”A-are you leaving?” The teenager rubbed at her eyes tiredly and sat up. How’d she wake up? Ugh- my stealth skills really suck.

  I uncomfortably looked away from her hazy silver eyes. ”Rift.”

  Her expression fell and her head dipped. Her eyes shifted out toward the window. “Right…Right, what’s that like?”

  “…?” I eyed the girl. I just assumed since she had a white SIGIL- had she never been in one before, though?

  “The board cited safety concerns…” Lucia sighed, laying back on the couch once more. Her hands tightened around the blanket. “I should’ve seen this coming sooner. The signs were all there…”

  Hmm… I could bring her along- no, that’d be extremely irresponsible, wouldn’t it? Kali would tear me apart. Besides, the rift I wanted to hit wasn’t exactly good for team play. And taking her would completely invalidate going into it solo in the first place. Unless I wanted to show her Ebonshroud? There wasn’t a real reason to hide it from her.

  I should really figure out what I want to do with the Trait. I was just weakening myself by not using it to the fullest extent. Should I go ahead and use it as Nyx, or Moon? Part of me said Moon, but it fit better with Nyx… Maybe I could find some kind of color changing artifact or something. The black shade of the ooze was a dead giveaway.

  ”Next. Time. Take. You?” My throat throbbed with the effort. If only Kali could see me now.

  ”Really?” Her expression lit up like the sun. A bolt of warmth spread through me. I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure how I felt about her… but seeing her smile? It put me oddly at ease.

  “Yep.” I’d need to buy weapons and stuff for her… or I could make it out of Ebonshroud, I guess. It’d been a while since I kitted someone else out with the stuff. Mainly since it deteriorated after three days if I didn’t refresh it. “Weapon?”

  She froze for a moment, her head tilting to the side. ”I- um- I don’t know? Maybe a gun? I-is that possible?”

  “Probably.” I could probably make it out of Ebonshroud? I just needed to buy ammo separately. Maybe I should do some research on how guns worked? The stuff in Bastion was vastly different from the steam crank arms of Serhymn’s military.

  Or I could just go get one. Guns weren’t exactly rare, and any kind should work in an F-rank rift. Small caliber’s effectiveness fell off at Disruptive rank though, so I should aim for an assault rifle or something just in case.

  ”Thank you, Aylin.” A soft smile curled her lips and her silver eyes seemed to twinkle. “I- I’m glad you were the one to save me back then.”

  I brushed black hair out of my face, meeting her gaze for once. I held it for as long as I comfortably could. It was barely a few seconds before my eyes drifted back to the floor. “Me. Too.”

  Lucia ducked her head, her eyes hidden beneath her golden hair. “Um- you- you’ll be fine, right?”

  I stared at her. This feeling… how strange. What exactly was it? A happy smile easily came to my lips. ”Yep! Strong.”

  Maybe I should speed up the raid. I was planning on taking my time, but I didn't exactly want to leave her alone for long. Besides, getting all the Skills I wanted shouldn’t take too long with some focused effort.

  — — —

  I toyed with a small bit of ether between my fingers. The dark blue stream twisted and twirled, dancing to a tune I couldn’t quite remember. It was a practice exercise recommended by Throne itself to build up control. Similarly, it was something I could do without much thought. I idly stared out the window of a cab while manipulating the stuff.

  Darkhold was… interesting. It lurked on the easternmost side of Bastion, sandwiched between the industrious Wrighton to the north and fantastical New Haven to the south. It was also quite unique, as far as Bastion went. Not in architecture or anything like that, but in its… well, specialization.

  Some species couldn’t stand the sun. Allergic reactions, curses, or even just simple dislike—the reason didn't matter. For those species? Darkhold was the district of Bastion to live in. Vampires, dark elves, and a vast assortment of others called the place home. Heck, I was tempted to settle down here back when I first moved into Bastion. Not that it hurt me, but the sun’s glare was something I went over a century without seeing.

  It was midday about now, and yet darkness reigned. Crossing the district’s border during the day was immediately noticeable. Just outside its border, the sun could shine freely. Just inside? Constant solar eclipse. Not really sure how Throne managed that, but it made Darkhold a safe haven for those who lurked in the dark.

  Just ahead of the cab, nightmares pulled an ornate carriage. It wasn’t the only one on the streets either. Things in Darkhold were a weird mix of medieval spires and modern neon, all blending together into a section of the city that practically screamed class. It was tied with Little Rykon, in that regard.

  Here in Darkhold? Even with the solar eclipse, night was treated as day, and day was night. Outside of light traffic, the streets were fairly empty. We rolled up to my destination not all that far from the district border. The cab driver, some kind of orb-looking creature with tentacles, hummed out to me. “This is it, lady.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  I passed a shard up to pay and got out of the cab, breathing in the muggy air. The air quality was one of the many reasons why I ultimately decided on Aegis. Smog blew down into Darkhold from Wrighton with the North wind.

  I slid my Glass back into my hoodie pocket, shutting off my game. I brushed a stray lock of hair back behind my mask and looked up toward my destination: Darkhold Museum of Dark Arts.

  It was a place dedicated to the macabre, with leering skulls peering down at me from the architecture. I moved up ornate golden steps to the front door. Supposedly, there were ancient relics used in dark rituals stored here, though their Grid site mainly showcased creepy art. It wasn’t quite a mystic museum like its name suggested, but a macabre one.

