The following day was a rare, clear one in the town of Darkglades. The usual smog and rain had lifted, allowing the light from the Tower to stretch all the way to Lucian's humble dwelling on the fringes of the outer districts. For the first time in what felt like weeks, the skies weren't shrouded in a thick, choking fog. Light filtered through the lingering haze, giving the air a strange, muted brightness.
Lucian stood by the window of his small, cramped apartment, watching as the beams of light cut through the dingy glass. He took the clear skies as a promising omen—perhaps his life truly was on the verge of change. With a deep breath, he straightened up and walked over to a wooden chest at the foot of his bed. He carefully opened it, retrieving the old coat. The fabric was worn, the seams fraying in places, but it still held the weight of memory and significance. It was a gift from his mother for his 13th Birthday, the final thing he received from her.
He ran his fingers over the material for a moment, pausing to reflect on how much his life had shifted in recent days. With optimism building in his chest, he put on the coat, adjusting it to fit as best he could. It clung a little too tight across the shoulders now—he had grown since he last wore it—but it would have to do. Satisfied with his appearance, he descended the many flights of narrow stairs that spiralled down through the decrepit building.
Darkglades was a city shaped like an inverted dome. The towering spire of the Light Tower stood proudly at its center, casting a steady glow over the heart of the city. In the central district, the wealthiest citizens lived in spacious manors and estates, their properties bathed in the Tower's radiance. The streets there were lined with well-tended gardens, the air free of the stench of smog and rot that clung to the outer districts.
But as one moved farther from the Tower, the buildings began to rise, clawing toward the light as if competing for every scrap of brightness. The outer districts, where Lucian lived, were a labyrinth of tall, cramped structures, packed so tightly together that the Towerlight barely reached the lower levels. The lower floors of these buildings were abandoned, shrouded in perpetual gloom, where even the bravest souls refused to live. Only the upper levels—those closest to the faint light—were inhabited.
Today, however, even the outer districts seemed to come alive. The usual oppressive atmosphere had lifted with the break in the weather, and the streets were buzzing with activity. Peddlers had set up stalls along the narrow alleyways, hawking their wares to the passersby, who rushed by in a steady stream, eager to seize what little joy the day had to offer. The smell of roasting "meat" and baked "breads" filled the air.
Lucian allowed himself to feel a flicker of hope, catching a bit of the optimism that seemed to infect the city. He stopped at a street corner, noticing a young boy with a small shoe-shine kit. With a smile, Lucian flicked a copper dime at him, and the boy eagerly knelt to polish his worn shoes.
As the boy worked, Lucian gazed down the bustling street, taking in the unusual vibrancy. For once, the oppressive weight of the outer district's gloom had lifted, if only temporarily. It was strange to see people moving about so freely, without the usual hunch of their shoulders or the hurried, anxious glances they threw over their backs.
Once his shoes were shined, Lucian made his way toward the inner district. The closer he drew to the light of the Tower, the more at ease the people seemed. Here, there was no need to worry about the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the outer districts. The light offered a kind of sanctuary, a protective barrier that held back the dark creatures that thrived in the outer, more forsaken parts of the city or the ever present taint.
Feeling indulgent and buoyed by the day's rare brightness, Lucian decided to treat himself to a proper meal. He approached a nearby street vendor, a bubbling pot of stew on display. The aroma of spices and savory meat filled his nose, and his stomach growled in response.
"One bowl of Meat Maggot Stew, and…" Lucian hesitated for a moment before his eyes caught sight of the eggs on display. "And a fried chicken egg."
The vendor's eyebrows rose slightly at his request, but he wordlessly ladled the stew into a bowl and cracked an egg over a sizzling pan.
The stew, made of Meat Maggots and Earth Roots, was a staple for the poor. Maggot meat, while far from appetizing, provided cheap protein, and Earth Roots—a magical fusion of various root vegetables—were a filling, albeit bland, accompaniment. The egg, on the other hand, was a rare luxury. It was non-magical and untainted by cursed magic, making it far more expensive than any enchanted foodstuff.
