Chapter 1: The Invisible Chains

POV VI

The metal door slammed shut with a dull crash, like a full stop to a sentence written in pain. Vi stood there for a moment, her gaze fixed on the cracked asphalt beneath her feet. The air, while no purer than Zaun's, had a taste of freedom she was no longer accustomed to. She took a deep breath, but the sensation didn't relieve her. Instead, her heart felt heavier, as if an invisible vice was tightening its grip with every second.

Her bag, containing the few personal effects recovered from the juvenile prison, barely weighed, but she felt it like a stone hanging from her shoulder. Her fingers brushed the worn fabric, where the letters never sent to Powder were hidden. Just thinking about her sister's name made her grit her teeth.

A rehabilitation officer stood a few feet away from her, a tablet in his hand. Her uniform, spotless and stiff, seemed a million miles from the filth that permeated Zaun. He hadn't even deigned to smile at her when he saw her.

"Violet."

"It's Vi," she replied, her tone sharp as a knife.

The man raised an eyebrow, used to this kind of attitude, then consulted his screen with an indifference that was almost insulting.

"Very well, Vi. You've been enrolled in a rehabilitation program, I see. A scholarship in boxing awaits you, provided you behave yourself, on campus. It's a rare opportunity. Don't waste it."

She shrugged, feigning indifference. But inside, a storm was brewing. A "rare opportunity"? She had spent years locked up, abandoned by a system that had crushed her, and now they were claiming she should be grateful?

"I'll do what I have to," she lied, her steely gaze locked with the agent's.

The man nodded, clearly satisfied, and turned on his heel.

When he was gone, Vi set off, her bag swinging against her hip. She didn't look back.

The streets of Zaun stretched out before her like a familiar maze, but something was off. The buildings were the same, decrepit and worn by time, but she felt alien in this environment. It was like looking at a painting she had once loved, but whose colors had faded.

Zaun hadn't changed. Not really. The air was still thick, saturated with a mixture of oil and burnt metal. Flickering neon lights cast shadows on graffitied walls, and the narrow streets seemed to close in on her with every step.

But this wasn't the Zaun she remembered. The same dilapidated buildings, the same furtive glances from the townspeople... Yet it all felt foreign.

She walked quickly, her hands in her pockets, trying to ignore the flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm her.

She passed an alley where she used to play with Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. Memories came flooding back: Powder smiling shyly, Mylo complaining about everything and nothing, Claggor always the mediator, keeping them all together. She had grown up on these streets. But now they seemed almost hostile, as if they were blaming her for her absence.

Vi shook her head, refusing to dwell on these thoughts. She had a mission: to find her family.

The Last Drop.

The bar hadn't changed, but it felt different. The neon sign flickered like it had back then, the windows were still dirty, and the acrid smell of beer and sweat hung in the air. But as she walked through the door, she felt a shiver run down her spine.

The inside was darker than before, and the customers sat in corners, talking in low voices. The bartender, a stocky, gruff-looking man, barely looked at her as she approached the counter.

"What can I get you?" he asked flatly.

"Answers." Vi replied, his gaze piercing.

He raised an eyebrow, stopping mid-gesture to wipe a glass.

"That's not what we sell here, kiddo."

"Vander. Did he make it out?"

The name seemed to freeze the air. The conversations died down briefly before starting up again, but with less enthusiasm. Vi noticed the slight twitch in the bartender's jaw before he spoke again.

"No. He's still in jail. No one's seen him since they took him away."

An invisible punch slammed into her stomach. She had hoped, naively, that Vander had found a way out, that he would be there to take her in. But no. Everything was as she had left it, except she was no longer a part of it.

She swallowed her pain, burying it behind a mask of cold determination.

"What about my sister? Powder. ."

The bartender frowned, a glint of compassion and unease crossing his eyes.

"Jinx, huh? Listen, kid, it's complicated. Your sister... she's hanging out with Silco. He adopted her, or something."

