Davrin's first instinct was to run. His second was to fight. His third, which came about half a second later, was to do both at the same time and probably die anyway.
The woman called Seraph didn't move, just stood there watching him with those eyes that couldn't exist. One gold, bright enough to seem like it was glowing in the dim alley. One silver, pale and cold like moonlight on water. Both of them fixed on him with an expression that was part amusement, part curiosity, and part something else he couldn't identify.
"I can feel your panic from here," she said, her voice carrying an accent Davrin couldn't place. Not Iron Hollow, not Merchant's Rise, somewhere else entirely. "Your heart's doing maybe a hundred and sixty beats per minute. Your new power is responding to the adrenaline, coiling up inside you like a spring ready to snap."
She took a step closer. Davrin took a step back.
"How do you know that?" His voice came out steadier than he felt, which was something at least. "How do you know anything about me?"
Seraph smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile. Too knowing, too sharp. "I've been watching you for three days, Davrin Coal. Ever since you started showing the signs."
"What signs? I didn't—" He stopped. Three days ago was when he'd woken up with that strange warmth in his chest, the feeling like something was moving under his skin. He'd ignored it, thought it was just stress or maybe he was getting sick. "You knew. Before tonight."
"I knew what you could become," she corrected. "What you would become, if you survived long enough. Most don't, you know. Most people who develop your particular talent get reaped within hours of the first sign. The Soul Reapers have scanners that can detect latent awakening from half a mile away."
Davrin glanced back the way he'd come, where the empty armor still lay in the alley. The sirens were getting closer, multiple vehicles by the sound of it. "Then why am I still alive?"
"Because I've been interfering with their scanners," Seraph said simply. "Feeding them false readings, routing patrols away from your location, generally making a nuisance of myself. It's been exhausting, honestly. You move around a lot."
"You've been protecting me." Davrin didn't know how to feel about that. Nobody protected anyone in Iron Hollow without wanting something in return. "Why?"
"Because—" Seraph's smile faded, replaced by something harder. "Because what you can do, what you just did to that Reaper, is supposed to be impossible. And I need impossible right now."
The sirens were maybe two streets away now. Davrin could see lights flashing off the walls, hear boots hitting pavement in organized patterns. A lot of boots. They were surrounding the area.
"We need to move," he said, looking for another exit. The alley had a fire escape leading up, rusted but maybe stable enough. Or they could try the sewers, if the grate was loose enough to—
"No need." Seraph held up one hand, palm out.
The air in front of her hand rippled like heat shimmer off hot pavement, except it was cold, so cold that Davrin could see his breath misting. The ripple expanded, forming a circle about six feet across, and through it Davrin could see... somewhere else. A room with cracked walls and a single dim lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.
"Portal," he breathed. "You're Blazing class. At least."
"At least," Seraph agreed, sounding amused again. "Come on. Unless you'd rather explain to the Crimson Guard what happened to their Reaper."
Davrin looked at the portal, then at Seraph, then back at the approaching lights. Every instinct he'd developed surviving in Iron Hollow was screaming that walking through a mysterious portal with a mysterious woman was a terrible idea. The kind of idea that got you killed, or worse.
But staying here was guaranteed death.
He stepped through.
The transition was instant and nauseating. One moment he was in the alley, the next he was stumbling into the room he'd seen through the portal, his stomach trying to climb out through his throat. He fell to his knees, gagging but not quite throwing up.
"First portal jump," Seraph said, stepping through behind him. The portal snapped closed with a sound like tearing fabric. "It gets easier. Usually."
Davrin managed to get his stomach under control and looked around. The room was small, maybe twelve feet square, with water-stained walls and a concrete floor. No windows. One door, heavy metal with multiple locks. A mattress in one corner with a thin blanket. A small table with two chairs. Nothing else.
"Cozy," he said, pushing himself to his feet. His legs were still shaky from the portal jump. "Is this where you live?"
"It's a safe house. One of several." Seraph moved to the table and pulled out a chair, sitting down with the kind of grace that suggested combat training. Expensive combat training, not the street-fighting Davrin had learned. "I rotate between them. Harder for the Empire to track."
