Lucien pushed open the heavy doors of the Crimson Room, and the stale heat rushed out to meet him, thick and familiar, wrapping around his shoulders like an old vice. It smelled like everything he hadn't outrun—red liquor and old power, copper and betrayal, something that clung even after the sweat dried.
This place always hit him in the gut—Undergleam, his first real teacher. Where he'd traded gossip at twelve and learned leverage by fifteen. He slung himself onto a stained leather stool, the leather groaning beneath him. His crimson coat settled around his boots like old armor. Beneath it, snug against his ribs, the Silent Ledger pulsed—a slow, deliberate thrum, almost like a heartbeat just out of sync. Glyphs bled crimson in the low light, barely visible unless you knew where to look.
Ledger update: Location secured. Client—Dax Virean. Contract initiation: pending. Probability of resistance—42%. Warning—Cassian's proxies active in Spire District. Secondary task: observe Jyn Serra, stability level moderate. Upcoming collections: 3 soul-favors due in 48 hours.
Lucien scanned the room. No sign of Cassian's shadows yet. Just nobles in silk-thread arrogance and second-tier traders draped in debt and cologne. They sipped imported flamewine and tossed rehearsed barbs like coins into a fountain. Every one of them wore confidence like armor—false, gleaming, brittle. None of them knew how fast it shattered.
He tapped the bar with a knuckle, more rhythm than impatience. Behind the counter, Jyn slinked past rows of murky bottles and over-polished glasses. Her braid swung tight behind her, catching glints of red from the hanging lights. Her focus was razor-edged—waiting, calculating. She was carrying adrenaline like a weapon tonight, and he didn't blame her. Her brother's soul was still caught in ink.
Then Dax Virean stepped in. The room didn't go quiet—but the weight shifted. Even here, where light bent around secrets, his cuffs gleamed like polished silver, starched and pristine. He moved like he was acting calm, like he'd rehearsed it. Lucien clocked it instantly. That tension in the jaw. The slight pause in each step. Dax was scared.
Lucien shifted in his seat, sending a pulse through the Ledger. The glyphs flared against his side, and a projection traced across the inside of his vision—brief, crimson lines blinking with verdict.
"75% chance he fears a Veil market leak. Confidence ratio: manufactured. Suggested approach—exploit scandal control priority."
Lucien leaned back, arms loose over the bar, voice dropping just enough to brush the edge of confidence and threat. "Dax, my man. This isn't about money—it's optics. The Ledger caught whispers. You want power saved, reputation intact, a family clean in the headlines. I've got what you need."
He slid a parchment across the bar—seal still smoking faint from the last mark. Burning ink spiraled the edges, curling like fire licking glass.
Dax's eyes flicked down. He tried to hide the twitch. "Rumors say the Syndicates leaked your last few plays," he said quietly, voice taut as piano wire. "I need assurance."
Lucien tapped the bar again. The Ledger hummed warm. Glyphs danced across his knuckles in slow, fluid trails.
"He'll pivot. 90% his fear blinds him. Leverage point: family integrity."
Lucien smiled like a blade being unsheathed. "Let them talk. If they want chaos, I've got answers. Global market contracts, shielded trades, a smoke mirror to hide behind. You walk this night unscathed." He nudged the parchment closer.
Dax's hand hovered above it, trembling just slightly. That flicker was enough. The mask cracked. Lucien caught it—like blood in the water.
"What's the real catch?"
Lucien's voice dropped low, velvet over razors. "You call in a favor later. Nothing tonight. Just this signature. Then breathe easy."
The Ledger pulsed again, warmer now. An internal glyph burned to the surface, etching faintly beneath Lucien's coat.
"Bind his soul."
Lucien's grin dipped—not quite gone, just sharper. He let the parchment fall flat between them. "Sign, Dax. I'll bind your fears, not your fate."
Dax hesitated. Then he dipped the quill—old-fashioned, soul-sensitive—and scribbled his name with the kind of precision that came from law school and inheritance. The parchment hissed. The ink curled red, locking like a curse, and the seal snapped shut.
Dax exhaled, and it wasn't relief. Not exactly. It was release. Resignation.
Lucien folded the contract, fingers careful. He slid it beside the Ledger.
"Nice doing business."
Then Dax moved—fingers fumbling in his coat—and pulled out a small silver token. Flames licked at the edges, curling around an etched mark.
Lucien saw it. Froze.
Cassian's forgery.
The Ledger flared again, brighter now. Glyphs coiled fast and sharp.
"Cassian artifact detected. Source—high risk. Bind his soul."
Lucien inhaled steady. Slow. Let the silence stretch until even the lights seemed to dim.
He pressed the parchment back into Dax's hand. "This ensures your future. But that token—if we dig deeper, it might come back to burn you." He let the threat hang. Let Dax feel it settle behind his ribs like smoke.
Then he called, voice steady, "Jyn."
She stepped forward from behind the bar, eyes strong, unblinking. "The invocation's ready." From inside her coat she pulled out a vial of Bound Echo, its pale light flickering like a candle choking on wind.
She set it gently on the bar, then stared at Dax like she could see through every mask he'd ever worn.
Dax looked between her and Lucien. The panic hit too late. "I… I didn't mean—"
Lucien slid the vial closer. "You did. But I'll save you from your own fear."
He murmured under his breath, the Ledger glowing with each syllable. Jyn began the binding ritual, her hands steady. The vial pulsed. The Ledger's glow echoed it—flames blooming slow and controlled.
Chains of soul-ink bloomed from the vial, curling like spiderwebs soaked in silver, wrapping Dax's essence, invisible to most eyes—but not to theirs.
Lucien closed his eyes. "Valthamur's repetition. Include this debt."
The vial sealed. The glyphs faded. Dax stood pale, eyes hollow—but alive. Bound.
Jyn's voice was flat. "His soul's bound."
The Ledger's pulse slowed, firm and final.
"Your greed blinds you."
Lucien gave a slow nod. "We're good. Dax buys peace tonight."
They left Dax there, half-slumped in a booth, eyes blank. Rain battered the Spire steps outside, neon bleeding down the glass like tears someone painted on purpose. Lucien stepped into the alley, coat heavy with damp and debt.
Jyn waited with two datapads. One showed Dax's signed contract. The other flickered with market data—House Thorne's holdings plummeting in real time. A crash traced back to a forged algorithm.
She rubbed her temples. "He wants to destabilize Thorne. That token—it matched the crash code. Cassian's play."
The Ledger pulsed one final time:
"Cassian's proxy crashed a market. Intent: destabilize alliances."
Lucien ground his teeth. "He's sloppy. But he hurt me. This time I plan a sting."
He tapped his watch. A pulse of light flickered across the city's data net.
The Ledger's glyphs whispered one more line:
"You're no better."
Lucien didn't flinch. He didn't need the Ledger's judgment. He carried his own. He turned away from the rain and vanished into the haze—cloak dragging behind him like a blood trail no one dared follow.
The game wasn't over. But this time, Lucien wasn't bluffing.