Ravenna - Age 12
Location: The Dark Realm - Some Years Ago
All I can hear is my heart beating—Ba dum, ba dum, ba dum. I'm surrounded by darkness that makes it impossible to see. I start to panic, trying to figure out where I am. It's really cold, and it makes me shiver. When I try to lift my hands, they don't move—they're numb and I feel really weak. I have no memories, just a feeling, to survive no matter what.
I try to calm down by focusing on my breathing. Somehow, I know this should help. I close my eyes and breathe in and out slowly, letting the cold air fill my lungs, and then gently exhale. Little by little, my heart stops racing and I begin to feel a bit warmer.
The loud beating in my ears gets quieter, and I start to hear other sounds—people talking in the distance, some noise of things happening, and music playing softly. Kneeling, I look around the dark for where the sounds are coming from. Despite feeling tired, I manage to stand up and see a tiny bit of light shining through the darkness. I feel drawn to it, and as I get closer, the light suddenly gets bright. I cover my eyes with my hands and keep moving towards the light, eager to find warmth.
All of a sudden, I'm in the middle of a busy street with lots of noises all around me. The air, which was once cold and quiet, now carries different smells, one of which kind of smells like rusting metal. Drones fly above, making noise that mixes with the music coming from the stalls. "Delivery Drones," I say to myself quietly, picking out their sound among the shouting vendors, people laughing, and talking. Neon signs are lighting up in all sorts of colors, making everything look bright but also making dark corners seem even darker. Walking through the crowd, feeling people touch me as they pass, feels very different after being alone in the dark. It's all a bit overwhelming. Where am I? Then, I see some graffiti writing on a metal rusting: "Rust Town, Where the Nexus Dwells." The name Nexus feels familiar, my rapid heartbeat is probably a warning, but I don’t know what I am wary of.
The writing on the wall starts to flicker, and the colors of the ink begin to change. It goes from bright red to white, then to black, and back to bright red again. I tilt my head as I curiously study the shifting graffiti ink. “Cool,” I mutter to myself, temporarily forgetting my situation.
I suddenly feel a buzzing at the back of my neck and quickly step aside as a man on a speedy hoverboard nearly crashes into me, knocking me into someone else. I freeze, shaken by the near miss. A deep voice teases me, "Just gonna stand there, little one?" I freeze as I start to think of what to do. Run or face the stranger.
I gather my courage and look up at him. He's tall, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and his eyes, though empty, look at me like he's trying to figure me out. His gaze is cold but sharp, like a hunter looking at its prey. But I don't back down; I stand tall and meet his eyes, surprising myself with my boldness.
Beside him stands a boy with a black metal mask, frowning at people on hoverboards. He manages to smoke a cigarette through a small opening in his mask. He's wearing clothes made of flexible metal that fits snugly, almost like a second skin, consisting of a vest and shorts. Next to him, a girl looks off into the distance, lost in thought. Her clothes are also made of colorful flexible metal, but she wears a short-sleeved top instead of a vest. The boy has messy, dark green hair that partially hides his face, while the girl's short, pink hair is tied back in a ponytail. I wonder if they're his children?
You don’t belong here, do you?" he asks, his voice now threatening. "Strangely dressed kids don't last long in this place." My heart races, but I keep looking at him. I can tell he likes scaring people, and I don't want to give him that.
Looking at my clothes, I realize I look different. Everyone around here wears flexible metal clothes and has colorful hair. I'm in a flowing white dress, with long, curly hair over my shoulders. I notice a thin black bracelet on my left arm." Who are you?" he asks again, but I just look at him. I can't answer; I don't remember who I am or why I'm here.
He leans in closer, trying to read me. He smiles, showing a gold tooth, and says, "I like you, little one. You're going to be useful." His words are scary but also kind of a compliment. There's a tension, but standing up to him makes me feel a bit stronger. If he sees something in me that he finds useful, maybe I'll use him for now until I figure out who I am.
Present Day: Ravenna 19 Years Old
Engrossed in the final adjustments of what I consider one of my most remarkable creations, I'm simulating for the last time tonight. The laptop screen flickers briefly before displaying the results—a successful test. A smug sense of satisfaction washes over me as I murmur, "Sweet," under my breath. The piece is nearly perfect, just a few minor tweaks left. But then, the repetitive drone of the wake-up call slices through my concentration, 'Wake up Claire, Wake up Claire.' I try to block it out, yet it only grows more insistent.