Lucian handed over 25 copper dimes—20 for the egg and 5 for the stew. The price stung, but with his new salary of 1 golden Imperial a week, he justified the splurge. He hadn't yet received his first week's pay, but the idea of earning so much had already begun to shift his view of what he could afford. For a moment, he imagined a future where every meal was non-magical, untouched by the strange taints that so often warped their world.
Currency system: 100 copper dime -> 1 copper dollar, 13 copper dollar -> 1 silver pound, 7 silver pound -> 1 golden Imperial
Lucian found a small bench nearby and sat down to eat, savouring each bite. The stew was hearty, the maggot meat filling, though he tried not to dwell on its origins. The fried egg, on the other hand, was a revelation. Its rich, smooth flavor was unlike anything he had tasted in a long time. Non-magical food was rare, especially in the outer districts, and its clean taste reminded him of simpler times, with his family.
As he ate, he glanced up at the towering walls of the inner district, where the wealthy lived, protected by the full reach of the Tower's light. It was a different world in there, a world that might finally open up to him with his new job and the connection to his uncle's family.
For the first time in a long while, Lucian felt something he hadn't dared to hope for: a sense of possibility. And though the path ahead was uncertain, for now, he allowed himself to enjoy the fleeting feeling that maybe, just maybe, things were looking up.
Lucian presented the insignia given to him by Uncle Taren to the two stoic guards at the gate. The moment they saw the emblem, they exchanged glances, then nodded in silent recognition. Without a word, the heavy, imposing gates to the inner district swung open with a deep creak. Yesterday, Lucian had passed through those same gates as a mere visitor, mourning his father—a stranger to this world. Today, he stepped inside not as a guest, but as someone with purpose. He belonged now.
As Lucian crossed the threshold, the stark contrast between the outer district and the inner district struck him harder than ever. The change was almost overwhelming, like stepping from a dreary, suffocating shadow into a world of light and splendor. The chaotic sprawl of the outer district, where towering buildings competed for even a sliver of sunlight, was replaced by wide, open streets, bordered by meticulously trimmed hedges and lush, vibrant gardens.
Gone were the narrow alleyways choked with smoke and grime. Here, the air was crisp, clean, scented with the delicate aroma of blooming flowers. The streets were lined with elegant shops and market stalls displaying fine goods from all across the empire—rare silks, ornate jewelry, exotic fruits, and even magical artifacts, all available to those with the means to afford them. The inner district radiated wealth and privilege at every corner.
Yesterday, the weight of his father's death had dulled Lucian's senses, leaving him numb to these surroundings. But now, with his mind clearer, he could truly appreciate the opulence that surrounded him. Where the outer district's residents fought for even a glimpse of light, the gardens and flowering bushes here basked freely in the Tower's glow. Fountains dotted the plazas, their crystal-clear water cascading down marble sculptures, catching the sunlight in glistening arcs. Nobles and wealthy merchants strolled leisurely along the wide streets, their brightly colored garments flowing around them like silk tapestries. Their conversations were hushed, filled with idle gossip or talk of distant lands.
Lucian felt like an outsider still, but there was something thrilling about being here, about being part of this world, even if only in a small way. He straightened his posture, trying to blend in, though his old coat, shaggy clothing and the marks the price left on him still made him feel like he didn't quite belong.
As he passed a high-end café, its wide windows showcasing finely set tables, Lucian slowed his pace. Inside, nobles sat in comfort, sipping delicately from porcelain cups, their food and drink untainted by magic. He stared through the glass, taking in the pristine display of natural food: platters of non-magical bread, carefully prepared meat, and fruits that shone with vibrant color.
It was no secret that such luxuries came at a steep price. The absence of magic made these goods more valuable than those touched by it. Only the wealthiest could afford such extravagance. Even with his newfound income, Lucian knew better than to entertain the thought of entering. One golden imperial might grant him access to this world for a moment, but it would quickly remind him of his place. For now, such pleasures would remain beyond his reach.
