Kelvyn Rigg's scarred face twitched as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Around the crew, the chaotic noise of Draven's Refuge hummed like a restless tide, its crowded stalls and ramshackle platforms alive with trade and treachery. But here, in the shadow of Kelvyn's booth, a quiet tension hung in the air.
"You've stepped into something far bigger than you realize, Thorn," Kelvyn said, his eyes flicking to the glowing shard in Jas's hand. "The Syndicate and the Ashen Church aren't the only players in this game. There's someone else. Someone worse."
Jasrik Thorn's grip tightened on the shard, his bionic arm sparking faintly under his coat. "Worse how?"
Kelvyn glanced over his shoulder, his paranoia palpable. "They call themselves the Obsidian Order. They've been around longer than the Syndicate, longer than the Church. Some say they're remnants of the Sovereigns' inner circle, others think they're something entirely different. But one thing's certain: they're hunting fragments. All of them."
Sela Wren's wings flickered faintly as she stepped closer. "Why? What do they want?"
Kelvyn hesitated, his gaze shifting to the bustling market around them. "Control," he said finally. "The Sovereigns shattered the world with fragments, but what if someone could piece it back together? Take what's left of their power and wield it?"
"That's insane," Merrik Ironspire muttered, his wrench tapping nervously against his leg. "No one could control that kind of energy. They'd destroy themselves—and everyone else."
Kelvyn smirked humorlessly. "Maybe. But when has that ever stopped anyone?"
Jas leaned in, his voice low. "What does this have to do with the vault? The fragment we found?"
Kelvyn's expression darkened. "The vault wasn't just a storage site. It was a forge, a place where fragments were shaped and refined. The green shard you saw? That's a Prime Fragment—one of the originals. The kind that only the Sovereigns themselves could handle."
Sela crossed her arms, her tone skeptical. "And you're saying this Obsidian Order wants to use those fragments? For what? World domination?"
Kelvyn shook his head. "Not domination. Reconstruction. They want to rebuild the Sovereigns' empire—and they don't care who they have to crush to do it."
Jas's stomach sank. The Havok Fragment within his arm pulsed faintly, its chaotic energy stirring as if in response to Kelvyn's words. "How do they know about the vault?"
Kelvyn shrugged. "They've got their fingers in everything. Syndicate smugglers, Church zealots, even freelancers like you. Chances are, someone sold them out—or someone's working for them."
The thought made Jas's skin crawl. The Syndicate and the Church were bad enough, but if a shadowy group like the Obsidian Order was involved, the stakes were higher than he'd imagined.
"What do you want for more information?" Jas asked, holding up the fragment shard.
Kelvyn's eyes gleamed. "That'll get you a name. Maybe a lead or two."
Jas narrowed his eyes. "You're asking a lot for scraps, Kelvyn."
The trader leaned back, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Scraps are all you get in this business, Thorn. But if you don't want to pay…"
Jas let out a frustrated sigh, tossing the shard onto the table. Kelvyn snatched it up greedily, tucking it into his coat.
"Their local contact goes by Verek," Kelvyn said. "Runs a little operation out of the lower docks. Deals in relics, black-market fragments, anything that comes out of the vaults. If the Obsidian Order has a presence here, he's your best bet."
The crew left Kelvyn's booth, weaving their way through the crowded market. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning Aetherite, and Jas's senses were on high alert. Every glance felt like a potential threat, every shadow a hiding place for an enemy.
"This is getting worse by the minute," Merrik muttered, his voice low. "The Syndicate, the Church, and now some secret cult? What next? Sky gods raining fire from the heavens?"
"Wouldn't rule it out," Sela said dryly, her rifle slung casually over her shoulder. "But at least we've got a name. Verek."
"And no guarantee he's not a trap," Merrik added.
Jas didn't respond. His thoughts were racing, his mind replaying Kelvyn's warning about the Obsidian Order. If they were as dangerous as Kelvyn claimed, then going after Verek wasn't just risky—it was suicidal. But they didn't have a choice. The fragments were too important, and the Vault's secrets were still out of reach.
The lower docks of Draven's Refuge were a far cry from the bustling market above. The air was damp and heavy, the wooden platforms slick with condensation. Dim Aether-lamps cast weak, flickering light over the narrow walkways, and the distant hum of machinery echoed through the gloom.
Jas led the way, his bionic arm hidden beneath his coat. The Havok Fragment buzzed faintly, a constant reminder of its presence. Sela and Merrik followed close behind, their weapons at the ready.
"This place reeks," Merrik said, wrinkling his nose. "How do people live down here?"
"Some don't," Sela replied, her tone clipped. "Stay sharp."
They reached a small, nondescript shack at the edge of the docks. The faint glow of Aetherite energy seeped through the cracks in the walls, and the sound of voices drifted from within. Jas motioned for the others to stay back, then approached the door.
He knocked once, twice. The voices inside fell silent.
The door creaked open, revealing a wiry man with sunken eyes and a nervous twitch. He looked Jas up and down, his gaze lingering on the faint glow of the Havok Fragment beneath his coat.
"You're not supposed to be here," the man said, his voice wary.
"I'm looking for Verek," Jas said evenly. "Kelvyn sent me."
The man hesitated, then stepped aside, gesturing for Jas to enter. "Keep your hands where I can see them."
Jas stepped inside, his senses on high alert. The room was cramped and dimly lit, the walls lined with fragment relics and salvaged tech. At the center of the room stood a tall man with dark eyes and a cold smile—Verek.
"Well, well," Verek said, his voice smooth. "Kelvyn told me to expect trouble, but I didn't think it'd come so soon."
"I'm not here for trouble," Jas said, though his hand hovered near his weapon. "I'm here for answers."
Verek chuckled, his smile widening. "Answers, huh? You've got the look of a man who's bitten off more than he can chew. What exactly do you think I can help you with?"
Jas stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "The Obsidian Order. The Sovereign Vault. The Prime Fragments. Tell me what you know."
The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Verek's smile faded, replaced by a wary expression. "You're playing a dangerous game, Thorn."
"I don't have time for games," Jas said, his voice hard. "Start talking."
Verek held his gaze for a long moment, then sighed. "All right. But if you want the truth, you'd better be ready to pay the price."
Jas's stomach tightened. Whatever Verek knew, it wasn't going to come cheap.