With a heavy sigh, I pause the simulation, as I rub my forehead in frustration. She knows I work at night and I need absolute silence.
As I head towards her room, my eyes are drawn to Simon’s door beside it. Simon and Bart have been off on a job for a few months. Their absence isn’t something new, but this time it feels different, somehow more disconcerting. I couldn’t find solid grounds to argue against their departure, so I kept my apprehensions to myself. Still, remembering what they're capable of, I comfort myself with a quiet, "They’ll be fine."
Wake up Claire, Wake up Claire. The alarm blares into my thoughts and with a sigh I open her room door.
The sight that greets me is Claire, entwined in her sheets, her skin barely covered, oblivious to the racket that fills her room. The open window invites the sounds of midtown's chaos—whether the pops and bangs are from fireworks or plasma guns, in Rust Town, it's anyone's guess. The room is bathed in the intermittent glow of fluorescent lights and the vibrant bursts of color from outside, casting strange shadows. The night air carries a chill, undisturbed by the noise that somehow fails to rouse Claire.
Approaching her bed, I hover momentarily, debating the level of force necessary to wake her. Decision made, I land a sharp slap on her forehead. She groans, annoyance flaring as she wakes, "What the fuck," she protests, scowling up at me. I gesture towards the relentless speakers. "I am awake," she mumbles, and the wake-up call mercifully ceases.
Rubbing the spot I've hit, she sits up, her gaze drifting toward the window's view of the chaotic night. "Keep it down, I'm working," I say as calmly as I can.
Her response comes with a teasing lilt, "Yeah yeah, your wake-up call design, Rav. Make it less... loud." Her cheeky retort hangs in the air as she smirks at me, unfazed by my irritation.
Rolling my eyes, I turn to leave, unable to suppress my frustration. "It's designed as a security system, not an alarm clock. Don't tamper with it," I retort over my shoulder. Claire, now suddenly wide awake, springs from her bed with a burst of energy. She begins to strip off her clothes, her excitement is palpable. "Oh no, I am almost late for the opening fights," she blurts out, her eyes alight with anticipation.
"Fights?" The word catches me off guard, prompting a look of disbelief from Claire. She laughs, shaking her head as if I've missed the obvious.
"Do you live under a rock?" she teases, then corrects herself with a playful smirk,
"Well, you might as well, given how much time you spend holed up in that lab of yours." Her words hang in the air, punctuated by her laughter.
"You do know it's the Waning festival tonight, right?" she asks, her tone halfway between jest and incredulity.
"As in, the biggest event in Rust Town? Where we live?" she adds for emphasis, now stripping down completely as she heads for the bathroom.
Ah, the Waning festival, the notoriously violent celebration steeped in Nexalist belief. It's a time when the town believes the veil between our world and the spirit realm becomes permeable, offering a chance to harness the Nexus’ power. The festival is marked by daylight violence as a show of devotion, morphing into a night filled with raucous music, dance, and the inevitable brawls that define Rust Town.
“Yes, Claire. I’m aware of the occasion. Just questioning why it should cost me my hearing." I remark.
She rolls her eyes “Let that shit go. I needed to sleep to conserve my energy for the night. You never know when you might be thrown into a duel."
“I will just reinstall my soundproof” I respond still slightly irritated
“Dad won’t like that,” she responds.
“Don’t care, not my dad” I reply coldly.
She mock shivers. “Cold.”
An explosion shatters the quiet, momentarily startling Claire. But her fear quickly turns to excitement, and she beams, "It’s going to be glorious" Her enthusiasm is infectious, though I remain unmoved by the allure of the festival. She pauses at the doorway, tossing a knowing glance back at me.
"I get you think it's all nonsense, but tonight's going to be epic. Even the Black Raven's supposed to show up," she adds a hint of challenge in her voice.
I dismiss the idea with a shake of my head. "Got work to do; no time for festivities" I reply, turning my attention back to the path leading to my sanctuary—the lab. Claire throws one last taunt over her shoulder, "Okay, miss too cool for fun," before vanishing towards the bathroom, her chuckle echoing down the hall.
Yes, she does have a point, though I wouldn't necessarily brand myself as ‘cool.’
Excessively insightful" might be a more accurate descriptor. My disinterest in Rust Town's dominant religion, an import from the city used by the high ones for control, stems from its clear role as a tool for subjugating the populace, a reality many seem to ignore or accept.
