The streets of Athelun’s Coveside Harbor district thrummed with a mid morning energy, like the pulse of a beast waking from a restless sleep. Buildings crowded close to the narrow lanes, their facades a patchwork of cracked brick, rusted fire escapes, and worn graffiti that had faded into a kind of accidental mural, layer over layer. Old industrial warehouses and blocky apartment complexes loomed above, hunched under years of salt and grime from the coast, as though they too had surrendered to the relentless wear of the harbor’s briny air.

  Vendors were already setting up for the morning crowd, their carts heavy with bright displays of fried dough, sizzling skewers, and grilled fish, filling the air with the greasy aroma of street food. The cries of gulls punctuated the low hum of conversation, and every now and then, the horn of a departing or arriving freighter rumbled through the district.

  Rex glanced around, taking in the sights of Coveside with a hint of nostalgia. As Duke walked beside him, Rex couldn’t resist needling him a bit. “You smell that, Duke?” he asked, breathing in deeply. “That’s the good stuff. That sea air with the added scent of street food for flavor.” Rex inhaled through his nose as if the aroma of the harbor delivered an intricate tapestry of messages through the air.

  Duke wrinkled his nose, feigning disgust. “Oh, I smell it. Smells like rust and whatever you call that smell at low-tide, if you ask me. You get too comfortable around here, and you forget what fresh air even is.” He shook his head, his mouth curling slightly. “Place hasn’t changed a lick since I started on the force.”

  Rex chuckled, slipping his hands into his coat pockets as they walked. “Right? Admit it, though. If it ever did change? You’d miss it.”

  Duke huffed, doing his best to hold back a smirk. “Unlike you, since I don’t really have any interest in street food, I only have the risk of the job in this place.” He paused, giving Rex a sidelong look. “Speaking of which, you sure this intel’s any good? I swear if we’re dragging ourselves through the Harbor district to chase down some junkie trying to pawn off knockoff elixirs, I’ll—”

  “Relax, Duke,” Rex interrupted, his tone level and calm. “Source says Roadie’s been trying to unload ampules of Wyldfire here all week. He’s too lazy to go far, and you know he’s a creature of habit.”

  Duke let out an abrupt huff and muttered, “More like a creature who can’t stay out of trouble.” He rolled his eyes, “And too dumb to realize we’d be after him again. Feels like we bust him every month for something or other, only to have him squirming back into these alleys two weeks later. Like clockwork.”

  Rex pulled his coat against a chill gust from the harbor that swept down the alley. “Apparently, it’s time to set the clock again.” His eyes scanned their surroundings with the practiced ease of a predator who knows his hunting grounds. “If Roadie’s really peddling Wyldfire, though, he’s a bigger idiot than I thought.”

  Duke adjusted the collar of his coat and muttered under his breath, “I doubt we are going to get much out of him. I can’t imagine a smaller fry than him. He is likely bragging and making up a story, and that story spread as far as your source. He is gonna get himself killed.” Duke paused and then huffed a brief chuckle, “We nab him, watch him dribble and drone at the station, and then we’ll both sit back and wait for the inevitable when he’s right back here, wheelin and deelin like there are no consequences for his actions.”

  He threw Rex a pointed look.

  Rex’s grin flickered across his face, with just a hint of teeth. “Hey, it’s good for job security. Keeps things interesting.”

  Duke snorted, shaking his head. “I’d trade ‘interesting’ for a little boredom any day.”

  They walked in silence for a beat, but then Duke cast another glance sideways at Rex, his expression shifting to something more thoughtful. “Rex?”

  Rex’s expression hardened a bit, fully knowing the inflection in Duke’s voice meant it was likely going to get personal. He didn’t turn his gaze from the street ahead. “Nope! Not doing this Duke.”

  Duke grinned knowingly and spoke as if talking to no one in particular, “It is just amazing to me that you said he was talking.”

  Rex sighed, nodding as his ears pinned to the back of his head. He tried to keep his voice casual, but there was a hint of something softer beneath the words. “I don’t understand, Duke. He is almost four.” He trailed off, clearing his throat. “He should be in diapers right? Barely learning motor skills and barely able to talk. He runs around the school yard like he is six. And…”

  Rex paused for a moment clearly reflecting on his encounter with Max earlier in the day.

  “Bet he’s twice the size of kids his age.” Duke replied, undeterred.

  Rex looked out to the Harbor, clearly in a reflective thought, “He had an awareness of me, Duke. He seems so much older, and I don’t know how to keep up.”

  Duke put a hand on his shoulder, “You are probably reading too much into things, Rex. It is understandable given the circumstances.”

  Rex’s jaw tensed, and his eyes hardened as he tried to steer the conversation back to work. “Yeah… He is,” he said, his tone clipped. “Look, we’re here for Roadie, not for bleeding my personal issues, Duke.”

  “Alright, alright,” Duke replied, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Just curious, that’s all.”

  Rex’s expression tightened, and his ears perked back to attention as he scanned their surroundings with renewed intensity. “I really don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered with a steely voice.

