Long-press a paragraph to send danmaku
"Stop pushing me, Rook! I can’t—I can’t think when you’re breathing down my neck!" Mara shoved at his chest, but it was like hitting a brick wall.
Cain didn't budge. He stepped closer, his boots grinding into the damp grit of the tunnel floor, pinning her against the cold, sweating stone of the wall. He didn't touch her, but the heat radiating off him was a physical weight, trapping her in the narrow space between his body and the rock.
"Think faster," Cain snapped. His voice was a low grate, vibrating in the small space. "The signal is fading. If you can't stabilize the core's frequency now, we're both going to be smeared across these walls in a brass-plated explosion. Do your job, Voss."
Mara glared up at him, her breath coming in jagged hitches. The countdown sigil in her chest was pulsing—a hot, rhythmic throb that felt like a second heartbeat, only meaner. It wasn't just burning anymore; it was pulling. It felt like a hook lodged in her ribs, dragging her consciousness toward some dark, empty hole.
"I'm trying!" she spat, her fingers trembling as she manipulated the floating brass gears of the stolen core. "The resonance is off. It's like the machine doesn't recognize me anymore. Or it recognizes something else and it doesn't like what it sees."
Cain leaned in, his eyes scanning the flickering runes on the device, then shifting to her face. He was too close. She could smell the sharp scent of ozone and old leather clinging to his coat. His gaze was hard, calculating, but there was something else there—a flicker of something that looked almost like worry, though he’d sooner burn the city down than admit it.
"What do you mean, 'something else'?" he demanded. "What's the core reading?"
"I don't know!" Mara's voice cracked. "It's just... noise. Static. And it's getting louder."
She tried to focus on the gear-work, but the world started to tilt. The tunnel blurred. The grey stone walls seemed to melt, replaced by a flash of something else—a sun-drenched room, the smell of dried lavender, the sound of a woman humming a tune that felt like a ghost scratching at the inside of her skull.
"Mara?" Cain's voice sounded like it was coming from underwater.
"I... I remember..." she whispered.
"Remember what? Focus on the core!"
But the humming grew louder, drowning out the roar of the underground vents. The flash returned, sharper this time. A woman's hand—soft, calloused from work, wearing a simple copper band—reaching out to touch a child's cheek. The child had Cain's eyes. Not the cold, dead eyes he wore now, but eyes full of light.
"Mama?" the child's voice echoed in Mara's head.
Suddenly, the sigil in her chest didn't just pulse—it screamed. A bolt of white-hot agony ripped through her sternum, throwing her backward. Her head hit the stone wall with a sickening thud, and the brass core clattered to the ground, sparks showering the floor.
Cain caught her before she hit the dirt, his arms slamming around her waist and shoulders. He hauled her up, his grip bruisingly tight.
"Mara! Look at me!" he roared.
She looked, but she wasn't seeing the enforcer anymore. For one heartbeat, one shimmering, impossible second, she saw the woman from the vision. The same jawline. The same tilt of the head. The woman was his mother, and she was looking at Cain with a desperate, heartbreaking kind of love.
Then the vision snapped.
Mara's eyes rolled back. The world vanished into a void of static and screaming brass.
***
Cold. That was the first thing she felt. Cold stone against her cheek and the metallic tang of blood in her mouth.
She didn't move for a long time. She just listened to the sound of someone pacing. Heavy boots. Methodical. Angry.
"Wake up," a voice commanded.
Mara blinked. Her eyelids felt like they were glued shut with grit. She shifted, her muscles screaming in protest, and slowly pushed herself up. The tunnel was dim, lit only by a few flickering gas lamps and the dying glow of the power core lying a few feet away.
Standing over her was a man. He looked like he’d been carved out of granite and spite. Dark coat, hard eyes, a scar running a jagged line through his composure. He looked dangerous. He looked like the kind of man who broke things for a living.
Mara scrambled backward, her back hitting the wall again. She looked at her hands, then at the strange, glowing mark beneath the fabric of her shirt.
"Who the hell are you?" she whispered, her voice sounding raw and foreign to her own ears.
Cain stopped pacing. He froze, his entire body stiffening. He stared at her, his expression shifting from irritation to something bordering on horror.
"What do you mean, 'who am I'?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.
Mara frowned, her brow furrowing. She searched her mind, but there was nothing. No names. No memories of how she got here. No idea why she was lying in a sewer with a man who looked like he wanted to arrest her or kill her.
"I don't... I don't know where I am," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't know why I'm here. Why are you looking at me like that?"
Cain took a step forward, his boots echoing like thunder in the silence. He reached out, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at him. His fingers were cold, but his grip was firm, demanding.
"Stop lying, Mara. This isn't a game. We have three hours before the Council's trackers lock onto this sector. Do you know who I am?"
Mara stared into his eyes, searching for a spark of recognition. Nothing. Just a void.
"I don't know you," she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I don't even know who *I* am."
Cain let go of her as if she’d turned into a snake. He backed away, his face pale. He looked at the power core on the ground, then back at her.
"The sigil," he muttered, his voice shaking. "It didn't just burn. It took. It actually took it."
"Took what?" Mara asked, her voice rising in panic. "What did it take? What's happening to me?"
Cain didn't answer. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, brass communication device. He keyed it twice, his eyes never leaving her face.
"Inez," he said into the device. "I need you at the extraction point. Now. Something went wrong with the girl."
"How wrong?" Inez's voice crackled through the speaker, sharp and suspicious.
Cain looked at Mara—this girl who had been fighting him every step of the way, who had cursed his name and spat on his boots, and who now looked at him with the wide, terrified eyes of a stranger.
"She's gone," Cain said quietly. "The person I was hunting... she's just gone."
Mara reached out, her fingers grazing the sleeve of his coat. "Please," she whispered. "Tell me who I am."
Cain looked down at her hand, then back to her eyes. He didn't pull away, but he didn't soften either.
"You're a thief, a gear-mage, and the most wanted woman in Veyra," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "And right now, you're the only thing keeping me from being executed for treason."
"I don't believe you," she whispered.
"You don't have to," Cain replied. "You just have to move. Now, before the—"
He stopped abruptly. A high-pitched, metallic screech echoed through the tunnel, growing louder by the second. It wasn't a machine. It was a hunt-hound. A Council tracker.
Cain grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet with a violent jerk.
"Can you run?" he barked.
"I—I don't know!"
"Figure it out," he snapped, dragging her deeper into the dark. "Because if they catch us here, they aren't going to ask for your ID before they skin you alive."
As they sprinted through the sludge and steam, Mara felt a sudden, sharp tug in her chest. A flash of a memory—not hers, but someone else's. A man's voice, deep and commanding, saying a name.
*Voss.*
She gasped, stumbling. Cain caught her, his arm locking around her waist to keep her upright.
"What is it?" he demanded.
"I heard... something," she panted.
"Don't think. Just run," he ordered.
They rounded a corner, and there, standing at the end of the tunnel, was a silhouette. Not a hound. A man in a white Council cloak, holding a device that pulsed with a sickly violet light.
"Cain Rook," the man called out, his voice smooth and poisonous. "You're late with the delivery. And you've brought the asset. How kind."
Cain stopped, shielding Mara behind him. His hand went to the hilt of his blade.
"Who the hell are you?" Cain asked.
The man smiled, and the violet light on his device flared. "I'm the one who owns the clock, Cain. And your time just ran out."