The Soul Brokers Game

The humid air of Undergleam stuck to Lucien like an unwanted second skin. The scent of burnt synth-gum mingled with rust and sweat, heavy and raw.

Lucien tugged at the collar of his trench coat and glanced down at his palm. Beneath the skin, the Ledger's faint glow pulsed steady, like a heartbeat not quite human. It felt alive—watching, waiting, calculating.

Contact incoming. Suitability: High.

The Ledger's voice wasn't a voice exactly, more like a thread of thought threading into his mind. It sifted through data, a whisper of facts and figures about Seraphine—debts she carried, allegiances bending like fragile glass, tremors in her loyalties that only the Ledger could detect.

Seraphine's trust is brittle. The Iron Crows circle near. Decoy protocols engaged.

Lucien let a slow grin spread across his face. The Ledger never missed, not when it had the right feed.

He slipped deeper into Undergleam's tangled alleys, dodging hunched figures leaning over neon-lit stalls and whispering merchants selling secrets like poison. Ahead, a slender shadow leaned against a wall smeared with graffiti—the flash of white hair stark under a soot-black hood.

"Seraphine," Lucien called low. "Your usual haunt's shifted since last week. I've noticed the Crows have been sniffing too close for comfort."

She sparked a tiny flame to her cigarette's tip, the ember glowing dull and stubborn, like a dying star fighting to last one more second. Her eyes locked with his, sharp, cautious.

"Lucien," she said, voice smooth but edged with ice. "You've always had a knack for smelling trouble before it finds you. Or maybe you just like inviting it."

The Ledger thrummed harder beneath his skin. Hostile presences detected nearby. Decoys deployed.

With a quick flick of his wrist, holographic echoes slipped from the shadows—flickering, imperfect copies of Lucien drifting down side streets, vanishing into smoke and neon haze. Perfect bait, a lure to flush out Iron Crow spies lurking in silence.

"Your ghosts will stir the hornet's nest," Seraphine warned, eyes narrowing.

"Good," Lucien said, the smile sharpening, "Hornets make noise. Noise stirs chaos. Chaos feeds opportunity."

She stepped forward, flames flickering to life along her fingers, crackling like a storm barely kept at bay. "What's the play?"

Lucien pulled a data-pad from his coat. The screen shimmered as the Ledger streamed contract clauses live—symbols twisting and writhing like they had their own will. Each glyph locked a soul tighter or turned a key deeper into a fate none could escape.

Contract integrity stands at ninety-nine point seven percent.

He tapped a clause, and the Ledger murmured secrets only he could hear: boons unlocked if this deal passed, a syndicate lieutenant bending to his will, hidden streams of Obsidian Veil data flowing open, and a chance to siphon Cassian's proxies before their poison could spread.

Seraphine's gaze sharpened. "These terms look familiar. You've baited traps here before."

Lucien shrugged, eyes flicking to the alley's shadows as they shifted and breathed. "Better to wear a mask twice than none at all."

Then the Ledger's pulse jerked hard—a subtle anomaly, a glitch in contract enforcement that sliced through the calm.

Potential threat detected. Source internal.

Lucien's jaw clenched. Someone close was slipping through his defenses. The Ledger's glow sharpened on his wrist, insistent and cold.

"Got something to tell me?" Lucien's voice dropped low, his stare locking onto Seraphine's.

Her flame wavered, uncertain, before she whispered, "We're not the only players in this game."

The alley shrank, tightening, as footsteps came too close—sharp, careful. A figure stepped from the dark. A contact Lucien had trusted once, their face a tight mask of guilt and conflict.

"I didn't want it to end like this," the man said, voice ragged, edged with regret. "But the Iron Crows… they have my family. They left me no choice."

Lucien's heart slammed—not from surprise, but the cold bite of betrayal that cut deeper than any blade. The Ledger roared inside his mind, flooding him with contract clauses, glowing soul-binding glyphs, infernal runes.

Soul binding activated. Boon: Valthamur's Mercy.

Before the traitor could step closer, the Ledger's chains ignited, spectral serpents weaving through the air. The man's eyes went wide as invisible bonds snapped tight, anchoring his soul to Lucien's will.

"Your debts are settled," Lucien said, voice sharp and steady. "But your freedom belongs to me now."

The Ledger pulsed darkly, words echoing through his thoughts: Betrayal breeds betrayal.

The man's body went slack, caught in ghostly grips, trapped between life and something darker—a living reminder that trust broken always demands a price.

Lucien's eyes darted around, sharp and alert. The trap was set.

Iron Crow proxies closing fast. Engagement imminent.

He turned to Seraphine. Her flames surged, burning hotter, spilling flickering orange and red across cracked walls. "We'll turn their greed against them. Let them chase shadows while we snatch the prize."

The Ledger's glow shifted again, revealing more data—Cassian's proxies mapped out like glowing webs, threads snaking across the cityscape.

Cassian's traps lack finesse, Lucien murmured, a slow smirk curling his lips. "But they're predictable."

The Ledger's pulse answered, measured and slow: So are yours.

Lucien's smile hardened, a challenge flashing in his eyes. His mind spun through next moves, counterplays, layers of lies lying just beneath the surface.

Still, beneath the sharp edge, a shadow lingered.

His slip was my win, the Ledger noted, but his trust stung.

Lucien exhaled slowly, eyes drifting over flickering holograms and dancing firelight. Betrayal was currency, just like any secret. But it came with weight.

The night thickened around them, flames and shadows moving in a dangerous dance. Somewhere in the pulse of the Ledger, the war for souls and secrets grew louder. The final masquerade had only just begun.