Location: Kaelthorn District — Tavern SHELTER, Verge Sector
Time: 4:12 PM | Two Days After Incident 9A-VE
The door creaked once, and the tavern went still.
Not silent—just quieter.
Voices dropped mid-word. A bottle paused halfway to a mouth. A game of dice in the corner fell quiet before the next roll.
He didn't look like much at first glance. Lean frame, long coat faded gray. Black gloves stitched with old mesh. No badge. No weapon anyone could see.
But no one sat near him when he passed.
No one looked him in the eyes.
"Drel," someone whispered.
"Shit, that's Drel."
Korr didn't break pace. Didn't blink.
He moved like a man who had already measured every distance in the room before walking in. Like he'd seen the fight three seconds before it happened.
The barkeep didn't speak until Korr reached the counter.
He slid a clean glass toward the man.
"She was here two nights ago," the barkeep said. "Didn't say much. Black coat. Sat in the middle."
Korr's eyes flicked once to the stool in question.
Center spot. Full view of the exits.
Only someone confident—or broken—sat there.
"Alone?" Korr asked.
"Always," the barkeep replied.
Location: Verge Sector — Lower Verge, Alley East of Sector 7 Gate
Time: 5:09 PM
The blood was still there.
Not fresh. Not gone either.
Korr crouched, fingers brushing the edge of the wall where the satchel had caught. Close-range impact. Someone hit hard. Someone got up faster.
He stood, letting the city speak to him the way it always had—in silence and scuff marks.
"Three attackers. Two dropped. One ran."
Pause.
"She didn't."
He tapped a short burst into his shard:
◾ Found the trail
◾ Lower Verge
◾ Still warm
◾ Box in play
No reply.
Of course not.
Taz didn't do replies.
If he was happy, he stayed quiet.
If he was pissed… you found out face-first.
Korr tucked the shard away and turned down the next alley.
Just him, the wind, and a girl who didn't know she was being hunted
Location: Ember's Shack — Edge of Verge Sector
Time: 6:03 PM
The shack creaked when she moved.
It always did.
Floorboards bowed like they were tired of being stepped on. The roof buzzed low from a broken junction box—flickering just enough to remind her the light might die any second.
She didn't mind.
Darkness was easier than most things. Quieter.
Quieter than the fire. Quieter than the memory.
Ember sat at the edge of the crooked mattress, half-wrapped in her coat. One hand hovered near her chest, over the spot where the Pyra sigil had burned through her skin days ago.
It didn't glow now.
But she could still feel it—like a whisper under her ribs.
She was still frustrated. Still haunted by what happened.
The one thing she knew?
The core was gone.
She'd checked twice.
Flipped the box. Peeled back the cloth.
No scorch marks. No shards. Just heat-warped edges.
Just emptiness that felt… deliberate.
Like whatever had been inside had chosen to leave.
Outside, the wind carried shouting from a few blocks away. A dog barked. Someone screamed. Someone else laughed after.
Kaelthorn never slept. It just changed voices.
She hadn't gone back to the ruins since the torchblade.
Since the weight returned.
Then came the knock.
Except… it wasn't a knock.
It was a thud—distant, sharp. Not at her door. Close, but not quite there.
A few more sounds followed. Quiet voices. A crash.
Her body tensed. Her hand drifted toward the torchblade in the corner.
Axel's.
Still cracked. Still heavy.
Still his.
She slid the door open just enough to step out.
The wind scraped across her face.
The alley was empty.
But it didn't feel empty.
She moved to the stairwell beside her shack—and saw it.
A bootprint in the dust.
Wrong angle. Wrong size. Not hers.
Still sharp at the edge.
Someone had been here.
And they hadn't come from the street.
They'd climbed.
Location: Rooftops Above the Shack
Time: 6:15 PM
Korr crouched above the shack, coat pressed close, eyes locked.
He didn't move.
Didn't breathe loud.
Didn't need to.
She was out now.
Moved like someone used to disappearing.
"Still not scared," he muttered. "Or maybe just numb."
He tapped his shard. No update.
Didn't matter.
She was smaller than expected. But heavier in presence. The way she moved—carrying something she couldn't drop, even if she wanted to.
"Alright, fire girl," he whispered. "Let's see where you go."
Location: Lower Streets — Verge Sector
Time: 6:26 PM
Ember walked like a ghost with heat behind her eyes.
Vendors shouted. Drones buzzed. A Helion broadcast played overhead—
"...Order will be maintained. Western area is under observation..."
She didn't stop.
Her footsteps took her past broken checkpoints, flickering signs, and graffitied walls.
