"You’re three days late, Crane. Where’s the scrap?"
Jax didn't wait for an answer. He slammed me against the corrugated metal wall of the alley, the rusted iron biting into my shoulder blades. He was a Guild collector—all polished leather and cold eyes—and he smelled like expensive ozone and arrogance.
"I'm working on it, Jax. Just give me until Friday," I wheezed, trying to pry his hand off my collar. He was twice my size and had a sigil-enhanced grip that felt like a hydraulic press.
"Friday?" Jax sneered, leaning in so close I could see the gold flecks in his pupils. "The Guild doesn't do Fridays. We do deadlines. Your master, Bram, already signed the default clause. You’re not paying in coin anymore. You’re paying in labor. Or maybe I just take your fingers. You only need two to scrub floors, right?"
I kicked out, catching him in the shin, but he didn't even flinch. He just grinned, a slow, cruel movement of his lips, and shoved me hard. I hit the grease-slicked pavement with a wet thud, my lungs burning with the metallic tang of Cinder City’s smog.
"Get up," he barked. "Move. Now."
I scrambled up, my hands shaking. I didn't have the coin. I never had the coin. My sister, Mia, was coughing up black soot in the attic room, and every cent I made went into filtered air-canisters and lung-salve. The Guild knew it. They loved it.
I backed away, my boots crunching on broken glass, until I hit the heavy iron door of the basement vault. It was a forbidden zone—Bram’s 'graveyard' of dead engines. Things the Guild had declared obsolete or dangerous. Things that were supposed to be silent forever.
"Don't go in there," I muttered, more to myself than him.
"What’s in there? More junk?" Jax stepped forward, his hand reaching for the door handle. "Maybe there's something I can seize to cover your debt."
"No! It's—it's unstable!" I lunged, grabbing his wrist.
Jax laughed, a sharp, grating sound. He twisted my arm behind my back with a sickening pop, pinning me face-first against the door. "You're pathetic, Crane. A little rat in a soot-stained rag. Give me one reason why I shouldn't just drag you to the pits right now."
I didn't have a reason. I had a panic attack.
As Jax pressed me harder against the door, the iron beneath my chest groaned. I felt it. A vibration. Not a mechanical shake, but a pulse. A heartbeat. It was coming from the engine inside—the one the Guild had spent forty years trying to erase from the records.
*Help me,* a voice whispered.
I froze. It wasn't a sound in the air. It was a sound in my teeth, in my marrow.
"What are you shaking for?" Jax hissed, his grip tightening. "You’re practically vibrating. You scared of a little pain?"
*Milo.*
My heart stopped. The voice said my name. Not 'boy,' not 'rat.' *Milo.*
I didn't think. I didn't plan. I just reached back, my fingers finding a jagged gap in the door's seal, and jammed my hand through. I didn't know what I was looking for until my skin touched the cold, dead brass of the core.
It was a Sigil-Engine, a massive, rusted sphere of gears and etched runes, dormant for decades. The moment my fingertips brushed the metal, the world tilted.
*Wake up,* the voice roared.
*BOOM.*
A shockwave of golden light exploded from the core. It wasn't a fire—it was a surge of raw, unfiltered power. The force ripped the iron door off its hinges like it was made of wet cardboard. Jax was thrown backward, screaming, his polished boots sliding across the alley as he hit a brick wall with a bone-shattering crash.
I was thrown the other way, sliding across the floor of the vault. I gasped for air, my vision swimming in gold spots. The silence that followed was heavier than the noise.
I looked up. The engine wasn't dead anymore.
It was humming. A deep, hungry thrum that made the very air vibrate. The runes—the sigils carved into the brass—were glowing with a fierce, incandescent light. They weren't the steady blue of Guild tech; they were a violent, burning amber.
"What... what did you do?" Jax groaned, pushing himself up from the rubble. His face was smeared with blood, his expression shifting from shock to pure, unadulterated terror. "You... you woke a Dead Core? That's impossible. That's heresy!"
I stared at my hand. My fingertips were charred, the skin blackened, but I didn't feel pain. I felt... full. Like I’d just swallowed a star.
"I didn't do anything," I lied, my voice cracking. "It just... happened."
"Liar!" Jax scrambled to his feet, his hand flying to the sigil-pistol at his hip. "The Guild will skin you alive for this! You’re not just a debtor now, you’re a dead man walking!"
He leveled the gun at my chest. His finger tightened on the trigger. I could see the hammer cocking back. I wanted to run, but my legs felt like lead.
Then, the engine roared again.
It didn't make a sound—it released a pulse. A wave of gravity slammed into the room, pinning Jax to the wall. His gun flew from his hand, clattering across the floor. He gasped, his eyes bulging, as he was held in place by an invisible force.
*Run, Milo,* the engine whispered. *They are coming.*
"Who's coming?" I yelled, stepping toward the humming machine. "What are you?"
*I am the oath you forgot,* it answered.
Suddenly, the alley outside erupted. Shouts. The heavy stomp of armored boots. The sharp, rhythmic whistle of Guild Enforcers. They weren't just coming for the debt—they had sensors. They'd felt the surge.
I looked at Jax, who was currently struggling to breathe against the wall. I could leave him. I should leave him.
"Please..." Jax choked out. "Just... turn it off..."
I reached for the core, intending to shut it down, but as my hand neared the brass, a new sound cut through the chaos.
A single, sharp click.
I froze. The cold sensation of a gun barrel pressed firmly against the base of my skull.
"Don't move a muscle," a woman's voice commanded. It was low, sharp, and held the kind of authority that made your blood turn to ice. "Not a finger. Not a breath."
I didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. The scent of rain and cold steel gave her away. Inspector Lena Voss. The Guild’s most ruthless hound. The woman who had dismantled every rogue shop in the sector without blinking.
"Now," she whispered, her breath hot against my ear, "you're going to tell me exactly how a scrap-rat like you managed to wake a Forbidden Core, or I'm going to find out how many holes it takes to make you stop talking."
I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs. I could feel the engine behind me pulsing in sync with my own pulse, feeding me a surge of heat that felt like a dare.
"I... I don't know," I stammered.
"Wrong answer," she said.
I heard the hammer of her pistol click again.
And then, the entire block exploded in light.