While I hold no prejudice against those who find strength in venerating an ethereal being, my quest for empowerment and understanding gravitates more toward the realms of science and innovation. Driven by a need to unravel the mystic essence of my earliest memories, I've dedicated myself to the scientific pursuit, culminating in the development of a groundbreaking device: the Dimensional Resonance Detector. This sophisticated apparatus, designed to detect and decipher various energy fields, could be my gateway to uncovering the veiled mysteries of this continent.
Now back in my lab, I sever the connection between the device and my analyzer, examining the compact, circular instrument that fits snugly in my palm. The device's sleek design is seamless, with no buttons or screens—just the way I like it. By simply tapping its smooth surface, it splits open like a magic locket, unveiling a high-tech contact lens hidden inside."
With careful precision, I insert the lens into my eye. Upon contact, a harmonious chime echoes from both the lens and its parent device, signaling synchronization. "Detector synchronized," the lens interface affirms.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
My attention then shifts to a mysterious bracelet—the sole relic from my arrival in Rust Town. Taking it out of my hands I place the bracelet into a special slot on the device. As soon as it clicks shut, it springs to life, beginning its scan. Through the contact lens, I see a bar slowly fill up—like watching a download on a computer screen—signaling that it's analyzing the bracelet.
Seconds later, "Analysis complete" and "Energy signature detected" flash across my vision. For a moment, the world through the lens blurs, as if underwater. Then, it snaps into crystal clarity, revealing my surroundings lit up in a rainbow of colors. Each object emits a unique hue and intensity, among which a subtle, black vortex dances, intertwining with the colors yet distinctly conspicuous. This faint, dark energy, so vivid against the backdrop of vibrant emissions, quickens my pulse with realization—this is the essence I've been seeking.
The lingering energy on my bracelet serves as a remnant from the cryptic and mysterious realm of my originsDriven by curiosity, I observe my hands, now emanating the same dark energy. It appears the mysterious realm's residual forces continue to course through me. This must be the Nexus energy, spoken of in hushed tones by the Nexalists—the force that bridges the intangible domains with our own, offering a key to the lost memories and the arcane world that beckoned me to this town.
As I'm absorbing this breakthrough, my lens, connected to my secure communicator, alerts me to a new message from Simon: "We need to meet. Come to the festival." This prompt jolts me back to the present, reminding me of my obligations to the makeshift family we've formed. Simon and I seldom communicate unless it's crucial. I switch off the detector in my lens and equip myself with my Morphring, bracing for the evening's possibilities. Maybe tonight, I'll finally encounter the mysterious Black Raven.
************************************************************
Standing at the edge of the valley, I'm struck by the sight of the floating stadium that bridges the gap between Rust's shadows and Leight City's glow. Designed like a colossal, dark grey hand reaching skyward, its fingertips and palm emit a soft blue light, marking the protective barrier around it. This marvel, usually hidden by cloaking technology, unveils itself for tonight's event, drawing masked spectators who ascend the escalator to the central arena, their excitement palpable in the air filled with cheers and fireworks."
My observation is abruptly interrupted by a figure donning a Black Raven mask, clearly drunk, who menacingly hisses and gestures towards me, his hand nearly grazing my forehead. Annoyed, I step back, creating some distance between us.
"I challenge you to a duel in the glory of the Nexus," he slurs, brandishing a small knife. A few onlookers pause to watch the spectacle, though many simply continue on, accustomed to such disturbances. My disdain is evident as I retort sharply, "Fuck off, bottom feeder. You don't want to do this" I can sense his energy depleting, sapped by his intoxication.
He poses no real threat to me, but engaging would be a pointless waste of my time.
As he clumsily lunges at me with his knife, I sidestep smoothly and strike him at the back of his neck, sending him tumbling face-first into the mud, where he remains unconscious. Amid scattered applause and whistles, I press on towards the stadium's entrance, focused on my purpose.
Two escalators ascend to the palm section of the stadium. As I step onto one, I am carried upward in a floating motion toward the palm. Touching the implant behind my ear, a leather mask unfolds over my mouth and nose, revealing only my eyes. The chaos from the stadium intensifies—screams, cheers, music, and explosions mingle in the air. Clenching my fists, I draw a deep breath, steeling myself to navigate through the dense crowd and the overwhelming surge of chaotic energy that awaits.
Stepping off the escalator, I find myself before the translucent barrier encasing the palm. The crowd jostles me as they surge towards the entrance. Crossing the threshold, I'm immediately struck by the feeling of being watched. Glancing to my left, I notice a silhouette leaning against the barrier of the palm. Overcoming concerns of being discovered with unauthorized technology and propelled by curiosity, I mentally command my detector to activate.