Shaking his head, he moved on, but the glimpse inside the café lingered in his mind. As he walked further into the district, passing by manors and estates that glowed under the midday sun, Lucian realised just how far removed the inner district was from the struggles of the outer world. Here, the looming threats of the taint, poverty, and the lurking danger of Fell attacks seemed distant, like shadows barely remembered.
But beneath the beauty, something about this place still felt off. Despite the luxury and ease, there was a coldness here, a sense of detachment from the world beyond the gates. The nobles here were insulated, their lives untouched by the taint of magic and the harsh realities that plagued the rest of Darkglades. And yet, Lucian couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this place—something hidden beneath the surface.
For now, though, he pushed those thoughts aside. His destination lay ahead—the Ezekiel estate, where new opportunities awaited.
Lucian stepped into the grand, castle-like building, its towering walls and intricate carvings a reminder of the wealth and power the Ezekiel family commanded. The marble floors gleamed underfoot, and golden chandeliers cast a soft glow on the opulent tapestries that adorned the walls, each one telling a tale of the family's dominance and long-standing history.
A tapestry depicted an image of a man receiving something like a piece of flesh from a greater power and eating it. Another showed the same man fighting back monster and establishing a city.
As he marvelled at the grandeur, a handsome young man approached, his movements graceful and deliberate, as if he owned the very ground he walked on. There was an air of confidence about him that put Lucian on edge, but the man's wide, welcoming smile was disarming.
"You must be the new arrival," the man said, his voice smooth and warm, though there was something unnerving beneath it. "I've been waiting for you."
Lucian nodded quickly, unsure of how to respond. "Yes, sir."
The young man chuckled, waving off the formality with an almost theatrical flourish of his hand. "Oh, no need for that. We're cousins, after all." His smile widened, "I'm quite happy to see you, quite happy indeed."
The man's eyes swept over Lucian, appraising him with the intensity of someone sizing up an object, not a relative. "You don't look half bad," he remarked, though there was a sharpness in his tone that Lucian couldn't place. "You've inherited some good Ezekiel blood."
But then, the smile faded, and his gaze darkened slightly. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You still have some taint lingering. That's unbefitting of your noble heritage. I'd like you to cleanse it before the end of the month."
Lucian stiffened, unsure how to respond to the thinly veiled command. "Yes, of course," he said, his voice quiet.
Aron's expression shifted back to a smile, satisfied with Lucian's compliance. He turned to a maid standing nearby, a pretty woman who had remained quiet until now, her presence almost unnoticed.
"You there, help my dear cousin get started with his duties," Aron said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You know the rules."
"Yes, Master Aron," the maid replied, her voice carrying an edge of reverence, but her expression was unreadable. She turned to Lucian, her eyes betraying little warmth. "Please, come this way, Lucian."
As they walked, the grand hallways narrowed into more modest corridors. The flickering light from sconces barely illuminated the dark wooden walls, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly ahead of them. The shift from opulence to practicality was stark, and Lucian couldn't help but feel a growing sense of isolation as they ventured deeper into the estate.
Finally, they reached a small, windowless room. Inside, stacks of ledgers and parchment covered the single desk that dominated the space. The room felt stifling, as though the air itself was heavy with the weight of forgotten tasks.
The maid motioned to the chair in front of the desk. "This is where you'll be working," she said softly, watching him closely. "Copying tax records."
Lucian looked around, trying to mask his disappointment. The task was menial, beneath what he'd expected, especially considering the exorbitant pay Aron had promised him. His brow furrowed. Why was he being paid so much for something anyone could do?
"Master Aron is very generous," the maid said, almost as if reading his thoughts. "He tolerates many things, but he is particularly strict when it comes to the purity of Ezekiel blood and the presence of taint."
Lucian looked up at her, his pulse quickening at her words. "The consequences," she continued, her voice lowering as if offering a subtle warning, "will not be pleasant if you don't cleanse yourself completely."
