Arin gripped the sword’s rough, metal hilt. He paused for a moment. His eyes stayed locked ahead. His body moved on its own. He stepped forward and swung. The blade sliced the air in a clean arc, just like his grandfather had taught him.

The sound echoed faintly. 

Old memories crept back.

“If you lose your footing, the sword is useless,” his grandfather would say, his voice always firm, never gentle.

Back then, Arin practiced barefoot on the cold stone courtyard, swinging the blade again and again. He used to hate it. “Why am I doing this if I have a jinn?” he would think. But now, he understood. One more weapon was always worth it.

He looked at the button on the hilt. Pressing it would make the blade draw blood. Every weapon came with a cost. Nothing in this world was free.

He took another step and swung again. This time, the tip nearly struck the wall. The room was too small for practice.

“I need a better place,” he thought, lowering the blade.

Azimushan’s voice echoed in his mind.

“But don’t rely too much on that lump of metal, master. I’m your real weapon.”

Arin could almost hear the sneer behind the words.

A sudden knock at the door broke the silence. Arin turned quickly. Before he could react, the door opened. Kael stood in the doorway, dressed in black.

Kael glanced at him. “Training, huh? Good.”

Arin slid the sword back into its sheath and placed it on the table, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Ever heard of privacy?” he muttered.

Kael didn’t answer. “We need to go. There’s been an incident nearby. Might get messy.”

Arin hesitated, then strapped the sword to his back and followed.

***

When they reached the docks, the scene was chaos. People gathered in clusters, shouting, pointing. A hydraulic crane’s arm had snapped and slammed into the ground. Glass and metal littered the area.

“What could’ve caused this?” Arin asked.

Kael scanned the scene. “Someone touched by a jinn.”

He didn’t wait. He turned down a path that followed the dark shoreline.

“Stay alert. Something’s going on in that hangar.”

Arin moved more cautiously. In the distance, he heard a sound like lightning breaking open the sky. Kael pulled out his scanner and swept the area.

“There,” he said.

A black scorch mark stained the hangar door, like something had burned through it with heat or energy. Kael crouched and slid the door open. It hissed. Then light exploded from inside.

Kael grabbed Arin’s hand and pulled him back. Arin blinked, startled, then glanced at Kael’s hand. He cleared his throat. Kael let go, a bit too fast.

Trying to ignore it, Kael said, “I’ll check behind the crates. Follow when I wave.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Arin said, with a smirk.

Kael ran forward and peeked around the crates. For a moment, he froze. Then he waved Arin over.

Arin crouched and joined him. What he saw made him understand.

A massive sailor stood at the far end. His muscles bulged unnaturally, his uniform ripped open. His skin was a sickly purple. A jinn had touched him. But he wasn’t attacking; he was defending himself.

He was fighting a jinn hunter.

“Someone beat us here,” Kael muttered.

Arin couldn’t look away from the hunter. Or his jinn.

The creature hovered above him, unlike Azimushan. It had no limbs. Only a long, twisting neck and a body suspended in the air. Arin didn’t recognize its type.

The hunter was young. Red-haired. Maybe in his twenties. He moved like someone with nothing left to lose. But he looked tired. The man was pushing him hard.

Then everything shifted.

The jinn opened its mouth and fired a blast of electric energy. The man raised an arm, which morphed into a bone-and-flesh shield. The blast shattered it, but didn’t wound him. The hunter dashed toward Arin and Kael’s direction.

He jumped, flipped over the crates, and drew an invisible bow. His metal wristbands lit up, forming an arrow of light. At the same time, his jinn charged another blast.

The man spun and spread his back. Wings of bone burst out. The beams shattered them, but still didn’t reach him. He roared and beat his chest like a challenge.

When the hunter landed, he finally looked Arin and Kael. His eyes locked onto Arin, sensing who he was.

“You don’t belong here. Take your pretty boy and go. He’s mine,” he said.

Kael opened his mouth, probably to say something about jurisdiction, but Arin touched his arm.

“Don’t. This is personal for him,” he whispered.

They backed away from the crates and headed toward the exit.

Azimushan murmured hungrily but Arin didn’t care.

The hunter took a shaky breath. Arin could see it, this was his last shot.

He lifted his arms. His wristbands charged, not into an arrow, but a steady beam. His jinn mirrored him, mouth glowing.

The man responded. A shield of bone erupted from his chest. This time, when the beams struck, they didn’t stop. They broke through. The light pierced him.

Jinn Hunter screamed in pain, but held the attack. The hangar filled with white light. A hole tore open in the man’s chest. He fell to his knees. His jinn surged forward, claiming its due. It fed on his soul.

Kael stood speechless, but Arin stared carefully. He had never seen a hunter like this before.

His sword suddenly felt useless.

Then, without warning, an old man dropped down from the ceiling. He floated more than fell, landing beside the hunter. He barely noticed but leaned against him and passed out. The old man caught him gently and laid him on the ground. He pulled a small vial from his pocket, opened the stopper, and carefully poured it into his mouth. His pale color returned quickly, but he didn’t wake up.

Suddenly he stood up and turned to Arin.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “He’ll be fine. His opponent was strong, but he managed to win.”

Arin was surprised the man was talking to him, he was sure they’d never met.

Kael had already reached for his belt, likely ready to draw one of his weapons.

The old man began walking toward them slowly.

“Mr. Ravenscar,” he said. “At last, we meet.”

Even though Arin tensed, he realized the man was a jinn hunter too.

“And you are?” he asked.

“Forgive my rudeness,” the man said with a polite bow. “I’m Ishtar Caprikon, head of the Jinn Hunters’ Guild.”

Without looking, he gestured to the young man on the ground. “He is Talen, the youngest in our guild.”

Arin didn’t know what to say, but Kael stepped in.

“This case was ours,” he said.

“The case was open to everyone. A message was sent to all nearby jinn hunters. That’s standard procedure,” the old man said.

Kael didn’t argue, but his displeasure was clear.

“Mr. Ravenscar, I need to take Talen for proper treatment now. But please visit us when you have the chance. In the heart of the Empire, our kind always have open doors.” He made sure not to look at Kael as he said the last sentence.

Arin simply nodded, unsure how to react to this new information.

“Until we meet again, Mr. Ravenscar. And good day, Mr. Corwin,” the old man said, lifting the young man as if he weighed nothing and carrying him away.

Watching him leave, Arin whispered, “He was a suspicious one.”

Kael narrowed his eyes. “Almost as much as knowing my name…”