Chapter 1: Whispers in the Dust

The desert wind carried the scent of burning metal and old magic.

Kael pulled his hood lower over his face, blending into the shifting crowd of the market. The sky above was a bruised shade of violet, the last light of the dying sun struggling to pierce through the ever-present storm clouds that hung over the empire's borders. This far from the capital, the world felt like it was already crumbling.

Perfect.

He slipped through the maze of vendor stalls, past men peddling rusted starforged weapons and women selling charms that had long since lost their magic. The place reeked of desperation—just the way he liked it. In a town like this, no one asked questions.

He reached the rendezvous point, a shadowed alcove beneath the remnants of an old celestial archway. A figure stood waiting—a man draped in a faded red sash, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of a dagger.

"You're late," the man muttered.

Kael smirked. "I like to make an entrance." He pulled a small, star-etched cube from his coat, tossing it to the man, who caught it with careful hands. "You get what you wanted?"

The man ran a hand over the cube's surface, and faint blue sigils flickered to life. "A fragment of the old world," he murmured. "And where did you find this, exactly?"

Kael's grin widened. "That's not your problem."

The man chuckled, shaking his head. He reached into his belt, producing a small pouch heavy with coin. Kael took it, weighing it in his palm. He'd been expecting more, but before he could argue, a disturbance rippled through the marketplace.

A low murmur spread through the crowd, shifting like dry leaves before a storm. People turned, whispers rising.

Kael followed their gaze—and saw him.

An old man, cloaked in the tattered remains of an acolyte's robe, staggered into the market. His skin was burned, cracks of glowing embers spreading like veins across his arms. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his eyes—pale, nearly white—locked onto Kael's.

And then, he collapsed.

A hush fell over the market.

Kael stood frozen. Something was wrong. The air around the old man crackled with magic, the kind that made the hair on the back of Kael's neck stand up. People backed away, muttering prayers under their breath. No one moved to help him.

Against his better judgment, Kael crouched down.

The old man's fingers twitched, barely clutching onto life. His lips moved, a whisper lost beneath the desert wind. Kael leaned in closer.

"...already broken," the man rasped. "The Heart… is already broken." His fingers clenched weakly into Kael's sleeve. "He is coming."

A cold knot formed in Kael's stomach.

Before he could ask what the old man meant, the heavy thud-thud-thud of armored boots filled the air.

Imperial hunters.

Kael's instincts kicked in. He was on his feet in an instant, vanishing into the crowd as three figures in dark silver armor pushed into the marketplace. Their gazes locked onto the old man first—but then one of them, a tall woman with a jagged scar down her cheek, snapped her head toward Kael.

"You!" she barked. "Stop him!"

Suns-damned luck.

Kael bolted.

The market exploded into chaos. Vendors overturned their stalls, people scrambled in every direction. Kael slipped through the gaps, his years of running from trouble serving him well. The hunters were fast, but he was faster.

He cut into a side alley, heart pounding. If he could just—

Something moved in the shadows ahead.

Kael skidded to a stop.

A figure stood there, waiting.

Not an imperial hunter. Not a common thief.

Something else.

Its body was human-shaped, but wrong. Its limbs too long, its armor fused to its skin as if melted into its flesh. Eyes like empty voids, swirling with traces of dying starlight.

Kael had heard the rumors. The whispers in the dark.

Hollowborn.

A breath caught in his throat.

And then it lunged.