The word "adopted" rang through Vi's mind like a death knell. Silco. The man who hated Vander, the adoptive father of both of them. How could he have taken her sister for himself? What was he talking about?

"Adopted?" she repeated, almost incredulous. "That son of a bitch..."

"She's not well, your sister," the bartender cut in a serious tone. "She's become a victim like all those who work for him."

Vi felt her throat tighten, a mixture of anger and pain fighting inside her. She clung to the bar to steady herself.

"And Mylo? Claggor? Do you know where I can find them?"

The bartender frowned, his gaze clouded with incomprehension.

"I don't know who you're talking about."

The words fell like a stone in Vi's stomach. These names, which had meant so much to her, seemed to have been erased from Zaun's memory.

Everyone around them was staring at her, she wouldn't have anything else interesting to learn here. But as she was about to leave, the bartender leaned slightly towards her, then spoke in a low voice, while cleaning a glass.

"Listen, Silco's men like to hang out here, especially at night. On a night like tonight."

Vi looked up, taking in the implied warning. They were coming. She nodded, her gaze hard.

"Thanks for the info."

She left the bar, her bag slung over her shoulder and her heart racing. She didn't know how she was going to deal with all this yet, but one thing was clear: she wasn't going to sit back and watch. If Silco had taken her sister, she was going to take her back. No matter what.

JINX POV

The hallways of high school were a noisy jungle. The kind of place where predators stalked their prey, where sharp laughter cut like blades through the silence. Jinx slipped through them, head down, shoulders tense under the invisible weight of stares. The whispers clung to her like shadows, crawling, always there, always stickier.

She could feel the snickers before she could really hear them. She clenched her fists in the pockets of her sweatshirt, letting her nails bite into the skin. Just a bad time to get through, she told herself. A routine. But deep down, she knew it was never just that.

She reached her locker. The shiny tape caught her eye before she could see the rest. A photo. No, a grotesque photomontage, stuck there like a screaming insult.

It was her, finally a monstrous version of her, eyes widened in crazy spirals, mouth twisted into a broken doll grin. Around the image, bright red scribbles screamed "Crazy", "Zaun Rat", "Freak Show". Each word hit her full in the face, one slap after another.

The silence around her was worse than the noise. She felt the stares. The raised phones. The restrained smiles. The muffled snickers that exploded a little further away.

Jinx snatched the photo away with a sharp gesture, the paper tearing halfway under her trembling fingers. Her vision blurred for a moment, and she forced herself to breathe. But the rage was there, ready to burst.

Her gaze swept the corridors until she found Ekko, leaning on a locker with his two buddies, Eve and Scar. They were laughing, not even discreetly. So that was it. Them. Of course it was them.

She crossed the distance between them in a few long strides, the paper crumpled in her hand. She wasn't really thinking. She wasn't used to thinking anymore when it burned like that in her skull.

With a violent gesture, she slammed the photo against his chest.

"Did you do this, you little shit?"

Ekko raised an eyebrow, the kind of raise that meant he didn't give a damn. His nervous laughter echoed, a stab in his already tattered patience.

"Are you serious?" he replied, feigning indignation. "You're so paranoid, Jinx. Is that all I have to do, really?"

Around him, Eve and Scar burst out laughing, delighted by the spectacle. Eve took a step forward, her predatory smile stretched like a mask.

— Oh, but aren't you the artist? You could have done it yourself, just to get people talking about you. You like that, huh? To get people to look at you.

Scar chimed in, his fat laugh drowning out the others'.

"Yeah, that crazy girl look suits you. You could put on a show with that, freak."

The words dug into her ears, into her head, like red-hot needles. She wanted to scream, to punch their fucking smiles out of them. But she just stared at them, her electric blue gaze almost terrifying in its fixity.

"Keep laughing. You're pathetic. So pathetic that I don't even need to destroy you. You do it all by yourself."

