Prologue – City of Progress, City of Change

Lieutenant Executor Eunon Sern gazed out over a city of pilfered starlight, built upon the bones of gods. He puffed on his cigarette and exhaled a smoky sigh into the pleasant evening breeze.

The cityscape extended endlessly before his balcony, filled with a million lights. The pale blue glow seemed to softly pulse, a heartbeat that bled into the sky.

Marvels of engineering scraped against infinity. A tower twisting in on itself in an impossible knot, a floating, inverted pyramid, and a skyscraper like a knife of polished obsidian broke up the skyline.

Northmark, capital of the Concord. The greatest city in the world. A hub for commerce, immigration, and technological development.

Sern dragged his cigarette down to the butt and flicked it over the side of the eight-story building. He headed back through the glass doors inside his spacious apartment. He was met by a gentle warmth.

His home reflected his personality. The decor was sparse and utilitarian, but with plenty of room for self-expression in between. The living room took up most of his apartment, and was where he spent most of his leisure time.

He’d had the place soundproofed a few months ago. No one could be privy to his less innocent endeavors.

Someone knocked on his front door. A few furtive taps.

Ah. That must be her.

“One moment!” Sern called.

He headed into his office and slumped in the chair behind his desk. He loosened his tie, reached into a drawer and pulled out a marble board laden with a dusting of fine herbal powder.

A little pick-me-up before the fun starts.

Rainbow.

He placed the board on the desktop, licked his finger, and gathered up powder on his digit. He smeared it on his teeth, leaned back, and waited for the magic.

It took only seconds for the gene-altered herb to kick in. With it, the world finally fell into focus. He was a blind man seeing. Every color was thick as paint. Every detail stood out knife-sharp. Every minute perception was a revelation.

He gasped.

Rainbow never lost its novelty.

More knocking.

“I’ll be with you shortly!” he called, sucking the last bit of Rainbow off his index finger. He stood and strode over to the front door, his mind slower as it clung to every detail, every texture, every speck of dust.

Opening the door, he gazed upon a rare beauty. Her body was modified, no doubt by the very same underground mages he got paid to arrest. Her scent was strong and intoxicating, flowery sweetness masking a vulgar musk.

Her skin was milky-white and shimmery, delicate like porcelain, contrasting against black hair. She had large eyes and pillowy lips. A barely restrained bust over an impossibly thin waist. Wide, flared hips coupled with thick legs which tapered into slender ankles and delicate feet.

“Why, aren’t you a treat,” Sern said, unable to keep a smile off his lips. “You did as I asked?”

The prostitute nodded. “Yes, I came in through the back.” She returned his smile and glanced inside the apartment. “So… ready to have some fun?”

Sern took her coat. He guided her inside. “You have no idea.”

It had been a hard week at work. He needed some fun. Deserved it.

He paid upfront, dropping hecto-glints into a specially designed metal slot in the woman’s arm. She pushed him playfully onto the couch and nestled up against him, drowning him in her scent. Sern stared into deep, dark eyes.

“You’re modded?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” she purred, already leading a trail of kisses up his stubbly neck—wet and soft. His toes curled, skin buzzing.

“Let me see.”

The woman leaned back and straddled his legs. She grinned, flashing straight, white teeth, and gaped. Her mouth opened wider than should have been possible, jaw unhinging with a click. A ribbed tongue slithered out and coiled around itself like a wet snake.

Sern smiled. “That’ll do just fine.”

The prostitute leaned down and Sern kicked back, throwing his arms over the backrest. He let his eyes drift shut and spasmed with sensory impressions as she unbuttoned his shirt and dragged her long tongue down his stomach.

Wrapped up in clouds, Sern could finally rest. He was able to momentarily forget the guilt that stuck to him like glue, the horror that came with his profession.

Truther. Dog of the government.

Time became immaterial. It washed over him like rain. He didn’t know whether minutes or hours went by, only vaguely aware of his surroundings.

A sting in his chest made him jerk, fog parting. He frowned, unwilling to return to the present.

Did I take too much? No, that was only a moderate dose. I should be fine.

