Lucien Blackmoore emerged through the veil from Undergleam, stepping into Valthara Prime with that familiar tug in his gut—a ripple as the realms shifted. The city welcomed him like a bad habit.
He didn't pause.
The Crimson Room was waiting, curled at the end of an alley like a confession no one wanted to make. Lucien adjusted his coat collar against the acid drizzle, each drop sizzling faintly against the warded leather. Red rain streaked off him in rivulets, cut by glow from powerlines above. The Ledger shifted against his ribs as he moved—sluggish, but aware.
LEDGER ACTIVE
Realm: Valthara Prime
Target status: Kael, active. Provisional contract: unsanctioned.
Informant update: Jyn Serra, awaiting contact.
Uncollected: Zek (overdue, 11h), Mira Glynn (secured), Gavrin Fell (due in 3h)
Caution: Proxy interference probable. Cassian signature traces detected in last 24h.
Lucien didn't respond aloud. The Ledger had a voice, but sometimes silence was safer. He pulled the door open.
Inside, the Crimson Room swallowed him. No greeting. No threshold threshold—just the smell of long-dried blood and synthetic whiskey. The bar's light hung in stale pools, low and greasy. Furniture sagged with exhaustion. A silent server-bot wheeled past without a head.
Lucien slid into a booth like a man sliding into old sins. His coat, soaked and scabbed from rain and memory, squeaked against the fake leather. The seat groaned like it remembered him and wasn't pleased about it. He rubbed the edge of a tarnished brass watch, thumb working in circles as if that could scrub away the static in his skull. The silence here wasn't quiet; it was the kind that wrapped around you with intent, cloying and thick, a hum under the surface like the ghosts of data streams whispering bad decisions.
The snitch's words still echoed.
Faceless broker.
The phrase hit like rusted wire around the throat. No face. No name. Just scorched deals and hollowed-out souls. It didn't scream Cassian—not exactly. But it smelled like him. Like sulfur and rot beneath a clean suit. Lucien leaned back, one boot tapping in uneven rhythm against the metal beneath.
The Ledger pulsed against his ribs, that cursed weight tucked inside his coat. Not just a book, not anymore. Its binding breathed like a caged thing. It whispered now.
"You push too far."
He didn't answer. Just breathed smoke out in slow spirals. The cigarette hissed as it burned, the ember like a staring eye.
The door creaked.
Jyn Serra walked in like she didn't care who saw her. Ghost-runner, slicer, gutter-brained genius. Her boots tracked rain, her stance coiled and alert. Neon caught in her irises, fracturing her gaze into sharp glints. She clocked every angle before her second step.
"Lucien," she said, rough as street gravel. "This place smells like wet death and battery acid. You pick it for the ambiance?"
He raised his cigarette, fingers curled loose. "I pick places where even ghosts don't linger. Got anything useful, or just came to insult the decor?"
She dropped a cracked holo-pad onto the table. It sparked under her fingers, screen glitching like it didn't want to remember. Strings of code twisted in unsteady loops, frames stuttering with raw feeds.
"Signature by Ebon Abyss," she said. "Cassian's mark. Same style. Same arrogance."
Lucien's fingers drummed across his thigh. "He's still showing off. Might be slipping."
"Or baiting," she countered. "Cornered men roar the loudest."
Lucien cracked a crooked grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. "He's not cornered yet. But he's close."
The Ledger shifted against him again. Not physically—spiritually. It curled its glyphs inward like a creature baring teeth. He felt its tension steep like old blood.
SYSTEM UPDATE
Cassian proxy: confirmed interference in Ebon Abyss sector.
Cross-reference: 3 soul anomalies in 72h. Recommend tracing.
Risk Level: escalating.
"Obsidian Veil moving?" he asked.
"Wary," Jyn replied, eyes skimming data. "Someone fed them a ghost story. Faceless broker. Souls burned on contact. Sound familiar?"
Lucien crushed the cigarette into the table edge, black ash smearing across the grain. "Sounds like someone's playing my tune with dirtier hands."
Jyn leaned back, arms crossed, sharp lines under her eyes. "Then play louder. Or someone rewrites the whole book."
Lucien stood, coat dragging behind him like old sins. The Ledger pulsed again, faint glyphs rising under the leather. It whispered—
"You're complicit."
He paused, letting the guilt skim his bones, then pushed out of the booth. Jyn didn't follow. She never did. She delivered her information like a blade—sharp, brief, and bloody.
Outside, the rain painted the city in smears of neon rot. Vendors hawked curses and counterfeit sigils under rusted awnings. Drones hissed overhead, their lights scanning like nervous gods.
Lucien moved through it like he owned the storm.
He ducked through a back corridor, slipped under a flickering ward gate, and stepped into the narrower arteries of the Prime. Places where souls were bought in bulk and dumped for scrap when they lost their shine. The Ledger pulsed against him, sensing the target ahead.
Target proximity: 120m. Kael Tovas.
Last contract: unverified. New offer: prohibited unless override acquired.
Recommended action: collect or terminate.
Lucien found Kael in the alley behind a shuttered gunmetal apothecary. The smuggler twitched when he saw Lucien, eyes wide and face pale as spoiled milk.
"Lucien… I didn't run. I swear."
Lucien smiled. It was slow and sharp. The kind of smile that made people consider how many ribs they really needed.
"Good. Makes things cleaner."
He pulled the wafer from his coat. The contract pulsed.
Kael backed up.
"Wait. I got Cassian's token. Said it overrides yours."
Lucien stopped. That name again. Always bleeding through the cracks.
"Forged," Lucien said. "Or poisoned. Both, maybe. You really think he'd give you anything clean?"
Kael hesitated. That was all it took.
The Ledger glowed. Glyphs burned in spirals. The soul-binding snapped shut like a trap.
Kael screamed once. Then dropped.
Lucien stood over him, smoke curling from the edges of the signed contract. The light faded from Kael's eyes. A smear of ozone and old memory lingered in the alley air.
The Ledger throbbed.
"You push too far."
COLLECTION COMPLETE: Kael Tovas
Soul stored. New balance: +1.
Next boon: in 8h 12m.
Above, Nyx drones shrieked. Lucien ran. His trap was already in place. A false trail, rigged with sigils and decoy heat signatures. The drones swarmed a shadow where he never was.
By the time they cleared, Lucien stood alone under a crooked billboard. Rain soaked him. The city breathed ragged beneath his boots.
He caught his breath under a leaking overhang, eyes scanning for watchers. The billboard behind him buzzed something irrelevant—an advert for Synth Bliss 4, complete with smiling models and dead eyes.
The Ledger whispered again.
Cassian's chaos persists.
Lucien muttered back, "And, so does mine."
But he felt it. That twist in his gut. Kael's face. The panic.
"His fear was my edge," he whispered. "But it stung."
Lucien smiled. He was tired.
And he walked deeper into the night, every step a vow to end what Cassian started.
The Ledger responded, cold as judgment.
"You're no saint."