The streets of Nocturne throbbed with a pulse that never quite matched the rhythm of the living. Neon signs bled fractured light, flickering like weak heartbeats struggling to survive. Rain fell in greasy needles, dragging oil and ash into the gutters where it pooled and festered in slow rot. The cobblestones gleamed slick beneath his boots, reflecting the city's decay in distorted shards. Above, Watcher drones floated sluggish and hungry, their cold red sensor-eyes cutting through the gloom with surgical disinterest. The city felt tight, constricted—like something had sunk claws deep into its ribs and was squeezing, slow and relentless.
Lucien Blackmoore moved through the twisting alleys like smoke caught under pressure, his coat dark and heavy, soaked through and stiff with the oily downpour. Each step slipped between shadow and flicker, boots whispering on the wet stone. Tucked beneath layers of leather and old betrayals, the Ledger pulsed steadily against his ribs—a living thing. Its breath was the weight of promises stored and debts unspoken. It didn't just record the deals struck and the souls traded; it warned. It breathed like a predator sleeping lightly, ready to strike.
As Lucien slipped deeper into the maze of alleys, his eyes flicked sharp to every corner and crack. The Watchers were circling tighter tonight—their low hum a constant throb in his skull. One dipped close, its red scanning beam slicing across his shoulder. He melted into a patch of wet brickwork, jaw clenched.
"Damn tin birds," he hissed, voice barely more than a breath against the stones.
A voice twisted out of the rain, smooth and crooked like smoke curling from a gutter fire. "You keep dodging 'em like that, and someone's going to start thinking you've got secrets."
Lucien spun on a heel, hand brushing the Ledger's edge beneath his coat. Lila stepped forward from the mist, cloak trailing water, eyes sharp behind strands of damp hair plastered to her face. She moved like the streets belonged to her—not the other way around.
"Lila," he said with a half-grin, more reflex than charm. "Always showing up when the air tastes like trouble."
She raised an eyebrow, voice low and sharp. "That, or you're just bad at hiding. Ledger's been humming louder around you these days."
Lucien smirked and pulled a coded tab from his pocket, handing it to her with a flick of his wrist. "False trail. Cassian's pets have been sniffing around Undergleam. I'm giving 'em something to chase."
Lila turned the tab over, frowning. "You're baiting spies now?"
"Baiting, predicting, herding. Call it whatever makes you sleep better."
"Or desperate," she shot back, tucking the tab away. "You sure about Mara?"
The grin didn't reach his eyes. "She thinks she's playing me. I'm just giving her the stage."
With that, Lucien slipped away from Lila and dropped into Undergleam—the rotting undercity where the worst secrets bred and the light died slow.
The air here was thick and stale, saturated with heat and the faint hiss of ancient machinery coughing out steam and dust. Flickering glyph-lights sputtered weakly over vendor stalls cluttered with strange trinkets and whispered curses. Shadows pooled deep, swallowing whole corners of this forgotten place.
Mara waited in a narrow crevice between stalls, half-lit by the dying glow of red sigils. She wore desperation like perfume—sharp, clinging, impossible to ignore.
Lucien approached cautiously, voice low. "You look ready to bolt."
Mara's fingers twitched nervously. "You said we'd settle. That I'd be clear."
"Did you bring the right soul?"
Her hand came forward, trembling slightly, holding a crystal vial that flickered faintly with trapped light inside. The soul inside pulsed weak and pale. Lucien took it with care, eyes narrowing.
"And the token?"
Mara hesitated before dropping a flat coin into his palm. It was too light, almost weightless. He turned it over. The etching was wrong—glyphs bleeding and fraying at the edges. The telltale decay of Cassian's poison.
"Mara," he said, voice heavy, "this token's counterfeit."
Her eyes flared wide with panic. "No... no, it's what they gave me, I swear!"
The Ledger pulsed sharply beneath his coat, heat climbing his palm. Glyphs etched along its spine shimmered and shifted, responding to the danger. A low, resonant hum rose from deep inside him, vibrating through bone and blood.
The binding came fast and brutal.
Flames of pale fire erupted in glyphs across Mara's chest, crawling like serpents up her throat. She screamed once—raw, piercing—but the sound was cut off as the soul locked itself into the Ledger's web. Lucien's knees bent under the strain, breath shallow.
The Ledger whispered, voice low and final: "Her fear binds you."
Lucien swallowed hard, barely steady on his feet. The Ledger moving on its own was new—a warning, or a judgment. He stepped back, trembling slightly.
A shout cracked behind him. Three figures emerged from the mist, glinting steel and cold grins beneath their hoods—Obsidian Veil thugs, polished and merciless.
"Mara sold you out," Lila called breathlessly, sliding up beside him, eyes sharp. "Heard them gloating."
"Timing's poetic," Lucien muttered, readying himself.
He traced a sigil in the air. The trap glyph ignited, firing hot lines of magic across the alley walls. One of the Veil agents was caught mid-stride, trapped in chains of glyph-fire that burned cold and binding. Their screams rang out like funeral bells.
Lucien shielded Lila behind him, pistol drawn, coat flaring wide like a dark flag. The Ledger pulsed again, its voice cutting sharp:
"Her fear was your edge. Her panic stung."
They broke free, bleeding but alive, shadows swirling around them. The alley behind them smoked and sighed like a wounded beast. The Ledger throbbed with heat against Lucien's ribs.
Later, on the ragged edge of the Spire, Lila pressed a cloth to her arm, face pale but steady.
"Mara didn't know. She was scared."
Lucien lit a cigarette, watching the dark heart of Nocturne glow beneath a veil of rain and neon.
"Fear makes people stupid," he said. "Cassian knows that. He feeds them scraps and watches who bites."
The Ledger's surface rippled, new glyphs etching themselves slowly, like writing in fire.
"Cassian's proxy disrupted Market Twelve."
Lucien exhaled smoke hard, bitter.
"Cassian's got no finesse."
Another pulse, colder, sharper.
"You're no better."
Lucien said nothing.
He turned, pacing back into the night with Lila limping beside him. Behind them, Undergleam simmered with unfinished whispers. Ahead, the city yawned wide, its hunger endless.
Cassian had agents everywhere.
But so did Lucien.
This game was far from finished; the first moves were only just being set.