The rain in Oakhaven didn't fall; it leaked. It seeped through the glass bridges of the High-Spires, picking up the charcoal soot of industrial alchemy and the copper tang of spent mana before it finally hit the Deep-Sinks. By the time it reached my coat, it was a purple-black sludge that stained everything it touched.
I sat on the driver's box of the carriage, my hands numb inside leather gloves. My "horse," a construct made of stitched leather and brass gears, didn't mind the rain. It didn't breathe, so it didn't cough from the magical smog. It just stood there, its hollow eyes glowing with a faint, dying blue light.
"Keep moving, Rust-Bucket," I muttered, flicking the reins.
The carriage lurched forward, the iron-rimmed wheels grinding against the cobblestones. The Deep-Sinks were crowded, even at midnight. Low-level thugs with glowing tattoos leaned against tavern walls, and "Mana-Addicts" shivered in the gutters, their veins pulsing with a sickly neon light as they chased the high of a leaked spell.
I watched them through the collar of my coat. I've seen them all. The city is an open wound, and the people are the maggots fighting over the scrap of meat that's left.
Someone should wash it all away, I thought. A great, holy fire. Just to see if anything clean is left underneath.
A lantern flickered at the corner of "Alchemist's Row." A figure stood there, wrapped in a heavy silken cloak that cost more than my carriage. A noble, straying too far down the vertical map.
I pulled the brake. The iron squealed—a sound like a dying animal.
"Where to?" I asked, not looking back.
The passenger climbed in. The carriage tilted under his weight. I smelled expensive incense and cold, fresh blood.
"The Ivory Gate," the man whispered. His voice was shaking. "Quickly. I'll pay double the silver-weight."
I looked at the reflection in my cracked side-mirror. He was clutching a leather satchel to his chest. There was a wet, dark smear on his cuff. He hadn't wiped it off properly.
"Silver is fine," I said, snapping the reins. "But if the City Watch stops us, you're just a ghost I never met."
"Just drive, Ferryman," he snapped.
I didn't care what was in the bag. I didn't care whose throat he'd cut to get it. I just looked at the road ahead, where the fog was so thick it felt like driving into a shroud.
I am Kaelen. I drive the night. And in this city, the night never ends.