The first pale light of dawn crept through the broken windows of the abandoned penthouse.
Liara sat at the edge of the wide, shattered window frame, knees drawn up, her head resting sideways against the cold concrete wall.
The city stretched before her in soft greys and blues, the filth of Zenithar hidden under the fragile beauty of morning.
Behind her, Raiga slept deeply on the old cot, the heavy rise and fall of his breath steady, almost peaceful. For a moment, he looked just like the boy she remembered—the stubborn kid who used to sleep until noon no matter how loud the world was.
Her gaze lingered on him.
He lies to protect me... but it still hurts.
Her wrist comm vibrated softly. The name flashing on the cracked screen made her heart clench.
Garret.
She answered with a faint sigh.
Liara: "Morning, Garret..."
Garret's voice came through, rough but familiar, a low rumble like the morning thunder.
Garret: "You sound like hell, kid."
Liara smiled faintly, her eyes never leaving the horizon.
Liara: "I think you already know why."
There was a pause.
Garret: "...Yeah. I heard."
Liara turned her eyes down to the streets far below.
Liara: "No lecture today? No long speech about how I'm wasting my time on him?"
Garret let out a slow breath, his tone softer now.
Garret: "Not today. You both chose your paths. Together."
Liara bit her lip, the ache pressing against her ribs.
Liara: "...I just didn't think his path would take him this far."
Garret's voice dropped lower, more serious.
Garret: "Kid... you remember how I found you two, don't you?"
Liara closed her eyes. The memory felt like a lifetime ago.
Garret: "Two half-starved brats trying to pick my pockets outside a burnt-out supply convoy. Thought you were clever. And that boy... he was all teeth and fire. If looks could kill, he'd have burned me down right there."
Liara smiled faintly, remembering.
Garret: "But you... you were already thinking how to talk your way out. Smart as hell, even then. And him? Stubborn little bastard. Didn't trust anyone. Thought the whole world was the enemy."
Liara chuckled quietly.
Liara: "You and him used to fight like crazy."
Garret laughed once, deep and rough.
Garret: "Damn right we did. Nearly broke my hand the first time I tried to drag him out of a fight."
His voice turned somber again.
Garret: "But listen to me, Liara. You're the only thing that keeps him grounded. You're his anchor. Don't let go of him... but don't let him drag you under, either. If he's falling into that abyss... you better be sure it's not a place you're willing to follow."
Liara swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper.
Liara: "And if he's already gone...?"
Garret: "He's not. Not yet. That dumb mutt's still got his eyes locked on you, whether he knows it or not. You stand your ground, kid. When the time comes, if you make him choose... he'll only see you."
Liara wiped a tear away before it could fall.
Garret's tone shifted, businesslike.
Garret: "Now... I need you sharp. We've got something big. Intel on Dominion operations. You're the only one I trust with this. Meet me at the outpost in an hour."
Liara nodded, her voice steadier now.
Liara: "I'll be there."
Garret: "That's my girl. Don't keep me waiting."
The line went dead.
Liara sat for a moment longer, watching the last colors of dawn fade into the smog. Then she glanced back at Raiga.
He was still sprawled out, dead to the world.
A slow, mischievous grin spread across her face.
Liara: "HEY, RAIGA! GET YOUR ASS UP!"
Raiga jolted upright like he'd been shot, eyes wild, hands instinctively reaching for his blade.
Raiga: "What the hell, Liara?! You trying to kill me in my sleep?!"
Liara laughed, stepping down from the window ledge and grabbing her jacket.
Liara: "Relax, soldier. I've got to meet Garret. You know... serious people, important plans."
Raiga rubbed his face, groaning.
Raiga: "Yeah... I've got things to handle later too."
Liara headed for the door, then paused. She turned back, her expression soft, eyes warmer than they'd been all night.
Liara (with a small, knowing smile): "See you later, Raiga."
That simple look, calm, caught him off guard. For a moment, it felt like the war outside had nothing to do with them.
Raiga watched her go, the weight of unspoken things thick in the air long after the door clicked shut.
And when the silence settled, he stood—because standing still had never been his way.
⸻
The morning sun didn't reach these heights. Only smog and the endless neon glow bled through the pale sky.
Raiga moved across the rooftops like a shadow cutting through fog—silent, precise. Two heavy bags slung across his shoulders, loaded with yesterday's spoils. Hidden under his jacket, the real prize: two fragments pulsing faintly against his ribs.
Below him, Zenithar dragged itself awake. Sirens echoed in the distance. Street hawkers shouted half-hearted deals no one could afford.
Ahead, the Dominion Tower rose like a black monolith, but Raiga's path veered toward something far more dangerous—the Iron Apex, the stronghold of the Night Covenant.
