Rael Duskthorn crouched low, his eyes darting between the crumbling buildings that made up the ruins of what had once been a thriving city. Now, it was nothing more than a wasteland, a decaying husk of civilization, where the weak survived by any means necessary. He was one of them—someone who had learned to live by his wits and his fists.
The sun was a pale, sickly thing, barely breaking through the thick clouds of smog that perpetually choked the sky. The streets were empty, save for the occasional scavenger or the metallic glint of forgotten remnants of the old world. But in the distance, Rael could hear the unmistakable sound of approaching danger—the howls of the Umbrals.
He had no time to waste.
Rael's fingers tightened around the small, oblong object in his palm. It was a relic—an artifact of power—and he could feel its weight pressing against him. A Soul Anchor, though he had no idea how it worked. All he knew was that he had to take it, to risk it. The Black Scar would be on his tail any minute now, and the food he'd stolen wouldn't keep them off his back for long.
His eyes flicked up toward the ruined skyline. The faintest shimmer of light caught his attention—like a beacon. There, in the heart of the wreckage, was something else. A flash of strange energy, pulling him like gravity.
"I need to move," Rael muttered to himself, gripping the Anchor tightly.
It had been weeks since he first stumbled into this forsaken part of the city, surviving on scraps and stolen goods. He had no allegiance, no loyalties. Only one goal: survive. But that had changed the moment his fingers had brushed against this strange object in the abandoned market. There had been a shift, a sudden burst of raw power—and before he knew it, he had activated it.
And now, the Black Scar wanted him dead.
Rael's legs burned as he sprinted through the alleyways, the weight of the Anchor still clutched against his chest. The howls grew louder, closer. He could hear the footfalls of the Umbrals now, echoing in the silence that had once been his refuge. They were relentless, creatures formed from fear, born of humanity's sins and longings. Twisted shadows of the world's corruption.
A flash of movement caught his eye. A silhouette. A figure, standing alone in the distance, outlined by the dull glow of an unseen light. The figure looked human.
Another scavenger?
Rael didn't hesitate. He veered toward the figure, his pulse quickening. There was no time to waste on wondering whether they were friend or foe.
As he approached, the figure turned, revealing a face—dark eyes and a scarred cheek.
"You," the stranger said, his voice cold and deep. "You're the one with the Anchor."
Rael froze. The words sent a chill down his spine. How did this person know?
The stranger's eyes narrowed. "Don't think for a second you can escape it," he added, his voice dripping with warning. "Once you've touched one of those, you belong to it. It will never let you go."
Rael swallowed, the weight of the Anchor in his hand suddenly feeling heavier. He didn't have time to question the stranger's words. The Black Scar were on his tail, and his only chance at survival was whatever this Anchor could give him.
"You don't understand," Rael said, his voice steady despite the panic rising in his chest. "I need to survive. I don't care what this thing is, I just need to get away from them."
The stranger took a step forward, and Rael felt his heart race. There was something cold, something otherworldly about him. But before Rael could react, the air around them seemed to warp, shifting like a mirage. The ground beneath his feet trembled.
Rael's hand clenched the Anchor harder. It pulsed, glowing with an eerie energy that threatened to consume him.
Suddenly, the world around him shattered. The sky above him went black, the ground beneath him vanished, and a blinding light erupted from the Anchor in his hand.
Boom.
The explosion of power sent him sprawling backward, but the light didn't fade. Instead, it engulfed him, and his entire body burned as if being torn apart. His vision blurred, and the last thing he saw before collapsing into unconsciousness was the stranger's smile—cold, knowing, and full of dark intent.