Jarek trudged into the apartment as the first light of dawn crept through the Shatterzone's fractured skyline, the light was weak and pale against the grime-streaked windows. His body ached from head to toe, the rush of adrenaline long gone, leaving behind a fog of exhaustion and doubt. He glanced at his hands, his knuckles were bare and stained with blood, some of it his, some of it not.
That damned shard. Even now, its faint hum clung to him, subtle but insistent, like an itch you couldn't quite reach. It had gotten him through the night, sure, but at what cost?
The door groaned as he eased it shut, careful not to wake Lira. Her soft, steady breathing filled the small room, the only sound cutting through the heavy silence. She was curled up on the battered couch, cocooned in a blanket so threadbare it looked like it might fall apart any second. Jarek set the bag of credits from the fight on the counter, a meager reward for what it had taken out of him, and sank into the chair by the window.
The shard weighed heavier in his pocket than it had any right to, like the damn thing was made of lead instead of whatever unearthly material it actually was. With a sigh, he fished it out, setting it on the table in front of him. Its faint glow lit up the dull metal table, throwing eerie patterns onto the walls, like ghosts were pacing just out of sight.
Jarek leaned forward, elbows on his knees, as he stared at it. Every part of him screamed to get rid of it, toss it into the deepest hole he could find, bury it under ten tons of scrap, and never look back. But he couldn't. It was bound to him had saved his skin twice now. First with that stranger in the alley, and again tonight, when the Pit almost got the better of him.
But it wasn't just saving him. It was changing him.
A soft rustle broke through the palpable stillness clouding the room, snapping Jarek out of his thoughts. He turned, his gaze landing on Lira's face. She was slowly sitting up, her small frame brightened by the pale, ashen light seeping in through the windows. For a moment, she just sat there, blinking sleep away and rubbing her eyes like a kid who'd been woken too soon.
"Jarek? You're back late."
"Couldn't sleep?," he muttered, turning his gaze back to the shard. "Go back to bed, Lira."
She ignored him, getting up and padding across the room with the kind of deliberate slowness that always meant trouble. Her eyes fell on the shard, and her expression shifted from curiosity to being laced with unease.
"That's new," she said, nodding toward it.
"It's nothing," Jarek replied too quickly, his hand darting out to cover it. Making him look suspicious.
"Doesn't look like nothing to me," she countered, folding her arms as she leaned against the table, her sharp gaze fixed on him. "You've been... different, Jarek. You're so distant now and now you're bringing weird stuff home? What's going on?" where did you get this?
Jarek let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping like the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. "It's complicated," he said, which, in his experience, was a good way to end a conversation, or start an argument.
"There's always something complicated in everything you do Jarek," Lira shot back, her voice tinged with a bit of frustration. "But you don't have to carry all this weight on your own, you know?. Whatever this is, just... tell me." she said but deep down, she felt guilty for all of Jarek's struggles.
For a fleeting moment, Jarek contemplated laying everything bare. The weight of the shard, the secrets clawing at him from every angle, felt impossible to bear alone. But what was he supposed to say? That he'd stolen some unholy relic from the Upper City? That it was dragging him into a world that felt more dream than reality? And that despite everything, he couldn't seem to let it go?
"It's just a job," he said finally, his voice flat. "Something I picked up to keep us afloat." for the meantime.
Lira didn't look convinced, not even close, but she didn't push. Instead of arguing, she reached out her fingers brushing his hand in a rare, quiet gesture. "You've done enough," she said softly. You don't have to throw yourself into fire because of me."
Jarek met her gaze, his voice firm despite the hollow feeling in his chest. "It's not just for you, Lira. It's about survival, for both of us."
Her face softened, the hard edges of frustration melting away. For a moment, she just stared at him, like she was weighing every word, trying to decide if it was worth saying. Finally she nodded, her shoulders slumped in quiet resignation.
"Fine I'll trust you... For now," she murmured, her voice unsteady and barely above a the tone of a whisper.
"You have to promise me that you'll be safe... okay? I can't no... I won't lose you Jarek." Her words wavered towards the end, the kind of tremor that carried more weight than she was willing to show.
"You won't loose me Lira," he lied through his teeth, his voice steady but his heart felt uneasy.
Lira returned to the couch, pulling the blanket tight around her shoulders. Within minutes, her breathing evened out, soft and rhythmic. She went back to sleep.
Jarek turned back to the shard, its glow faint but steady, almost as if it was mocking him silently. His fingers hovered above it evidently hesitant. Part of him wanted to test it again, to feel that raw, addictive and electric surge that had carried him through the fights.
Deep down, Jarek couldn't shake the feeling of unease in hidden deep his heart, the cost of using the shard was only climbing up every time he used it. Every time he tapped into the it's power, he could feel the shard chipping away at something vital he couldn't tell what it was but he knew he needed it to be complete, like it was chiseling off pieces of his essence. And worse? He was starting to notice the cracks. Ruthlessness came easier now, too easy, like a bad habit he couldn't quit.
With a sharp, frustrated breath, Jarek jammed the shard back into his pocket. Somehow, the room felt smaller, like the walls were inching closer, trying to box him in. Or maybe it was just the weight of everything pressing down on him, heavier than it had any right to be too heavy for one person to bear. He leaned back in the creaky chair, his gaze drifting to the window. The horizon outside was a sorry sight, gray and empty, like the world had given up trying.
Answers. That's what he needed. Not cryptic whispers in his head, not half-baked visions that left more questions than they solved. He needed something solid, something real he could hold onto.
And come tomorrow? Search for them. Whatever it took, no matter the cost.