The sky over the metropolis burned amber as the last fragments of sunlight crept behind the jagged skyline. In Marnix District, broken neon signs flickered like dying stars above the tangled labyrinth of streets below. The air was heavy with the tang of ozone, a byproduct of the city’s technomagic reactors, and the low, pulsing hum of magi-cybernetic machinery echoed in the alleyways. It was a city on the bleeding edge of progress—an unruly amalgam of wonder and rot.
Althea Rynne pulled the hood of her cloak tightly over her face, her boots crunching softly against the grime-strewn pavement. She carried a battered leather case in one hand, its surface etched with arcane sigils that shimmered faintly under the neon glow. Inside the case was the single object every syndicate in the city-world of Lastrum sought: the Hecate Core. A device capable of bending techno-reality to its wielder’s will. And, as of two nights ago, stolen from the most powerful corporate magisterium, Lastrum Dynamics.
Althea wasn’t a hero. She wasn’t even close to a saboteur or revolutionary. She was, quite simply, a thief—although a damn good one. But what she didn’t count on was what the Core would do to her when she touched it. Ever since, her thoughts carried echoes of strangers. Whispers. Visionary glimpses of futures that didn’t yet exist. And the flare of something new in her soul—ambition.
Turning a corner, she slipped into a derelict warehouse. A dim magelight hovered near the ceiling, casting faint silver pools across the empty space. A figure waited in the shadows, cloaked in a long, high-collared coat streaked with the dark green of guild insignia. The figure exhaled a stream of smoke from a cyber-tapped cigarette, each glowing thread of smoke weaving momentarily into intricate runes before dispersing into nothingness.
“You’re late,” the man said, his tone cutting through the tension like a jagged blade. His name was Fael Lecrosse—Lastrum’s most notorious bounty hunter. His eyes gleamed, augmented irises shifting with endless spirals of glyphs scanning her every heartbeat and shift in posture. He wasn’t dressed like a corporate enforcer, but Althea knew better than to believe appearances.
“And you shouldn’t be here,” Althea replied, holding up the case. “I don’t deal with hounds or their masters. But you should know, the deal’s off if they sent you.”
Before she could react, Fael was in front of her. A vicious smile cut across his face as his cybernetic hand closed around her wrist. It felt like being bound by living steel; even the faint whirring of his magitech joints was sharp enough to make her wince. “No one breaks a deal with Lastrum Dynamics. Especially not you, Rynne. Hand it over, or I deliver your heart—beating—on a platter.”
Beneath her cloak, Althea masked a twinge of panic. But the Hecate Core pulsed at her side, its energy threading through her blood like a living current. The Core wanted something. Her. It wanted her to embrace it fully. Just the thought of it chilled her—but she was out of options. If she activated it, she couldn’t predict what would come next. All the whispered voices swirled in her mind, urging her to take the leap, to let the Core shape reality by her will.
Do it.
Time splintered around her. Fael froze mid-step, his predatory grin suspended in the ripple of fragmented molecules. The world dissolved into shards; neon lights became ribbons of liquid color, folding into a strange symphony of prismatic chaos. She realized then—the Hecate Core was alive.
And it wasn’t going to let her run anymore.
Althea dropped to her knees as her own figure began to ripple and refract. Pain and ecstasy swirled together in a dizzying storm as the Core wove its consciousness through hers, crashing into her psyche like a thousand futures colliding. She saw worlds that could be, would be, might never be. And in every twisted permutation, she played a part she had yet to comprehend.
When her senses returned, the warehouse was empty. Fael Lecrosse—the bounty hunter, her pursuer—was gone as if erased from existence. Even her own footsteps had vanished from the etheric plane. But the case she carried was now open, the Core floating just above the surface. Its patterns swirled and shifted like a living galaxy compressed into the shape of a sphere.
An unspoken truth crystallized in her chest. The Core didn’t just grant control over techno-reality. It rewrote it.
And as Althea gazed into the spiraling depths of the artifact, she realized there would be no going back. Whatever she had become was no longer hers alone. The city belonged to her now—or perhaps, more terrifyingly, she to it.
Genre: Cyberpunk/Tech Noir
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: The Style Blueprint: How [Model’s Look] Stole the Scene (And How You Can Too)
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