"The sky cracked. The truth didn't."
The words stuck.
She ducked into a dead-end alley.
And stopped.
"You gonna keep hiding…" she said quietly.
Then turned.
"Or do you want to talk?"
Location: Verge Sector — Storage Alley, Lower Fringe
Time: 6:31 PM
The air didn't move.
No wind. No sound. Just the buzz of broken lights and the slow beat of Ember's pulse in her ears.
Then—
A slow clap.
Measured. Mocking.
She looked up.
He stood on the rooftop—one boot hooked behind a vent, one hand in his coat, the other finishing off a snack like this was all beneath him. But his eyes… they didn't smile. They read her like a weapon half-drawn.
"Not bad," he said, voice casual. "Most don't feel me coming until they're bleeding. You've got good instincts, fire girl."
His boots landed soft on the cracked pavement below—too soft for a man that heavy with intent. His coat settled around him like a shadow still deciding who to haunt.
She said nothing. Just turned to face him fully.
"Korr," he offered, nodding once like it mattered. "I'm here for something you picked up. Small, valuable. Doesn't belong to you."
He stepped forward—unhurried, unbothered.
"We can do this easy. You hand over the gem. I walk. You breathe."
He smiled.
"Or... you can stay difficult. In which case, what happens next won't be quick."
The alley tightened around them—narrow, boxed in, one way out behind her. Her pulse slowed. Focused.
Korr noticed. His head tilted. "Not scared?"
"I don't get scared," Ember said. "Not anymore."
That surprised him. A little.
Still, he kept his tone cool. "You've got something that doesn't belong to you."
"I don't even know what the hell you're talking about."
Her voice had a crackle now. Not rage. Not defiance. Something deeper.
The fire under control—barely.
Korr's gaze sharpened. "Then why's your chest glowing?"
She flinched—but only slightly.
The Pyra sigil had flickered. A pulse beneath her skin. Hot. Responsive.
Korr didn't smile this time.
"You're not lying," he murmured, mostly to himself. "You really don't know."
She shrugged once. "All I know is I beat the crap out of three punks who couldn't hold their blades straight. If that's why you're here… maybe you're in the wrong alley."
And she smiled.
Just a small, crooked thing. But it scared him.
Not because it was confident.
Because it wasn't hers.
Because something inside her wanted to fight. Something ancient. Burning.
Korr took a single step closer. Ember didn't move—but her weight shifted forward.
The heat between them spiked.
A trash bin behind Ember groaned, then popped as the metal warped under sudden warmth.
Korr's hand moved near his coat. But it didn't pull the weapon.
"You're not ready," he said.
"But something in you thinks you are."
Another pulse—this one visible.
The sigil under her collarbone lit once. Just for a breath.
And then… it faded.
Korr froze.
She hadn't even noticed.
"…It bonded to you," he said, almost reverently. "The core."
Ember blinked. "What core?"
A beat of silence.
Then Korr exhaled and backed off—three slow steps. Still facing her. No fear. Just recalculating.
"You didn't win this," he said. "But maybe... neither did I."
He turned to leave—then stopped at the corner.
"And for what it's worth…" he called over his shoulder.
"…the client wants you alive."
A beat.
"But that won't last long."
Then he vanished into the dark.
Ember stood in the stillness that followed. The wind returned. The metal bin groaned again as it cooled.
She didn't exhale for a full ten seconds.
Her hand was still near her torchblade. Her chest still warm. But the fight… didn't come.
And she hated that.
Not because she was scared.
But because deep down, in that old part of her heart that still remembered the bunker...
She'd wanted to burn him
Location: Rooftop Above the Storage Lanes
Minutes after Korr's Retreat
The woman crouched low on the ledge, her weight balanced like a coiled spring, eyes locked on the alley below.
She hadn't blinked once during the standoff.
The girl hadn't fought—but Vale saw it.
The twitch in the fingers. The way the air shifted.
She'd been one breath away from setting the whole alley on fire.
"That's her," Vale muttered under her breath.
Not surprised. Just… interested.
She rose slowly, the wind tugging at her cropped white hair. Her scarred blade rested against her back, humming faintly with the static charge of old violence.
So that's the one the Sixth Fang was chasing.
And she made Korr back down.
Interesting.
Vale's grin was faint—but real.
"She doesn't even know what she is yet."
She turned, vanishing into the rooftop shadows without a sound.
Kaelthorn didn't make people like that.
Which meant… something bigger was coming.
And Vale wasn't sure yet if she wanted to help the kid—
Or test her.