The slums of Ashborne were a forgotten world, a city beneath the city. Perched precariously on the floating city's edge, the Lower District was a crumbling labyrinth of steel and stone, where sunlight never touched the ground and the only warmth came from the glow of the Lightstones above. The poor, the damned, and the desperate called it home. The rich basked in their golden towers, blind to the decay below.
Elric crouched atop a roof in the shadow of the city's grandest districts, the chill air of the lower levels biting at his skin. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his worn blade, the grip slick with sweat. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scanned the glowing silhouette of the warehouse across the street.
The warehouse was fortified. Guards patrolled its perimeter, their movements like clockwork. There were no breaks, no openings—just a constant, suffocating vigilance. But Elric was no amateur. He had spent the last week mapping their shifts, memorizing every crevice and blind spot. And tonight, he would make his move.
"Are you sure about this?" Rynn's voice came from behind, low and hesitant.
Elric didn't have to turn around to know his brother was there. Rynn was always in his shadow, always second-guessing. The younger boy had the same wild green eyes, the same scruffy brown hair, but there was a softness to him that Elric had long since lost.
"No, but we don't have a choice," Elric replied, his voice steady, his focus locked on the target. His tone wasn't cruel; it was the truth. Survival in Ashborne wasn't about right or wrong. It was about what kept you breathing.
He motioned to the warehouse. "That Lightstone is our ticket out of here. No more stealing scraps, no more begging in the streets. We get that, and we disappear. Just like we planned."
Rynn shifted on his feet, a nervous shuffle. "It's not just a Lightstone, El. It's a Prime. You know what happens to people who steal those."
Elric felt the familiar weight of that knowledge pressing against him. A Prime Lightstone was the crown jewel of the city's power. With it, a district could be powered for years. The trade authority would hunt down anyone who even thought of taking it. But for Elric, the stakes were simple. Freedom.
"Let's get this over with." He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck, the fabric rubbing against the scar that marked the life he'd escaped from, the one he was willing to burn.
With that, he slid down the side of the building, the fall short and controlled. His boots hit the ground silently, and he was moving again, darting into the shadows of the alleyway.
---
The warehouse was a monument to Ashborne's insatiable hunger for power. Massive, industrial, it stood alone in the lower districts, marked by towering iron walls and reinforced gates. The faint glow of the Lightstone within spilled from a small window at the top, beckoning like a cruel dream.
Elric's eyes narrowed. The guards would be his first obstacle. Three men, each armed with shock batons and wearing the city's insignia. He knew their shifts. They rotated every hour, and the pattern was predictable.
He crept closer, his boots light against the cobblestones, his breath steady. The first guard passed him, his back turned. Elric moved in a blur—one fluid motion, a flash of steel, and the guard's body crumpled to the ground. A precise strike to the base of the skull.
"Two more," Elric muttered, quickly dragging the body into a nearby dumpster. There was no time to be sloppy.
He moved faster now, slipping through the shadows like the thief he was. His heart pounded, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins sharpened his senses. A moment's hesitation could cost him everything.
The second guard was tougher. Elric saw him approaching a narrow alleyway, just beyond the gate. Elric's hand found a small stone, his fingers wrapping around it like an extension of his own will. With a quick flick, the stone clattered against the opposite wall. The guard's head jerked around, eyes wide in suspicion. He took a few cautious steps forward, but Elric was already on him.
Another swift, silent strike to the neck, and the guard's baton fell to the ground with a soft thud. Elric shoved the man into a shadowed alcove.
"One left." His words were barely a breath.
The last guard, oblivious to the danger, stood near the gate, facing away from the warehouse. Elric quickly approached, his feet light. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he crouched behind the man, drew his blade, and moved in.
But as he struck, there was a sudden flash of pain across his side. A blinding jolt of agony exploded in his ribcage, and he staggered, the breath knocked from him.
The guard wasn't alone. Another had come up behind him, and Elric had been so focused on the target in front of him that he hadn't heard the other's approach. The pain shot through his body like a fire, and he whirled, instinctively reaching for his blade. But the guard was already bringing his baton down again.
Elric's vision blurred. He barely dodged the second strike.
A sudden weightlessness surged within him as a voice—a dark, guttural voice—spoke within his mind.
"You are not powerless."
A surge of cold energy flowed through him, coiling into his limbs, giving him strength beyond his own. His shadow, once a passive thing, seemed to reach out, thick and stretching, wrapping around the attacker's legs, pulling him to the ground. The guard yelped in surprise, but Elric didn't pause. His blade cut through the air, sinking into the man's throat.
The guard slumped, lifeless, and Elric stood above him, gasping for breath.
"What... was that?" Elric murmured, his hand trembling as he pulled the knife from the body. His heart hammered in his chest, but it wasn't the fear of being caught. It was something else. Something darker. He had felt the power surge in him, like an instinct, like a primal force that had been dormant until now.
He shook it off. Focus. The Lightstone was still waiting.
---
Elric made his way inside, moving quickly through the warehouse. It smelled of old wood and oil, the sharp scent of steel and power. His gaze darted to the pedestal in the center of the room, where the Lightstone sat.
The Prime Lightstone was a massive, crystalline object, suspended in a soft, golden glow. It was beautiful, almost otherworldly, pulsing with a life of its own. He could almost feel its hum in the air, its energy tempting him, promising escape.
He reached for it.
---
Before he could grasp the stone, a deafening alarm shattered the silence. Red lights flickered to life. Elric's heart dropped.
"Shit!" He cursed, grabbing the stone and shoving it into his satchel. He turned to run, but the doors slammed shut, sealing him inside.
The sound of boots echoed through the warehouse. Guards. A lot of them. And then came the unmistakable clatter of heavy metal doors locking.
"El!" Rynn's voice cut through the chaos from outside.
But Elric was already halfway to the window, desperation fueling his every step. He had no time to think. Only time to act.
Just as he reached the ledge, a figure stepped out from the shadows of the warehouse, cloaked in darkness.
A voice, deep and commanding, echoed around him.
"You've been chosen for Recall."
---
End of Chapter 1