The Cold Shades of Doubt

Lucien Blackmoore shoved through the sky-tower's glass doors like the night itself had a bounty on his head. The city behind him howled, and the wind snapped at his coat, but inside, the world changed. The air went dense and slick with wealth, fake comfort, and too much silence.

Lucien walked slow, coat dragging water behind him, boots tapping like old bones on tile. Cold had settled deep in his ribs, but he didn't shiver. Just pulled the collar higher, not against the chill, but to brace against the weight settling on his shoulders. The kind of weight you couldn't see, but felt behind your eyes.

This was Valthara Prime in its truest form. It was this—polished luxury smeared with corruption. The scent hit first: synth-liquor, scorched quartz, and the sweet rot of power too long undisturbed. Not quite death, not yet. The kind that grinned with gold teeth and lounged in rooms like this, where mirrors didn't reflect so much as accuse.

The interior pulsed neon, every surface smeared with light like someone had tried to paint over reality. Light buzzed overhead with a tremor like dying stars.

The Silent Ledger pressed close beneath his ribs, a living pulse tucked inside leather and runes. It throbbed once, hard enough to make his breath hitch. Glyphs bled into his vision like veins of fire.

"Current target: None. Task: Open. Collections due: 3. Threat level: Moderate. Informant: Jyn. Status: Pending."

The message lingered, then faded like a thought slipping through dream-fog.

Lucien moved toward the bar, floor dragging at his soles like it wanted him to stay. He placed a datapad under the counter, fingers brushing cold metal longer than needed. The pad lit up briefly, a quiet beacon that spoke only to those who knew how to listen.

Outside, the city's heartbeat never stopped. Watcher drones drifted past the glass in slow, stalking circles, red eyes gleaming like embers in fog. They didn't hunt crime. They hunted debt. Misfiled contracts. Unmarked boons. The forgotten, the damned, and the ones who thought they could cheat the system.

He clenched his jaw. He remembered Jyn's face in that substation—eyes hollow but burning. She'd signed her soul to save her brother. Now he carried that contract in his Ledger, and it pulsed like it wanted to scream.

"Her risk binds you," the Ledger whispered. "Emotional tether confirmed. Priority modifier: High."

His hands moved like he was brushing dirt off his coat, but it was habit. Ritual. Trying to clean away something no water could touch.

At the back of the lounge, Vren Thalor occupied a booth like a king without a crown. His drink caught the light, shimmering with soft poisons. No guards. No armor. Just reputation. That was more than enough. People didn't just avoid his table. They avoided the idea of it.

Lucien walked over with the kind of grace that only comes from surviving close calls. His steps didn't rush, didn't lag. Just the right rhythm to say: I've done this before. I'll do it again.

Vren tilted his head, slow and deliberate. "Lucien Blackmoore," he said like the name was a flavor he hadn't decided on yet.

"Vren, my friend," Lucien said, letting the words stretch easy. "City's rigged and rotten, but credits still talk. And yours talk loudest."

A woman shifted beside Vren. Elise. Still as death, sharp as frostbite. Her eyes met Lucien's without blinking. No mercy, no pretense.

Lucien offered her a crooked grin, one eye squinting. "Elise, darlin'. You're the real ace here. Name a favor, I'll owe you double."

He slid a datapad across the table. Its screen flickered like something unsure of its own heartbeat. The content inside? Bribes wrapped in ritual. Data layered in ghost-code. Promises no one should make and everyone eventually did.

Elise leaned forward. Her breath smelled like copper and wine. "You're bold."

"Bold's just survival in a nicer jacket."

She almost smiled. Almost. "Favors knot tight. Pull wrong, they choke."

"Then I'll pull careful."

The Ledger stirred again.

"Warning: anomaly incoming. Source: unknown."

The crack came next. Not a sound. A shift. Air snapping like a spine under pressure. A preacher stumbled onto the bar platform, robes sparking with stitched wires and sweat. His mouth moved faster than his mind.

"Gray-eyed man's comin'! Breaks the mark! No broker binds him!"

Lucien didn't move. But his heart kicked.

The Ledger flared.

"Cassian cipher detected. Location: bar platform."

Lucien's eyes dropped. At the preacher's feet, something hissed. A symbol. Carved fast and crude. Red-black. Familiar.

Cassian's.

Elise tensed, glass shaking in her grip. Vren's eye twitched. The whole bar leaned a fraction into fear.

Lucien raised his drink. "To clean slips and dirty favors."

Motion returned. Slowly. Like the city had to remember how to breathe. The preacher vanished under the security guard's grip. Noise filtered back like water.

The Ledger whispered again.

"Target: Vren Thalor. Informant Elise: trust variable. Market instability: Veilshade tunnels. Sabotage: likely."

Lucien exhaled slow. The kind of breath you take before doing something reckless.

Cassian, that bastard. Showing signs this loud? Either stupid or proud. And Cassian was never stupid.

A memory surfaced: Cassian laughing, bleeding from the mouth. "You chase crumbs while I torch kitchens."

The Ledger pulsed slower now. Heavy.

"You chose this."

Lucien stared out the glass wall. The city winked like it knew a secret. He muttered, "Mentor warned me. Said power eats men like me. I laughed."

He leaned forward, voice quieter than thought. "I'll map him. I'll bait him. I'll bleed him."

Plan ignited like match-flare:

Track cipher bloom locations.

Monitor drone glitches. Cassian tech ran hot.

Spread false contract vectors.

Use Lila as bait again if needed.

End him.

Elise blinked slowly. "You're quiet."

"Counting teeth before the bite."

He stood. The Ledger burned warm now, almost approving. A living oath. Outside, the night stretched sharp and wide.

He stepped through the doors. Valthara swallowed him whole.

He lit a cigarette. The smoke curled like memory.

"Let's bleed him proper."

The Ledger replied, "So be it."

Somewhere far below, in a place older than shadow, a cipher flared to life.

Cassian felt it, the war was moving.

Lucien was already steps ahead.