"You’re out of your mind if you think I’m just following you into a hole in the ground," Lira snapped, her voice tight with a mix of panic and stubbornness. She didn't back away, but her fingers were white-knuckled around the handle of her tool kit.
Jace didn't look at her. He was staring at the pulsing, jagged core he’d ripped from the nightmare creature, the thing still twitching in his grip like a dying heart. The air around them tasted like copper and ozone.
"I'm not asking you to follow me," Jace said, finally turning. He stepped closer, invading her space until she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. He could smell the faint scent of oil and old parchment clinging to her, beneath the sharp tang of fear. "I'm telling you that this is the only place in the Deep where the shadows won't eat your soul for breakfast. You want your mother's Anchor back? I'm the only one who can get you close enough to touch it."
Lira scoffed, though her breath hitched as Jace leaned in. "And what’s the catch? You don't do 'charity,' Jace. Not after what I saw you do to that thing."
"The catch is simple," Jace murmured, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating in the small gap between them. He reached out, not to touch her, but to trace the air just inches from her shoulder. The tension was thick, a physical weight. "You fix the Anchor. You build me a perimeter that actually keeps things out. In exchange, I keep you alive long enough to see it light up."
"That's not a pact. That's a hostage situation," she whispered.
"Welcome to the Deep," Jace replied. He stepped back abruptly, the sudden cold where his warmth had been making her shiver. "Now, do we have a deal, or do I leave you here to figure out why the fog is starting to smell like rotting meat?"
Lira looked at the swirling grey mist encroaching on their small circle of safety. She looked back at Jace—his eyes weren't just human anymore. There was something hungry in them, something that had tasted power and liked it.
"Fine," she spat, though she didn't move. "But the second you try to play me, I'll weld your boots to the floor."
Jace grinned, and for a second, it looked genuinely dangerous. "I'd like to see you try."
He turned and started walking toward the ruins of what looked like a collapsed cathedral, the stone blackened as if by some ancient, cosmic fire. Lira hurried after him, her boots crunching on shards of obsidian glass.
"Where even is this?" she asked, her voice echoing. "This isn't on any of the old maps."
"That's because the maps were written by people who wanted to stay safe," Jace called over his shoulder. "This is a dead zone. No one comes here because there's nothing left to steal. Which makes it perfect."
"Perfect for what? Dying in peace?"
Jace stopped dead. He spun around, his hand slamming into a nearby pillar, the sound cracking through the silence like a gunshot. He was too close again, his chest nearly brushing hers. Lira froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. He wasn't shouting, but the intensity in his gaze was suffocating.
"Perfect for building," he said, his voice a low growl. "I'm done running, Lira. I'm done waking up and wondering which shadow is going to rip my throat out while I sleep. I'm going to build something here. A fortress. A city. Something that doesn't just survive—it dominates."
Lira stared at him, her eyes wide. "You're insane. You're one guy with a glitchy power and a grudge. You can't fight the entire Deep."
"I don't have to fight the whole thing at once," Jace said, his gaze drifting to the horizon where the sky looked like a bruised purple wound. "I just have to eat enough of it to become the thing they're afraid of."
He let go of the pillar and stepped away, the oppressive energy lifting just enough for Lira to breathe. She watched him, a strange flicker of something—not quite trust, but curiosity—crossing her face.
"If you're serious about this," she started, her voice steadier, "you're going to need more than just walls. You need a power source. A real Anchor. Not some salvaged scrap from a scavenger's hoard."
"Which is why you're here," Jace said. He gestured to the center of the ruin, where a massive, rusted chain disappeared into a bottomless pit in the floor. "Tell me what you see."
Lira approached the pit, her movements hesitant. She knelt at the edge, peering into the darkness. She reached into her kit, pulling out a small, humming device—a resonance tuner. She pressed it against the rim of the pit, and the device screamed, a high-pitched frequency that made Jace wince.
"It's still here," she whispered, her voice trembling. "The main Anchor. It's deep, and it's... god, it's dormant. But it's huge. If we could just jumpstart the core..."
"Can you do it?"
"I need materials. Rare ones. And I need time. I can't just snap my fingers and make a dead god wake up," she snapped, the fire returning to her eyes. "And I need to know I'm not just building a throne for some lunatic who's going to get us both killed."
Jace looked down into the pit, then back at her. He reached into his pocket and tossed her the core he’d taken from the monster. It landed with a wet thud at her feet, still faintly glowing with a sickly violet light.
"That's a start," he said. "Use it. Take whatever else you need from the carcasses I bring back. Just get the lights on."
Lira looked at the core, then at Jace. She didn't pick it up immediately. Instead, she stood up, her posture straightening. "I want a say in how this place is run. No 'yes-man' bullshit. If I think your plan is suicide, I tell you, and you listen."
Jace leaned against the ruined archway, crossing his arms. He looked like a king of nothing, surrounded by dust and ghosts. "Deal. As long as you keep the Anchor humming, you can tell me I'm an idiot as often as you like."
Lira finally picked up the core, her fingers brushing against the cold, slimy surface. A small, triumphant smile touched her lips. "I can do that."
For a moment, the silence between them wasn't hostile. It was a truce, fragile and dangerous. But the Deep never let anything stay quiet for long.
From the fog beyond the ruins, a sound began to grow. It wasn't the screech of a monster or the howl of the wind. It was rhythmic. Heavy.
*Thump. Thump. Thump.*
Jace stiffened, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of the blade at his waist. He moved to the edge of the ruins, squinting into the grey haze.
"What is that?" Lira asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Jace didn't answer immediately. His jaw tightened. As the fog parted slightly, a line of silhouettes emerged. They weren't shambling corpses or mindless beasts. They were armored. They marched in perfect, terrifying unison, their spears gleaming with a cold, unnatural light.
"Sleepless Patrol," Jace muttered, his voice grim. "And they aren't here to negotiate."
Lira stepped back, her heart leaping into her throat. "What do we do?"
Jace didn't look back at her. He stepped forward, his eyes glowing with that hungry, violet light, his body tensing like a spring about to snap.
"We show them," Jace said, his voice sounding less and less human, "that this dead zone has a new owner."
As the first soldier stepped out of the fog, the lead officer raised a hand and barked a command that sounded like grinding metal. The patrol halted, and a dozen spears leveled simultaneously, pointing straight at Jace's chest.
"By order of the Silent Hegemony," the officer boomed, his voice echoing through the ruins, "this sector is forbidden. Surrender your core and your life, or be erased."
Jace didn't flinch. He actually stepped closer to the spearheads, a smirk playing on his lips.
"I think I'll keep both," Jace said, and as he lunged, the officer's blade whistled through the air, aiming directly for—