Chapter 1 – The Boy Who Didn't Burn
From the smoke-filled alley, a figure stepped forward—graceful but deliberate. Her boots crunched over broken glass, her silver braids catching the flicker of neon fires behind her. In her right hand, a glowing katana buzzed softly, humming like it was alive.
Sylas' eyes narrowed. His posture shifted—slightly guarded now.
"...So it's true," the girl said, voice like steel wrapped in silk. "You really are the Vessel."
Sylas didn't answer at first. He was used to being called things. Monster. Demon-boy. Curseborn. But "Vessel" always landed differently—like a prophecy carved into his bones.
"Name's Sylas," he muttered. "Not that."
She stopped a few feet away. "Names don't matter when the thing wearing it threatens the world."
He cocked his head. "And you are?"
She raised the katana, tilting it slightly as if testing its weight—or its resolve. Her eyes glowed faintly with lifeforce, a quiet storm brewing behind them.
"I'm Solenne, of the Obsidian Hunters."
He blinked. "…You're real?"
She didn't respond with words. Instead, she slid her left foot back and held the blade out sideways—battle stance. Every movement was deliberate, like someone trained since birth to kill exactly one kind of monster.
Sylas frowned. "I thought your kind went extinct after the Rift Wars."
"Funny," she said coldly. "We say the same about yours."
The street crackled beneath them, lifeforce reacting to tension.
"You're the one they sent to kill me?" Sylas asked, incredulous. "You look like you're my age."
"I turned sixteen last week," she said. "And yes. I volunteered."
"Wow." He took a step back, his expression unreadable. "Hell of a birthday wish."
Solenne's grip tightened. "I've seen what your kind becomes when they stop pretending to be human. Villages swallowed whole. Cities screaming in bloodlight. My brother died putting down one of your kind. I won't let history repeat itself."
Sylas didn't flinch. But something in his eyes softened—briefly.
"I didn't ask for this," he said. "I didn't invite them in. They just… found me."
Solenne's jaw clenched. "And now you're a ticking bomb."
"I'm not them," he snapped.
"No, you're worse. You think you can control them."
The air thickened with power. A faint glow built around Solenne's hands—her Flare Lines lighting up her wrists and shoulders, veins of blue fire threading under her skin.
Sylas took a deep breath. "I don't want to fight you."
"Too bad," she said.
A hum filled the air as her blade began to sing.
"Because the world doesn't care what you want. It cares about what you are."