Her words hung in the air, and Lucian's mouth went dry. She gave him a final look before heading toward the door. "If you require assistance," she added, her hand lingering on the doorknob, "the estate can advance your pay, or I can lend you money to help with the cleansing process. It's important you follow through."
With that, she left, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving Lucian alone with his thoughts and the suffocating silence of the room.
He settled into the chair and tried to focus on the task before him, but his mind churned with questions. The job was too simple, too beneath the pay he was promised. The more he thought about it, the more the pieces didn't fit. Why did Aron care so little about the work? It was clear that Lucian's role in the estate had nothing to do with the records he was tasked with copying.
His father's warnings echoed in his mind, the memories of those rare conversations about the Ezekiel family resurfacing with alarming clarity. Why had his father been so adamant about keeping him away from them? And why were the Ezekiels so fixated on blood purity and cleansing the taint?
Lucian's gaze flickered to the papers in front of him, but his thoughts wandered elsewhere. The taint, the price. It was always about the price. In this world, where magic came at a price, the Cursed had to pay for their power, each in their own way. Was this family's price the constant obsession with purity? And what exactly would happen if he didn't meet their expectations?
He sighed heavily, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. The answers weren't here, but he was already entangled in the Ezekiels' web, and there was no easy way out.
With a resigned sigh, he picked up the quill and dipped it in ink, beginning his task of copying tax records. The scratching of the quill filled the room, but Lucian's mind remained far from the task at hand, his unease only growing as the hours dragged on.
Lucian finished his work earlier than expected, again. The room held nothing of interest beyond endless tax records, and each day the monotony gnawed at him more. Restless, he remembered the other similar rooms he'd passed on the way in, one of which had seemed occupied. Curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to investigate. Stepping out into the corridor, he made his way over to the adjacent door. Just as he was about to knock, a voice interrupted him.
"Lucian," came the familiar, neutral tone of the maid.
He turned quickly, surprised at how silently she had approached.
"Is there something I can assist you with?" she asked, her gaze steady, neither warm nor cold.
"I… I finished my work and was wondering if there was anything else I could help with," he replied, trying to compose himself under the weight of her unblinking stare.
"You are free to leave after completing your tasks," she said, her voice betraying no emotion. "However, we discourage wandering or lingering in places where you aren't assigned."
"Yes, of course," Lucian said with a forced nod. "I'll be on my way."
Over the next couple of days, the same uneventful pattern followed. Lucian would complete his work, but something gnawed at him—the eerie emptiness of the rooms, the strange silences in the halls, and the oppressive presence of the maids, who always seemed to be watching. He made a few cautious attempts to ask the maid more about the job, but her answers were always short and vague. Something was being withheld, but Lucian couldn't figure out what.
Finally on one the days, just as Lucian was preparing to leave after another monotonous session of tax records, he noticed movement in the room next to his. His curiosity flared again. This time, the door creaked open just as his did.
A slightly older man stepped out, his sharp jawline and prominent features marking him immediately as an Ezekiel. His striking black eyes met Lucian's briefly, cold and calculating.
"I'm Lucian," he began, offering a polite smile. "I'm new here, and I was hoping to meet some of my colleagues."
The man regarded him with a long, unreadable stare, as though weighing something. Then, in a low, almost reluctant whisper, he said, "Two Cross Tavern." There was a brief pause, before he added, "We've met. I need to go."
Before Lucian could reply, the man slipped past him, moving with a certain urgency as if he feared being caught in conversation. Confused and unsettled, Lucian turned to watch him disappear down the corridor.
He sighed, frustration mounting. Just as he was about to turn back toward his room, he froze—there was a maid standing directly behind him, her presence once again unnervingly silent. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of her.
"Lucian," she said, her voice steady but carrying an edge this time, "is there a reason you're still here?"
Her eyes seemed to study him, as if she already knew the answer.
"I was just about to leave," he said quickly, regaining his composure as best he could.
"You are free to leave after your work is complete," she repeated, her gaze never leaving his. "We discourage unnecessary interactions. They can… complicate things."
