Atop the clock tower, Kael bundled his legs, pressing the ledger wrapped in his dad's cloak against his chest. Other children always claimed this place was their secret base, where adults couldn't beat them. What a secret when old Bernie never scolded them for climbing on his roof to reach the broken walls of the tower. After someone fell, he even left a wooden ladder, grumbling with a smile that didn't match his scolding.

  To Kael, it was the place closest to the city above, to the sun, to peace. The metallic rhythm of the cogs and watching the lampposts shine through the steam from above always soothed him.

  Not this time.

  He barely lifted his eyes from his tear-stained sleeves. His left hand gripped the junk flower until the scrap hurt his palm. His body hurt all over—much less after Silma's treatment—but his broken arm would take a couple of weeks to recover.

  You warned me, Mom. I still tried to make it big by working for Garrick. I failed. But... I can't fall from this experience. Yes, an experience. No matter what gangs say, they'll always exploit me. So does Sister Harrow. That witch got her dress from Garrick. I'm sure of it. All this time, she has seen us as merchandise to be traded. Sleep in my shelter? Then you must earn me something. That's every adult's mindset here. But... I still need a place to sleep. Food... I need a job, honest, slow-paying, but safe. I'll search tomorrow... if anyone's crazy enough to hire me with my wounds.

  His mind drifted to his father's entries. Then, he remembered his occasionally visceral sensations when Garrick, Brannick, Silma, and Sister Harrow looked at him.

  They must have awakened something within them. Powers. If I could be as strong as Brannick, no one would dare to scam me again...

  He unwrapped the ledger, eyes closed. For a moment, his chest tightened with an irrational hope. What if Maelin Quor failed to appraise this ledger? What if it were truly a special item like the other three?

  It had to be!

  Three items when he opened the case inside the temple. Four in Garrick's office. It appeared out of nowhere. Perhaps... it could give him powers, too?

  Slowly, he opened his blue eyes. Using the cloak to protect his hand from the corrosive water, he lifted the moist cover. And... Nothing. The yellowed pages were so soggy that the paper almost melded into a uniform mash.

  With a sigh, Kael unstuck the pages.

  Mhh. If I untie the pages, clean them with fresh water, and dry them, I can salvage this old paper. They won't be perfect, but I can at least get two hundred pages worth five—no, four bronze crowns each. That's...

  His eyes widened. That would be eight gold crowns!

  "Ha... Haha... HAHAHA!" Amidst the bleakness, he laughed as he saw an unexpected silver lining.

  Of course, fresh water and heat would cost him money he didn't have. It didn't matter. Instead, he could commission someone with a promise of shared benefits. Without leverage, promises were words blown by the winter wind. He needed more.

  The certainty of getting four gold crowns at the bare minimum.

  A shiver made him turn toward the clock. 2 A.M. Snow slowly drifted down. He could polish the how and when tomorrow. For now, even though he felt too disgusted to sleep, he knew his body needed rest and a warm place to heal.

  Carefully, he wrapped the ledger again. It wasn't a mark of humiliation anymore, but proof that he survived the spawn's chase and escaped the temple. He descended the stairs of the clock tower, slipped beneath planks roughly studded to a broken section of the wall, and left Bernie's roof using the ladder.

  The Black Cask bar faced the tower, while he was in an alley behind it. The shelter was further out, on the outskirts. He passed by factories spewing smoke from their chimneys despite the silence inside before vanishing into another alley.

  Kael met very few people on the way. Most would have tried to sell him drugs by the main avenue he had just left. Therefore, when he saw two teenagers push themselves off the wall they had been leaning against to cut him off, a sensation of dread twisted his stomach.

  Old Bernie was beside them, searching the back of his head with a coy smile. "Told you I saw him climb the clock tower. How he returns to the shelter, you know better than I do."

  "We do." The black-haired teenager slammed two bronze crowns into Bernie's palm, then jerked his head. "Scram."

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  "Tovin and Ash?" Kael's pupils constricted as Bernie scrambled without looking back. He hadn't seen these faces for years. Enrolled in gangs, he had heard from Sister Harrow. Now, he believed they had been sold like him. But at least their cheeks were much less sunken than back then. "It's been so long. How have you been? Why did you..."

  His voice caught in his throat. "Why did you pay Old Bernie to know where I was..."

  The worst he imagined happened.

  A knife flashed in Tovin's infamously twitching hand. He laughed nervously as his green eyes sized up Kael's new clothes, lingering on his leather shoes. "You've hit it big, didn't you, Kael? Seems like Garrick Vane pays better than Joss Renn."

  Ash lowered his gaze to his own yellowed shirt. "I can't believe it's true..." He tore a pipe from the wall, stepping closer. "Hand over what you stole."

  "Joss Renn!" Kael gasped.

  Though less infamous than Garrick, Joss led the second-largest gang, The Ragged Crown. Rooftops, lookout routes, messengers—he had eyes and ears everywhere.

  "I-I didn't steal anything!"