The laughter died down a little. But Eve wasn't done yet.

"You want us to cry, do you? But look at you, Jinx." You're just a walking joke.

Jinx's fingers were shaking now, but not with fear. Anger was consuming her whole being. Without thinking, she raised both hands high, middle fingers raised like daggers.

"Fuck you all!" she shouted, her voice drowning out the tumult of the hallways.

And she spun around, waving to the imaginary crowd with both hands before shoving Ekko roughly. She felt the impact of his shoulder against him, a satisfying shock. Then she walked away, without turning around, without stopping.

The crumpled paper remained in her hand. Proof, perhaps, or just a morbid trophy.

In her head, the thoughts were still screaming, looping like a broken song. They'll see. One day, they'll all see.

Silco's house was more like a mausoleum than a home. Cold, huge, and always too quiet. The walls seemed to watch Jinx as she walked through it, almost mockingly, as if they knew things she didn't yet know.

She slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing in the empty hall. Her bag fell to the floor with a thud, forgotten immediately. The stairs creaked under her hurried steps. She wanted to lock herself in her room, flee the whole world, and especially avoid Silco.

Except, of course, he was there.

His voice, soft and insidious, escaped from his office, where he was talking to two men with sharp eyes. She walked past without slowing down, feigning indifference.

"Jinx."

His name, icy, clung to her like a chain. She hesitated for a moment, but didn't turn around.

"Jinx, come here." She continued to climb. One step. Two.

"I won't tell you again."

She sighed loudly, her shoulders sagging with a weariness she didn't have the strength to hide. But she didn't obey. What was the point? He would come himself eventually.

In her room, she collapsed on her bed, her legs outstretched and her arms behind her head. Her ceiling, which she had covered with clumsy paintings, seemed to judge her too. She looked away, resting them on her workbench. There, in the middle of its usual mess, an old mechanism creaked softly under her fingers. She tinkered to keep herself from thinking. Or to think faster, perhaps.

The door opened without warning. Silco entered, and the weight of his presence immediately filled the room. He closed the door gently behind him, a calculated gesture worth a thousand screams.

"You didn't go to school. Again."

She didn't answer, her eyes fixed on her mechanism. The cogs turned with a low creak, like a sick heart.

"You think I wouldn't know? Are you challenging me, Jinx?"

She shrugged, still not looking at him.

"School is for morons. I have better things to do."

The silence stretched, heavy, threatening. Finally, Silco approached, kneeling slowly beside her. His shadow stretched across her workbench. His hand grasped hers, with a feigned gentleness that made the gesture even more oppressive.

"Better things to do?" he murmured, his hissing voice almost too calm. You think you're free. But you're forgetting something: you depend entirely on me. I gave you everything. Never forget that."

She yanked her hand away abruptly, jumping up to put some distance between them.

—Oh, right, Papa Silco is here to save poor little Jinx. Always ready to lecture, but only when it makes you shine, huh? You don't give a damn about me. You only come to me when I do stupid things.

His words spat like sparks, but Silco didn't flinch. His smile tightened slightly, his piercing eyes seeming to dissect her.

"If I only talked to you when you do stupid things, we'd spend our days together."

The smooth tone was worse than any yelling. Jinx backed away, her thoughts jumbled, mixing into an endless stream of incoherent images and words. She wanted to fight back, but the words wouldn't come.

"You're not going out tonight," he finally said, getting up and heading for the door.

She exploded, unable to contain herself.

"Oh, of course!" As if your permission ever mattered to me!

He turned around, one eyebrow raised.

"Try to defy me. You'll see what it costs." And he left, closing the door with maddening slowness.

A few minutes later, she heard his voice echo through the house, but he wasn't speaking to her. Sevika was there, as always. The faithful shadow.

"Jinx will come with you tonight," he said. "Make sure she stays... disciplined."