  The lobby was almost entirely barren outside of a few tourist-looking groups here and there. I moved on up the reception desk, stopping just in front of a pale and lanky man typing away on a keyboard. I tapped on the desk when he didn’t look up. “…”

  He looked up, red eyes peering up into my own with boredom. Fangs glinted in his mouth as he smiled. And yet? Not a vampire. He failed the vibe check. Looked like more of a chrome aesthetic. And his unnaturally pale skin? Some kind of powder or makeup, I think. “How may I help you?”

  ”Rift?” I flashed my white SIGIL briefly. Although this place may not look like it, the museum was home to a very special rift located in its basement. One that wasn’t all that popular. It fit what I wanted perfectly though.

  ”Oh?” His eyes glimmered in interest. He moved aside the terminal screen and looked me head to toe. He tipped his head toward a guarded staircase on the far side of the lobby. “Go down the stairs on the left. I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

  “…” I nodded, heading for the stairs. Two bots in riot control gear flanked it with shields and rifles held steady in perfect symmetry on either side of the door. They moved back, allowing me to pass.

  The stairs went a long, long way down. At least five sub-levels, though maybe more. I lost count somewhere pretty early on. Turrets, cameras, and gun-emplacements sat evenly spaced down the spiral stairs like they were guarding some horrifying monstrosity.

  I finally hit the bottom. Darkness cloaked the space, only pushed back by a laser grid blocking the way forward. Darkness was an old friend though. I had no trouble seeing the man lurking inside of a security booth.

  Crimson plate armor covered the man, just missing the helmet. He watched me approach, eyes flaring with a dark red light. A heavy aura seemed to hang around him, practically radiating predatory instincts. Or, at least, it should’ve. I was immune to that kind of thing.

  The man stepped out of the booth and leaned on his halberd. Fangs flashed with a subdued smile. His voice had a long, subdued drawl to it like he had all the time in the world. “What brings kin to a dreary place like this?”

  “…?” I wasn’t a vampire. I guess we might be a bit similar? Maybe? In the way ghosts and ghouls were related. How were vampires even made, though? If he was sensing my aura, then I guess it was about time I downed some more Dew.

  ”Hmm… no, my apologies. I’ve mistaken you.” The crimson clad guard bowed his head in a flourish. “How may I assist you, friend?”

  ”Rift. Clear.”

  “Next shift isn’t for another few days?” The vampire tilted his head curiously. The red glow of the laser grid flashed alongside his sharp features.

  Go, go, Ultimate Door Opener. ”Pursius.”

  “Ah… that explains it.” His guard dropped slightly. “What rank are you? Can’t let you in if you’re Brutal or higher.”

  ”Feeble.” At least, according to the Bureau. I’d need to officially hit more rifts and take a promotion test as Moon if I wanted a promotion. No clue when all of that would happen though.

  The guard waved his hand, disabling the laser grid and heavy defenses down the hall. “Prepare yourself, friend. What lies inside is likely more horrid than anything you’ve experienced.”

  This place was special, like I said. It was a kind of rift that people avoided, given the chance. It was literally a punishment to have to come and clear it so it wouldn’t burst. And even if it did burst, the heavy defenses weren’t set all along the path for no reason.

  “…” I was more than prepared for what lurked beyond. It was a fight I had a particular interest in, especially given this rift’s… unique approach.

  The vampire drew a crimson dagger and offered me the hilt. ”Before you enter, a drop of blood, if you will. Policy, you understand.”

  This was the real reason they had a vampire down here, locked away in the basement. Their ability to remember and feel the blood of those they tasted was desperately needed given the nature of the rift. An imposter breaking through could prove to be a grave situation.

  I took off my glove and slid the dagger across my finger. Ebonshroud pulled back with a thought, allowing a single drop to well up. My blood appeared on the surface of my pale skin, rolling slightly.

  I offered the blade back to the man and lifted my hand to look at my blood better. It was dark, marred with corruption. Not quite to the point it was acidic, but it wouldn’t be pleasant to touch. Definitely needed to retake a bottle of Dew. Oh, and sorry in advance, vampy. He should be fine… but just in case I should get ready to bolt.

  The man waved his hand, collecting both the dagger and drop. It floated up, trailing through the air. He leaned forward, dropping it onto his tongue. His face contorted, a gag breaking through his throat. His already pale expression turned even paler as a look of horror flashed through his eyes.

  He flicked to the side, leaning his trembling body heavily onto his halberd. The crimson armor that covered him clacked and clanged with each movement. It took a while for him to recover. I just stood there, staring at him in awkward silence. Surely it wasn’t that bad, yep?

  He slowly managed to recompose himself. The slight twitch of his eyebrows revealed just how truly he was shaken though. “How very… wretched. What was that, friend?”

  ”…” I shook my head. Nothing that he’d need to worry about, at least. He wasn’t in Bastion… probably. I hoped. I really, really hoped.

  “No matter.” The vampire shook his head once more, rubbing at his tongue in disgust. “Go on; the sooner I can scrub this from my memory, the better.”

  I nodded to the vampire and headed down the long hallway. The laser grid, turrets, bots, and sensors kicked back on after I passed by. They wanted zero chance of the monster within getting out of the rift.

  The heavily fortified hall itself showed marks of recent combat. Bullet holes weren’t quite repaired, and ash clung between the gaps of the defenses. It appeared even the cleaners wanted to be as far away from this high-tech dungeon as possible.

  I hesitated for the briefest moment at the entrance into the rift, staring into the crack in reality. Its frayed edges seemed to pulsate with malevolence. It lacked that certain miasmic charm that other rifts had, though.

  The rift in question? Mimic’s Tear. Only one enemy lurked within, the worse that most people could imagine. Themselves.