Echoes In The Outer Rim

Surya hunched his shoulders against the biting wind that slithered through the Outer Rim's crooked alleys. The sky above was little more than a murky haze, clotted with smog and faint ash fallout. Each shallow breath tasted like dust and defeat. A single sputtering lantern at the alley's entrance provided scant illumination, casting more shadows than light. Everything smelled of rot and stagnant water—exactly the kind of place where people either vanished or found themselves tangled in worse nightmares.

Angela walked beside him, her half-lidded eyes scanning the dark corners. She'd hardly spoken since they left the safer district an hour ago. Now, she paused, pressing a hand lightly against Surya's shoulder to stop him from blundering ahead into a blind curve.

"I don't like this," she murmured, voice subdued but alert. "We've asked everyone we can about Hayazaki. He's always a step farther, deeper, or more entangled with Slasher's web."