Chapter 8: The Balance and the Burn

The quiet didn't come often.

Even in the lowest, dust-choked corners of the Undercity, where noise felt stitched into the concrete, Asher found this rooftop oddly still. Not even the hum of neon signs, just the shallow hush of wind scraping along rusted railings.

He sat on the edge, legs dangling over five stories of abandoned scaffolding and trash-filled alleys. In one hand, a tarnished coin flicked between his fingers. In the other, the cuff of his sleeve half-covered a faded burn mark across his wrist—just a shade of what he once was.

Mira had gone quiet lately. Rafe was pacing downstairs. Wren kept looking at him like she was trying to solve him like a broken code. But right now, none of them were here.

Only the coin.

One side bore a balanced scale. The other, a single tear.

It had belonged to her.

Zara.

FLASHBACK - THREE YEARS AGO

The city above was loud, hungry, and golden. The Undercity hadn't swallowed him yet. Not completely.

He'd still smiled then—crooked, unsure, but real. Zara would tease him about how rare it was. Said it was like seeing a blood moon: beautiful, but probably a sign of doom.

They sat in a rooftop garden outside the university. He remembered how the wind made her braids flick at his cheek. She laughed when he flinched, then offered the coin.

"Why a scale and a tear?" he asked.

"Because justice isn't supposed to feel clean," she said. "It should hurt. Just enough to remind you that people are involved."

He pocketed it and told her it was cheesy. She told him he was full of shit and kissed him anyway.

Two weeks later, her body was found in a sealed lab chamber.

Poisoned.

Not by a stranger. By someone they both trusted.

A Shatterborn. One who'd never paid for what he did. The Council had buried it under layers of "confidential jurisdiction" and "Shatterborn priority handling."

Asher remembered standing outside the Council chamber doors, his fists bloodied from punching a wall, while the man who did it walked out—untouched.

That was the first time it happened.

The judgment.

He didn't choose it. It chose him.

A voice—not loud, not cruel—just present whispered the man's sin. And when Asher touched him...

Flames. Black and jagged. The man screamed until his throat tore, and Asher felt every second of it. Not just physically—morally. Like an echo bouncing inside his soul.

The man didn't die.

But he was never whole again.

And neither was Asher.

BACK TO PRESENT

He exhaled and leaned back.

Every power had a flaw. His was balance. For every sentence passed, a deed was required. A selfless act. Sometimes easy. Sometimes impossible. And when he didn't give the world that balance?

He felt it.

His body burned. His skin cracked. His mind splintered into guilt and memory.

Zara had told him justice should hurt. But this wasn't justice. This was retribution dressed in the illusion of righteousness.

And yet—he couldn't stop. Every time he punished someone, another person got a chance to breathe. Every time he judged, the city bent a little closer to order.

And he'd keep going.

Not because he was noble.

But because her killer had smiled at him.

And walked away.

Footsteps approached.

Rafe.

He didn't speak at first. Just tossed Asher a wrapped protein bar.

"You eat like a ghost," he muttered.

"Don't ghosts not eat?"

Rafe shrugged. "Exactly."

They sat there in silence for a while. Then Rafe said, "You think Zara would still recognize you?"

Asher looked up, startled.

Rafe didn't meet his gaze. "You've changed a lot. And not just the powers."

Asher turned the coin in his hand. "She'd recognize the anger. That's still mine."

"Anger's not all you are."

Asher didn't answer.

Rafe stood and dusted off his jacket. "We're all ghosts down here. But you? You're the only one haunting the right people."

Asher watched him leave.

Then closed his eyes and whispered, "I hope you're wrong."

Because sometimes, he wasn't sure there were any right people left.

Shatter the Seal (Vault Heist with Talon's Betrayal)

The vault stood like a silent sentinel in the deepest recess of the undercity's forgotten core. Once part of a government-run sanctuary before the Divide, it had become nothing more than a legend. Asher's boots echoed against the broken marble tiles while Rafe scouted ahead, blades sheathed at his back, and Mira moved in fluid silence, her hand trailing over the faded glyphs lining the passage.

Talon had given them a map—part ancient etching, part digital overlay. It marked the entry points, the sentry patterns, and a specific route through the forgotten systems. The prize? A heavily encrypted data core said to contain classified intelligence on Shatterborn experiments and Council projects—intelligence that Talon claimed would lead them to Zara.

"Asher," Mira called quietly, crouched by a panel riddled with old-world tech. "It's shielded. Not just electronically… there's something woven through it. Like blood memory."

He moved closer, placing his hand against the surface. A strange pulse met his palm. Familiar. The judgement energy in him reacted—unlocking the panel in a shimmer of light.

"It responded to you," Rafe said, stepping up beside him.

"They must've used Virtua-linked sealers when building it. It needs someone bound to the Shatterborn essence to open it," Mira added.

The door groaned, layers sliding apart with a hiss of ancient hydraulics. Inside, a single node towered in the center of the room—a crystalline obelisk humming with data, surrounded by shattered statues of forgotten Council heroes.

Asher approached the obelisk and reached out. The moment his fingers made contact, streams of encrypted language spiraled upward, interfacing with his mind. Visions flickered: Zara in restraints, white light flooding over her face, someone whispering "Activate the strain."

"She's alive," he whispered.

Mira stepped forward. "Did you see her?"

"Yes. She's being kept... experimented on. And someone is triggering something in her."

Rafe began downloading the data from the obelisk into their drive. "We got what we came for. Let's bounce before the whole place caves in—"

A slow clap cut the silence.

They turned.

Talon stood at the vault's entrance. Alone. Unarmed. Smirking.

"Well done," he said, stepping over the threshold. "I knew if anyone could bypass the seal, it'd be you, Asher."

"You were tracking us," Mira hissed.

"No. I was guiding you." Talon's eyes gleamed with something darker than ambition. "I couldn't open it myself. The vault recognizes only those bound by the Virtua—the Judgment strain, in your case. And now… you've done it for me."

"You lied," Asher growled, stepping forward. "Zara?"

"She was always the bait."

The vault trembled subtly as power surged through the floor. The obelisk pulsed a dark red.

"You didn't come here for the data," Rafe said, his voice flat.

"No," Talon admitted. "I came for what the vault was built to protect—what the Council couldn't destroy. A memory of the original Shatter—the core that birthed our kind."

He extended his hand toward the obelisk, and the energy around them shivered.

Asher's instincts kicked in. The darkness inside him flared.

"You're not leaving with it."

"Oh, but I am," Talon said softly. "You just have to decide whether to stop me… or survive."

With a flick of his fingers, the relic's energy burst outward, knocking Mira and Rafe back. Asher raised a barrier of golden light, shielding them just in time.

Mira rolled to her feet. "Rafe—go! Get the drive out of here!"

"I'm not leaving—"

"NOW!" Asher bellowed.

Rafe bolted, Mira behind him. Asher stayed.

Talon moved closer to the relic, the air around him rippling with raw power. "You've always tried to be a judge. But deep down, you're just like me."

"No," Asher said, stepping forward, his aura igniting. "I still believe in something. And I don't betray the people I claim to protect."

They clashed, light and shadow spiraling in furious arcs.