Kael leaned on the rusted railing above Hollowgate's lower channel. Surface rain coursed below him in quiet streams down the city's old sewer conduits. The beam of his relic moved upon the steel. He lingered there too long, reflecting upon what that dungeon had revealed to him.
"You'll have yourself traced if you just stand there emitting," Merik's voice cut through the fog like a knife.
Kael didn't flinch. "You followed me?"
"I work at the guild," she replied, pointing to the guild symbol on her shoulder. "And you left your hazard report on the table in mid-signature."
Kael took the form from her hand without looking back.
Merik stalled. "Listen. there's a name I think you should hear. He's not guild-licensed. Off-grid. But they say he knows how relics shift."
Kael's face went cautious. "You think yours is shifting?"
"I think it's trying to talk to you," she replied in a flat tone.
There was a heavy silence. Then she slid a piece of paper into his hand. "The broker works out of Wren's Hollow. Third bell, no later. He won't wait.".
Kael read the address. "Why help?"
Merik shrugged. "You saved three runners who didn't belong in getting out of that dungeon. Maybe I don't think you're the impulsive sort after all."
She turned and vanished into the city mist.
Across the city, beyond the lines of Hollowgate, the blackstone spires of House Viremont's enemies pierced the air towards the plaza. Deep within one of them, a hooded figure leaned over a shining crystal scry-panel, watching Kael's movement disturb the surface.
"Confirmed," he said, voice smooth and free of inflection. "He has the shard. Active resonance confirmed."
A voice crackled out of a speaker on the wall. "Do we attack?"
Look. For the time being. Hollow Court will not move unless the heir is truly roused. But order the alchemists to prepare. If that relic feeds once more, we will need containment.
By nightfall, Kael found the address.
It was a rusty tram-station. front that had been reclaimed in Wren's Hollow, remade into something half-way between a den of elixirs and a smuggler's stash. The air inside stank of smoldering metal and incense.
"You're eager," said a voice.
Kael trailed after a man tall and heavily tattooed, with a glass monocle over one eye. His voice was not smooth, not accustomed to conversation.
"Brother?"
"I am a man who knows what you're carrying," he said, tilting his head in Kael's direction toward the relic. "Devour type. Rare. Highly illegal."
Kael's fingers drifted to his belt.
The broker snorted. "Relax. If I were delivering you, you would not have seen me.".
Kael stood firm. "What do you want?"
"Nothing. But you need answers. And I don't repeat myself."
He gestured to a chair before a disorganized desk stacked with pieces of relics, monster teeth, and a shattered dungeon compass.
"The voices," the broker said, tapping Kael's relic with a gloved finger. "They're echoes. Pieces of what you consume. Some go away. Some… they remain. And some change you.".
Kael sat slowly. "How do I control it?"
"You don't. You either learn to live with it… or become something worse than the things you feed on."
Kael's jaw was set hard.
The broker leaned in. "Tell me, Kael Viremont. Do you want to stay human?"
Kael was silent.
The broker chuckled. "Didn't think so. I'll be in touch."
Outside, the wind shrieked, and Kael stepped into it, his cloak drawn tight. Hidden from behind rooftoplines, a figure in Hollow Court grey adjusted a lens, watching him vanish into shadows.
"Tracker is tagged," the spy whispered. "Target is learning."