the neon graveyard

The fall felt like an eternity. They crashed through a series of rusted cooling vents before slamming into a pile of discarded circuitry. Litus coughed, the metallic taste of the Slums filling his lungs.

"Get up," Kael hissed, pulling him into the shadow of a crumbling skyscraper. "The fall didn't kill us, but the 'Scavengers' will if they see that glow on your skin."

Litus looked at his arms. The blue veins were still pulsing, emitting a faint, ghostly light. "I can't turn it off," he whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"It's because you're hungry for answers," Kael replied, checking the alleyway. "The Instinct feeds on intent. If you don't calm your mind, you're a lighthouse in a sea of sharks."

Suddenly, the hum of the city changed. Shadows detached themselves from the walls. A group of men with rusted metal plating fused to their jaws and glowing mechanical eyes emerged from the darkness. They weren't soldiers; they were the desperate, the ones the "Wealthy" had thrown away.

"That's a pretty book you've got there, kid," the leader said, sparks flying from a makeshift stun-baton. "Looks expensive. Looks like... a ticket out of here."

Litus stepped forward. He didn't want to kill them—they were victims too. But as he gripped the silver pendant, the air around him began to crystallize. The ground cracked under his feet, frost spreading in a perfect circle.

"Stay back," Litus said, his voice echoing with a depth that wasn't his own.

The Scavengers froze. It wasn't just the cold; it was the sudden weight in the air. For a moment, Litus didn't look like a boy. He looked like a fragment of the Mountain itself.