Upon arrival, Morrigan, the spirit now guiding him from the pair of earrings he wore, led Vas toward their destination. But even Morrigan's connection couldn't provide the exact location of the Synthespirit they sought. Instead, she could only sense its presence growing stronger as they moved.

Eventually, Vas found himself at a massive club with a long line of darkly dressed people stretching down the street. The crowd's aesthetic was distinct—black leather, spikes, and layers of gothic jewelry adorned nearly every person in line. The conversations buzzed with excitement as they spoke of an infamous DJ set to perform that night, someone known for their dark, atmospheric music. As Vas approached, he overheard mentions of a performance that could "transport the mind into another dimension."

He needed to get inside.

Vas approached several people, trying to figure out how to get a ticket, but they simply laughed at his disheveled, mismatched appearance. To them, he was clearly an outsider, someone who didn't belong in their exclusive scene. Getting tickets, they explained, was near impossible on the day of the event. When he asked for the price, the response made it clear why—100,000 credits.

It was an astronomical figure for most people, a price that could bankrupt someone or take them months—if not years—to earn. But for Vas, the money was trivial. Raised with the privilege that came from being a Hek, Vas had accumulated an allowance that he rarely spent. His family's wealth was undeniable, and even though he rarely indulged, he had the funds on hand to pay for the ticket. Still, it made him uncomfortable, reminding him of the vast divide between his world and those around him.

As Vas approached the ticket seller, he saw the man's smirk, a clear sign that he had spotted an easy target. The seller eagerly sold him a VIP ticket—one that Vas realized later was far more expensive than a standard pass. The man had tried to squeeze every last credit out of him, but Vas didn't care. With the ticket in hand, he bypassed the line entirely.

Once inside the club, the atmosphere was electrifying. The music pulsed with heavy bass, lights flickered in sync with the beats, and the energy in the air was palpable. Morrigan's presence in his mind seemed to hum in resonance with the sounds around them. The spirit they sought was here, hidden in the shadows of this pulsating, chaotic scene. Vas scanned the room, feeling Morrigan's subtle guidance pulling him deeper into the heart of the dark, energetic space.

Thanks to the VIP ticket, Vas was ushered into a private lounge—complete with a personal barista and an array of luxuries that were far from his mind. He barely glanced at the polished interior, dismissing the opulence as he focused entirely on Morrigan and their mission to find the Synthespirit.

The pulsing beats of the club reverberated through the walls, and soon the long-awaited DJ finally made her appearance. The crowd erupted in excitement as she took the stage, an instant focal point. She was striking: her long, vibrant red hair framed her face, while the back was dyed black, giving her a dramatic contrast. From a distance, Vas could see intricate tattoos snaking down her arms and shoulders, blending with her white leather top. A septum piercing glinted under the flashing lights, perfectly aligned with a stud on her lower lip, adding to her edgy aesthetic. She wore oversized black pants, a deliberate contrast to her otherwise fitted ensemble. There was no denying her beauty, but Vas's attention was drawn elsewhere—specifically to the shimmering figure behind her.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Hovering just out of reach was the Synthespirit they sought.

The entity floated in mid-air, a mesmerizing blend of organic and ethereal. Its body pulsed softly with radiant light, shifting between hues of green, blue, and violet. The form itself resembled a cross between a jellyfish and a plant, with long tendrils that flowed gracefully, as though it were moving through water. Each tendril emitted bioluminescent sparks of energy, trailing a soft glow in its wake. The central mass of the spirit was like a cluster of flower-like patterns, with veins of cybernetic material woven throughout, giving it an otherworldly, hybrid look. Its eyes—if they could be called eyes—were orbs of light that seemed to blink in and out of existence, reflecting a deep sense of awareness. As it moved, it left an aura of serenity in its wake, as if calming the air around it.

When the Synthespirit paused, it coiled its tendrils protectively around itself, creating a soft sphere of light that radiated a gentle, comforting warmth over its surroundings. Morrigan confirmed that this was indeed the spirit they were hunting. However, the chaos of the club would make forging it on the spot almost impossible.

That's when Morrigan whispered a solution. "Lure it to the VIP room," she instructed.

Vas blinked. "Lure it? How?"

"You'll need to create a thread of your Anima and send it toward the spirit. Once it connects, it should follow the energy to you."

Without wasting time, Vas settled into a meditation pose in the VIP lounge, his focus narrowing to the instructions Morrigan provided. He closed his eyes, feeling the pulsing energy of the club merge with the subtle hum of his own Anima. Slowly, he began to channel that energy, weaving it into a fine thread. Morrigan, though silent, was impressed at the speed and precision with which he accomplished this. It was almost unnatural for someone so new to forging, but she understood. Vas had been handicapped for most of his life, cut off from Amrita and bound by spirits far older and more powerful than he could handle. Now, without those limitations, his natural ability was flowing unhindered.

The thread of Anima he sent out was like a beacon in the air. As soon as it made contact with the Synthespirit, the creature's glowing tendrils uncoiled, and it floated effortlessly toward him. The club's chaotic energy seemed to part for it, the spirit moving with an almost hypnotic grace as it glided through the air.

But as the Synthespirit neared the VIP room, something unexpected happened. Vas, his eyes still closed, was unaware of the DJ on stage. She had noticed him. In the midst of her performance, her eyes had locked onto him the moment he began sending the thread of Anima. For some reason, she was watching him intently, as if she recognized something—or someone—in him.

Though Vas had successfully attracted the spirit, he now had another unknown presence following his every move. The DJ's gaze lingered on him, sharp and calculating, as if she could see through the veil of his intentions. What should have been a straightforward task was beginning to feel far more complex.

Vas proceeded to draw the sigil, casting a quick glance at the barista. "Leave me alone for a while," he instructed. The barista nodded without hesitation, clearly accustomed to strange requests in such exclusive environments. After the barista left, Vas focused on the sigil, watching as it began to emit a faint glow on the surface before him.

With the sigil complete, Vas performed the mudras—precise hand movements that would activate the ritual to enter his Forge. As he prepared, a question came to mind: why did he still have access to forging materials? He hadn't thought to ask before, but now it seemed pressing.

Morrigan's voice answered his thoughts. "The Archivist gifted you the materials due to her earlier mistake. It's her way of making amends. You have enough to replace the abilities and spirits you once had."

Relieved by the explanation, Vas centered himself, focusing on the form that Biolux would take. The spirit hovered nearby, its presence like a shimmering melody. As the forging process began, images flooded Vas's mind, not from Morrigan but from the spirit itself.