The Shadow's Claim

The storm had barely drifted past, but the smell of rain and something darker, something unnatural lingered heavy in the air. Hollow's Bend seemed wrong, like the town itself had recoiled from whatever had just strode into its streets.

The Collector stood at the mouth of the alleyway, its form shifting like smoke barely contained within the outline of a man. Its coat rippled at the edges despite the lack of wind, and when it moved, it did so in an unnatural slowness, as if it were a creature savoring the seconds before a kill.

Elias Thorne curled his fingers into fists, struggling against the gnawing cold that sliced down to his very bones. His entire life he had fled, eluded, fate and the inevitable. But now.

Now, he was being erased.

Selene was already in motion, moving between Elias and the thing that had made him its own. Her knife gleamed beneath the lantern light, her posture assessing and keen.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

The Collector tipped its head to one side, its voice oozing through the air like an old and half-forgotten song. "Want? No, child. The time of desires is long ago gone. Elias Thorne is mine now."

Elias made a step even though the world seemed to fold in upon itself around him. "You don't own me."

The Collector's empty laughter scraped over his mind. "Ah, but I do. You bet something you had no idea about." And now you're standing at the brink, and you're wondering how deep this goes."

Selene stiffened, gripping her dagger more tightly. "Then let's find out."

She lunged.

Her blade had struck true or it should have. The steel shot through the Collector's chest as though cutting through fog. But instead of fading, the darkness rolled out, coiling taut around the bone of her wrist like living tendrils. A gasp escaped Selene, a seldom-heard sound of surprise from her.

The Collector inched closer, its blacked-out face just inches from hers. "Not yet," it murmured. "Your turn comes later."

In an instant, Selene was hurled back, slamming into a pile of barrels. Elias didn't have time to react before the weight of the Collector's presence bore down on him.

"You are decaying, Elias Thorne." The Collector's voice was nearly soft now." "Pretty soon you won't even be a memory anymore."

Elias had to force himself to breathe. "I suppose I will have to do something about that.'

And then he moved.

His gun was already in his hand before the thought had fully formed. The sound of a single shot rang out, the bullet torn through the shadowed figure but it did nothing. The Collector simply tilted its head, as though deliberating over the effort.

And then it whispered "Not enough."

The world twisted.

Elias's vision darkened, the streetlamps losing luminosity, the very weight of his being feeling lighter, etherized. A curdled panic sank into his sternum was this what fading felt like? A gradual coming apart of everything that constituted him?

Then.

A voice cut through the haze. "Elias!"

Selene, back on her feet, her eyes ablaze with resolve. In the other, she grasped some sort of object, something that shone with a faint, otherworldly luminescence.

The amulet.

The treasure of the House of Fate, a fragment of the world's ancient sorcery. Alistair had mentioned it once or twice, but in passing, and Elias had never attached much significance to trinkets and charms.

Until now.

Selene hurled it toward him. He snatched it reflexively, the cold metal in his palm. And then—

The Collector recoiled.

Elias didn't hesitate. He smashed the amulet against his Hollow Mark, the chill burning into his flesh. Pain raced through his wrist, but the weight that pressed against his existence lifted just enough for him to move.

He seized Selene's arm, dragging her along as they ran down the alley. The Collector didn't pursue—not at first. But its voice pursued them in the dark, a promise more than a threat.

"It doesn't matter, Elias. You can run. You can fight. But eventually, I always collect."

They kept running until the edge of town faded into the wild, past the railway station, past the outlying shacks and abandoned barns, until all they could hear was the haggard pull of their breaths and the faraway howl of the wind.

Only then did they stop.

Elias stood by an aging fence post as his heart thundered like a war drum. Selene stood next to him, her eyes combing the dark.

"We can't outrun it all the time," she said.

"No," Elias said, handling the amulet as though it were fragile. "But maybe we can outsmart it."

Selene sighed, folding her arms. "Alistair said the Collector doesn't abide by the House of Fate. "But that doesn't mean there are no rules."

Elias nodded slowly. "And where there are rules, there's a way to get around them."

A silence hung between them, each of their minds working. Then Selene's gaze darted to something sharp.

"We need answers," she said. "And I know where to find them."

Elias raised an eyebrow. "That so?"

She gave him a wolfish smile. "There's a man out west. Defers to the name Jasper Crane. You know he's a gambler, too, but he's played in darker circles. If anyone can cheat the Collector, it's this guy."

Elias shrugged his shoulders, inched the ache into his bones. But underneath it lay something new — something dangerously close to hope.

"Well then," o said, jiggling the amulet once in his palm and tucking it away. "C'mon, let's go find ourselves a cheat.

But just as they pivoted, the wind changed.

And a new voice low, gravel-rough spoke from the shadows.

"You're lookin' for a way out, Thorne?

A shadow edged into the pale moonlight. A darkly coated man, hat pulled low over his face, two pistols strapped to his belt.

Selene tensed. Elias straightened.

The stranger smiled a coy smile.

"Bad luck. Since I've been searching for you."

The glint of steel. A hammer being drawn back.

And then.

The shot.