Lucian felt the weight of her words. Something about her tone made him feel as though it wasn't just a suggestion—it was a warning. He nodded stiffly.
"I understand," he said, forcing a polite smile.
The maid's eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, then she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing faintly down the corridor.
Lucian felt a chill crawl down his spine. He made his way back to his room, his mind racing. The man's cryptic whisper about the tavern, the maid's strange behavior—it all pointed to something much larger than the mundane tasks he was performing. He needed to find out more, but every step forward seemed to be met with more questions than answers.
…..
They sat in silence for a moment in the private dining room of the Two Cross Tavern. The flickering candlelight danced across the wooden table, casting long shadows on the walls. The tavern was quiet tonight, the faint sounds of muffled laughter and clinking glasses barely audible through the thick walls. Lucian finally broke the silence, his voice cautious.
"It's nice to meet up after work," he began hesitantly. "I just started, so I'd like to know more about the job—about what we're really doing."
The older man nodded, his features hard to read in the dim light. "I'm Isaac," he said, his voice low and steady. "I only started a month ago myself. My father—someone I'd only met once before—showed up out of nowhere and offered me the job. Same deal as yours, I'm sure. One gold a week, ten gold to cleanse mine and my family's taint. Said he wanted to help out because my third child was on the way."
Isaac paused, staring into the candle flame as if searching for answers in its flicker. Then he nodded for Lucian to share his story. Lucian recounted his father's death, the strange circumstances surrounding his new job, and Uncle Taren's involvement. As he spoke, Isaac's gaze darkened, his eyes narrowing with understanding. When Lucian finished, the room fell silent again, heavy with unspoken fear.
"I need the money now," Isaac said finally, his voice strained. "Everyone depends on me—my wife, the new baby. We've moved into the edge of the inner district. I want to buy cleaner food, pay for a ritual of charity for my wife and kids. But I'm scared, Lucian. It's all too good to be true. That old bastard never helped me once growing up, left me to rot in an orphanage, and now he swoops in like a savior?"
Lucian swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Isaac's words. He could already guess the answer to his next question, but he asked it anyway. "Then why would they?"
Isaac shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you've heard the rumors about the Ezekiel clan, haven't you? About people going missing, supposedly because of Fell attacks…"
"They wouldn't…" Lucian started, but Isaac cut him off with a grim smile.
"Wouldn't they?" Isaac leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We have Ezekiel blood. Who knows what cruel, twisted price are they paying to wield their magic? What price will we pay?"
Lucian felt a knot tighten in his stomach. His mind raced, the pieces of a puzzle too terrifying to complete falling into place. "What are you planning to do?"
Isaac buried his head in his hands, the strain evident on his face. "What can I do? Run away? To where? I'm moving into the inner district, at least. It's just an outer street, but there aren't Fell attacks inside the walls. The guards are there. We'll be safe, right? It has to be enough… There's nothing to be afraid of… right?"
Lucian remained silent, unsure of what to say. Could the guards really protect them? The Ezekiel clan owned practically everything in the town—including the guards themselves. The entire town felt like a cage, one Lucian was just beginning to realize he was trapped in.
Isaac stood abruptly, his anxiety turning into restless energy as he paced back and forth. "I shouldn't be talking to you about this. They don't like it when we talk to each other. It wouldn't end well if they found out."
"Have you tried seeking help? From the Imperial Officials or the Church?" Lucian asked.
Isaac let out a bitter laugh. "Help? What am I supposed to say? That I've found a job that pays too well? And what can I offer them—my wife, my daughter? Or the few gold coins the Ezekiels give us? No. They'd just bleed us dry, like everyone else."
Isaac stopped, breathing heavily as if the weight of his own words was suffocating him. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. "I should go. It's late, and it's not safe outside once the Tower dims its light."
Lucian nodded. He had noticed the subtle shift in the town already as the Tower's light began to fade each evening, the streets are emptying, and the darkness seemed to swallow the town