Chapter Two – Shadows in the Warehouse

In the year 015 of the Gilded Lion Era, the heavens split asunder, and Goaxas, Lord of Storms, cast his fury upon the earth, shaping the rivers and carving the mountains with his tempestuous breath. From his voice came the thunder, from his gaze the lightning, and all who dared defy the will of the storm were scattered like dust upon the wind. Thus it is written: To stand against Goaxas is to challenge the sky itself, and no mortal shall command the storm but he who walks beneath its shadow in reverence.

The air near the docks was thick with salt, damp wood, and the unmistakable scent of rotting fish. The streets had thinned out at this hour, leaving only the occasional night worker or wandering drunk. Lanterns swayed in the breeze, casting long, flickering shadows against the worn stone walls.

Fey, Nova, and Rhea moved with quiet precision, their footsteps blending into the night's natural rhythm. The weight of their mission hung over them like a stormcloud- dangerous, perhaps deadly. But none of them planned to turn back.

"So," Rhea whispered, walking between them, hands tucked into the folds of her cloak. "How long have you two been brooding in the dark like this? Months? A Year? A Decade maybe?"

Fey shot her a long glance, his goggles reflecting the lamplight. "About that long yeah, and we don't brood."

Nova, ever composed, a soft smile creeping onto his face as he simply adjusted his cloak. "It's called staying focused."

Rhea huffed. "Right. Right. Focused. But hey, maybe the whole grim-and-gloom aesthetic works for you two."

Despite himself, Fey almost smirked. Almost. But the moment was short-lived as they reached the edge of the warehouse district. The air grew colder, thick with something more than just the sea breeze—something dark, lurking, waiting.

They stopped in the shadow of an adjacent building, surveying their target. The warehouse stood tall and lifeless, its wooden exterior weathered by years of sea spray. A faint light flickered through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. Someone was inside.

"Tanner said Kest's been keeping low here," Nova murmured. "If he's meeting someone tied to Lemos, we need to know who and why."

"And if Kest is really behind the entire Fairy-Dust trade, he won't get the chance to keep hiding," Rhea added, her voice sharper now, her usual levity stripped away.

Fey scanned the area, his pulse steady but coiled, ready. "We go in quiet. We find out what we can. If things go south—"

"We beat him to a pulp," Nova finished, already moving.

Rhea grinned. "Seems like you two work together really well together, always on the same page you two."

They slipped into the shadows, weaving through the alleyways between warehouses, moving like ghosts. Fey kept his breaths and pulse measured, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade.

Nova's glyph-covered arms glowed faintly covering the alley in a soft red light, a quiet promise of power held at the ready. Rhea was the lightest on her feet out of them, her fairy heritage making her movements near soundless.

They reached a side entrance—a rusted metal door with signs of recent use. Fey tested the handle. Unlocked. That was a bad sign. Either Kest was expecting company, or he was confident no one would walk out alive if they did show up.

The interior smelled of oil, and something metallic—blood. Crates were stacked high, labeled with false shipping details, masking whatever other illicit goods Kest was smuggling. In the dim light, Fey spotted dark stains on the floor leading toward the center of the warehouse.

Then came voices.

Low, murmured words carried through the open space. They moved toward the sound, careful to keep to the shadows.

Near the back, a makeshift meeting space had been set up—crates turned into chairs, a single lantern flickering between two figures. One was a broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar running down his left eye—Valen Kest. His presence alone exuded cruelty, the kind that took pleasure in power.

The other man was shrouded in a hood, his face hidden. But the way Kest leaned forward, listening intently, made it clear—this was someone important.

"We're accelerating production," the hooded man said, his voice like the rasp of a blade being drawn. "The supply must be constant. No delays."

Kest scoffed, but there was an edge of unease in his expression. "You think this is easy? The little bastards don't just walk into my hands. They fight, they run. And the older ones… are of no use, so they die almost immediately."

A long silence. Then, soft, deliberate:

"You misunderstand your position, Kest."

Something in the air shifted—an unnatural stillness, a quiet that felt like the moment before a predator struck. The hooded man leaned forward, his voice dropping to something almost gentle.

"I am not asking for your concerns. I am instructing you to deliver."

Kest's jaw clenched, his fingers twitching toward the heavy gauntlets beside him. "And if I say we need time?"

