Prologue

The acrid stench of rotten eggs, garlic, and tobacco hung thick in the air as Sirius navigated through the murky streets filled with rundown shacks and smog. He almost didn’t notice the suffocating atmosphere he had long grown accustomed to. He searched for anyone who might need a helping hand. Through his ingenious solutions and his will to take on labor work at such a young age, he was the guy for any slummer looking to get a job done.

Unfortunately for Sirius, the sun would soon set. He doubted anyone else would request his services today. He scanned the plaza that served as both a marketplace and cornerstone of this hollow pit he called home. This plaza showcased some of the best and worst of slummers. There was a born sense of kinship among them, almost as if to share the stifling burden of misfortune. But in a place where light struggled to reach, chaos was sure to foster.

Steep alleys lay ahead as he slipped through them with precision and nimbleness—a must for any slum kid who lived long enough to turn ten. As he turned the corner that led to his house, he saw a couple of kids—no older than five—scrounging through a garbage bin for scraps. He stopped to look at them for a moment.

I’m lucky, he thought, as his mother’s face flashed through his mind. Maybe unfairly so. Sirius felt a tinge of guilt in his heart. His mother was the one beacon of light that guided him through the darkness, a relentless star that refused to yield against the pitch-black sky. This was something most kids on these streets didn’t run the fortune of having.

Sirius lingered. As he watched their tiny hands search through the filth, the last rays of sunlight pierced through the dense haze, refracting off one of the rusty zinc roofs so common in this place. The ray of light glared in Sirius’ face, forcing him to shield his right eye. His left eye, however, stayed wide open as if to gaze at the distant yet ever-looming skyscrapers hidden behind the walls of Gamora. He hoped for the day he could set foot past those walls and marvel at the sights that lay beyond, the books he often read depicting technology far beyond his wildest imagination.

Sirius continued, arriving at a house built from a mix of plastic, wood, some brick, and a sheet metal roof. This was the home his mother had built for them through her sweat and tears. Once he became old enough to understand this, he begged his mom to let him work, desperately wanting to support her sacrifices. She refused him every time, but Sirius did it behind her back, determined to share her burden. Those helped by his resourcefulness started to call him by a name—"Little Solver." When the words of her son's fame reached her ears, she had no choice but to reluctantly agree.

Sirius opened the door as he wondered whether his mom would return home today. She often stayed overnight attending to her patients; the job of an apothecary had high demand in the slums, after all. He stepped inside the living room and met the eyes of a stranger.

Who is this man? His chest tightened and his breath stifled as dark thoughts raced through his mind. An unknown visitor hardly ever meant anything good in the slums. I don't see Mom. Did he... Sirius shook his head vehemently to deny these thoughts before they fully emerged. The confident eyes that gazed at him as if to unravel the deepest of secrets also carried a hint of pity, something Sirius found strange.

"The fate of a dawnbringer, is it? How unfortunate," the man said as his gaze lingered on Sirius.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Sirius couldn't figure out what these words meant but raised his voice in protest. "Where is—"

A caring voice interrupted him. "Sirius, my son!" His mother rushed to embrace him, planting a kiss on his head. Sirius dug into her embrace, relieved to know his dark imaginings had been nothing more than demons in his head.

"Mom, who is he?" Sirius asked, looking at the man's dirty blonde hair. His blue eyes seemed as deep as the ocean; behind them, Sirius could even notice subtle waves of sorrow. The characteristic that most captured Sirius' attention, however, was a goat-head tattoo on the back of his hand. This tattoo pulsed in a glowing white hue that seemed to desperately cling to life. The graceful way he spoke completed the aura of a dignified figure, making Sirius believe this man was not from the slums.

His mother couldn't think of a way to answer her son's question as her eyes worriedly lingered on the man. His aspect evoked feelings of anxiety and awe, like a king in front of a crowd. The man stood up from the worn-out couch and walked past them, turning around before he left.

"Maria," the stranger said as he looked down at Sirius’ small frame. "Your child was born with the fate of the stars. Be wary, for the brightest of lights can cast the deepest of shadows."

As Maria looked at the vanishing figure of the man, she answered Sirius' question:

"A lucky charm. One I hope we may never have to use," her voice hid slight trembles masked with resolve.

While Sirius stared in a daze at the back of the man, dim stars shone in the night sky.

***

Sirius paced his room, thoughts racing like a storm fueled by the unrelenting rage of his heart. His seventeenth birthday was minutes away—a milestone that should have been a motive for celebration instead loomed like an omen of death. His diminutive room held little more than a wooden chair, a creaky bed that often woke him up at night, a makeshift closet, and a wax lamp. Glancing at his old watch, he saw the second hand pause over the twelve.

Faint voices echoed from the entrance. The representatives of Gamora had arrived to forecast his fate. I have absolutely zero chance of surviving the Abyss without Stage One, he thought, clenching his fists with a grim look on his face. The creaking floorboards of the corridor seemed to amplify his dread as cold sweat slid down his back. Shadows moved in the dim light, dancing to a requiem of death.

Should we run away? No... there's nowhere else to go. Each tick of the clock seemed to spell ever-louder doom. Why the fuck do I have to do this? Those bastards won't even lift a finger to help us, yet I'm supposed to fight for their survival!?

The sound of the door opening snapped him back to reality. Four men stepped in, followed by his mom. With a bob cut and a face that evoked the freshness of spring, she met Sirius' gaze with furrowed brows and a nervous bite to her lower lip. The instant their eyes met, Sirius felt an icy calm wash over him, slowing his racing thoughts and evening his breath. He put on a poker face to mask his feelings, afraid to worsen his mother's worries.

The man leading the group wore a tuxedo, black gloves, and a mesmerizing tattoo of a snake coiled around his neck. The snake tattoo told Sirius everything he needed to know about this man; he was an Abyss Diver.

"Are you ready?" he said, contempt leaking out of his voice.

Sirius sighed and laid face down on his bed. "Would it make a difference if I wasn't?" He pulled off his ragged t-shirt to reveal a lean, athletic frame.

"Good, dogs shouldn't bark, just do as they're told." The man removed one of his gloves as he frowned in disgust. He placed his bare hand between Sirius' shoulder blades, and a shiver ran through Sirius' body. A sharp pain shot through his chest and lungs, quickly spreading into a numbing cold that washed over him like a tidal wave. His head throbbed, his vision blurred, and a deafening ring filled his ears.

"Starcore Stage Zero confirmed," the tattooed man declared, his tone detached. "Your first dive will be in one year. Should you fail to comply or attempt to run away, you shall bear the full weight of Gamora."

Sirius' body demanded rest as darkness consumed him. In his fading vision, he caught a glimpse of his mother screaming at the men, tears streaming down her cheeks. As his consciousness faded to black, he vowed, Fine, I'll show them—that even a dog's bite can wound a proud tiger.