The refinery's fire pit spat embers into the damp night air, the remnants of Ryn's laughter still clinging to the rusted walls as Kael turned the Epiphany shard over in his hands. It felt lighter now, or maybe he'd just grown used to its weight—a shard of someone else's pain, polished smooth by guilt. Gutter lay sprawled at his feet, her crystalline fur dimmed to a drowsy amber, while Ryn hummed an off-key tune, sharpening a scavenged blade with theatrical swipes. Mira hovered nearby, her shard-eye dissecting data from the shattered terminal, its screen flickering like a dying pulse.
"Still think we should've pawned that thing," Ryn said, nodding at the Epiphany. "Could've bought a lifetime supply of not dying horribly."
"It stays," Kael said, tucking the shard into his coat.
Mira didn't look up. "Sentiment is a liability."
"So's your face," Ryn shot back, grinning when Gutter huffed in agreement.
Before Mira could retort, the ground trembled—a distant, rhythmic pounding, like the march of mechanized boots. Gutter lunged to the refinery's edge, her growl sharpening to a snarl. Below, in the Dregs' labyrinth, torchlight flickered. Voices rose in a chant, cold and ceremonial.
"Auction night," Ryn muttered, peering over the railing. "Compliance Collars. Real popular with the Spire's pet sadists."
Kael's corruption pulsed, venom pooling in his palm. "We need antibiotics. Food."
"And I need live Shardbearer data," Mira said, already packing her tools into a frayed satchel.
Ryn groaned. "Of course you do. Let's go get kidnapped together! Team-building exercise!"
The auction unfolded in a cratered plaza, its cracked flagstones stained with old blood and oil. Inquisition enforcers lined the perimeter, ivory armor gleaming under the glare of floodlights, while Spire brokers in opulent masks clustered around a rusted stage. Collared Shardbearers stood shackled there—a woman with molten skin dripping embers, a twitching boy fused to a drone chassis, his eyes replaced with glowing lenses.
Ryn melted into the crowd, swiping a broker's cred-chip with a flick of his wrist. "Backup plan," he whispered, tossing it to Kael.
They didn't get far.
An enforcer seized Mira's arm, her shard-eye glinting too conspicuously in the torchlight. "Spy!" he barked, his voice metallic through the helmet's grille.
Chaos erupted.
Kael's venom dissolved the enforcer's helmet into acrid smoke, but three more surged forward, stun batons crackling. Gutter's jaws clamped on a rifle barrel, her crystalline fur deflecting bullets into the crowd as brokers scattered, silk robes fluttering like panicked birds. Ryn ducked a baton swing, Scavenger's Echo flaring as he reforged the weapon into a serrated dagger, its edge singing with borrowed malice.
Then the air warped.
A sonic scream tore through the plaza, shattering glass and bone alike. Enforcers clutched their helmets, blood seeping between their fingers as their eardrums burst. The brokers froze, masks slipping as a hulking figure emerged from the shadows—Talis, seven feet of scarred muscle and crude armor, a jagged Shard protruding from their throat like a fractured voice box. They signed to the cowering crowd with hands as broad as shovels: Leave. Now.
The brokers fled, trampling each other in their haste.
Talis turned to the group, dark eyes lingering on Kael's corrupted arm before crushing a discarded Compliance Collar with one fist. The gesture was clear: Enemies. Same.
"Well," Ryn said, eyeing the twitching enforcer corpses, "guess we're even. Wanna chat over drinks?"
Talis shook their head, tapping the vibrating Shard at their throat.
"Mute," Mira murmured, her shard-eye narrowing. "Their power feeds on sound. Absorbs it, amplifies it."
"So… no opera career?" Ryn sighed. "Shame."
Talis led them to a gutted church on the Dregs' outskirts, its spire half-collapsed and pews piled with scavenged supplies—stolen medkits, Oblivion-resistant armor, a cracked terminal wired to a car battery. They communicated in gestures and scars: a knife-tap on their collarbone (hunted), a fist crushed against the Inquisition barcode branded on their neck (property).
