The shard whispered.
It wasn't a sound, not exactly. More like a vibration in Kael's bones, a hum that grew louder the longer he held it. He'd tried to ignore it, stuffing the shard into a lead-lined pouch and burying it at the bottom of his pack. But the whispers followed him, seeping into his dreams, twisting them into nightmares of crumbling cities and a voice that called his name.
'Kael Veyra. Kael Veyra. Kael Veyra.'
He woke in a cold sweat, the locket around his neck burning like a brand. The sun was barely rising, its weak light filtering through the cracked windows of the abandoned warehouse he'd holed up in. Ironhaven's slums stretched out below, a maze of crumbling buildings and smoke-choked streets. Somewhere out there, Frostborne soldiers were hunting him.
'Not just soldiers', he thought, remembering the woman with the ice-blue eyes. 'Her'.
He shook his head, forcing the memory away, and checked his gear. His coat was torn, his ribs bruised from the refinery fight, but he was alive. For now.
The shard pulsed in his pack, a faint glow bleeding through the fabric.
"Shut up," he muttered, slinging the pack over his shoulder.
The Black Moth Tavern was quiet this early, its usual crowd of drunks and thieves replaced by a handful of stragglers nursing cheap ale. Kael slipped in through the back door, nodding at the barkeep—a grizzled man with a Pyroflux tattoo on his forearm.
"You've got guts showing your face here," the barkeep said, polishing a glass.
"Frostborne's been tearing the city apart looking for you."
"I noticed," Kael said, sliding onto a stool. "Where's Jarek?"
"Gone. Took his boys and left last night. Smart move, considering."
Kael frowned. Jarek wasn't the type to run. "What aren't you telling me?"
The barkeep set the glass down, his expression grim. "They found the bodies. Frostborne's been executing anyone connected to the refinery job. Word is, the heir herself is leading the hunt."
'The heir'. Kael's stomach twisted. Of course. The woman in the refinery—white hair, blue eyes, the way she'd fought like a trained soldier. She wasn't just nobility. She was 'Lyra Frostborne', the clan's prodigy and next in line for the Eclipse Throne.
"Great," Kael muttered. "Just great."
The shard pulsed again, louder this time. He clenched his fists, trying to ignore it.
"You should leave," the barkeep said, his voice low. "Before they find you."
Kael stood, tossing a silver mark onto the counter. "Thanks for the advice."
He didn't get far.
The moment he stepped into the alley, the air turned cold. Frost crept across the walls, the ground cracking under his boots as ice spread like a living thing.
"Kael Veyra."
The voice was calm, almost melodic, but it sent a chill down his spine. He turned slowly, his hand drifting to the dagger at his belt.
Lyra Frostborne stood at the mouth of the alley, her white hair catching the pale sunlight. She wore a modified Frostborne uniform, the fabric reinforced with ice-forged armor, and her sword—a slender blade of glowing blue crystal—rested at her side. Behind her, a dozen Frostborne soldiers fanned out, their frostblades drawn.
"You've got a lot of nerve," she said, stepping closer. "Stealing from my clan. Killing my men."
Kael forced a smirk. "They started it."
Her eyes narrowed. "Who sent you?"
"Anonymous client. You know how it is."
She tilted her head, studying him like a predator sizing up prey. "You're not just a thief. That power you used in the refinery—it's not Frostborne. Not Pyroflux. What are you?"
Kael's grip tightened on his dagger. "Just a guy trying to make a living."
"A living?" She laughed, the sound sharp and cold. "You're a dead man walking, Veyra. Hand over the shard, and I'll make it quick."
The shard pulsed in his pack, the whispers growing louder. 'Kael Veyra. Kael Veyra.'
"Sorry," he said, stepping back. "I'm not really a 'quick' kind of guy."
Her sword flashed, a wave of ice surging toward him. Kael dodged, the frost grazing his arm and leaving a trail of numbness. He threw his dagger, but she deflected it with a flick of her blade.
"You're outmatched," she said, advancing. "Surrender, and I'll make sure your death means something."
"Tempting," Kael said, his voice tight. "But I'll pass."
He reached for his entropy power, the air around him rippling as decay spread through the ground. The Frostborne soldiers hesitated, their frostblades cracking as the metal rusted.
Lyra didn't flinch. "Interesting."
She raised her free hand, and the temperature plummeted. Ice erupted from the ground, encasing Kael's legs before he could react. He struggled, but the ice was too thick, too cold.
"You're strong," she said, stepping closer. "But strength alone won't save you."
The shard pulsed again, the whispers turning into a roar. Kael's vision blurred, the world tilting as the void inside the shard seemed to 'stretch'.
And then, something inside him 'snapped'.
The ice shattered, shards flying in every direction. Kael stumbled forward, his body trembling as energy surged through him. The ground beneath him decayed, the cobblestones crumbling to dust.
Lyra's eyes widened. "What—?"
He didn't let her finish. With a roar, he unleashed a wave of entropy, the decay spreading faster than he could control. The Frostborne soldiers screamed as their armor disintegrated, their bodies crumbling to ash.
Lyra raised her sword, a barrier of ice forming around her. The entropy hit it, the ice cracking but holding.
"Stop!" she shouted, her voice strained. "You'll destroy everything!"
Kael didn't care. The power was intoxicating, the whispers in his head drowning out everything else. He took a step forward, his hand outstretched...
And then the world went black.
When he woke, he was in chains.
The room was cold, the walls made of smooth, unbroken ice. Frostborne runes glowed faintly, their light casting eerie shadows. Kael's head pounded, his body aching as if he'd been run over by a wagon.
"Awake already?"
He looked up. Lyra stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable.
"Where am I?" he croaked.
"The Frostborne Citadel," she said, stepping inside. "You're lucky to be alive."
"Lucky?" He rattled the chains. "This doesn't feel lucky."
She ignored him, crossing the room to a table covered in tools—scalpels, vials, and a small, glowing device that made his stomach churn.
"You're full of surprises, Kael Veyra," she said, picking up a scalpel. "But I'm going to find out what you are. One way or another."
The shard pulsed in his pack, which sat on the table beside her. The whispers returned, louder than ever.
'Kael Veyra. Kael Veyra. Kael Veyra.'
He closed his eyes, bracing himself.
This was going to hurt.