⟢───── Ashes × Aether ─────⟣
X’OMNERA — THE PULSE DISTRICT — LOWER MARKET
The Pulse never stopped.
Music spilled from open stalls in overlapping loops as crowds folded in on themselves. Vendors barked prices. Neon signage pulsed.
Triple Kill moved with it.
Talla walked ahead, arms looped with bags.
Riven drifted sideways through the lane, earbuds in. His attention bounced between sound sources. A beat here. A melody there. He let the city play itself.
Set stayed just behind them.
He carried a few of Talla’s bags. His eyes stayed up.
The market thinned for half a block, then thickened again.
That was when it happened.
A shoulder clipped Talla’s arm.
One of the bags slipped free. Hit stone. Rolled. The clasp popped.
YoYos scattered across the street, flashing neon as they bounced. One skittered farther than the rest, spinning once before stopping beneath a boot.
The crowd closed in around them, hands already reaching.
Talla turned.
“Hey—”
She stopped.
Three men stood where the lane narrowed. Young. Relaxed. Their posture read loose but experienced.
One of them looked down at the YoYo that rolled under his foot.
Didn’t move.
“Careful,” he said, smiling like it was a joke they all shared.
Talla crouched and gathered the rest. Slapping away hands that didn’t belong there. Her movements deliberate. When she reached for the last one, the boot remained planted.
Set stepped forward.
One pace.
The young man’s eyes lifted.
They met.
A flicker of recognition passed through the young man’s expression.
“Oh,” he said. “You’re the cat.”
The word landed.
Riven pulled one earbud free. The music stopped. He watched the young man’s face.
The young man rocked his weight slightly, heel grinding the YoYo once before lifting just enough to reveal it.
“You dropped something,” he said.
Talla straightened.
She didn’t reach again.
Set shifted his weight. His presence began to fill the space between them, heavy.
The man glanced at him, then past him, scanning the street like he owned it.
“Not you,” he said to Set.
Then, to Talla.
“You.”
Set didn’t break eye contact.
Riven spoke instead, voice calm, clear.
“Pick your foot up.”
The young man looked at him. Really looked.
Then he laughed.
“Or what?”
Set answered this time.
“I’ll remove your leg and do it for you.”
His claws refracted.
The words sat where they were placed, certain and complete.
A murmur moved through the small group.
The lane felt tighter.
Talla held his gaze. Her hands were empty now. Her posture stayed upright.
The man watched her for a moment longer than necessary. Then he shifted his foot.
The YoYo rolled free.
It stopped against Talla’s shoe.
A crack split its casing.
“Consider it tuition,” he said.
He turned away.
The others followed, slipping back into the crowd with practiced ease, bodies already dissolving into motion.
One of them looked back.
His eyes landed on Set first. Then Riven.
“Tell Otto we said what’s up.”
Then they were gone.
The Pulse swallowed them whole.
Talla never bent down and picked up the cracked YoYo. Her expression stayed even.
Set looked at it. Just once.
Riven watched the direction they’d disappeared, memorizing direction, appearances, voices.
The line had already been crossed.
And all three of them felt it.
“Let’s go.” Talla led.
They moved.
⟢───── Ashes × Aether ─────⟣