On the rain-slick streets, the blinking neon Graham of the Tony Tavern cast long shadows down the road. Kael Renard tightened his trench coat around himself, drawing down his homburg hat. He took a drag on his cigarette before lighting it and blowing smoke through his nostrils with his lighter.
Tonight was not like that, and in fact it was a difficult night. Frankie 'Fingers' Falcone, the henchman and small-time enforcer, appeared to be dead in his dumpster behind Tony Tavern. This was not the first time something like this had occurred. The former was the case, and the first incident occurred in a riverbed, where a female employee was thrown while her head was placed in a sack bag. This had been repeated six times. Every night, someone died, whether it was a man, a woman, or even a child.
With a flick of his fingers, he tossed this into a puddle, where the hissing was faint even on a quiet night. On the other side of the street, two men in black robes crouched in the shadows of an abandoned building. It was unfamiliar to them, but Kael was able to capture the image despite not seeing it on these streets. Kael did not receive his jacket, which contained his .38 special.
It was another night; Fingers was gone, he mumbled, and it was swept away in the wind. Rain beat, rain scented, and fumes from the tailpipe entered his lungs.
A gleam of a flashlight shone through the darkness as he walked around to the alley in the back of Tony Tavern. The image was horrifying: Frankie's body lay on the floor of the cobblestone street, accompanied by exploding garbage bags and a cold stare into the stars. The trash bag and his blood gave off a slightly thick cooked odor that permeated the entire scene. Kael knelt on the outside, looking for any signs. Frankie was holding a ripped playing card that depicted the Queen of Spades.
He photographed the scene with his own camera, estimating the body size, and handed it over to Johnson, the police photographer, whom he waved over.
"Johnson, I would like to see this location photographed and discussed in depth. The Queen of Spades is clearly a statement as well, because Falcone did not appear to be doing anything on his own, as far as we could tell."
Johnson nodded in agreement and started putting together his equipment.
"You think it is the Moretti crew, Kael?" Readjusting his camera, Johnson stated, "It would appear to have been—well, of course, it would have been nothing."
"Might be. They had been attempting to gain access to Falcone's territory for several months. But it could be anyone in particular. There is currently no evidence in our possession."
Kael stood up, his back aching, and looked behind him through the shadows of the streets. They stood in the shade, watching and waiting for something to happen.
When Kael looked up into the streets, he noticed an open fire. Two figures emerged from the shadows, firing blazing bullets from their pistols. Kael leaped behind a stack of cartons, sending wood flying in all directions.
He rolled to his side and removed his .38 Special from his jacket. The case involved extreme circumstances. He was outgunned, outnumbered, and trapped in an alleyway with nowhere to flee. He took a shot at the closest one and tossed the bullet over the turtle, which ricocheted off the metal dumpster and made a squalling sound.
The men continued on, their guns belching fire. Bullets were now burrowing into the crates, and splinters were flying. A bullet passed over Kael's shoulder, causing him to feel irritated. His teeth were clenched, but he ignored the pains and concentrated on the figures. He needed to get out of this small alley.
He looked around desperately, hoping to find some way out. The gateway was a one-way passage that led to a tall brick wall.
He was about to leap over the crates when he felt a sharp pain stab through his chest. There was a gasp of speechless amazement as a bullet poked through where the heart should have been, and his shirt was soaked in blood. It was pouring rain in his ears, and the pain was like a conflagration in his body. He was breathing violently, but he was unable to breathe because his lungs were filled with blood.
His vision was becoming blurry, and he noticed something in the air that seemed strange. It was like glistening, but many times more. It was now rushing down to him, like a spinning whirlpool of power. Furthermore, it felt strange and unnatural, as if the reality cloth were disemboweling him. He was drawn in by the widened break.
The shadows continued to move forward, approaching the alley. However, they appeared to sink in nonetheless. Kael's attention was now drawn to the rift, to the strange energy that was causing his death. His eyes have been turned into a tunnel vision, with the sounds of the city appearing distant. The two figures approached the alley, but Kael's gaze was not focused on them. They aimed their gun almost directly at his forehead while looking around.
Pa!
The final shot on his forehead marked the last dart of energy enveloping him before the rift swallowed him up. The world faded away from him, including light and color, and then nothing. It was just the cold, indifferent darkness.
Kael Renard stood up, gasping for air, his lungs on fire. He wheeled in confusion as he began to measure the space in which he found himself.
He sat on the cold floor, which gives flesh chills when surrounded by tall buildings that appear to defy gravity. The atmosphere was thick with a strange smell, similar to ozone, and something else.
He was unable to breathe while staring at his hands. They were thinner and more fragile and had long, narrow fingertips. He wore a wild outfit, a loose robe made of glistening, iridescent fabric, in reference to the reflection on the floor.
"W-what!?" It caused Kael Renard to gasp, his hands to shake, and his mind to be filled with ideas and confusion. The towers and floors around them had a different structure than the earth, and all the floors looked the same!
Wh-where am I? He attempted to understand where he was, but the words were alien and strange. He rubbed his throat, terrified, and squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn't his voice. He never sounded this feminine.
He stood up, and his legs weakened. Furthermore, he was feeble and perplexed. He looked around in an attempt to understand his surroundings. A large room filled with glimmering crystals that flickered with strange light quietly. The walls were decorated with ornate carvings depicting exotic beasts and fantastical landscapes.
Premonition began creeping in. He felt lonely, lost, and scared.
His gaze fell on his right hand, and he gasped in amazement. A blazing symbol was marked on the palm, a complex pattern of tangled lines and rings that glowed with a faint, warm luminosity.
Looking at the symbol, memories would flood him, causing his head to ache so badly that he would fall to his knees, as if the tower had been turned upside down.
Erynn Vael, a citizen, was born in the fragmented kingdom of Aetheris in the Spire. She is an intellectual warrior for the family. She was trained by her mentor, who was an elder seer, so that she can eventually fulfill a higher purpose. Not only that, but she did not have parents and siblings. It happened that she was an orphan of a clan war…
When she was 18 years old, Erynn began to learn and became a warrior who managed to climb the floors of the Spire but failed…
Spire's floors? The mind of Kael Renard revolved. He was looking around on one of the Spire's upper floors, which was an enormous, crumbling stone plaza beneath a starless sky, lit up with shattered statues of robed men. There were cracks in the ground that revealed a dim, glowing rift.
He was on the first floor.
This floor was The Shattered Threshold.
Kael's memories are interrupted before he discovers the cause of Erynn's fall. He was hitting the floor with his feet and even punching it.
"Dammit!"
There were numerous questions that he needed to ask. Why should he be here? He was in Erynn Veal, and there was a Shattered Threshold, but why?
Looking down at the ground, he could hear a chorus in the chamber, an eerie music that he felt deep within. The voices were ethereal, otherworldly, and filled with a sense of heartbreak.
"Seek truth in shadows." The voices sang, and the words resonated in his ears. "The Spire awaits; the path unfolds."