  "Lies." Tovin waved his knife at the bundled ledger. "Look, Kael. We can do this the easy way. We know you found a treasure in the mine and kept a part for yourself. Garrick knows, too and will soon come after you. Think about it. It'll be easier for everyone if you don't have it when he does."

  Ash nodded, his eyes clearly locked onto the sling holding Kael's broken arm. "We're giving you the choice because we grew up together. Don't make me beat you up."

  "It's just an old book!" Kael began to unwrap the ledge to prove he stole nothing. "Argh!"

  Before he could, when he lowered his face on the cloak, the metallic pipe crashed on the back of his head.

  "Enough scrap noise. Hand over that book, and get lost. Give me that shirt and pants, too," Ash snarled.

  "I'll take his shoes!" Tovin added.

  Kael gripped his forehead, his vision blurry. When he removed his hand, it was smeared with his blood. He clenched his jaw.

  Another strike came crashing against his side. He folded, controlling his fall to cover the ledger.

  They could take his clothes, but not the ledger!

  It was his hope, his future!

  "Let it go, slum rat. You've always been hard-headed like your mother. Where is she now?" Ash didn't speak; he vented years of frustration each time he slammed his pipe down.

  Kael felt the icy bites of the pipe tear his wounded back. "Never," he hissed between two strikes that sent tremors through his spine. "Take the rest. But you're not getting it."

  "Heard the whore died three days ago. Now you're a true orphan like us. And like us, you'll feel what it is like to have no one to protect you!" Ash kicked Kael with a vicious smirk.

  Kael spat out blood, his mouth filled with a coppery taste.

  Mom always prepared food for your birthdays. Don't call her a whore, ungrateful bastards!

  He lunged up, his body screaming in protest. Not listening, he wrapped his arms around Ash. The teenager's eyes widened, but it was too late.

  Kael snapped his mouth shut on the teenager's left ear.

  "ARGH!" Ash let out a painful scream. Dropping his pipe, he elbowed Kael's skull.

  Kael's eyes rolled, darkness creeping at the edge of his vision. No!

  With a decisive jerk of his head, he tore Ash's ear. Then, he opened his mouth to target the neck.

  As he did, Ash shrieked. "Tovin!"

  Tovin's hand trembled around his knife. For a heartbeat, his eyes darted between Kael and Ash, as if he hesitated, as if he didn't want things to go this far.

  Right before Kael's mouth closed on Ash's neck, he closed his eyes and drove his weapon into flesh.

  Kael stumbled back, the blade sliding from the side of his stomach. Even as he collapsed, he pressed against the wound, shivering as snow reddened around him.

  "Shit!" Tovin screamed, and Kael saw his hands tremble more than ever. "That's not what I wanted! L-Let's leave."

  Even though he said he'd leave, he removed Kael's shoes, slid off his pants, and unbuttoned his shirt. The junk flower fell from the pocket beside Kael, while Tovin bit his lip when he saw the bandages wrapping him.

  Kael didn't care for false sympathy. The ledger... He let the wound bleed, to pull it toward him.

  "Fucking piece of shit!" Ash growled, raising his pipe.

  Before he could slam it down, Tovin gripped his arm. "He won't last the night. I-I... Let him bleed out."

  "Fine." Ash covered his ear, his lips pursed. Then, he crouched to take the ledger. When Kael didn't let it go, he unwrapped it, only to wrench his hand back when the corrosive water seared his fingers.

  "What is this book?"

  "Trash. Garrick misinformed us all." A voice answered Tovin's question from the roof. "Retreat and get yourselves treated. Joss Renn won't like how you handled this."

  Kael watched Tovin and Ash's faces turn whiter than the snow as they vanished behind the alley's corner without a word.

  Wag your tail in front of your angry master, dogs.

  He pulled the ledger over his chest, gripping the junk flower instead. His hazy mind drifted to his most precious memories: his mom standing proud on her feet despite mockery. They called her a lowly beggar, a foolish woman who didn't know her place in the slums.

  He called her the most enduring person he had ever known.

  "I'll be like you, Mom. Even if the world wants me gone, I PERSIST."

  Kael let out his last steamy breath in the cold, desolate alley before losing consciousness.

  And the world silently answered. The steam from his breath faded. The cold touched his skin and stopped. Blood stubbornly refused to leak from his abdomen and back.

  On his chest, the ledger shed its sodden disguise. It dissolved into silver mist before reforming into an ethereal, invisible form. The cover hardened into leather etched with interlocking arabesques, smelling of a long-forgotten creature as if it were still alive.

  Golden letters, not merely written but seemingly grown from the material itself, wove a title across the top:

  The Ledger of Shattered Truths

  And on its first page, lines of sky-blue words formed.

  ? Truth of Endurance ?

  ────────────────────────────

  Core: I persist.

  Anchor: Memory of Nessa

  ────────────────────────────

  Stress on Anchor: 0%

  Risk of Breaking: Null

  ────────────────────────────

  Cost: Cannot voluntarily yield.

  Price: The warmth from the memories of Nessa.