The warehouse door clanged shut behind Ethan, sealing him inside a cavernous space buzzing with chaotic energy. The air smelled of oil, burnt metal, and desperation. Around him, people in patched armor and scavenged gear moved like cogs in a machine—some welded jagged steel into weapons, others hunched over holographic maps flickering with red dots labeled HUNTER SIGHTINGS. A teenager with a soldering iron glanced up, her eyes narrowing at Ethan. “Fresh meat,” she muttered. “How long till he cracks?”

Lila shoved Ethan forward. “Welcome to the Hollow. Think of it as Hell’s waiting room.”

“And them?” Ethan nodded at the crowd.

“The Resistance,” Lila said, her voice dropping. “People the Veil hasn’t swallowed yet. Scavengers, fighters, lunatics—pick your flavor.”

Before he could ask more, the crowd parted. A man strode toward them, his footsteps echoing like hammer strikes. He stood a head taller than anyone else, his broad shoulders straining against a coat made of stitched-together Hunter hides. His left arm was cybernetic, glowing faintly blue at the joints, and his face—a brutal tapestry of scars and grit—looked like it had been carved from stone. This wasn’t a leader. This was a force.

“Jarek,” Lila whispered. “Don’t stare at the arm. He hates that.”

Jarek stopped inches from Ethan, his shadow swallowing him whole. “So. You’re the one the Veil painted its target on.” His voice was low, a rumble that vibrated in Ethan’s ribs. He held up a jagged crystal—the same cobalt blue as Ethan’s mark—and it flared violently. “This thing’s been quiet for months. Then you show up, and it screams like a banshee. Why?”

Ethan swallowed. “I don’t—”

Jarek’s mechanical hand snapped out, gripping Ethan’s jaw. “The Hollow isn’t a charity. You want shelter? Earn it.” He jerked his chin toward a rusted door. “Training room. Now.”

The training room was a cage.

Steel walls. No windows. Bloodstains older than Ethan streaked the floor. Jarek tossed him a weapon—a curved blade forged from the same glowing crystal. “That mark’s not decoration. It’s a weapon. Use it.”

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“How?” Ethan gripped the hilt, his palm slick.

A grinding noise cut through the room. A gate shuddered open, and a creature lunged out—a smaller version of the Hunter from the streets, its body a grotesque mix of flesh and machinery, one eye a whirring red lens.

“Scout Hunter,” Jarek said. “Consider it a pop quiz.”

The Scout lunged, claws screeching against the floor. Ethan stumbled back, swinging the blade blindly. The crystal sparked but didn’t ignite. The Scout swiped, tearing through Ethan’s shirt and drawing a line of fire across his chest.

“Focus!” Jarek barked. “The mark’s in your blood. Control it.”

Ethan gritted his teeth. Pain sharpened his senses. He felt it then—a cold current slithering under his skin, pooling in his grip. The blade erupted in blue flame.

The Scout hesitated.

Ethan struck.

The blade sliced through the creature’s metal spine, and it collapsed with a metallic shriek. Ethan panted, the crystal’s light fading.

Jarek nodded, almost approving. “You’ll live. For now.” He turned to leave. “Lila! Take him on patrol. Let’s see if he’s more than a flashlight.”

Nightfall painted the city in shades of ash and shadows. Ethan followed Lila through skeletal buildings, the Hollow’s crystal blade strapped to his back. The air tasted like rust.

“Patrol’s simple,” Lila whispered, her eyes scanning the darkness. “Find Scouts before they find us. If you see a Shadeborn—pray.”

“What’s a Shadeborn?”

Before she could answer, a sound froze them both—a child’s laugh, high and sweet, echoing from an alley.

Lila’s face paled. “Don’t. Move.”

The laugh came again, closer.

A figure stepped into the moonlight.

A girl. No older than six. Her pink dress was pristine, her curls bouncing as she skipped toward them. But her eyes—oh God, her eyes—were voids, swirling with the same violet light as the Hunters.

“Ethan,” the girl sang, her voice syrup-sweet. “You left me behind.”

Ethan’s blood turned to ice. The voice was his sister’s.

Lila grabbed his arm. “It’s a Shadeborn—it feeds on your worst memories! Don’t listen!”

The girl’s smile stretched impossibly wide, her jaw unhinging like a snake’s. “You promised we’d play forever!” She lunged, her form blurring, limbs elongating into serrated, shadowy tendrils.

Ethan’s blade flared to life, but the Shadeborn was faster. It swatted the weapon away and pinned him to the ground, its breath reeking of rot and burnt sugar. “Join us,” it hissed in his sister’s voice. “The Veil misses you.”

Ethan’s mark burned, the cold current surging into a storm. He didn’t control it this time—it controlled him.

The world went blue.

A scream tore through the night—not the Shadeborn’s.

His own.