This entity is enveloped in an eerie mist of darkness, mirroring the energy that engulfs me. The most striking aspect of this figure is its eyes; they glow with an intense light, piercing through the surrounding darkness. These glowing orbs stand out as the sole identifiable trait in an otherwise obscured form, exuding a profound sense of terror.
The scene is set with a palpable distance between myself and a mysterious figure, despite a crowd that makes it hard to see clearly. Yet, his gaze remains locked on me, unsettlingly so. He leans casually against a wall, hands tucked into his pockets, and gives me a sly, knowing smirk. Then, he heads towards what seems like an entrance near the base of a large structure, quickly disappearing from view. Driven by a mix of fear and intrigue, I weave through the crowd, making my way to the same entrance. There, I effortlessly pass through a barrier, entering a vast hall that immediately overwhelms my senses.
I'm greeted by an intense blast of heat that feels dangerously close, only to realize it's a virtual fire ring, spinning rapidly around the room. I instinctively duck, but as the fiery circle returns, I stand my ground, letting the harmless illusion pass through me. Inside, the atmosphere is charged and chaotic, far surpassing the energy outside. The air vibrates with the thump of loud music, bodies move freely in dance, and sex unrestrained on the neon-lit floor, while others engage in physical confrontations, adding to the frenetic energy of the space.
In a surreal and chaotic setting, I search for the mysterious figure. I eventually find him ascending a set of floating stairs that lead to the tip of a giant palm's middle finger. Upon reaching the top, he moves towards a group of seated individuals who emanate importance and authority and takes a seat next to a particularly stern-looking figure. Our eyes meet, but his face remains obscured by odd shadows, prompting me to ask myself “Who is that?”
Simon's voice answers from behind me, identifying the group as "The high ones from the city. They must be here to witness the Black Raven"
Turning to Simon, I notice significant changes in his appearance since we last saw each other.
His once messy green hair is now styled into cornrows, his face looks thinner, and he seems weaker..
“Love the hair, you look like shit,” I say as I face the floating altar. The shadow man's eyes are still fixed on me. “Yeah, the last few months have been shit,” he says, his voice barely audible with the chaos around us.
“Not that you care,” he adds. I shrug
“Been busy, what's up?” I ask before he can respond.
An automated announcement cuts through the noise ‘Adjust your emotech to the prescribed emotional state required for the event. All outliers will be removed. As the announcement persists, sleek black orbs float throughout the room, serving as sophisticated surveillance tools programmed to detect unauthorized activity.
While others nearby were adjusting their tech with a tap to their heads, I quietly turned off my unauthorized lens, aware of the potential trouble it could cause. Simon, interestingly, didn't make any move to adjust an emotech device either, likely because he didn't have one—a smart move on his part. Trained as we were, he maintained adept control over his emotions, minimizing the risk of detection.
His attention was fixed on the gathering of notable individuals at the altar. Even though I could only see his eyes, masked as they were, I feel an unsettling vibe from him.
Simon breaks the silence with his typically flat tone, "Dad's missing”
I shrug, "Bart disappearing now and then isn't anything new."
“This is different, he infiltrated the Nexal temple” Simon responds.
The Nexal temple? Why would Bart of all people mess with Nexalism?
“Do you know anything at all about the job he had to do? What have you been up to? I ask
Simon, now facing me hesitates before he speaks “Someone paid us a lot to investigate several disappearances in Rust-undertown. It led to the Nexal temple”. He pauses as he briefly looks away
“Dad decided to investigate himself saying it was for my safety," Simon adds, his voice tinged with scorn. These disappearances have been a problem in the city's poorer areas for a long time. The high ones in the city ignored it so why does someone most likely from the city care now?
"There is something else. I saw him in a dream."
This catches my attention; It is well known that Rusties don't dream and Bart doesn't dabble in dreamwalking. I watch Simon closely as he averts his eyes briefly before maintaining his gaze. He is hiding something.
"I can’t go into details, he was very vague. He only said that he was depleting and we needed to save him” Simon continues.
“Save who” Claire’s voice suddenly cuts through as she comes to stand beside me facing Simon. “Are you guys having a meeting without me?”
“Dad” Simon responds. Claire raises a brow “Dad never needs saving, He is Dad” she says.
“He came to Simon in a dream” I add reluctantly.
Claire chuckles in disbelief “You had a dream? Really?".
