THE RELIC OF VEINS

CHAPTER 2 - THE WHISPERING RELIC

Rain hit the asphalt like static. The hospital behind them still burned, sirens painting the smoke red and blue. Bruce didn’t move.

He just watched Lena through the mist, both of them haloed by the wreckage. “Vein Council, huh?” he said at last. “Sounds like a cult with better business cards.”

Lena smirked faintly. “We’re the people who stop the world from tearing itself apart. You, right now, are what we call a leak.”

“Cute.” He adjusted the burned collar of his jacket. “You got a name for everyone who survives a miracle?”

“Only the ones who glow like a furnace.”

Her eyes flicked down, his skin still shimmered faintly under the rain. Bruce stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It’s just blood pressure.”

“It’s resonance,” she said quietly. “And if you don’t get control of it, you’ll combust.”

Bruce gave a dry laugh. “Lady, I’ve been on fire all night. I’m still breathing.”

“Exactly.”

The silence stretched, filled by the hiss of rain on ash. Finally, she tilted her head toward a black sedan parked by the curb. “Get in. We talk where cameras can’t.”

“Hard pass.”

“You died, Bruce.” Her voice hardened. “You think hospitals write that off as a clerical error? The Council’s already inbound. If they get here first, you won’t get a second resurrection.”

Something in her tone flat, certain, made him hesitate. The relic in his chest pulsed once. She’s not lying. He sighed. “Fine. But you’re driving.”

Inside the car, the world went quiet. The hum of the engine, the soft thrum of rain on metal, peaceful, almost unreal. Bruce leaned back. “So. You’re what? Some secret agency with wizards on payroll?”

“Not wizards.” Lena’s hands rested steady on the wheel. “Resonants. People whose Veins have awakened.”

“You keep saying that word like it’s supposed to mean something.”

She glanced at him. “Veins are the channels between body and soul. Everyone has them, dormant. When something traumatic enough happens, death, near-death, overwhelming pain, they open. And when they open, something answers.”

“Something like what’s inside me?”

Her eyes flickered to his chest. “Exactly like that.”

Bruce rubbed his sternum, feeling the faint throb beneath. “It talks.”

“That’s not uncommon.”

“I didn’t say I liked it.”

She smiled faintly. “They rarely care what we like.”

He stared out the window. City lights smeared across the glass. For a moment, he thought he saw faces reflected there, blurred, whispering, but when he blinked, it was just rain.

“Why me?” he asked after a while. “I’m nobody. A medic who barely pays rent.”

Lena shrugged. “That’s how it starts. Power doesn’t pick saints. It picks survivors.”

He frowned. “And what, you just—collect us?”

“Contain you. Train you if you’re stable. Eliminate you if you’re not.”

Bruce turned to her slowly. “Eliminate.”

She didn’t flinch. “You think you’re the first who came back burning?”

He let out a dry chuckle. “And here I thought this night couldn’t get worse.”

“It can,” she said. “Trust me.”

They turned down a narrow side street, industrial zone, warehouses, shuttered factories. The car stopped before an old building marked VEIN EMERGENCY RESPONSE UNIT – CITY DEPT. OF HEALTH. The sign was peeling, but the air around it shimmered faintly.

Bruce felt the relic pulse again. “Something wrong?” Lena asked.

“It’s… buzzing.”

“It feels energy. There’s a containment field here. Keeps people like us from frying the city grid.”

He gave her a wary look. “You make this sound normal.”

“For us, it is.”

She led him inside. The interior looked like a cross between a morgue and a military lab. Cold metal tables, rows of glowing monitors, the faint hum of machines not designed for medicine.

Two figures waited near the back, one, an older man in a gray coat; the other, a woman with silver implants running down her arms. Both turned when Lena entered.

“Another stray?” the woman asked. Her voice carried an electric hiss.

“Found him at the crash site,” Lena replied. “Resonated during the fire.”

The man approached Bruce, studying him with a physician’s calm. “Name?”

“Bruce Willis.”

“Occupation?”

“Medic. Sometimes street fights.”

The man’s gaze sharpened. “You’re bleeding energy.”

“I’ve had a rough night.”

He gestured toward a scanner. “Step in.”

Bruce crossed his arms. “Not until someone tells me what the hell’s going on.”

The silver-armed woman scoffed. “Typical newborn, thinks rules bend for him.”

“Easy, Myra,” Lena said. “He’s still processing.”

Bruce smirked. “Processing that I woke up in a morgue or that you people play Ghostbusters with fireballs?”

“Both,” Myra said. “Now get in the damn scanner before you melt the floor.”

He hesitated, then sighed and stepped in. The machine whirred, casting a red light over his body. A holographic outline appeared, his skeleton, veins glowing crimson like rivers of magma.

“Jesus,” Bruce muttered.

Lena leaned in, studying the readout. “I’ve never seen resonance that concentrated. It’s in his bloodstream.”

“Not just his,” the older man murmured. “Look there, chest cavity. There’s an anomaly.”

Bruce tensed. “You mean the rock.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Show me.”

Bruce hesitated, then unzipped his shirt. Beneath the skin, just above his heart, faint light pulsed, rhythmic, alive. Myra took a step back. “That’s a relic.”

Lena’s voice dropped. “It can’t be. Those are extinct.”

“It’s bonded,” the old man said grimly. “If we remove it, he dies.”

Bruce blinked. “You people are terrible at bedside manners.”

Lena ignored him. “What kind of relic?”

The man’s eyes were distant. “Pre-Genesis. Before the Council’s archives. If it’s active, we’re all in danger.”

Bruce stepped out of the scanner. “Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

A tremor ran through the floor. Lights flickered. Myra cursed. “Containment field’s destabilizing.”

Bruce’s veins flared red, heat blooming under his skin. He staggered. “It’s, doing something”

The relic pulsed wildly, every beat syncing with the building’s flicker. Lena grabbed his shoulders. “Focus! Control it!”

“How?”

“Breathe, listen to it!”

“It’s not exactly giving me instructions!”

Flames burst from his palms. The machines shorted out, alarms blaring. Sparks danced along the floor as the power grid overloaded. “Get him out!” the old man shouted.

Myra lunged for the breaker. Lena pulled Bruce toward the exit, but the flames moved faster, crawling up the walls, curling toward the ceiling like living serpents. “Bruce!” she shouted. “Stop!”

“I’m trying!”

The voice in his chest thundered: “Burn. Or be burned.”

His eyes blazed crimson. For a second, he saw the world peel open, veins of light running through the concrete, pulsing like arteries. He heard voices whispering from beneath the earth.

Then the fire imploded. Darkness. When Bruce opened his eyes again, he was outside, lying on wet pavement. The building behind him smoked, windows shattered, metal warped from the heat.

Lena crouched beside him, breathing hard. Her coat was scorched. “You blacked out.”

“What—what happened?”

“You lost control. Nearly cooked all of us.”

He sat up slowly, wincing. “Guess I’m not council material.”

She gave a humorless smile. “You’re something worse.”

“What’s that?”

“An anomaly.”

The rain hissed over the smoldering ruins. The relic in his chest glowed once, faintly, then whispered, low and almost amused: “That was just the first breath.”

Bruce closed his eyes. “This night just won’t die.”

Lena looked toward the horizon, dawn creeping through the clouds, painting the smoke gold. “Neither will you, apparently.”

Her voice softened. “Welcome to the deep end, Bruce. Hope you can swim.”