Barra Funda smells of industrial past and uncertain present. Gigantic warehouses, which once held São Paulo's progress, now hold silence and shadows. At least, that's what it looks like to those on the outside.
Lucas stopped in front of a corrugated iron gate, covered by geological layers of graffiti. There was no doorbell, just an old camera hanging by a wire, which looked broken.
"We're here," he whispered. "We call it 'The Hive.'"
Faísca, my stray of dust and light, stopped beside my leg. He didn't growl, which was a good sign, but his energy ears spun like satellite dishes. He could feel the magic here.
Lucas pulled out his phone and sent an encrypted code. Seconds later, the gate didn't open; it trembled. A smaller door, torch-cut into the metal, unlocked with a heavy click.
We went inside.
The interior was a shock to the senses. The warehouse was immense, with the high ceiling lost in darkness, but the floor was a maze of partitions made of hoardings, tarps, and technological scrap. There was light, but it didn't come from normal bulbs. It came from LED strips, stacked computer monitors, and, here and there, the supernatural glow of objects Infused by the Awakened.
It was a cyberpunk favela built inside the carcass of a factory.
"Lucas!" a feminine voice echoed from above a metal walkway. "Did you bring heat here? The level of entropy in the city is crazy."
A woman descended a rope ladder with cat-like agility. Her hair was shaved on the side, her tattoos glowed under blacklight, and she held a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire that pulsed with a faint red aura. A Cursed Weapon, but low-level.
"Relax, Mel. The heat isn't mine," Lucas pointed to me. "It's hers."
Mel stopped two meters away. Other residents began to emerge from behind the tarps and computers. They were mostly young.
Hackers, artists, taggers, skaters. People the system chewed up and spat out, and whom the Spiritual Frontier had "Awakened." They didn't have direct divine Gifts, but they had the vision.
They looked at me with suspicion. And they looked even more at the bulk beneath my jacket.
"Who's the country girl?" Mel asked, spinning the bat.
"Dayanne Gabrielly." I took a step forward, ignoring the insult. "And I need a place to stay."
"This isn't a shelter, princess. This is a hideout. Everyone contributes. Lucas fixes the servers, Jão handles the water, I handle security. What about you? What can a lost vet student offer besides bringing Alencar's hunting dogs to our door?"
She was right. I was a problem magnet. But I was also something they rarely saw up close.
"I offer a roof," I replied.
Mel laughed, looking at the warehouse's leaky ceiling. "We already have a roof, dear."
"Not this kind."
I slowly took off my jacket. In the dark environment of The Hive, my right arm wasn't just a flashlight; it was a miniature sun. The golden, solid light of Aureus illuminated the tired faces around. I heard gasps. Some recoiled, shielding their eyes.
For the Awakened, who struggle to infuse crumbs of Fervor into objects, seeing a Chosen—someone who is a direct channel of the divine—is like seeing a nuclear reactor in the middle of a campfire.
"You're... from Aureus," Mel lowered the bat, hostility replaced by cautious respect. "Umbra has more people. Aureus is rare."
"Your perimeter is weak," I said, pointing to the high windows of the warehouse, where dark shadows outside timidly tried to slip in.
"You use sigils and gambiarras, but the city's entropy leaks inside. You don't sleep well, do you? Do you feel the cold at night?"
I saw heads nodding. Aureus's magic of protection is preservation and barrier. It was what this community lacked.
"I don't have money. I don't have a home. But while I'm here, no shadow comes in without an invitation. That's my rent."
I walked to the center of the warehouse, where a main beam supported the structure. I touched the cold metal with my hand of light.
"Lesser Sanctuary."
It wasn't an attack, nor a tether. It was an exhalation of power. I let the Fervor flow, not as an explosion, but as a binding agent. Threads of golden light rose up the column, spread across the ceiling, and came down the walls, sealing the spiritual cracks.
The air inside the warehouse changed instantly. The cold dampness vanished. The feeling of external surveillance disappeared. It was like closing the window on a stormy day.
Faísca barked happily and began running in circles, enjoying the purified environment.
Mel looked at the ceiling, where the golden light pulsed softly on the beams, and then at me.
"That's..." she swallowed hard. "The rent is paid."
Lucas smiled, patting my left shoulder.
"I told you she was useful."
Mel pointed to a corner where some mattresses were stacked.
"You can stay in Sector 4, near the generators. It's warmer. And... thank you. It's been a long time since I breathed without tasting smoke."
I went to my new "room." It was just a dirty corner in an illegal warehouse, surrounded by people rejected by society. But as I unpacked my backpack, I felt a strange peace.
On the farm, we care for the herd. Here, the herd was different. They were black sheep, tattooed, and armed. But under Aureus's light, everyone deserved protection.
I sat on the mattress, exhausted. The arm of light dimmed its glow so as not to bother the neighbors.
"Good night, Faísca," I whispered.
The spiritual dog curled up at my feet. I had lost my apartment, but I had gained a fortress. And, for the first time since the war began, I wasn't fighting alone. I had an army. Now, I just needed to teach them how to bite.