Neon Confidential
1 - Unmaking

NOTE: This may not be the final revision, published form may vary.

It’s always nights like this that I can’t stand—nights when the city’s neon buzz and relentless rain blur together like some twisted dream I can’t shake. The streets are alive with the hum of the city, but when you veer off the main roads into the dark veins of Duskwire, the pulse starts to slow. The alleys, slick with rain and crisscrossing shadows, twist like a maze. It’s a place where the air is stagnant, there are secrets just out of reach, every corner hiding something darker than you can imagine.

I’m chasing a suspect tonight—another fleeting shadow in this endless city. As my boots splash through puddles, my thoughts spiral. This is nothing new, not really. Chasing suspects is part of the job, part of the endless cycle. But there’s something about tonight. Maybe it’s the sudden storm that rolled in, or maybe it's the way the neon light pulsates in the distance, in time with the lighting strikes. It’s like everything here is on the edge like it is about to break. And that something feels wrong, like it’s waiting to pull me under.

Then, I hear it.

A sound, faint but distinct. Footsteps. They went this way.

I freeze for a moment, the coldness of the rain seeping through my trench coat, but I force myself to move. Slowly, I step into the alley. The wet asphalt glistens under the neon glow from the distant streets, but here, the light is dim and fractured, swallowed by the choking shadows. My hand brushes against the damp brick wall as I make my way deeper, my senses on high alert. I’m not just listening for footsteps now—I’m reaching out with every tool at my disposal. My normal senses. My magical ones.

I extend my awareness into the night, feeling for any trace of the suspect’s presence. My magic should’ve picked up on something by now. A heartbeat, a flicker of power, an emotion. But there’s nothing. No heat, no sign of life. No emanating energy. It’s like the space around me is hollow, an empty void that even my magic can’t touch.

I stop dead in my tracks.

The emptiness stretches around me, an unnerving silence pressing in from all sides. I’ve been in Duskwire for centuries, tracking down everything from runaways to renegades. But this… Never in all my years have I felt nothing. Not like this. There’s no trace of the person I’m after, no magical signatures to follow, no familiar feeling of someone masking their power. Just a cold, black emptiness, like the city itself has swallowed them whole.

I’ve heard rumors—whispers in the dark corners of the city. Stories about other Echoborn, like me, who’ve come across something like this. These stories don’t end well. Unmaking, they call it. Dissolution. Oblivion. It’s not just death; it’s being erased from existence, torn apart by something that exists beyond understanding.

But I don’t have time to dwell on those thoughts. I need to focus. The job’s not done until it’s done.

I take another step forward, my boots sliding slightly on the wet pavement. I’ve got to keep moving, no matter how much my gut is screaming at me to turn around and run.

The alley is narrow, walls towering above me, their surfaces slick with moisture and grime. Rats scurry through the muck, their eyes gleaming in the half-light. One darts across my path, and I jump back, my heart beating out of my chest before I catch myself. It’s just a rat. Just a damn rat. But it’s enough to remind me how on edge I am. I can’t shake the unease crawling under my skin. Whatever’s out here, it’s not playing by Duskwire's rules.

Then, I see them.

The suspect. Hunched down behind a garbage can, their figure barely visible in the shadows. I freeze for a second, watching, sizing them up. They stare at me—dead eyes, like they know I’m here before I even take a step. With a sudden movement, they break from the shadows and start to run.

I curse under my breath and spring into action. They’re quick, but so am I. Pushing myself forward, my legs pounding the pavement, chasing the ragged gait of movement ahead. They are fast, but I know this city—every cracked sidewalk, every rusted fire escape, every shadowed corner. I’ve got them.

I round the corner, heart pounding, expecting to see them just ahead. But instead, there’s something else.

A blur. A sudden flash of motion in my peripheral vision. It’s too fast—too close. Something slams into my face with the force of a freight train, and my world explodes into chaos.

A clang rings out in my ears as I hit the ground hard, the rainwater splashing up around me. My vision swims, a thousand colors and shapes dancing in the rain. My head feels like it’s been split open. I try to focus, to blink away the dizziness, but everything is swimming. The world tilts on its axis.

I force myself to look up, to figure out what hit me. And that’s when I see it.

It.

The figure standing above me—tall, impossibly still. It’s like it’s made of shadow and smoke, every detail indistinct, like it’s only halfway in this world. But those eyes. Those eyes are alive, glowing with an eerie, unnatural light, pulsing.

“Sorry, Malik,” a voice, distorted, cold, and unfeeling. “But it’s your time.”

My heart skips a beat. That voice isn’t coming from the air. It is actually inside my skull, reverberating off the walls of my mind. I try to scramble back, to push myself to my feet. My limbs feel slow, heavy, like they’re filled with lead. My mind is swimming in a haze, fighting against the fog that’s settling in.

I see the object in their hand then—a shovel.

What the hell?

I can’t react in time. I can barely move. The shovel rises, its metal blade gleaming in the alley's light. It’s coming down too fast, too sure, before I can even raise my arms in defense. I can’t breathe. I can’t think.

And then, with a sickening crunch, the blade slices through my throat.

The pain doesn’t even have time to register. It’s like everything short-circuits in my brain, and the world goes black.

In the last instant, my mind flashes to her.

Mira.

Her face, her smile, all the little things that made the world worth living for. She’s the one constant in a world full of shadows and neon. I don’t know if she’ll ever know what happened, but I hope, with everything I have left, that she does.

And then... nothing.