Page 168 of GlitchBorn Heart

Playlist: Cyber City – Gunship

Lyra

The city glows violet, like it’s bathed in magic. I agree to meet Kael, Ember, and Ash at the entrance to VikkCorp Tower2, the event space. It’s a harsh reminder, I can only go where my holo-leash allows. Soon that will change.

The convoy of limos glide through the cordoned streets, cutting a path through the city’s pulse. Every tower is lit like a beacon in eclipse colors: dark purple, violet, and lilac. VikkCorp’s signature logo splays across the building, lighting the skyline in blood red.

Eclipse Night: A celebration of hedonism disguised as corporate progress. That’s how Kael described it.

Ash strolls in with Ember on his arm, looking like the true rockstar he is. Cameras flash incessantly, fans asking for selfies and autographs. His burgundy velvet jacket fits him perfectly, framing his inked chest and slightly unbuttoned shirt, he leads Ember through the paparazzi that follow him.

Kael approaches from behind, appearing out of the shadows. He touches my elbow, his lips brushing my ear. He must have come up from the lab. “Have I told you that you look absolutely ethereal?”

That little dark look he gets when he pours on the bad boy charm melts me every time. “Like something the gods might have invented just to destroy men like me,” he adds, sealing the deal.

The heat flushing through me is interrupted by Ash’s slow whistle. “Remind me to start bringing holos to work with me. Damn, they’re everywhere.” He looks Kael up and down. “You clean up well, Bro. You’re really leaning into the tortured-genius aesthetic tonight. All black? Nice!”

“Go to hell, Ash.” Kael’s smile is laden with daggers. It leaves me pondering the deep connection between these two. They can venomously joke with each other. I’d swear they were siblings.

“I already know that I’m going to hell, thank you. At this point, it’s just go big or go home.” Ash stiffens, straightening his velvet jacket.

Ember smirks beside him, looking so beautiful in her sleek black gown, form fitting, with sparkles of silver thread that look like tiny circuits. She could kill a man at fifty paces in that dress.

Ash tips his head toward me. “She’s great arm candy, yeah? Don’t be jealous, sweetheart. Some of us know how to accessorize.”

“Enough, Ash.” Kael takes my arm. I chuckle as he leads me by a wall of mirrors lining the long entrance. I catch his reflection in the glass, my salvation and my pure sin.

His slim suit fits perfectly, of course. Ember tailored it for him, polished obsidian weave with a matching vest and black shirt and tie. She said it would “help him blend in.” But the all-black look just makes him look dangerous, like a tech weapon. Maybe that’s the point.

I take a moment to look around the event, VikkCorp’s Obsidian Hall, a space carved out of black tile and glass. Designed by Vikktor himself, a disgusting display of luxuriance when just two blocks over, citizens are starving in the streets. Every surface gleams with cold reflection: black iron columns rising like ribs, glass panels that look out into the starry sky, and a terrace that looms over the skyline, watching the fading neon slowly degrade the city.

Electricity has been intentionally cut for the occasion, a ritual not only symbolizing the darkness of the eclipse, but also a reminder that the Corporation controls the light. As citizens, we should never try to shine too bright.

“Wow, it’s ominous but also beautiful.” I’m in awe. “No lighting at all in the gala?”

Kael answers, as we stroll further down the long entranceway. “Candles. Vikktor insists it’s symbolic, a return to candlelight to honor the brilliance of human innovation. The irony huh?” He tsks.

Rows of tall, slender candles in polished white gold candelabras line the walls and floors, flickering, their open flames catching on the iron and making it shimmer like liquid. The lighting turns the faces of the corporate elite in the room ghostly, half-alive, just like their souls.

Every table is draped in velvet the color of dark plum. Centerpieces of violets, black dahlias, and deep amethyst orchids spill over mirrored vases. The scent is rich, almost intoxicating, something sweet yet floral: spun sugar and jasmine blooms, piping through the air ducts.

At the far end of the hall sits a raised platform, bathed in dim light. A velvet curtain of deep violet, thick and heavy, ripples faintly as the air is disturbed by guests. Behind it, hidden from the crowd, Kael’s creations await the reveal. The culmination of Vikktor’s cybernetic initiative, the prototypes for a new class of enforcement soldiers, machines dressed in humanity and programmed for obedience. He told Kael they were being designed to keep the streets safer for citizens and to help him monitor rebellious activity. But I know he wants them built to squash the rebellion. Everyday, peaceful protests are becoming more violent and more desperate. Apprehension fills my throat, threatening to block my airflow.

Kael ignores the stage, passing right by it, focused on every face that looks at me. His expression is blank yet predatory. He’s on high alert, studying exits, identifying immediate and hidden threats, as he’s been trained to do.

I look around, admiring the elegant decorations. One thing stands out among the crowd. Almost every older man in the room has a holo-date on their arm, the colors of their dresses vivid with elegant prints. They’re the only thing that looks alive. One is wearing a gown that is practically nude, leaving nothing to the imagination. It shifts with every movement, responding to her pulse. The wealthy are always wanting to push the limits of fashion as they do with humanity.

I suddenly feel exposed. I look very different from the rest, too human to pass for a PleazureHolo, yet exquisite enough to make the elite stare and whisper as they walk by. They want whatever Kael has created.

Kael is very aware. With urgency, he pulls me into a quiet alcove, violet light spilling across his face, revealing the orange and gold specks in his irises. He takes my hand in his, and just the slight touch wakes the currents inside of us, our eyes pulsing once reactively.

On my ring finger, he places a slender silver band with intricately carved sigils. Exact duplicates of the ones inked onto his fingers. “It’s a Fawkes ring. I designed it to mask your signature. It looks like jewelry, but it’s really protection, to keep the wolves at bay. No one should be able to scan you for recognition or for profiling.”

It’s so typically Kael, stunning but with purpose. “You didn’t have to do this. You could have just slapped a band around my wrist or something,” I whisper, eyes following the superbly put together guests passing by. I raise my hand to match the symbols of the ring to his ink, and once again I feel the universe whisper from over my shoulder that we’re connected.

“Yes, I did. It would be scandalous to put something unaesthetically pleasing on someone so beautiful.” He covers my hand with both of his. “If Vikktor suspects anything, we could jeopardize the extraction. I won’t take that chance.”

I look down at our hands, my voice quiet and apprehensive. “I still think this is insane.”