“Perhaps you have had too much of that horrid stuff you and Dad smoke” She adds mockingly as she rests her hand on Simon’s shoulder. He brushes it away and gives her a stern look.
Simon is a man of very few words so it isn't unusual for him to leave things out. But his mentioning a dream means he has dabbled in meta arts or he got involved with the temple alone. Both options might have dire consequences for him. Nonetheless, Simon wouldn't lie about this and wouldn't have come to me if he wasn't desperate.
Now it makes sense why Simon chose this spot for our meeting. The chaos of the event not only serves as a perfect disguise but also presents a rare chance to be near the high ones and the Black Raven. It might even offer a lead or a method to approach the temple.
The temple, cloaked in mystery and usually inaccessible to those from Rust Town, requires careful navigation. Attempting to enter uninvited could lead to fatal consequences for trespassing on holy ground. The possibility of Bart depleting within its confines, coupled with Simon's visibly altered state, raises concerns.
“Simon, how are your energy leve…..?” just as I'm about to inquire about Simon's well-being...
Simon interrupts with a more pressing concern, "We need to get into the temple?" At that moment, the ambiance shifts as an announcement captures everyone's attention. A figure appears at the palm's center, declaring, "The Black Raven, the true vessel of the Nexus, has arrived." The room quiets down before erupting into cheers, with voices echoing, "We hail the bridge to the Nexus."
Claire can barely contain her excitement, saying, "She's here." I feel a rush of excitement and smile, thinking of a strategy. Simon, noticing my reaction, leans in and quietly asks, "You have a plan, right?"
Although I might not know much about the wider world, I'm pretty knowledgeable about Nexalis culture. I'm confident I can use this to our advantage.
As her arrival nears, the atmosphere intensifies, making the air feel heavier, almost suffocating. Strangely, it seems I'm alone in this sensation. Suddenly, a shrill sound pierces the air, so loud that I'm compelled to cover my ears and shut my eyes tightly. "Are you okay, Rav?" Claire inquires, worried. The noise eventually subsides, and when I look towards the high table again, I notice the shadowy figure still staring at me, his surrounding darkness thickening.
My gaze shifts beyond him as the air seems to tear open, revealing a portal from which two figures in Raven masks emerge. The first, a tall, muscular woman with buzz-cut blonde hair, dons a shiny, metal jumpsuit adorned with rhinestones around the neckline. The second, a tall, muscular man with his black hair tied back, sports a similar outfit. The crowd erupts in cheers as they approach their seats with mechanical waves.
The portal widens further, and a figure enveloped in white veils floats through, followed by acolytes who carry flames in their hands, chanting a haunting hymn that pierces the remaining din, casting an otherworldly silence. After their entrance, the portal gradually closes, and the atmosphere returns to normal.
"Wow, I didn’t know portal devices were already mainstream in the city," Claire remarks, amazed.
But I know better. That wasn't the work of technology. That portal came from something else, something connected to the dark realm. The Black Raven ascends to a throne above the high table, captivating everyone's attention with her mystical entrance.
An acolyte glides to the hall's center on a floating disc, drawing chants from the assembly. Positioned at the heart of the space, he proclaims loudly, "This evening, we commemorate the moment when the barrier to the unseen realm grew thin, granting our world a trace of the Nexus's might." The audience responds in harmonious tones. "We honor the Black Raven, the Nexus's vessel and the link between our world and the domain of power," he continues, with the crowd echoing his sentiment. As he delves into the night's importance, my thoughts converge on a daring plan, rooted in belief in our collective capability. The Black Raven possesses the unique authority to confer the privilege that could elevate our standing. A single endorsement from her could mark us as 'chosen,' aligning us with Leight's esteemed and potent beings. Seizing an opportunity within the festival's framework seems the only way to draw her notice.
Turning to Claire and Simon, I assert, "Follow my lead." We advance toward the palm's center, with Simon's resigned voice behind me, “It is a crazy plan isn’t it?” Simon says with a resigned sigh. “I don’t understand what is happening,” Claire laments. I ignore their lamentations. If saving Bart is the goal. This is the best way. Well….not the best but the fastest?
Cutting off the orator with conviction, I address the high table where the Black Raven presides. "We issue a challenge to the court of the Black Raven to be recognized as 'chosen.' We are prepared to face your esteemed vessels in combat." The crowd erupts in excitement, while Simon's grim mutter, "We are going to die," barely reaches my ears. The announcement system blares ‘Outliers detected’.