The doors of the Hunter Academy didn't just look like fangs.
They felt like them.
Kael stood at the base of the opening, steel gnawing up into the sky, rune-lights spitting blue flashes down onto broken asphalt. The smell of ozone — and something more regrettable. Ancient blood heated into stone.
This puts chews up ghetto rats; his intestine cautioned him. Spits out the bones.
His hand throbbed. The rune-mark had been calm since first light —a faira, gloomy scar, silver and quiet. Presently, it burned once more, like he'd gotten a live wire. He pushed the hand deep into his torn stash.
Carve it off you. That scarred Hunter's voice reverberated in his head. No doubt. Genuinely accommodating.
"State your business, scrap-meat."
A watch ventured forward, dark armor cleaned up like a reflector. Two others stood behind, their thumbs snared close shock-pistols. Their eyes raked him — the grime, the torn-up collar, shoes scarcely holding along with wire.
"Enlistment trials," Kael said, voice unpleasant. "I'm here for them."
The guard grunted. "Lost at daybreak. Beat it."
Liar. Kael had observed that the scrap market took note board for weeks. The trials ran for three days, from daybreak to nightfall.
Control is your worth, the city enjoyed whispering.
And Kael's control? It was stowing away. Hungry. And right now, attempting to burn a gap through his palm.
The rune bit him.
Kael panted, multiplied over. Violet light drained through the sleeve of his coat. The watches solidified. Shock-pistols whimpered to life.
"Contraband?" Yapped the lead watch. "Gate-sick? Final caution — walk."
Freeze frosted through him.
This is often it. Typically, how you kick the bucket — right here on the doorstep of the ones who'd rub you off their boots.
But that scarred Hunter's words came back: They'll have to take you.
Kael yanked back his sleeves.
Light detonated. Not just like the delicate gleam within the rear ways — this was rough. Silver and violet fire bent beneath his skin, tossing spiked shadows. The discussion felt off-base, like for some time recently, a door tore open.
One of the watches bumbled back. "Holy people... no brand burns like that…"
The pioneer brought down his gun, not in regard. In appall.
"Void-touched," he spat. "Get him to the dark door. Let the Assessors burn it out."
They didn't escort him.
They grouped him. Like a stray dog, no one needed to be near.
Through black-glass yards. Past clean dresses and shaggy looks.
"…slum rot…""…Void mad…""…should've been winnowed at birth…"
Kael kept his eyes down. The rune still throbbed, pulling him toward the Academy's tallest tower. Toward the entranceways past.
Not currently, he asked.
The dark entryway wasn't a door at all.
It was a chunk — dark stone, a single blood-colored rune cut deeply.
The watch hammered his hand against it. "Candidate Thorn. Unregistered rune. Suspected Void pollute."
The piece murmured open. Cold discuss hit Kael like a clenched hand.
"Move."
A push between his shoulders.
Obscurity gulped him. At that point, the rune on his hand flared, lighting smooth dividers that bent down.
Down. Continuously down.
The burrow was driven to a cavern.
Blue witch-lights drifted overhead. Three figures held up on a stone dais — hoods up, faces covered up.
"Kael Thorn," said the center one, voice resounding like from a pit. "Appearing to us."
No choice.
He lifted his hand.
Violet light was sprinkled over them.
The cleared figure pointed. "Obscure reverberation. Where'd you take it?"
"Didn't take. Found a pendant. East Periphery Door. It broke… this happened."
"Liar!" the proper one murmured.
The center raised a hand. Quiet.
"The door, it inquired, voice like ice. "Did it call to you?"
Kael thought of the drag. The dull knowing.
"…Yes."
The Assessors murmured between themselves.
"Voidborne," the center said. "Unsafe. But control is control. The city is starving for weapons. Pot Course. Observed. If you drop to it, we extract."
Kael gulped. "Caught on."
"Go. Sleeping enclosure 9. Day break."
As Kael turned, the proper Assessor murmured: "Stamp him."
A prick at his neck. He spun — no one there.
Fair a tie underneath his skin.
Tracker. Harm. Commencement. He didn't know.
Kael Thorn ventured from the chamber. Interior the Institute.
The cage entryway had closed.
End of Chapter 3.