He opened his eyes and started. The woman in front of him was not the one he had let into his home. Red hair, blue eyes, rosy skin. Sharp, unflattering features. She fussed over his chest, her brows drawn into a frown.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” the woman said.

Sern became aware of the scent of smoke. Something burning.

He looked down.

A short, bluish flame extended from the woman’s finger, tracing a seared line into his pectoral muscle.

The pain became acute, a symphony of fried nerves. He pushed the woman away, scrambling in a panic, and fell over the edge of the couch with a sharp jolt.

He got on all fours, chest thumping. He saw a pair of shoes, looked up, and stared right into a man’s eyes. They were dark, almost black, contrasting with a shock of bright blue hair.

“Good evening, Eunon,” the man said. “Might we trouble you for a minute?”

Sern glanced between his office and the front door. The door was closer. He could try to get past the blue-haired man. Escape, call for help. He kept his gun in the desk drawer, though. If he reached it, he could defend himself.

He had been through rough times before. He could do this.

Okay, need to decide. Need to…

“You’re contemplating a difficult choice,” the man said. “Let me make it easier for you.” He pulled a pistol from the pocket of his dark blue hoodie and pointed it squarely at Sern’s head.

Sern flinched. It was his own gun.

“W-who are you?” he spluttered. “What happened to the girl?”

“How chivalrous of you to consider her safety. Don’t worry, she left a while ago. Seems you lost track of time. As for us, we’re your killers. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re dead. Your heart’s still beating, but we can rectify that.”

“Is this a dream?”

The blue-haired man shook his head, smiling. “Nothing quite so convenient for you. If it means anything, I voted to kill you first and brand you after. My associate here wanted a more… personal touch.”

“I want you to feel what we do to you,” the woman said from behind him. “Scum like you don’t deserve a quick death.”

Sern sat up on his knees. He glanced between the two attackers. He had fired a gun before, but had never been on the receiving end of one.

“Don’t bother calling for help,” the male attacker said. “You had the place soundproofed, remember?”

The man was vaguely familiar. That hair.

Doesn’t matter, he thought, forcing himself to focus. If I don’t do something right now, they’re just going to kill me. Evil wins. I need to move.

His legs were stiff with fear. What was wrong with him? Why wouldn’t he move?

He took a deep breath, steeled himself.

The blue-haired man stared into his eyes, face perfectly dull as if this was all routine to him.

This is it. This is it. Come on, do it. Move!

Sern leapt up. He rushed the male attacker, shoved his hand to the side. A shot went off, missing him. He pushed past the man, ran for the door, heartbeat like a drum in his ears. Just a few steps.

He’d be saved.

A second shot rang out.

Ice lanced through Sern’s left thigh, followed by blooming fire that made the muscle tense up. His leg gave out and he fell face first, body shuddering with quick, uneven breaths.

“Good for you, Eunon,” the man said. “You’ve got a little spunk somewhere in there. I didn’t expect that.”

“Why…?” Sern gasped. He managed to flip around onto his back. “Why are you doing this?” He looked into the eyes of the blue-haired man, meeting his gaze. If he maintained eye contact, maybe the man would back down. It was a nearly impossible task to kill someone while looking them in the eye, in his experience.

“A question with multiple answers,” the man said.

“You’re a murderer, a torturer, an accomplice to tyrants,” the woman continued, walking up to her blue-haired counterpart. “Remember Cilia Armyre? We know about that. She was eight years old. You had her put down like a dog. A bullet to the back of the head. Why?”

Sern closed his eyes. He remembered her face but had forgotten her name. Cilia.

“There were orders,” he said. “I had no choice.”

“Bullshit!” the woman growled. She stomped towards him, but the blue-haired man held up a hand and she restrained herself.

“Your greatest crime, however, is far more mundane,” the man said. “You are an adept administrator. Your talents lie in managing large-scale systems. You could coordinate troop movements in your sleep. Which is why you have to be taken off the board.”

Sern looked up, staring into the man’s eyes. There was something familiar about him.

The gun came up.

Sern’s eyes widened.

I know him.

“Wait!” Sern exclaimed. “I know you! You’re—”

A third gunshot echoed off the walls.

Sern’s vision went white, then abruptly faded to black.