The Artifact Awakens

The alley air, thick with the stench of stale urine and desperation, clawed at my throat. Ramiro’s rough hands were a vise around my arms, his face contorted with a fear I’d only seen mirrored in my own reflection. Nick’s goons, two hulking shadows with eyes as dead as streetlights on a foggy night, advanced, their grins promising pain. Akari, bless her quicksilver mind, was already fumbling with the worn leather pouch tied to my belt, her fingers slick with sweat.

“The stone, AJ! Give me the damn stone!” she hissed, her voice a strained whisper against the rising tide of panic.

I didn’t need telling twice. My hand, clumsy with adrenaline, fumbled for the rough-hewn artifact Tennessee had pressed into my palm just hours before. It was cold, unnervingly so, a stark contrast to the inferno raging within me. Nick’s voice, a silken whip, cut through the din. “Hand it over, boys. The little rats won’t need it where they’re going.”