Its jagged silhouette clawed at the skyline, a fortress of chrome and reinforced steel. Men with mirrored visors and heavy rifles patrolled the perimeter, tattoos of coiled serpents marked under their collars—the sign of loyalty to Barren.
As Raiga descended toward the main entrance, conversations buzzed among the lower-ranked enforcers.
Enforcer 1 (low voice): "That's him. Took out five men last night..."
Enforcer 2 (clicking his tongue): "Imagine what he'd be like if he ever got his hands on one of those cursed stones..."
Their voices faded as Raiga pushed through the checkpoint without a word. No one stopped him. No one even tried.
Inside, the Iron Apex was alive with tension. Low-ranking thugs loitered in the hallways, talking too loud and laughing too hard, like men who knew they'd never climb higher. On the higher floors, the real operators moved like sharks through water.
The lift doors slid open with a hiss as Raiga pressed the button for the top floor. The others in the lobby fell silent, their gazes dropping as the elevator sealed him away.
When the doors reopened, two of Barren's top lieutenants were already waiting near the panoramic window.
Vex Crawler: "If it isn't the Covenant's storm. You clean up real nice, Raiga."
Sven Gunnar: "Handled those dogs better than we expected. Almost makes the rest of us look lazy."
Raiga adjusted the bags on his shoulder without slowing down.
Raiga: "Try working instead of talking. Might surprise you."
The lieutenants exchanged a sharp glance but said nothing as Raiga crossed the threshold into the inner sanctum.
Barren stood at the far end of the room, overlooking the poisoned skyline of Zenithar through reinforced glass.
He was a giant of a man—easily two meters tall, broad-shouldered and immaculately dressed in tailored black. His dark skin gleamed under the overhead lights, and a single platinum ring adorned his massive right hand.
When he turned, his eyes locked onto Raiga with something dangerously close to respect.
Barren: "Right on time. That's why I keep you, Raiga."
Raiga dropped the bags onto the floor.
Raiga: "Job's done."
Barren smirked.
Barren: "You've always been a blunt bastard. And that's why I like you."
His eyes slid to the jacket covering the fragments.
Barren: "You got them?"
Raiga pulled the two fragments from his coat and set them carefully on the nearby table. Their faint blue glow painted wicked lines across his fingers.
Barren (approaching slowly): "Beautiful, aren't they? The world's greatest currency, right there in your hands. And yet, I wonder..."
He turned back to the window.
Barren (voice low, eyes sharp): "Tell me, Raiga... You really think those idiot thugs pulled this off on their own?"
Raiga crossed his arms, gaze steady.
Raiga: "They were just street trash. Someone else is pulling the strings, testing us."
Barren (chuckles): "But you left no one alive to ask who sent them..."
Raiga shot him a cold, sideways glance.
Raiga: "Don't start that with me. You already know who's responsible."
Barren laughed, deep and genuine, the sound echoing through the vast room.
Barren (with a rough grin): "Ha! Sharp as ever, Raiga... You're the only person in this city I can stand for more than ten minutes without wanting to put a bullet in his head!"
He circled back toward his desk, admiring the fragments like they were old friends.
Barren: "Such a shame, though. All that talent, all that power—and you're still planning to waste it chasing some childish dream of freedom."
Raiga turned to leave, voice low and sharp.
Raiga: "No one knows what tomorrow holds."
Barren smiled, his teeth gleaming white against his dark skin.
Barren: "That's the difference between us, boy. I do."
As Raiga reached the door, Barren called out again.
Barren: "One last thing."
Raiga stopped, shoulders tense but didn't bother to turn.
Raiga: "This better be good."
Barren: "Take the fragments to Varek. Northern outpost. Personally."
Raiga let out a sharp breath, head tilting back slightly like he was counting to ten in his mind.
Raiga: "Do I look like your errand boy?"
Barren chuckled low in his throat and flicked the pouch of fragments toward him.
Raiga caught it midair without even looking.
Barren (grinning): "You're whatever I say you are, Shadow. Take the money Varek owes you. Call it... payment for this heartwarming conversation."
"And try not to leave too many corpses behind this time, yeah?"
Raiga stuffed the pouch inside his coat with a practiced motion and headed for the door.
His voice drifted back lazily as he disappeared down the hall.
Raiga: "Try not to bust my balls for at least one day, old man."
Barren's laughter echoed through the office, low and rough.
He turned back to the endless lights of Zenithar, city shadows flickering in his eyes.
For a moment, his smile faded—expression unreadable against the glass.
But as Raiga disappeared into the corridor, a faint red light blinked to life on Barren's desk.
An incoming transmission—encrypted, high clearance.
Barren leaned in, his grin slowly fading as the message scrolled across the display in stark, digital lettering:
"Subject 002 confirmed. Mobilize Ascendant Protocol."
His eyes narrowed, fingers curling into a tight fist.
Barren (under his breath): "So... it begins."