Davrin stayed standing, positioning himself between Seraph and the door. Not that he thought he could actually stop her if she wanted to hurt him, but it made him feel slightly less vulnerable. "Alright. We're safe, or safe enough. Start talking. What do you want from me?"
"Direct. I like that." Seraph leaned back in her chair, those impossible eyes studying him. "What do you know about Soul Devourers?"
The term hit him like a punch to the gut. Soul Devourer. He'd been trying not to think about what he'd done, how the Reaper's essence had poured into him, how it had felt to absorb another being's power and memories. But hearing it named made it real.
"Nothing," he said. "I didn't even know that's what I was until you said it just now."
"Honesty. Even better." Seraph pulled something from inside her jacket, a small crystal about the size of a marble. It pulsed with a faint blue light. "Soul Devourers are a myth, supposedly. The Empire's been searching for evidence they exist for the last twenty years, ever since their experiments suggested the possibility."
"Experiments," Davrin repeated flatly. "On people."
"On awakened individuals, specifically. Trying to force one soul to absorb another." Seraph set the crystal on the table. It continued pulsing, steady as a heartbeat. "Every test subject died. Violently. The Empire concluded it was impossible, that human souls weren't compatible enough for direct absorption. They were wrong."
Davrin thought about the Reaper's memories he'd absorbed, the fragments of lives that thing had ended. "Not completely wrong. It hurt like hell."
"But you survived. More than survived, you integrated the power perfectly." Seraph tapped the crystal. "This is a soul fragment from a Kindled-class awakened who died six months ago. Standard refined essence, the kind sold to rich idiots who want to feel powerful for a night. Want to know what would happen if you absorbed it?"
He did, actually. The new power inside him was still coiled and waiting, hungry for more. The feeling disturbed him more than he wanted to admit. "Tell me."
"You'd gain approximately thirty percent of the original user's power permanently. Their memories, fragmented but accessible. Their techniques, their combat experience, their knowledge. All of it would become yours." Seraph's gold eye seemed to brighten. "Do you understand what that means, Davrin? Every soul you absorb makes you stronger. Exponentially stronger. Kill an Inferno-class Reaper and absorb their essence, you'd jump straight past Blazing into Inferno yourself."
"And the Empire wants this power."
"The Empire wants to control this power. There's a difference." Seraph stood, pacing to the wall and back. "Twenty years ago, they created something in their experiments. Not a Soul Devourer, but something close. An artificial construct that could absorb and store multiple soul essences simultaneously. They called it Project Synthesis."
Davrin's throat went dry. "What happened to it?"
"It escaped. Killed seventeen researchers and three Crimson Guard on its way out. The Empire's been hunting it ever since, and anyone who might be connected to it." Seraph stopped pacing, facing him directly. "Your sister Mira wasn't reaped randomly, Davrin. She was taken because someone in the Empire thought she might be compatible with Synthesis."
The room tilted. Davrin grabbed the back of the other chair to steady himself. "What?"
"The Empire's been collecting specific bloodlines, specific genetic markers that might produce natural Soul Devourers or synthetic ones. Your family line was on their list." Seraph's voice softened, just slightly. "I'm sorry. I know that's not what you wanted to hear."
It wasn't. It really, really wasn't. All these years Davrin had assumed Mira was dead, her soul refined into crystals and sold to some rich bastard in Highcrown. The idea that she might be alive, might be trapped in some Imperial laboratory being used for experiments...
"Where is she?" The words came out as a growl. The power inside him responded, warming his skin. "Tell me where they took her."
"I don't know. Not exactly." Seraph held up a hand before he could explode. "But I know who would know. The High Council member who oversees Project Synthesis. A woman named Lady Ashara Vex."
"Then we go to her. We make her talk."
"We?" Seraph's silver eye glinted. "You're assuming I'm helping you rescue your sister."
"You want something from me. That's why you protected me, why you're telling me all this." Davrin straightened, meeting those impossible eyes. "So what is it? What do you want?"
Seraph was quiet for a long moment, studying him. Then she smiled again, that sharp knowing smile. "I want you to help me kill the Emperor."
Of all the things Davrin had expected her to say, that wasn't on the list. He actually laughed, short and bitter. "You're insane."