The hooded figure tilted his head, a chilling smile curling beneath the dark cloth. "Then you will expedite your own fate."

Kest's eyes hardened. His throat bobbed in a hard swallow. Then, stiffly, he nodded. "Right it'll get done."

The hooded figure exhaled. "Good."

Then, as if sensing the shift in the air, the hooded man's head turned slightly.

"Something's here," he smiled.

Kest's eyes narrowed. His hand drifted toward the gauntlets, the faint pulse of magic running through them.

Fey didn't wait.

"Move!" he hissed.

They scattered as Kest grabbed his gauntlets, slamming them together with a surge of power.

The impact sent a shockwave through the warehouse, crates splintering from the force.

Rhea darted up onto the higher rafters, moving with impossible speed. Nova raised a hand, glyphs flaring as he drew his blood magic into a defensive barrier just in time to block a follow-up strike.

Fey went low, rushing toward Kest before he could fully activate his weapon's enchantments. He swung, his blade aiming for the exposed gaps in Kest's armor—But the gauntlets roared to life much quicker than Fey was Expecting.

Kest caught the strike with a single hand, gripping Fey's sword with unnatural strength. "Bad move, shrimp," Kest sneered.

Then he swung.

Fey barely twisted in time to avoid taking the full force of the punch, but even the glancing blow sent him flying across the warehouse. He crashed against crate after crate slamming into the wall opposite Kest, breath knocked from his lungs.

Above, Rhea's voice rang out.

"Nova! Fey can deal with the brute—let's deal with mystery-man over here!"

Fey was still catching his breath. "Yep I got ugly over here." He spoke, wincing in pain slightly.

Nova was already moving, his magic crackling as he launched a chain of glowing blood toward the hooded figure. The man sidestepped, but the spell grazed his hood, burning away part of the fabric.

For the first time since this short encounter, they saw his face. A man in his mid twenties with sharp angular features eyes like that of a killer full of darkness full of the Abyss.

Fey's blood ran cold.

The man smiled—a sharp, knowing grin. Then spoke.

"You're wasting your time," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "Lemos sees you coming now."

Then, before Nova could strike again, the man's entire body seemed to ripple—dark tendrils swallowing him from the feet up, pulling him into nothingness. He was gone.

Kest, realizing he was now alone, snarled. He swung wildly, but this time, Fey was ready. He ducked low, slamming the hilt of his blade into Kest's gut. The man grunted, his balance faltering.

"Alright Rhea—I might need some help now," Fey started.

"On it!" Rhea's voice cut through the tension, and before anyone could react, she was already dropping from the rafters. Her knee slammed into the top of Kest's skull with a stomach turning crunch, the force sending him sprawling to the ground. The glow of his gauntlets sputtered out, flickering like a dying light.

For a moment, the warehouse was eerily quiet. Only the sound of labored breathing filled the space, the stillness heavy with tension.

Kest groaned not too long after, rolling onto his back with a snarl. He cracked his neck, the sound loud and grotesque, before slowly rising to his feet. His gauntlets pulsed again, dark energy crackling through them like living tendrils. His grin stretched wider, revealing teeth sharpened like a beast's.

"Well, that was fun," he growled, his voice thick with malice. His eyes flickered between the three of them, wild and hungry. "But I'm just getting started."

Fey grimaced, his ribs aching from the punch Kest had landed earlier. The pain was sharp, but Nova's blood magic was already working to heal the broken bones, leaving a faint, burning trail where the wound had been. Fey straightened, gritting his teeth as his pulse thrummed with power. He could feel the weight and weightlessness of gravity swelling in his chest.

"You have an unsettling idea of fun, Kest," Nova muttered, his voice cold.

Without warning, Kest lunged—faster than Fey had anticipated. The ground shook as his fist slammed into the earth, sending a shockwave that shattered crates and cracked the stone floor. Fey's gravity pulse surged, lightening his weight just enough to slip beneath the blow. Power rushed through him, bending the air itself as he shot forward like a bullet.

He kicked off the ground, closing the distance in an instant. His blade slashed through the air, cutting deep into Kest's ribcage. The force of Fey's gravity-enhanced strike sent Kest stumbling sideways. Blood sprayed from the wound, dark and slick. But Kest didn't falter. His eyes flashed with fury as he whirled back toward Fey, teeth bared in a snarl.

