"Your brother isn't coming back for you, Zane. It's time you leave that in the past—where it belongs."
Aragon's voice cut through Zane like a knife. The words echoed, again and again, a cruel chorus in his ears.
Zane sat slouched on the edge of the couch, head low, shoulders heavy. He looked like a boy who had lost everything—because he had.
"You don't understand…" he whispered. "He's the only family I have left."
Aragon crossed the room, his steps calm, deliberate. He sat beside the boy he had raised and handed him a glass of wine.
Zane didn't hesitate. He grabbed it and took a long swig, trying to drown something that refused to be silenced.
"Zane," Aragon said, voice dipping into something almost tender. "We are your family. I took you in when you were just seven… after Lunaris claimed your land. It's hard, losing a home. Harder losing a brother. But that place, that boy, turned to ash long ago."
Zane looked up, lips twitching into a ghost of a smile.
"I know. And I'll always be grateful for what you did."
He raised the glass in a half-toast before draining the rest.
"Now—let's get down to business," Aragon said, rising.
He walked to the chalkboard, lines of notes and chemical symbols scribbled across it.
"You succeeded, Zane. The Moonris serum is stable. Soon, we begin the real work."
"What work?" Zane asked, joining him at the board.
"We take the Fallen City. Restore order. Revive humanity. If that means leaning into contradiction, then so be it. Progress requires sacrifice… even blood."
Zane's brow furrowed.
"What about the council? Do they all share your vision?"
"Some do," Aragon said, eyes narrowing. "Enough to make it happen. The others… they'll follow once they see results."
Zane stared at the board, tension creeping into his spine.
"What about retaliation? The Fallen won't just sit back."
Aragon waved him off.
"Amara's handling it. She's with the council now. Speaking of—why don't you attend that meeting?"
Zane blinked. "I can?"
"Of course. Just keep what you hear to yourself."
Aragon's smile was warm, but behind his eyes—there was something else. Something colder.
Zane nodded. "Thank you."
Elsewhere, in the shrouded alleys of the Fallen City…
The cold stung against my face as I pulled my cloak lower. I moved quick, shadows my only company until I turned the corner—into the alley lit only by the burning tip of Elara's cigar.
"You made it," she said, smoke trailing from her lips.
"If the other Liberators knew I was talking to you… I'd be ash by morning," I muttered, scanning the alley.
"Then don't waste time. What have you got?"
I stepped closer, lowering my voice.
"There are two types of serum being produced. One strips powers… the other enhances them."
Elara's eyes gleamed like firelight in the dark.
"So if that got out… chaos." Her voice dropped as she loomed over me. "You have it?"
I stumbled back as she backed me against the wall. Her height and presence were intimidating.
Swallowing, I reached into my coat and pulled out the glowing blue vial.
"This one amplifies power."
"And your pay?" she asked, smirking.
She handed over a heavy bag. I took it, heart thudding. But before she could leave—
"Wait… Who the hell is Quinn Rome?"
She paused, her back to me.
"Not your concern," she said. "But you'll find out… eventually."
With that, she disappeared into the crowd.
I raced across rooftops, lungs burning, thoughts spiralling. I had to tell them. I had to—
The cabin came into view.
Inside, the air was tense. Council members surrounded a long wooden table. Zane stepped forward as one of them called his name.
"Evander Zane. As you all know, the Fallen have stolen from us. We will not stand by. All transport routes are to be sealed until we find the traitors."
Zane scanned their faces. They spoke with certainty—too much of it.
"You're certain who did it?" he asked, voice tight.
A nod. Then the words that broke the air in half:
"His name is Ren Tanaka."
Zane's world froze.
"That's… impossible…"
"I'd be careful questioning his intel," Amara said. "He knows what he's doing."
Zane turned to the man. "Who even are you?"
The figure stood tall, smug.
"Quinn. Quinn Rome."
The doors slammed open. Aragon entered, smile sharp as razors.
"Looks like you were right, Zane. Ren Tanaka is alive. You saw him, didn't you? And yet, not a single word from him. Not even a whisper."
Zane stared at the floor. He didn't have to answer. Aragon already knew.
"We are your family," Amara said softly.
"So… what do we do now?" Quinn asked.
Aragon's eyes gleamed crimson. "We give Zane his first assignment."
Zane clenched his fists.
"I'll kill him," he whispered. "I'll kill that bastard."
"We look forward to it," Aragon said. "For the future of Lunaris."
The others filed out, one by one. Zane stood alone, the wine on his tongue gone bitter.
Only rage remained.
I watched him run that night. I reached for him… crying… choking in the smoke. He never looked back.
I waited… I waited until my vision blurred. Until I couldn't breathe. Until I was alone.
He stared down at his hands. Hands that had created miracles. Hands that had been used like tools.
Thank you, brother… For giving me something to hate. For giving me purpose.
His fingers curled into fists.
I won't raise my blade for others anymore. Not for ideals. Not for pride. This sword—this mind—will become something more.
I will become fear itself.
No longer the forgotten boy who burned. I will become the fire that consumes.
And when his heart stops—only then will I rest.