She didn't hear the answer, but she could sense Sevika's jaded look, the one she reserved for those orders she never questioned.

In her room, Jinx was champing at the bit. She was tinkering again, her hands feverish, her thoughts in chaos.

They're watching me. Always. Like I'm a bomb that's about to go off. Maybe they're right. Maybe I will.

She let go of the gear she was holding.

"Fuck them all."

When Sevika knocked on her door later, she was already waiting for her, her smile wide and menacing, her eyes sparkling with contained madness.

"Ready to go party, auntie?"

Sevika sighed, but didn't answer.

POV VI

The bar was a sordid hole, even for Zaun. The acrid smell of sweat and alcohol mixed with rust and chemicals assaulted the nostrils from the moment she entered. Vi, hood pulled down, walked slowly, her eyes scanning the shadows, every movement suspicious.

She'd heard that this place was a hub for Silco's business. If Jinx was hanging out anywhere, it was here.

A shady man bumped into her as he passed, his breath heavy with whiskey.

"Watch your step, kid," he growled.

Vi ignored the insult, focused on her mission. Her fist clenched in a reflex she barely suppressed. Not now. She had to stay out of sight, at least until she found her.

A group of card players were laughing loudly in the corner, their dirty chips piled on the table. A guy leaned on the bar, rolling a cigarette and staring intently at the door. And then...

She walked in.

Vi froze.

Powder.

She was there, in the flesh, but not at all the way Vi had imagined. The little girl who had once run after her was gone. In her place was a tall teenage girl, her hair braided in messy locks that cascaded over her shoulders, a strange smile stretching her painted face. Her demeanor oscillated between disarming vulnerability and dangerously carefree.

She was surrounded by three older men, all of them bearing the invisible but obvious mark of Silco's men. They treated her like a fallen princess or a prized mascot, offering her drinks, laughing at her every remark, however meaningless.

Vi felt a lump form in her throat.

My little sister. What did he do to you?

She stepped forward, a hesitant hand under her hood, but she had barely taken two steps when a massive figure blocked her path.

"Well, well... Look who's back."

Sevika's deep, sarcastic voice was like an invisible punch.

Vi looked up. The woman gave him a predatory smile, her mechanical arm glowing faintly in the hazy neon light.

"What are you doing here, Vi? Didn't you miss Teindemains anymore?"

Vi growled, pulling her hood down abruptly.

— Don't pretend to care about me, Sevika. I'm not here for you.

"Ah, I guess so. But here's the thing, princess: this is not your home. And I'm not going to let you bother anyone."

Vi didn't even bother to answer. She moved forward, her gaze fixed on Powder. But Sevika blocked her path again, this time pushing her away with her metal arm.

"Get out of here, Sevika. I'm warning you."

"And I'm telling you: get out."

Vi lost patience. Her fist flew out of its own accord, hitting Sevika square in the jaw. The impact made the woman tilt slightly, but she regained her balance almost immediately, a smirk on her lips.

"Bad choice."

Before Vi could react, Sevika retaliated, a shoulder blow followed by a hook from the metal arm that sent Vi hitting a table. The customers around them parted, laughing or betting on the outcome of the fight.

Vi straightened up, wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth, ready to attack again. But Sevika wasn't playing alone. Two men appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Vi by the arms and held her, her feet almost leaving the ground.

"You've got some grit, I'll give you that. But you should learn to pick your battles, kid," Sevika sneered.

Vi struggled, but the men were too strong, their grips far too tight. In desperation, she turned her head, searching the crowd for Jinx again.

That's when she saw.

One of the men surrounding Powder had moved closer to her, a hand trailing a little too low on her slim waist. She didn't react, as if she was too far away in her thoughts to realize what was happening, or as if she didn't care.

"Hey!" Vi shouted, her heart racing with anger.

She struggled violently, but the men held her firmly. Sevika, who had followed her gaze, snickered.

"Don't worry, she can defend herself. If she wants to."