Kael understood. The itch of the Bond. The weight of being a weapon. He offered a canteen, and Talis accepted, their massive hands dwarfing the metal flask.
"You escaped them," Kael said.
Talis nodded, then mimed an explosion—hands ripping outward, face contorted in silent agony. Out of control.
"Charming," Mira said, scanning their Shard with clinical detachment. "Unstable resonance. You're a walking bomb."
Talis growled, the sound vibrating the floorboards.
"Play nice, Ghostie," Ryn warned, tossing Gutter a synth-steak from Talis's stash. "Big and Scary here just saved our skins."
The dog devoured the meat, then nosed Talis's leg, her fur shimmering in time with the Shard's hum. To everyone's surprise, Talis knelt, allowing Gutter to sniff the crystal. A low, resonant frequency passed between them, and the dog's tail thumped once—approval.
"Huh," Ryn said. "Scrap-Queen's a critic. Guess you're in, Thunderlips."
The loss of control came at dawn.
Mira's tools slipped as she hacked Talis's terminal, the grinding gears and whirring fans crescendoing into a discordant roar. Talis's Shard flared, its vibrations warping the air into a suffocating hum.
"Ryn—quiet the machinery!" Kael barked, his venom surging to shield his ears.
"On it!" Ryn jammed his scavenged blade into the generator, Scavenger's Echo sharpening the metal into a resonance disruptor. The hum lessened—but not enough.
Talis's scream erupted, a concussive wave shattering the church's remaining windows. Mira flew backward, her shard-eye cracking as she slammed into the altar. Gutter lunged, her crystalline body deflecting the worst of the blast, but the dog yelped, her fur dulling to a sickly gray.
"Stop them!" Mira coughed, blood trickling from her ears.
Kael tackled Talis, his corrupted hand sizzling against their Shard. The vibrations seared his skin, black veins writhing up his arm, but he locked eyes with them. "I know," he rasped, the words raw. "The hunger. The fear. Stop fighting it."
For a heartbeat, Talis's scream faltered. Their gaze dropped to Kael's corrupted arm, then to their own branded neck. A silent understanding passed between them—victors, not victims.
The Shard's pulse slowed.
Mira pressed a syringe to Talis's throat, her voice ice. "They're a liability. We end this."
"No." Kael stepped between them, his body a shield. "They're one of us."
"Us?" Mira laughed, the sound brittle. "There is no us. Only survivors."
Ryn flicked a shard of glass at her. "Careful, Ghostie. You're starting to sound like them."
Talis rose, signing slowly, deliberately. I go. You live.
"No," Kael said. "We fix your Shard. Together."
Ryn slung an arm around Talis's waist, the gesture absurd against their bulk. "C'mon, Thunderlips. Let's find you a mute-friendly beach. Palm trees, no enforcers… bliss."
They left the church at dusk, the Epiphany shard a quiet burn in Kael's pocket. Talis walked beside him, their presence a silent anchor, while Ryn scouted ahead, tossing quips back like lifelines.
"So, Thunderlips—ever consider a career in demolition? That scream of yours could topple Spire towers."
Talis responded by hurling a rusted gear into an alley, collapsing the path of an Inquisition patrol.
"Or… subtlety's overrated."
Mira trailed behind, her cracked shard-eye fixed on Talis's Shard. "The Echo Vault," she said suddenly. "Inquisition stockpile. If it holds stabilizers, we could recalibrate their crystal."
Talis stiffened, then rolled up their sleeve. A fresh scar, still angry and red, spelled a name in jagged glyphs: JAREK.
Ryn choked on his canteen. "Stonebreaker? You've met him?"
Talis nodded, miming a brutal clash—fists colliding, a Shard shattering. Then they tapped their barcode and Kael's corrupted arm. Same enemy.
The road ahead twisted into shadow, the distant silhouette of the Echo Vault piercing the horizon—a spire of black alloy, its surface etched with Inquisition phoenixes.
"Next stop: Shard shopping," Ryn said, spinning his dagger.
Gutter barked, her fur brightening as she trotted beside Talis. Kael felt the ghost of a smile. They were broken, volatile, damned—but they were his.
For now, that was enough.