"You think a little cut like that's gonna stop me?" Kest roared, swinging his gauntlet-covered fist. "Think again, little man!"

Fey dodged, but the strike was too close. Pain exploded through his side as Kest's fist clipped him, sending him crashing into the wall. His ribs—recently healed by Nova—splintered again.

"Shit," Fey wheezed, vision blurring.

Rhea's daggers whistled through the air. Kest's gauntlets flared with energy, deflecting one, but the second sliced through his ear. A chunk of flesh tore away. Blood trickled down his neck. Kest roared—more beast than man.

Rhea didn't hesitate. She flicked her wrist, wind pulsing through her blades, sending them rocketing toward Kest. The knives struck deep beneath his shoulder, steel biting into flesh. Blood oozed from the wounds, but Kest only grunted, refusing to fall.

With a snarl, he swung for Rhea. She barely evaded, but the force of his blow sent crates flying and rattled the rafters.

Nova, calm amid the chaos, stepped forward. Blood seeped from his skin, glowing like constellations. He raised a hand, and crimson chains manifested in the air, trailing an eerie light as they coiled around Kest's limbs.

Kest growled, muscles straining against the bonds. Nova's eyes gleamed, his magic tightening the chains with a snap.

"Not so fast," Nova murmured, amusement laced in his tone. With a flick of his wrist, the chains pulled taut.

But Kest wasn't done. With a guttural roar, his pulse surged. Skin split as he wrenched his arms free, snapping one of Nova's chains. Blood magic splattered across the floor. Nova staggered, momentarily releasing his hold.

Kest locked onto Fey and charged.

Fey saw the punch too late.

A sickening crack rang out as Kest's fist connected, sending Fey flying. His head slammed against a support beam. The world tilted. Blood trickled down his face, the metallic tang of iron thick in his mouth. Gravity hummed beneath his skin, the only thing keeping him conscious.

He forced himself up, staggering. Kest's next strike shattered the beam inches from his head.

Rhea's daggers flew, but Kest deflected them, each clash sending tremors through the ground. Then Kest's foot lashed out, catching Rhea in the stomach. She slammed into the ceiling before crashing to the floor. A wet cough escaped her lips—blood.

"Rhea!" Fey shouted, pushing forward.

Kest's gauntlet swung down, aiming to end her in one blow.

Fey's pulse spiked. He invoked gravity, launching himself forward. His elbow crashed into Kest's liver, making the larger man stumble. Kest snarled and swung, but Nova intercepted with a blood-forged chain, slamming it into Kest's face.

"Hold him!" Nova commanded, his chains tightening once more.

Fey grimaced, his body trembling.

"Rhea, his legs!"

Rhea, still gasping for air, nodded. "Got it."

She loosed her final daggers. The first lodged deep in Kest's thigh; the second cut across his Achilles tendon. Kest roared, his legs buckling. He swung wildly, breaking free of some of Nova's chains, but he was slower now.

Fey surged forward, his pulse pounding in his ears. He dodged Kest's final, desperate swing and drove his blade into Kest's stomach.

Blood poured like a fountain. Kest staggered, but madness still burned in his eyes. He tried to summon a pulse backflow—a last-ditch effort for destruction.

Too late.

Fey moved—gravity bending around him. He leaped high, blade raised.

Nova lashed a blood chain around Fey's leg, accelerating his descent.

Fey crashed down, his blade sinking deep into Kest's collarbone.

The impact was brutal, the blade cleaving through Kest's clavicle before the blade itself shattered, sending him to the ground with a bone-shattering thud. Kest's body crumpled in a heap of broken flesh, his pulse fading as blood spilled out of him.

The warehouse fell silent.

Rhea, breathless and bloodied, stood shakily. "That… that was intense to say the least," she muttered, glancing down at Kest's body.

Fey's chest heaved, his sword broken into shards from the force of the final strike. "Bastard broke my ribs twice…and my sword."

Nova stepped forward, his blood chains returning to his body forming the ink of his tattoos as they still glow faintly. "He's not dead yet. But we need to move before someone finds us."

Fey nodded, his eyes cold as they flickered over Kest's still form. "Patch him up so he doesn't bleed out Nova. We need answers."