Chapter 7: Shadow Deals

The workshop was a blur of activity—glowing crystals stacked in meticulous rows, mana converters humming a steady rhythm in the background, and Nira darting between orders on her holo-terminal with the precision of a conductor. Lyra leaned over a fresh batch of void crystals, her brow furrowed as she inspected their quality with the kind of scrutiny that could spot the faintest imperfection. I was at my bench, channellings mana into a hybrid fire-ice crystal, the energy coursing through my fingertips in a delicate dance of heat and frost. The crystal shimmered faintly, halfway formed, when Nira's voice cut through the room.

"Another request just came in. This one's from the Silver Fangs. They want twenty void crystals by the end of the week."

Lyra's head snapped up, her silver-streaked hair catching the glow of the nearby crystals. "The Silver Fangs? That's the third major faction this month. How much are they offering?"

"Triple the usual rate," Nira replied, her fingers hovering over the holo-screen. Then she hesitated, her usual confidence faltering. "But… they want to meet. In person."

I set the half-formed crystal down, its faint glow dimming as I turned to face her. The thought alone was enough to unsettle me. "Meet? Why? We've been clear about not taking clients face-to-face. That's the whole point of using intermediaries."

Lyra crossed her arms, her tone sharp and laced with irritation. "They're not just buying crystals anymore, Caius. They're poking around. Asking questions. The Iron Vanguard sent a courier yesterday, demanding to know where we're sourcing our mana. And don't even get me started on the Academy—Veyra's been pushing for more details on our process."

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of the demand press down on me like an unseen hand. "We've been careful. No one should connect the crystals to us personally. They think it's just a new supplier in the market."

"Careful is not going to cut it anymore," Lyra shot back, her voice rising. "These factions aren't just interested in the crystals. They want to know how we're making them. And if they figure out it's you…"

She didn't have to finish the sentence. If anyone discovered my ability to convert mana, to manipulate the very fabric of energy itself, we'd have more than just factions knocking on our door. The entire balance of power in the city—maybe even the Expanse itself—would shift. My ability wasn't just a tool; it was a weapon, and one that could topple empires if it fell into the wrong hands.

Nira cleared her throat, breaking the tension that had settled over the room like a storm cloud. "So… what do we tell the Silver Fangs?"

Lyra turned to me, her expression unreadable, but the tension in her posture spoke volumes. "We can't keep dodging them forever. Sooner or later, someone's going to dig too deep. And when they do…"

I glanced at the crystals on the bench, their glow reflecting in my eyes like shards of possibility. Each one was a testament to what I could do, but also a reminder of the risk. "Fine," I said finally, my voice steady despite the unease coiling in my chest. "Set up the meeting with the Silver Fangs. But keep it neutral—public space, no sudden moves. And Nira…"

She looked up, her fingers poised over the terminal, waiting for my next command.

"Start looking into contingency plans. If this goes sideways, we need to be ready. And not just ready—we need to stay ahead."

I adjusted the collar of my jacket, the fabric unfamiliar and stiff against my neck, a stark contrast to the sharp, tailored clothing I usually preferred. The Silver Fang meeting had been a success, at least on the surface, but it left a bitter taste in my mouth. Too many questions, too much scrutiny, and too many eyes watching for even the slightest misstep. Now, I was here, in the back corner of a dimly lit tavern tucked away in the underbelly of the city, waiting for a client who insisted on anonymity. The air smelled of ale and roasted meat, and the low murmur of conversations around me seemed to press in closer with every passing minute.

A shadow slipped into the seat across from me, their face obscured by a deep hood, the flickering candlelight casting their features into obscurity. I couldn't even tell if they were male or female—just a presence, deliberate and unnerving, like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Caius Elarion," the voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried a weight that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "You've made quite a name for yourself in a short time."

I leaned back in my chair, keeping my expression neutral, but my mind raced, analysing every possible angle. "Names tend to get around when you're good at what you do. Who's asking?"

A gloved hand slid a small pouch across the table, the contents clinking softly, a sound that resonated with something primal in the back of my mind. "Let's just say I'm someone who appreciates… discretion. Open it."

I hesitated, not out of fear, but caution. This felt like a trap, and yet the curiosity gnawed at me. Slowly, I pulled the pouch toward me and loosened the drawstring. Inside were shards of a material I'd only ever read about—Starborne Shards, raw and unrefined, their surface glimmering with faint constellations as if they'd been plucked from the night sky itself. My chest tightened. These were rare. Unbelievably rare. And dangerous, not just because of what they could do, but because of the attention they'd draw.

"What's the price?" I asked, my voice steady despite the unease coiling in my gut.

"A custom crystal. Something… unique. A fusion of void and fire, with a twist I'll specify later. And you don't ask questions—about me, or what it's for."

I closed the pouch, the shards disappearing into its depths, and slid it back across the table. "Not interested. I don't work blind."

The figure leaned forward, the air between us growing heavier, almost electric. "Think carefully, Caius. This isn't just an offer. It's an opportunity. Fail to take it, and you might find your reputation isn't the only thing at stake."

Before I could respond, they stood, the pouch still sitting on the table, their presence fading into the crowd like smoke. I stared at the pouch, the weight of the decision settling on my shoulders. Whatever this was, it wasn't just a deal. It was a test—one that could either elevate me or bury me. And as the noise of the tavern swirled around me, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much larger, something I wasn't sure I was ready for