  “Right,” Duke replied.

  They rounded another corner, slipping past a row of shanty houses whose faded exteriors told of years of hard living. The alley opened into a small, cluttered courtyard, littered with boxes, crates, and the ever-present detritus of the harbor. Pigeons flitted between garbage cans, and a seagull squawked from a nearby ledge as the two detectives came into view.

  There, by a cart of dubious-looking produce, was Roadie, squatting low with a bagel in one hand and a look of contentment on his wide, rubbery face. He muttered to himself as he rifled through a worn satchel, oblivious to Rex and Duke as they approached.

  Duke leaned in close to Rex, muttering, “There he is. Think he’s eaten his weight in stolen food yet?”

  Rex smirked, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

  They closed in, the thud of Duke’s hooves echoing in the quiet of the alley. “Roadie!” Duke barked, his voice like a gunshot in the still morning.

  The toad jolted with a choking gasp, his round, watery eyes flicking up in surprise as half of his bagel fell from his mouth. His gaze met theirs, and for a heartbeat, he didn’t move, his brain scrambling to process the unwelcome sight of Rex and Duke bearing down on him.

  “Oh, not again,” Roadie groaned, his warbling voice tinged with terror and frustration as he stood up and began to backpedal, dropping his satchel and nearly tripping over it in his haste. “I swear I didn’t do nothin’ this time!”

  Duke raised an eyebrow, arms folded across his chest. “Sure you didn’t, Roadie. So what’s in the satchel? Just your breakfast?”

  Roadie snatched his satchel with his tongue, caught it in his hand, and clutched it close. His eyes darted between Rex and Duke as he realized he had no real escape. His gaze lingered a little too long on Rex, whose calm stare made his throat bob nervously.

  “Come on, fellas,” Roadie stammered, trying to sound casual. “A toad’s gotta make a livin’, right?”

  Rex only raised an eyebrow, and with a slow, deliberate gesture, he took a step closer, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Care to explain what that ‘living’ entails, Roadie?”

  The toad gulped, croaking out a nervous laugh. His webbed hands trembled as he tried to find the words.

  “Come on, Roadie,” Rex drawled, folding his arms with a slow, mocking smile. He made deliberate sniffs of the air as if to prove a point, “Nervous? We just want to have a little chat. No need to break out into a sweat.”

  Roadie’s back hit a stack of crates aside an alley. His eyes darted around, rapidly moving over every escape route only to find himself hemmed in by Duke on one side and Rex on the other. His round, bulging eyes settled on the damp cobblestones, then shifted back up to the detectives with a grudging acceptance. “Aw, man,” he croaked, voice barely more than a murmur. “Look, I don’t want no trouble.”

  “I know you don’t,” Rex replied smoothly, his smirk deepening. “But trouble? It keeps finding you, doesn’t it?”

  Roadie’s mouth twisted into a sneer as he squared his shoulders, trying to bluff his way out of the bind. “Look, I dunno nothin’! I’m just an honest toad, out here makin’ a living.” He puffed out his chest, hands gesturing to himself. “Y’know how it is.”

  “Honest?” Rex let out a low chuckle, eyes gleaming. “Tell me, Roadie, where do you keep the ‘honest’ part? In your back pocket? This bag?” Red slapped the satchel with the back of his hand. “Or does it sit somewhere behind these?” With a lightning-fast move, he reached into Roadie’s coat pocket and fished out a small cloth pouch.

  “Really, Roadie? Again? You always keep this stuff in that same pocket.” Rex gave him a look of disappointment.

  Roadie looked mortified, and his skin began to oose lightly. Rex tossed the pouch to Duke, who caught it and pulled out two sleek glass ampules with a unique fire-like glowing liquid inside.

  Roadie froze, slack jawed, and wide eyed staring at Duke.

  Rex looked gobsmacked as he said, “Was honestly not expecting that.”

  Duke held the ampules up to the light, raising an eyebrow as he glanced back at Roadie. “Now, where’d an honest toad get a couple of these?” he asked, voice flat and unamused.

  Roadie sputtered, his wide eyes darting between the two detectives. “Look, I just find stuff, you know?! I’m just the middlema… err, I mean I am just a purveyor of quality products, y’know? A friend of a friend—just doin’ favors.”

  “A ‘friend,’ huh?” Rex cocked his head, feigning deep interest as he studied Roadie with unsettling patience. “Maybe you’d like to tell us more about this friend?”

  Roadie’s nervous expression quickly melted into something harder, more defiant. He straightened up, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the detectives, calculating whether his best move was to take a verbal swing rather than grovel. He took a steadying breath and sneered, his rubbery mouth curling up in an ugly smirk.

  “Oh, I’d love to, but I don’t think I need to say anything to you.” He nodded at Duke, his smirk widening. “Your little mutt buddy here? All bark, no bite. Both of you’s got nothing on me.” He jabbed a webbed finger toward Duke, his tone mocking. “Mavrick of the Brickstation? