Vessel of the Ruined god

Chapter 2: The Cynical Scavenger

The sewer water was a cocktail of industrial runoff and regret, cold enough to turn Vaelric’s toes into permanent ice cubes. He scrambled up the slick ladder rungs, his palms sparking every time he gripped the rusted metal. The rhythmic thrum-thrum in his chest was getting louder, like a war drum beating inside his ribcage.

He hauled himself out of the manhole, gasping, only to have a jagged bolt tip pressed directly against the center of his forehead.

"Well," a voice drawled, dripping with dry irritation. "You look like you fell into a radioactive toilet and decided to keep the smell."

Vaelric froze, squinting against the harsh light of a flickering streetlamp. Seraphyne Veyl stood there, her crossbow aimed with surgical precision. She looked like she’d spent her morning killing things, and was currently unimpressed by his arrival.

"Seraphyne? How... how do you always find me when I’m at my worst?" Vaelric wheezed, his hands hovering near his glowing chest.

"It’s a gift. Or a curse. Mostly it’s the fact that you vibrate like a broken washing machine," she said, nodding toward his shirt. "Are you going to tell me why you’re glowing like a cheap neon sign, or should I just shoot you now and save us both the headache?"

Vaelric scrambled backward, his heel catching on a piece of rebar. "It’s not a sign! It’s, uh, a medical condition. A very, very rare skin disease."

"Skin disease," she repeated flatly, her eyes narrowing. "That’s interesting. Does this 'skin disease' usually make the ground crack when you lose your temper?"

"I tripped! The floor was old. It had structural issues."

"You vaporized a hound, Vaelric. I saw the ash. That wasn't a structural issue." She lowered the crossbow just enough to inspect the jagged, pulsing purple veins spider-webbing across his neck. "What did you eat?"

"Eat? I didn't eat anything! Just, you know, scavenged some... vitamins."

"Vitamins."

"Fine! It was an orb! A shiny, glowy, weird-tasting orb! I was starving, Seraphyne. I thought it was a nutritional supplement, not a celestial suicide note!"

She sighed, a long, weary sound that made Vaelric feel about three inches tall. "You ate a power core. Or an artifact. Honestly, it’s hard to tell with you, but you’ve effectively turned yourself into a walking battery."

"A battery? Like, the kind that powers a flashlight, or the kind that explodes if you look at it wrong?"

"Yes."

Before Vaelric could ask for clarification, a heavy grinding sound echoed from the end of the alleyway. The rhythmic clatter of boots hitting pavement grew louder. A group of shadows materialized, illuminated by the harsh red glow of infrared goggles.

"Well, that’s just great," Seraphyne whispered, shifting her stance. "The Jackals. They’ve been tracking that energy signature since you crawled out of the vault."

"They want my vitamins?" Vaelric stood up, his chest pulsing with a sudden, sharp heat.

"They want your heart, probably. And they aren't here for a chat," she snapped.

"Hey, scavenger!" one of the raiders shouted, his voice gravelly and amplified by a vox-caster. "Hand over the glow-stick and we might let you keep your skin! Keep holding out, and we’ll harvest it ourselves."

"You see that?" Vaelric hissed to Seraphyne, pointing at the raiders. "They’re being really aggressive. We should do something about that, right?"

"We? You mean you, the guy who just turned into a nuclear lightbulb?" Seraphyne reached into her belt and pulled out a small, metallic canister. "Get behind the dumpster. Now."

"What’s that? A grenade?"

"It’s a localized EMP trap. If you stay close, it’ll blow your circuits. Or, more accurately, it’ll probably make you explode. So, move!"

Vaelric scrambled behind a rusted-out waste container just as Seraphyne flicked the canister into the center of the alley.

"Wait, wait! If I’m a battery, what happens if that thing goes off?" Vaelric shouted, peering over the edge.

"We find out!" Seraphyne grinned, her eyes glinting with a dangerous sort of glee. "Three, two, one..."

She didn't wait for the one. She ducked. A brilliant flash of blue electricity erupted, swallowing the alley in a roar of ozone and screaming raiders. The shockwave rattled Vaelric’s teeth, and he felt the energy inside him flare in response—a wild, uncontrolled surge of light that threatened to burst from his very pores.

"Go! Run, you idiot!" Seraphyne grabbed his jacket, yanking him toward the back exit of the alley.

"I’m moving! I’m moving!" Vaelric stumbled, his legs feeling like lead.

They darted through the shifting shadows of the city ruins, the sound of the Jackals’ pursuit fading behind the crackle of the lingering EMP. They sprinted until they hit the cellar of an abandoned apothecary, collapsing into a heap of moldy crates.

Vaelric pressed his hands to his chest, panting. The thrumming wasn't just rhythmic anymore; it was deep, ancient, and terrifyingly sentient.

"They're going to keep coming, aren't they?" he whispered, his face pale in the dim moonlight filtering through the cracks.

"Until you’re dead or you learn how to turn that thing off," Seraphyne replied, wiping sweat from her brow. She looked at him, her expression softening into something uncharacteristically grim. "What else does it do? Besides make you a target?"

Vaelric opened his mouth to explain, but a voice—heavy, metallic, and utterly alien—resounded inside his own skull, vibrating against his eardrums. It wasn't his voice. It was a cold, jagged edge of a sound.

The girl with the eyes of a scavenger is loud, the voice droned in his mind. She smells of stale copper and failed intentions. Tell her to cease her babbling, worm.

Vaelric’s eyes went wide. He clapped his hands over his mouth, horror dawning on him.

"Did... did you just say something?" Seraphyne asked, her hand dropping to the hilt of her knife. Her gaze locked onto his, confused and suspicious. "Vaelric, who the hell did you just call a scavenger?"

Vaelric felt the cold, oily sensation of the god inside him curling around his vocal cords, ready to speak again.

"I—I didn't," Vaelric stammered, his body beginning to tremble with a force he couldn't control. "I swear, Seraphyne, that wasn't me!"

The thrumming shifted. His jaw unlocked, moving with a jerky, unnatural rhythm that wasn't his own. A voice, dripping with ancient contempt, poured from his lips.

"She is a fragile vessel for such curiosity," the voice rasped, perfectly echoing in the small room.

Seraphyne didn't even blink. She drew her blade, the edge glowing under the faint light of his chest. "Okay. That’s it. Who is talking out of your mouth, Vaelric?"