Vi felt a dull rage rise inside her, a devastating fury she hadn't felt in years.

"POWDER!" she screamed, desperately hoping to get her sister's attention.

But Powder didn't turn around. She burst out laughing, a shrill, almost mechanical laugh, as if she'd heard a joke no one else understood.

Before Vi could scream again, a sharp blow to her stomach doubled her over. The men dragged her out of the bar, her gaze still fixed on her sister, who was walking away into the crowd.

When the door closed behind her, Vi found herself alone in the dark alley, the frigid air biting at her skin. She stood there for a moment, panting, her fists clenched until her knuckles cracked.

I'll find you, Powder.

The world seemed to shrink around Vi. The dark alley was an awkward shelter between two dumpsters, the only protection from the biting cold of the night. She collapsed onto a crate, her breath ragged, her wounds burning relentlessly. Her fingers trembled in pain, dark marks spreading across her face and hands.

As she struggled to catch her breath, footsteps echoed on the dirty cobblestones. Vi slowly raised her head, her dark eyes meeting those of a man who was leaving a small shop next to the bar. Benzo.

"What are you doing here, kid?" he asked, his tone cold but with a hint of concern.

Vi wiped the blood that was running down her cheek, her lips trembling. She wanted to speak, but her words were tangled.

"Hurt..." she murmured painfully.

Benzo raised his eyebrows, moving closer. He put down his bag of trash, observing the one he thought he would never see again, with a look full of memories and reproaches. His voice growled softly.

"Vi... you again. You're always so reckless."

She sank into a rickety chair next to the trash cans, her body still shaking with tremors.

"I need your help, Benzo."

He sighed deeply, his gaze sliding over her injuries. He walked to the door of his shop and let her in, though the place was as modest as a craftsman's back room. He pulled out a rusty first aid kit that he had surely used dozens of times. "Sit here," he said, his tone firm but compassionate.

Vi obeyed, letting Benzo examine her wounds. He cleaned the cuts with slow, methodical steps, avoiding the places where the pain was too sharp. When he was done, he put the kit back on an old wooden table.

"What did you look for again?" he whispered, disapproval tinged with worry in his voice.

Vi looked away. She didn't want to talk about it. Not yet. So she simply nodded, unable to find the words.

Benzo gave her a searching look before sitting down in front of her again, his hands clasped in his lap. He seemed to be searching for something to say, something that, each time, remained stuck between his lips.

"Powder," he finally began, breaking the silence.

His tone changed, became softer. A weight lifted from his tired face. He spoke of her with a nostalgic tenderness.

"She's in high school. With Ekko."

Vi froze. Her heart stopped for a moment. Ekko...

"They go to the local public school," he added in a sorry tone.

The words resonated in Vi like relief mixed with a throbbing pain. She was happy to know that at least Ekko had a normal life, away from the clutches of Silco and Zaun. But there was something in Benzo's tone that intrigued her, something that spoke volumes about the situation.

"But...?" she whispered.

Benzo seemed to hesitate for a moment, staring at his hands as if searching for the right words.

"He's closed off. He hardly talks to anyone anymore. Powder, she..." He sighed deeply, his voice trembling with emotion. They were close. Before. But... He shook his head. It's complicated.

Vi felt her heart clench further. Ekko had always been there for them, for Jinx. He had always looked out for her, like a brother. But this version of Ekko already seemed lost, changed by years of loneliness and pain.

"There was..." Benzo continued in a calmer tone, as if preparing to dig up painful memories. There was another time, when Vander was here. Remember?

Vi closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself be carried away by the image of Zaun's father, a tall, imposing man, a protector, a leader who ruled their neighborhood with wisdom and justice. Vander had long since disappeared, swept up in a storm of tragic events. The city missed him terribly, its stability, its humanity.

"Things would have been different if he were still here," Benzo added, his voice shaking. "Not like Silco. All he did was install that Shimmer shit. All we have is fear."

