Morning arrived like a slow, indifferent blade. Leximus opened his eyes, expecting the familiar rot of his old slum ceiling—but found only cold, unyielding cement above him. Sterile. Oppressive. He lay there, suspended in hollow quiet, before forcing himself upright. The heavy, white blanket slid from his shoulders to the floor. Pressing a hand to his face, he whispered, So… it wasn't a dream. His mind clawed at yesterday's events. Every flicker, every shadow—real. Too real.
He moved to the window. The town sprawled beneath him, sunlit and cruelly precise. Black chimneys pierced the sky. Whitewashed walls gleamed with merciless perfection. A chill snaked down his spine. In the slums, sunlight was a myth; here, it mocked him. Anger coiled in his chest like iron. They breathe clean air. They sleep warm. While we rot. All for coins. Unfair.
He turned away, swallowing bile, and stepped into the bathroom. Gleaming metal pipes reflected the morning like trophies of arrogance. A mirror twice the size of any he had known reflected him back—a pale, unfamiliar self, goosebumps raised across his skin, eyes dark, smile forced. Too cold… so I didn't, he murmured, hating his own hesitation.
Frigid water hissed from the tap, spilling into a silver bucket. His gaze clung to it, haunted. If I join… will I gain it? Or is it a birthright I can never seize? If it's birthright, then nothing I do matters. He paced the small room, eyes scanning shadows, tracing corners, imagining the Avatars he would one day face—monsters even his soul quailed to recognize.
A sudden chill beneath his foot made him freeze. Water had spilled—forgotten, cold. He shut off the tap, shoved the bucket aside, and stepped into the stream. The chill was a blade, cutting through memory and will. He could not escape it. The slums clung to him, in smell, in stain, in memory. Twice-daily baths were ritual, a fragile armor against the stench of survival.
Wrapped in a towel, Leximus faced the next barrier: clothing. Fabric held scent like a ghost, and his own garments reeked of the slums. Then his eyes fell on a brown box atop the study table. Relief. Inside, clean clothes: high-collared white shirt, black thin tie, jeans, black windbreaker, dim gray overcoat, polished black leather boots. He dressed swiftly, stowing the old garments, and descended the stairs.
At the bottom, the receptionist waited. "You're just the person I was looking for. Follow me." Her voice was crisp, controlled, predatory. She led him to the dining area. A man in gray sat waiting, the table set with the aromas of breakfast.
"Good to see they fit," Sirius said, rising to shake his hand. Leximus nodded quietly and took his seat. The receptionist removed the box with careful precision.
"Eat. You didn't yesterday," Sirius commanded. Hunger gnawed at him, suspicion at his back. Each bite was necessity, not pleasure. When he finished, Sirius dismissed the box. "Forget it. Let's go." Leximus held his questions; the wrong word here could cost more than comfort.
The carriage ride was silent, Sirius' calm authority almost unsettling. "Your hair is as shaggy as ever. Now… I will explain. Then you will choose."
He paused, letting the silence stretch like a knife. "The Nightcrawlers operate from the capital. We hunt Avatars who break the law." Leximus nodded cautiously.
"The Law of Ascendants governs all. The man who destroyed your family… he is an Avatar. Top of our list. That is all you may know, for now."
Leximus' jaw tightened. "That's it? Too little."
Sirius' faint smile was a shadow on his face. "Tell you more, and I break the law. Ordinary people cannot know such truths. You will, once you are one of us."
A chill of realization crawled through him. This power… it can be acquired.
The carriage halted before a two-story building of precise elegance. Whitewashed walls gleamed with gold trim; small window gardens gave a surreal calm. Sirius stopped before a blank wall. Leximus frowned. Then the wall shifted—a door forming from nothingness.
Inside the elevator, Sirius' voice cut the silence. "Those flowers… Podica. Stare too long, and they claim you. Step too far, and frustration freezes you."
"A warning would have sufficed," Leximus muttered.
"Experience… is more enlightening," Sirius replied, a faint, cruel chuckle in his tone.
The elevator groaned. Lanterns along dim hallway panels cast shadows alive with secret.
"Why show me this if I haven't agreed?" Leximus asked.
"To give you no choice," Sirius said. "This is your chance… to gain the power to find your sister, to avenge your parents."
They reached a massive metallic door. Sirius' face hardened. "Do you wish to join the Nightcrawlers?"
"Yes," Leximus breathed.
"Do you want the power I showed yesterday?"
Another nod.
Sirius knocked thrice. The door groaned open, cold breath exhaling like a curse. Ten cloaked boys darted past. Leximus hesitated. Sirius beckoned him forward.
The room was alive. Candles in four corners cast flickering shadows that twisted with intent. A black, shimmering double circle sprawled across the floor; strange symbols writhed between the lines. A yellow-haired man approached.
"Well, Sirius, it's ready. Begin?" his tone sharp.
"Step into the circle," Sirius commanded. "You wanted power, yes?"
Leximus obeyed. Calvin, the yellow-haired man, placed a brown sheet on the floor and chanted:"Blessings stem from the sources above; may you judge this soul and justify its placement."
The air pressed down, tightening around him like chains. Symbols writhed. Darkness devoured the edges of his vision.
He awoke—not as he, but as a one-year-old. Two figures loomed, impossibly familiar. Papa… Mama? Panic surged. Faces blurred. Then—horrific death. Blood. Twisted limbs. Rage and vengeance ignited like wildfire.
A figure with light brown eyes appeared. "Sorry, kid… I can't kill you." A blow struck, and unconsciousness claimed him.
Back in his body, Paul and Sarah smiled—then disappeared, murdered before his eyes. Whispers clawed at him: Avenge us, Lex.
The floor became liquid. Emotion collided: fear, warmth, horror, hatred. A black tentacle with a purple outline seized him. White, glowing hands reached, beckoning. A cold voice whispered,Do you want them… or revenge? I can give you the power to find… Sheila. Choose wisely.
Hatred surged. He grabbed the tentacle, pulling downward. Candle flames shuddered; black liquid splashed across the room; shadows contorted violently. Sirius and Calvin were thrown back.
Voices clawed at his mind: The unlit chamber… The Eve Mountains… The Scroll of Erised. Shadows twisted, symbols burned. Pain tore through his head; pupils turned violet.
Leximus screamed, collapsing to his knees. Power surged, unrelenting. The chamber trembled. Darkness swallowed him.