Chapter 3: Beneath the Glow

The storm had passed, leaving Mingo Harbor under a pale, eerie calm. The sky, dimmed by layers of smog and outdated holograms, seemed to press down on the Harbor’s winding streets. The air smelled of wet iron and oil, and Coza found himself weaving through the narrow alleys with the caution of a shadow. His pulse had not slowed since the Verge. Every corner felt like a threat, every sound like a harbinger of his capture.

The sphere, its faint hum a constant presence in his coat pocket, seemed almost alive now. Coza resisted the urge to pull it out again, even as his mind nagged at him with questions. What did the artifact want? Or worse—what did it do? He had no answers, only the heavy certainty that whatever he had stumbled into, it would not be simple to escape.

Ahead, the alley opened into a forgotten plaza. Coza hesitated, scanning the space. The remnants of an old market lined the square, the skeletal frames of stalls draped in faded tarps that flapped weakly in the wind. A few vagrants sat in the shadows, their faces hidden beneath patchwork cloaks. None looked up as Coza passed.

He moved quickly, his boots splashing through shallow puddles. His lens flickered faintly, but its map offered no useful guidance here. This part of the Harbor was a blind spot—unmapped, unregulated, and utterly silent.

A voice startled him. “Looking for something?”

Coza spun, his heart lurching in his chest. An old man stood by one of the crumbling stalls, his silhouette hunched and wiry. His skin was weathered, his eyes obscured by thick goggles that reflected the dim light of the plaza. He leaned on a cane that looked more like a broken piece of scaffolding, but his voice carried an unsettling strength.

“No,” Coza replied, his hand instinctively brushing against the pocket where the sphere lay hidden. “Just passing through.”

The old man tilted his head, the lenses of his goggles clicking faintly. “No one passes through here. They come for reasons they don’t yet understand.” He pointed the cane at Coza’s coat. “And they leave with reasons they wish they hadn’t found.”

Coza stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” The man took a step closer, his movements slow but deliberate. “Things like that,” he gestured to Coza’s pocket, “are never lost by accident. They’re meant to be found—by someone.”

Coza clenched his fists, unease crawling up his spine. “You don’t know what this is.”

“No,” the man admitted, his voice dropping to a rasp. “But I know what it brings. Trouble. Pain. And choices you won’t want to make.”

Before Coza could respond, the sound of heavy boots echoed from the far side of the plaza. He turned sharply, his pulse spiking. Two figures emerged from the shadows, their faces obscured by reflective visors. Their movements were deliberate, calculated, and they carried weapons slung across their shoulders.

The old man gave a dry chuckle. “It seems your reasons have caught up with you.”

Coza didn’t wait. He darted toward a narrow side alley, his heart hammering as the shouts of the pursuers rose behind him. The old man’s laughter lingered in the plaza, faint and mocking, as Coza disappeared into the darkness.

The alley sloped downward, leading into a series of interconnected tunnels that smelled of mildew and rust. Coza’s boots splashed through stagnant water as he ran, the faint beam of his neural lens casting long shadows on the crumbling walls. His chest burned, but he didn’t slow. The tunnels were uncharted, even by the Harbor’s standards, but they were his only hope of evading the armed figures.

Behind him, the sound of pursuit grew louder. Footsteps echoed ominously, and a harsh, metallic voice barked commands. They were using trackers, he realized with a jolt. His lens flashed a warning—his neural signature was being pinged.

Cursing under his breath, Coza yanked the lens off his temple and hurled it into the water. The pursuing steps faltered for a moment, and he took the chance to dart down a side passage, his hand gripping the slick wall for balance. The tunnel grew narrower, its ceiling dripping with condensation. The hum of the sphere grew louder, its rhythm almost soothing in the chaos.

Suddenly, the passage opened into a cavernous space—a massive chamber lined with rusted pipes and industrial scaffolding. The air was thick and heavy, and the faint sound of machinery reverberated through the walls. Coza slowed, his eyes scanning the room for an exit. Above, faint shafts of light filtered through cracks in the ceiling, illuminating the space in hazy streaks.

A noise made him freeze. He turned sharply, his breath catching as he spotted movement in the shadows. But it wasn’t one of his pursuers. It was... something else.

The figure emerged slowly, its form humanoid but distinctly wrong. Its limbs were too long, its movements too fluid, as though it were more machine than flesh. Its eyes glowed faintly, a pale, unblinking light that sent a chill down Coza’s spine.

For a moment, neither moved. Then, the creature tilted its head, its gaze fixed on Coza. A low, mechanical growl emanated from its chest, and Coza realized with a jolt that it wasn’t alone. Other shadows moved in the chamber, their shapes shifting and merging with the darkness.

The sphere pulsed, its glow brightening. The creatures reacted instantly, their movements sharp and deliberate as they advanced toward him. Coza backed away, his mind racing. He didn’t know what these things were or why they were here, but it was clear they were drawn to the artifact—and they weren’t here to negotiate.

Coza ran. The creatures gave chase, their movements disturbingly silent despite their size. He darted through the chamber, his boots slipping on the damp floor as he searched for a way out. The air seemed to hum with tension, the sphere’s glow lighting his path in erratic bursts.

Ahead, a ladder jutted out from the wall, leading up to a rusted hatch. Coza lunged for it, his fingers gripping the cold metal as he began to climb. Below, the creatures gathered, their glowing eyes watching him with eerie precision. One of them leapt, its clawed hand swiping at his boot, but Coza kicked out, dislodging the creature and sending it crashing to the ground.

He reached the hatch and shoved it open, the hinges protesting with a loud groan. Rain greeted him as he pulled himself up, the cold wind stinging his face. He was on the roof of a crumbling structure, the Harbor’s endless sprawl stretching out before him.

Behind him, the hatch slammed open. Coza turned, his chest heaving as he prepared to face whatever came next. But the creatures didn’t follow. They hovered at the edge of the opening, their glowing eyes fixed on him before retreating back into the darkness.

Coza didn’t linger. He moved across the rooftop, his thoughts swirling. The creatures, the sphere, the pursuers—they were all pieces of a puzzle he didn’t yet understand. But one thing was clear: this wasn’t going to end quietly.

The Harbor loomed below, a chaotic maze of light and shadow. Somewhere in its depths lay answers. For now, Coza could only keep moving.