth against all that cold. But then the air shifted again. Kael's instincts screamed.
"Get down!" he barked.
A blast of crimson light tore through the wall beside them. Lira hit the ground as debris rained around them. From the smoke emerged three figures — cloaked, armed with blades that shimmered with runes.
The Revenants.
Assassins of the Council.
"By order of the Nocturne Authority," one hissed, "Kael Varyn is condemned for the murder of Lord Varyn. Surrender or be purged."
Kael's magic reacted before his mind did. Shadows coiled up his arms like serpents, forming blades of darkness in each hand. "I'm not in the mood to be purged."
They clashed — steel and shadow, light and blood. The alley lit up with arcs of power. Lira ducked behind cover, clutching the heartstone. One assassin lunged at her; she raised her hand instinctively — and a shockwave blasted from her palm, throwing the man ten feet into a wall.
She stared at her hands, trembling. "What did I—"
"Magic," Kael shouted, parrying a strike. "You are one of us!"
The last assassin tried to flee, but Kael's shadows pinned him to the wall. "Who sent you?" he growled.
The man spat blood. "You already know… heir."
Kael's eyes darkened. "Then remind me."
"The Council. But not all of them — one wants the throne for himself. And he's coming for the girl."
Kael's grip tightened. The shadows writhed. Lira grabbed his arm. "Stop — he's done!"
For a second, Kael's control wavered. The darkness wanted blood. It craved it.
Then he released the man, letting him collapse, gasping.
The assassin laughed weakly. "You'll fall like your father did."
Kael's voice was a whisper. "Maybe. But I'll burn slower."
He turned away as the man dissolved into smoke — a Revenant's curse of death. Lira followed him, shaken but silent.
---
They took refuge in an abandoned train station. Kael sat against a pillar, breathing hard, his veins still glowing faintly black. Lira knelt beside him.
"You're losing control," she said quietly.
He looked at her — truly looked. Her face smeared with ash, eyes bright with defiance and fear.
"Control is a luxury I don't have," he muttered.
"Then we find another way."
"There is no other way."
"Yes, there is," she whispered. "You don't have to become what they say you are."
Her words hit harder than any spell. For a moment, Kael saw something in her eyes — hope. Dangerous, fragile hope.
Thunder rolled again. In her hands, the heartstone flared suddenly, brighter than before. This time the light didn't stop. It spread across the floor, tracing symbols in the dust — runes of summoning.
Kael shot to his feet. "Lira— what did you do?"
"I didn't— it's doing it on its own!"
The air grew cold. The runes pulsed faster. Then the orb cracked open completely — and a voice, deep and sorrowful, filled the station.
> At last… my heir remembers me.
The light shattered, and from it rose a shape — half human, half smoke — with eyes like dying stars.
Kael's blood ran cold.
He knew that voice.
It was his mother's.