Vi nodded slowly, her thoughts gathering in one direction. She didn't want that life. Not under Silco. Not without Powder.

Benzo handed her a hot herbal tea, his shaking hands more careful than strong.

"You have to be careful. Going for Silco... this is no joke."

Vi took the cup with a sad smile.

"I have no choice."

Benzo looked at the one who was no longer a young girl, and though he suppressed his fears, a hint of hope shone in her eyes. She was determined.

And he knew there was nothing he could do to stop her.

— Where do they live?

Night had fallen on Zaun, shrouding the dark alleys in an eerie silence. Vi advanced cautiously, her gaze focused on the address she had carefully collected. Each step echoed in her mind, as she recalled the many times she had sworn to find Powder, to bring her home.

Silco Manor was vast, imposing, almost unreal in the darkness. The windows were dark, suggesting strict and omnipresent surveillance. Yet something caught her attention: a familiar figure, a quick shadow that slipped discreetly out a back window.

Powder.

She recognized her instantly, even in this adolescent figure that had become more distant, more wary. Powder, her little sister, the child she had sworn to protect. But something was not like before. A part of her seemed absent, erased, replaced by a colder, more controlled version.

The narrow streets of Zaun were a winding maze. Vi followed Powder at a distance, her movements calculated and silent. Every shadow seemed to threaten to swallow her, every surrounding noise made her jump slightly. She focused on her sister's steps, on each furtive slide through the dusty alleys.

After what seemed an eternity, the figure led Vi behind the public high school building. A dilapidated, abandoned courtyard echoed under Powder's slow steps. She stopped there, waiting.

As they faced each other in a deserted alley, Vi heard footsteps behind them. A furtive sound, a presence approaching in the darkness.

Her instincts flared. A man in a hood was advancing slowly towards Powder. His steps seemed sure, determined. Vi rushed towards them, her arms outstretched in a desperate attempt to reestablish contact, to bring back this lost sister.

"Powder!" But the hooded man suddenly stopped. He peered at her with his mysterious shadow, and without a word, he slowly backed away, disappearing into the darkness. Vi couldn't make out his face, all she could do was feel the threat that loomed over Powder. This wasn't her ally.

Her arms fell on the air as Powder instinctively backed away, an expression of hesitation and fear lighting up her face. She didn't want her here, not now.

Vi felt the pain rekindle in her heart. She understood this rejection, this wall that separated them now. But she couldn't just stand there.

"Powder..." she whispered softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "You're here, you're really here."

Powder watched her with a mixture of confusion and restraint. She knew, deep down, what Vi felt, but the shadow of who she was remained between them, distorting any sense of reconciliation.

"Vi...?" she whispered, her voice trembling, almost incredulous. "It's not true... It's impossible."

Powder, still frozen, looked away, tears silently rolling down her cheeks. This vision was a storm of memories, a pain she had yet to calm. And yet, she did not move.

Before she could even react further, a detonation rang out, brutal and without warning.

The flames burst, red and menacing, devouring the courtyard in an infernal glow. Powder, frozen in front of this apocalyptic scene, seemed unable to move.

Vi screamed her name again and again, but Powder, this time, was no longer listening to her. She watched the fire escalate, despair crossing her face for the first time, her expression broken.

Vi couldn't understand. Why wasn't she moving? Why was she just standing there, watching her own destruction?

The fire licked at the crumbling walls, every second of waiting weighing heavily on Vi. Then it dawned on her.

Powder had started this.

She wanted to reach out, to wrap her arms around her, to pull her away from this nightmare. But the flames wouldn't let her. All she could do was scream her name.

"Powder!" Jinx whispered, her eyes rimmed with tears, her breath ragged. She was gone then, engulfed by the black smoke and the explosion, leaving Vi behind, frozen in horror, unable to catch her.

The flames continued to dance, illuminating a picture of desolation.