Rise of the Shadow god

Garret's Trail

Garret was alive.

Axel had seen him pulled from the wreckage of the Rust Pit. He'd watched the Council operatives drag him into that armored transport. And now, three days later, he was still out there, still breathing, still walking free.

That was about to change.

Axel sat in the corner of the bunker, his father's journal open in his lap. He'd read it a hundred times, but tonight he was looking for something specific. A name. A location. Anything that would lead him to Garret.

His eyes settled on a passage near the back. His father's handwriting was cramped, hurried:

"The Council's primary informant in the Fringe operates under the alias 'Reaper.' He coordinates sacrifice deliveries and manages the Vessel selection process. His base is believed to be in the eastern sector, near the old water treatment plant."

Reaper.

That was Garret. It had to be.

Axel closed the journal and stood. His body ached, but the wound in his shoulder had healed almost completely. The Protocol was accelerating his recovery faster than he'd expected.

He looked across the bunker. His father was still unconscious on the cot, Hazel monitoring his vitals. Kael was asleep against the far wall, his rifle cradled in his arms.

Axel moved silently toward the door.

---

"The water treatment plant," Mira said, her voice flat. "You want to go there tonight?"

Axel stood in her small kitchen, a map spread across the table. Mira had been awake when he emerged from the bunker, her eyes sharp despite the late hour.

"Garret is there," Axel said. "I'm going to find him."

Mira studied him for a long moment. "You know it's a trap, right? The Council knows you're looking for him. They've been waiting for you to make a move."

"I know."

"You're walking into their hands."

Axel met her gaze. "Then I'll cut my way out."

Mira shook her head, but there was something like respect in her eyes. "Stubborn. Just like your father."

"You knew him?"

"I knew of him." Mira turned to the stove, pouring herself a cup of bitter coffee. "Marcus was a legend in the Fringe. One of the few Hunters who refused to bow to the Guilds. He fought for the people, not the profit."

Axel felt something warm in his chest. "He was a good man."

"He was. And he'd probably tell you that walking into a trap is the dumbest thing you could do."

Axel almost smiled. "Probably."

Mira sighed. "If you're determined to go, at least take Kael with you. And don't be a hero. You get the information you need, and you get out."

"I will."

---

The water treatment plant loomed in the darkness like a rusted skeleton.

It had been abandoned for decades—a sprawling complex of concrete tanks, corroded pipes, and skeletal towers that reached toward the gray sky. The Council had repurposed it as a black-site facility, hidden in plain sight.

Axel and Kael approached from the north, using the cover of collapsed buildings and overgrown brush. The perimeter was guarded, but the guards were lax—they didn't expect anyone to find this place.

"Two guards at the main entrance," Kael murmured. "Three on the roof. Probably more inside."

Axel studied the layout. "There's a drainage pipe on the east side. It leads into the basement."

"And if it's locked?"

"Then we make a new entrance."

---

The drainage pipe was unlocked.

Axel lowered himself into the darkness, his boots splashing in stagnant water. The pipe was narrow, forcing him to crouch. Kael followed behind, his breathing controlled.

They emerged in a basement storage room. Crates and equipment lined the walls. A single door led to a dimly lit corridor.

Axel pressed his ear to the door. Voices. Two of them. Casual conversation.

He signaled to Kael. Three fingers. Two. One.

Axel pushed the door open and moved.

The two operatives were standing near a table, their backs turned. Axel's blade caught the first one across the back of the neck. He dropped without a sound. The second operative turned, his eyes widening—and Kael's rifle butt connected with his skull.

Two bodies on the floor.

"Clear," Kael whispered.

Axel nodded. They moved into the corridor.

---

The facility was a maze of identical hallways and locked doors. Axel followed the sound of voices, the distant hum of machinery, the faint pulse of mana energy.

Then he heard it.

Garret's voice. Arrogant. Unafraid.

"I told you, the Vessel is mine. I brought him to the Council. I should be the one to collect the reward."

Axel's blood went cold.

He rounded a corner and saw Garret standing in an open room, talking to a Council operative. Garret was wearing expensive gear now—new armor, new weapons, the signs of someone who'd been rewarded for his betrayal.

Axel stepped into the room.

"Garret."

The man spun. His face went pale, then flushed with anger.

"You. You're supposed to be dead."

"I keep hearing that." Axel's voice was flat. "And I keep proving it wrong."

The Council operative reached for his weapon. Kael's rifle fired—a single shot that struck the operative's arm, forcing him to drop the weapon. He stumbled backward, clutching his wound.

Kael stepped forward, his rifle trained on the operative. "Don't move."

Axel walked toward Garret. "You sold me out. You sold all of us out. For money."

Garret's lip curled. "You were nothing. A scavenger. A Corpse-Eater. You think you're special now just because the Council wants you?"

"I think you're going to tell me everything you know about the Council. Their bases. Their operatives. Their plans."

Garret laughed—a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I'm afraid of you?"

Axel moved. His hand closed around Garret's throat and slammed him against the wall. Garret's eyes bulged.

"You should be," Axel said quietly.

---

The interrogation took ten minutes.

Garret broke quickly. He was a coward at heart, and his survival instinct was stronger than his loyalty to the Council.

"The Council has three main facilities," he gasped, his voice choked. "One in the eastern sector—you already hit that one. One in the northern sector, near the border. And one deep inside the Primordial Rift."

"The Primordial Rift?"

"It's where they keep their research. The Vessel program. The experiments." Garret's eyes darted. "I don't know the exact location. No one does except the Inner Circle."

Axel's grip tightened. "Who's in the Inner Circle?"

"I don't know their real names. They use codenames." Garret's voice cracked. "The Warden. The Seer. The Architect. They're the ones who run the whole operation."

Axel studied him. "And what about the God-King? What's its connection to the Council?"

Garret's face went pale. "The God-King is the Council's ultimate goal. They believe it's the source of all power in the Rifts. They've been trying to free it for decades, but it's too powerful to contain. That's why they need the Vessel—someone strong enough to hold its essence."

"And what happens to the Vessel?"

Garret looked away. "The Vessel is... consumed. The God-King takes over. The host's consciousness is erased."

Axel felt something cold settle in his chest.

He released Garret. The man slumped to the floor.

"One more question," Axel said. "Where are you taking the sacrifices?"

Garret's eyes flickered. "The northern facility. It's where they gather the candidates for the Vessel program. It's where they conduct the... preparations."

Axel nodded. "Good. That's all I needed."

He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Garret's voice was desperate. "You can't just leave me here. The Council will kill me."

"That's not my problem."

"You owe me—"

Axel stopped. He turned and looked at Garret with cold eyes.

"I don't owe you anything. You left me to die. You betrayed everyone who trusted you. You sold people to the Council like they were livestock." Axel's voice was flat. "If you want to survive, you'll figure out how. That's what you're good at, isn't it?"

He walked away.

---

They found the surveillance room on the second floor.

Kael disabled the two guards while Axel studied the screens. The facility's cameras covered every angle—the perimeter, the entrance, the corridors, the research labs.

And one screen showed something that made him stop.

A woman. Silver-streaked hair. Sharp features. She was walking through a laboratory, surrounded by Council operatives.

Axel recognized her. She'd been watching him for days, always in the shadows, always observing.

Who was she?

"I found something," Kael said. "An access log. Someone's been accessing the Vessel files from an external terminal."

Axel turned. "Who?"

Kael's face was pale. "The logs show an unknown user. Codename: Nova."

Nova.

The silver-haired woman.

She was a Council operative.