“Perhaps his vitality could serve better purposes here?”, She repeated, “You’ve got some nerve, old man”.  She spat, her voice steady but laced with disgust. She stared at the vitaecer, the ropes creaking above him as he hung by his feet, his body swaying slightly from the motion.

The vitaecer rasped, hanging from the ceiling by a rope tied to his feet.

A pool of green, bubbling acid sat beneath him, threatening to disintegrate his body the moment he touched it. The heat from the acidic pool scorched the air, making the vitaecer sweat profusely as it dripped down his furrowed brow.

Across the room, a woman with a blue teardrop tattoo, the ink swirling down from her eye and stopping just beneath her cheek, stood silently. Argent. She was a figure of serene danger, her silver hair braided tightly and falling all the way to her feet. She was clad in sleek, black armor, her nails like sharp claws, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with detached curiosity. Her eyes glimmered under the flickering candlelight, as if she found some kind of amusement in the vitaecer’s torment.

_________________________

Hound and Emily had been running for minutes—pushing past startled vendors, dodging livestock, and cutting through the throngs of the market. Emily struggled to keep pace. Her legs burned, and she could hear the Seers’ footsteps closing in, the rhythm of their pursuit unmistakable behind them.

A meat stand blocked her way. In a flash of desperation, Emily grabbed a kitchen knife stabbed into a butcher's table, her fingers trembling as she yanked it free. A rock nearly made her trip, but she caught herself, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She had no choice but to trail behind Hound. His long legs took the lead, effortlessly clearing obstacles.

Ahead of them, a dead-end appeared: a tall fence, tightly woven between two crumbling buildings. No way over it—no clear escape.

Without hesitation, Hound used the side of the building to boost himself. He jumped, grabbing the balcony edge with both hands, pulling himself up like a spider. His movements were fluid, controlled, but the weariness in his eyes hinted at the toll his body was taking. His chest heaved as he sprinted along the roof, weaving over gaps, scaling walls, taking every opportunity for higher ground.

Emily, her confidence shattered, hesitated. The ground was so far below her, the dark, jagged edges of the sewer entrance just ahead. Without thinking, she leapt into the open manhole, falling into the darkness below. She didn’t care for the ladder—she crashed down, a sharp pain shooting up her legs, but she managed to land without breaking anything. The wet, slimy walls of the sewer enveloped her, and the stench of decay made her stomach churn.

The sound of footsteps above echoed in the wet tunnel. She turned and started running through the murky water, the cold seeping through her clothes. Her mind raced, panic clawing at her.

But the Seers were closing in—two teams now. Two tracked Hound on the rooftops, while the other two took the sewer. Emily pressed on, the dark, foul-smelling water splashing against her legs. She was lost, her thoughts spiraling. No light. No direction. She crouched in a corner, trying to steady her breath, her pulse hammering in her throat.

A red flare split the dark like a bleeding eye, illuminating the sewer in sickly light. Emily barely moved, hoping they wouldn’t see her. The Seers came closer, their boots squelching in the muck. They walked past her, the flare fading as they moved.

Time slowed. Her heart raced.

She spotted the flintlock pistol with the brass, ornate handle holstered on one of their waists. Her eyes locked on it—her only hope.

The flare went out, plunging them back into darkness. Emily, driven by a primal instinct, lunged forward. Her hand found the Seer’s neck, and the knife sank in—smoothly, brutally. Her fingers gripped the hilt as she twisted, feeling the knife crush through bone and flesh. The Seer’s mouth gurgled, his blood pouring out like a fountain. She yanked the blade free, blood splattering across her hands and face.

The taste of iron filled her mouth, but she didn’t stop. She grabbed the pistol from the Seer’s side and aimed, her body shaking as she pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, but the darkness swallowed the bullet, and she missed.

Shit

Another shot—this time, it hit. The flare lit up again, just a brief moment, but enough to show the Seer crumpling to the ground, clutching his chest, his life spilling out in a crimson tide. His hand reached for the flare still clutched in his trembling fingers, his eyes wide with desperation, the light flickering in his gaze as he struggled for breath.

Emily didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the remaining flares from his pack, the ones still hanging from his bloodied belt. She looted his pockets, taking everything: his clothes, his shoes, even the final flare he was holding. It was all hers now—her only chance at survival.

His choking, gurgling sounds echoed as she walked away, the blood-soaked pistol clutched tightly in her hand. She had just killed a man. A Seer. The weight of it pressed down on her, but she swallowed it.

Her hands were trembling, her heart racing—not from the cold of the sewer, but from the sick realization of what she’d just done.

_________________________

Hound had no choice but to fight. He was cornered atop a five-story building, nowhere else to go. The Seer, with his runic tattoos and the unmistakable speed of an ether-charged speedster, stood before him. No escape.

The Seer struck first. A slash so fast that Hound barely saw it coming. But Hound’s ability to see the future—his cursed, yet invaluable gift—allowed him to predict the blow. He dodged to the left, his knees bending to absorb the momentum, his hand slapping the rooftop to steady himself.

But the toll was clear. His body, drugged with ether, was overheating. The silver in his eyes brightened with his eyeballs turning an ink-black shade that spread across his face and down his body like an infection. His skin began to sizzle from the heat, the air around him warping from the intensity.

The Seer pressed again. Another slash aimed at Hound’s neck, and then a spinning strike to his torso. Hound could see the moves, could predict them, but his body was failing him. Each dodge took more out of him, and though he narrowly avoided the strikes, the Seer’s blade nicked his skin again and again, shallow cuts that were nothing compared to the damage Hound could inflict.

ut then, the Seer moved too quickly. The sword pierced Hound’s stomach, the blade sliding through his flesh with terrifying precision. He gritted his teeth, pain searing through him, but his focus never wavered. The Seer was in close now.

With a growl, Hound pulled the Seer in, the blade still embedded in his gut, and with all his strength, he twisted the Seer’s body into a deadly embrace. The heat that radiated from Hound’s body surged as his silver eyes flared.

The sword melted in his body, the heat intense enough to liquefy the metal. The Seer tried to pull away, but it was too late. Silver flames engulfed him, starting from his skin, searing through muscle and bone.

The Seer screamed, but it was too late. His flesh crisped and blackened. In seconds, there was nothing left but a pile of smoldering ash, drifting away in the wind.

Hound’s skin, still sizzling, began to cool as his target crumbled to nothing. His eyes narrowed. The other Seer finally arrived and was approaching.

Hound’s silver eyes gleamed with an unearthly hunger, the heat in his body rising once more. The hunt was far from over.

Hound, a hellhound in form and power, burned with an unearthly heat that sparked fear in all who saw him. A relentless predator, gifted with a sight that saw all, yet chained by the frailties of his human body.

Without hesitation, he charged toward the Seer, his eyes devoid of any humanity, only the cold hunger of a predator. Silver smoke trailed behind his piercing gaze, his ink-black skin radiating deadly heat as he closed in on his target.