Jared paused in the doorway, letting the clutter settle around him. Not a place for living. A holding space. It caught the spill of questions, tools, half-built answers that had nowhere else to go. Dust, metal, old paper. The air was cool, unmarked by the careful habits that shaped the other apartment. Adrian's world did not reach here.
Purpose had claimed the living room. A corkboard pressed against the wall, heavy with a map of Seattle, its surface buckling under the weight of what he had pinned there. Black pins for Dark events, tuning, the places where things had gone wrong. Blue for Shadow Rifts. The colors refused to touch. That gap unsettled him more than any pattern. It felt deliberate. Once, he had thought it was chance.
Shelves pressed against the walls, sagging under the weight of things that did not belong together. Arcane texts crushed against binders of case notes. Small containers, sealed tight, holding samples from places the Dark had touched. Cybernetic pieces scattered in careful disorder, wires trailing, each marked in his own hand. No system, not for anyone else. But Jared never searched. He reached and found.
The kitchen was only a suggestion. Coffee maker, humming microwave, the sound too loud in the quiet. Protein bars, snack packs, stacked and forgotten. The fridge held water, a few drinks. Nothing for comfort. Only what was needed.
In the bedroom, a cot was pressed against the wall. Thin blanket, folded with care. He had slept here, but rarely. Not a place for rest. Only for work.
Erebus padded in behind him, tail lifting slightly as they surveyed the room. They made no comment. They did not judge. They seemed content to exist within the clutter, as if the space itself made sense to them.
He set his bag down by the desk. Sat. Shoulders rolling, trying to shake off the ache. The terminal woke beneath his hands. Fingers moved without thought. Early cases. First alignments. Incidents dismissed, contained, buried in silence.
He read. Slow, careful. Names blurred, dates tangled, places repeating in strange clusters. Reports, assessments, readings. Patterns surfaced, then slipped away.
One case stopped him.
Older than most. Barely documented. Transient lives, no names. A spike in readings, then nothing. The file ended with a single line. It unsettled him more than any disaster.
No further activity observed. Area stabilized without a known cause.
Jared frowned.
He pulled the map close. Found the place. Industrial district, near the water. Warehouses left to rot. Shelters rising and falling, encampments erased and rebuilt. A place the city refused to see.
“I want to see it,” he said quietly.
Erebus lifted their head. Their eyes met his.
Alright they replied, a simple affirmation floating in Jared’s mind.
The rain had started by the time they arrived.
Rain fell, steady and cold. It soaked into cracked concrete, rusted metal. The air tasted of salt, oil, old neglect. Jared left the car at the edge and walked. Erebus beside him, silent.
Buildings loomed, hollow bones. Windows shattered, others sealed in wood. Graffiti over graffiti, names lost beneath layers. The city pressed close, but did not cross the line. Traffic faded to a distant hum.
Jared slowed as he crossed an invisible line.
The Dark did not surge. It did not greet him. It did not announce itself.
It was already there.
It pressed in, heavy but not hostile. Like the air before a storm. He stopped. Breath slow. Impressions washed over him, sudden and uninvited.
Cold. Hunger. Joints aching from concrete sleep. Fear at nightfall, nowhere safe to lock a door. Humiliation, unseen in a crowd. The exhaustion of surviving, not knowing if tomorrow would come.
None of it belonged to one person.
Layered. Hundreds of lives, fragments pressed together. A man losing his job, then his home. A woman counting coins, always short. A teenager aging too fast, trust worn away. The quiet despair of knowing no one would come.
Jared’s chest tightened.
He had not reached for this. He had not opened himself. He was only standing there.
The Dark moved anyway.
It flowed to him. No intent, only inevitability. Water finding a channel already carved. Pressure shifted, air thickened. It moved through him, through the old wounds, the places shaped to hold it.
The pain did not vanish.
It changed.
The weight eased. Something released. Impressions softened, no longer cutting. The Dark thinned, drawn away by currents he could not see, only feel deep in his bones.
He staggered. Caught the railing, rust flaking beneath his hand. Breath shallow, uneven.
“I did not do that,” he said aloud, voice hoarse.
Erebus sat nearby, watching with intent curiosity. No, they agreed. You noticed.
Jared closed his eyes. “It used me.”
Yes, Erebus agreed.
The word did not carry judgment. It was simply the truth.
He looked. Buildings unchanged. Rain still falling. But something had shifted. The old stagnation gone, replaced by emptiness. Not abandonment. Rest.
This is new, Erebus said after a moment.
Jared nodded slowly. “I felt it choose me.”
Because you are available, Erebus replied. Because you are aligned.
Jared laughed softly, without humor. “Infrastructure.”
Erebus tilted their head. Yes.
The word pressed into him, heavy. He had not chosen to be a conduit. No consent, not really. But he had allowed it, simply by being what he was.
He did not feel proud.
He did not feel afraid.
He felt tired. Deep, aching. Sadness settling in his bones.
“All of that pain,” he said quietly. “It did not need monsters. It did not need magic. It only needed neglect.”
The Dark had not made the wound. It only gathered where people were already broken. Humans bled it out, never knowing.
Erebus moved closer, their presence steady and grounding. This is why it responds to you, they said. You understand that it is not separate.
Jared swallowed. His throat felt tight. “Being capable means being responsible.”
Yes.
Acceptance brought no comfort. Only a quiet resolve, edged with grief. He had wanted answers, understanding. Instead, he found obligation. It did not ask permission.
He looked again at the empty buildings. Rain washing concrete, slow and patient. The Dark had moved on. Its work finished, for now.
“Let’s go,” he said softly.
They left. No ceremony. No alarms. No one noticed the air lighten. The city continued, unchanged.
Walking away, Jared lifted his face to the rain. Eyes closed. Melancholy lingered, heavy but bearable. He had not lost himself.
But he knew now. He was not only his own. The Dark had learned how to use him. And he had let it. And he would let it again.
