The Price of Air

The underground auction house of Myria smelled of damp stone and greed. Candles flickered against the vaulted ceiling, casting long shadows over a crowd of masked buyers seated in a semi-circle around the central stage. Here, beneath the gilded streets of the city, artifacts of power exchanged hands in whispers and fortunes.

Lady Selene Vael sat near the center, clad in elegant midnight-blue silk, her face obscured by a silver half-mask. She sipped wine from a crystal goblet, watching the auctioneer with mild disinterest - until they unveiled the soul stone.

It was no larger than a clenched fist, an opalescent blue stone swirling with mist, as if storm clouds were trapped within. Selene felt it instantly - the pull of something ancient, something whispering between the cracks of reality. This was it. Yan-C-Bin’s prison. The key to true power.

“The next item is a rare elemental relic, retrieved from an unknown ruin in the Realm of the Giants,” the auctioneer declared, his voice smooth as polished glass. “A collector’s piece, surely. We will begin the bidding at five thousand gold pieces.”

Selene raised her gloved hand immediately.

A merchant in crimson silk countered. Then a tiefling scholar. Then a hooded stranger in the back - someone who moved with too much poise for an ordinary buyer. Selene’s eyes narrowed behind her mask. She doubled the bid. The others hesitated, except for the hooded figure, who raised the bid once more.

The auctioneer smirked. “Thirty thousand gold pieces.”

A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd.

“Fifty,” Selene said without hesitation.

Silence. The hooded figure hesitated. A moment later, they lowered their hand.

“The bid is at fifty thousand gold. Going once… going twice… Sold.”

The gavel struck, and the soul stone was hers.

Selene exhaled softly, pleased. But as she rose from her seat, a nagging feeling itched at the back of her mind. The hooded figure hadn’t so much as flinched at the loss. Instead, they sat unnaturally still, as if waiting for something.

A flicker of movement. A shadow where none should be. Then -

A scream rang out as a dagger slit the throat of one of the auction guards. Chaos erupted. The hooded figure leapt forward, faster than a human should be, their hands reaching for the soul stone now cradled in the arms of the auctioneer’s assistant.

Damn it.

Selene was already moving. She seized a fallen cane from the floor and thrust it forward, catching the hooded figure in the ribs. They stumbled, but only briefly. As they staggered, their hood slipped back, revealing the glint of a silver mask beneath. Selene’s breath caught - an Angel of the Mist. The assistant tried to flee through a side door, but the assassin - because that’s what they were, Selene realized with growing dread - was on them in a heartbeat.

The fight was over in seconds. The assassin wrenched the stone from the assistant’s hands and sprinted toward the exit.

Not if I have anything to say about it.

Selene drew a silver-inlaid pistol from the folds of her gown and fired. The shot rang out, striking the assassin’s shoulder. They faltered - but did not stop. A second later, they were gone, disappearing into the labyrinth of tunnels beneath Myria.

Cursing under her breath, Selene stepped over the bodies and followed. She would not leave without the soul stone. Yan-C-Bin’s will depended on it.

She navigated the narrow, dimly lit passageways with practiced ease, the scent of damp stone thick in the air. The flickering torchlight barely illuminated the assassin’s trail - drops of blood staining the floor at intervals. Selene’s heart pounded as she listened for movement, her ears attuned to the distant echoes of hurried footsteps.

As she rounded a corner, a dagger whizzed past her face, embedding itself in the wall beside her. She spun on her heel, pistol aimed, but the assassin was already in motion, closing the distance. Selene barely managed to deflect a strike with her cane, the force sending a jolt up her arm. The assassin’s other hand darted forward, attempting to drive a second blade into her side.

She twisted, just in time, and the dagger grazed harmlessly against her ribs. Selene retaliated with a calculated strike to their injured shoulder, forcing a pained grunt from behind the hood. The assassin staggered, but instead of retreating, they hurled themselves forward, tackling her against the stone wall.

The impact stole the breath from her lungs. They struggled in the dim light, Selene barely managing to keep the blade away from her throat. With a desperate move, she shifted her weight and slammed her knee into the assassin’s stomach. They recoiled, giving her just enough space to twist free. Her pistol snapped up again, finger tightening on the trigger.

The assassin froze, their breath coming in ragged gasps. Selene could see their eyes now - sharp, calculating, and filled with something akin to reverence.

“You don’t understand,” the assassin murmured, voice thick with pain. “You shouldn’t have that stone.”

A wry smile touched Selene’s lips. “On the contrary,” she said, steadying her aim. “I am exactly who should have it.”

Before the assassin could react, Selene struck them with the butt of her pistol, sending them unconscious to the ground. She wasted no time. The soul stone was still clutched in the assassin’s hand, their fingers bloodied around it. Gently, she pried it from their grasp, feeling its unnatural coolness against her skin.

A storm was coming.

And Selene would be the one to unleash it.