"Probably," Seraph agreed. "But I'm also right. The Emperor is the source of everything wrong with this world. The Soul Reaping, the slums, the systematic exploitation of humanity for magical power. All of it flows from his throne in the Crimson Spire. Kill him, and the Empire collapses."
"You make it sound easy."
"It's not. It's borderline impossible, actually. The Emperor is Cataclysm-class, protected by armies of Reapers and the Crimson Guard, hidden in a fortress that's stood for two hundred years." Seraph leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "But you're a Soul Devourer. You can absorb the power of everyone you kill. Given enough time, enough kills, you could theoretically reach his level."
"Theoretically." Davrin ran a hand through his hair. This was too much, too fast. Twenty minutes ago he'd been running for his life, and now he was being recruited for regicide. "And what do you get out of this?"
"Revenge," Seraph said simply. "The Emperor took everything from me. My family, my home, my future. I want to watch him burn."
There was something raw in her voice, something real beneath the calculated exterior. Davrin recognized it because he felt the same thing when he thought about Mira.
"So we help each other," he said slowly. "I help you kill the Emperor, you help me find my sister."
"And in the process, you become strong enough to actually survive the attempt." Seraph pushed off the wall. "Because right now, Davrin Coal, you're Sparked at best. You absorbed one Reaper's essence and it nearly overwhelmed you. You've got potential, but potential doesn't win fights."
She was right. He hated it, but she was right. The power inside him felt massive compared to what he'd been before, but he had no idea how to actually use it. No training, no control, just raw instinct.
"How long?" he asked. "How long until I'm strong enough?"
"Months. Maybe years." Seraph pulled the soul crystal across the table toward him. "But we can accelerate the process. Absorb this. Learn how it feels, how to integrate essence properly. Then we start hunting bigger prey."
Davrin looked at the crystal. It was so small, barely larger than a coin, but he could feel the power inside it calling to that hungry thing in his chest. One step down a road he couldn't come back from.
But if it meant finding Mira, if it meant making the Empire pay for what they'd done...
He picked up the crystal.
The moment his skin touched it, the crystal shattered. Blue light poured into his hand, up his arm, flooding into his chest. This time he was ready for it, didn't resist as the essence integrated with his own. Memories came with it, fragmented images of a man he'd never met. Training in combat, practicing with soul weapons, laughing with friends who were probably dead now.
The absorption lasted maybe ten seconds. When it ended, Davrin was breathing hard but standing steady. The power inside him had grown, filling spaces he hadn't known were empty.
"Better," Seraph said, watching him with professional interest. "You integrated that cleaner than the Reaper's essence. You're learning fast."
Davrin flexed his hands. They felt different, stronger, like they knew how to fight in ways his body had never learned. "This is addictive, isn't it? The absorption."
"Very," Seraph confirmed. "Every Soul Devourer in the Empire's records showed signs of addiction within weeks. The hunger for more power, more souls. It's something you'll have to fight."
"Great." One more thing to worry about. "So what now?"
"Now you rest. Tomorrow we start training." Seraph moved to the door, unlocking it. "There's food in the box by the mattress, water too. Don't try to leave, the building has wards that'll alert me if you do. Get some sleep, Davrin. You're going to need it."
She opened the door, stepped halfway through, then paused.
"For what it's worth," she said without turning around, "I am sorry about your sister. I know what it's like to lose family to the Empire."
Then she was gone, the door closing behind her with a heavy thud. The locks clicked one by one, sealing him in.
Davrin stood alone in the safe house, feeling the new power settling into his bones, thinking about Mira and revenge and impossible tasks. Outside, somewhere in the city, the Empire was searching for him. They'd find the empty armor, put the pieces together, realize what he was.
The hunt was only beginning.
But for the first time in five years, Davrin felt something other than helpless rage. He felt dangerous. He felt like maybe, just maybe, he could actually do this.
He moved to the mattress and sat down, exhaustion finally catching up to him. The absorption had healed his body but his mind was running on fumes. He needed sleep, needed to process everything that had happened.
Tomorrow he'd start learning how to be a weapon. Tonight, he'd dream of burning the Crimson Spire to the ground.
And finding his sister in the ashes.
End of Chapter 2