The Anchor wasn't something Rael had chosen. It had found him.
The memory came unbidden as he sat beneath the overpass, staring at the faint glow of the rune on his hand.
It had been three months ago, during one of his most desperate scavenging missions. The outskirts of the city were more dangerous than the ruins near the core. Umbrals roamed in packs, and rival scavengers wouldn't hesitate to kill for a piece of unbroken tech or a stash of preserved food. But desperation had driven Rael out there.
His small crew—three other scavengers who called themselves the Ash Rats—had discovered a lead. A derelict bunker buried beneath the sands, untouched by looters or Umbrals. They had whispered of treasures hidden inside: old-world weapons, food stores, maybe even relics of the pre-apocalypse that could fetch a fortune.
Rael had been skeptical, but hunger and ambition outweighed his caution.
The bunker was hidden beneath a crumbling overpass, half-buried under layers of black sand. The door was heavy and rusted, but the Ash Rats had pried it open with crowbars and determination. The air inside was stale and cold, thick with the smell of decay.
At first, they found nothing but dust and broken machinery. Then, in the deepest chamber of the bunker, they found the pedestal.
It was made of a dark, unidentifiable stone, engraved with intricate runes that seemed to shimmer faintly even in the dim light of their flashlights. Resting atop the pedestal was the Anchor.
It didn't look like much at first—just a black, irregularly shaped stone, about the size of a clenched fist. Its surface was smooth, yet it seemed to drink in the light around it, casting faint shadows even where there shouldn't have been any.
Rael hadn't been the first to touch it. One of the Ash Rats, a man named Jorrik, had reached for it, his eyes gleaming with greed. The moment his fingers brushed the surface, the shadows around the room came alive.
Rael would never forget the screams.
The shadows had torn Jorrik apart in seconds, his body reduced to ash as the Anchor pulsed with a malevolent light. The others had fled, but Rael had been rooted to the spot, too terrified to move.
And then the Anchor had called to him.
"Take it."
The voice had been faint, almost gentle, but it had pierced through the chaos in his mind like a knife. Against every instinct screaming at him to run, Rael had stepped forward. His hand trembled as he reached for the stone, expecting to meet the same fate as Jorrik.
But the moment his fingers closed around the Anchor, the shadows stilled. The oppressive weight in the air lifted, replaced by an eerie calm.
The rune had burned itself into his palm then, a searing pain that knocked him unconscious.
When he awoke, the bunker was silent. The Ash Rats were gone, and the Anchor was fused to his soul.
Rael shook his head, banishing the memory. He had tried not to think about that day, but now, with everything that had happened, it was impossible to ignore.
The Anchor's power was unlike anything he had ever imagined. At first, it had been wild and uncontrollable, manifesting in bursts of shadow that lashed out at random. But after his encounter with the Eclipse Fiend, the power had stabilized.
The rune on his hand acted as a conduit, allowing him to summon shadows as weapons or armor. He could bend them to his will, shaping them into blades, tendrils, or shields. The Fiend had also hinted at other abilities—things he had yet to unlock.
But the power came at a cost.
Every time he used the Anchor, he felt a piece of himself slipping away. It wasn't physical, but something deeper—an erosion of his will, his sense of self. The Fiend's voice grew louder in those moments, whispering promises of greater strength, urging him to let go of his humanity.
And then there were the visions. Fragments of memories that weren't his own. Images of destruction, of a world consumed by shadows.
Rael didn't know if they were warnings, or merely the Anchor's way of tormenting him.
All he knew was that the power was both a gift and a curse. And now, with the stranger's cryptic warnings echoing in his mind, he was starting to wonder if the cost of the Anchor was too high.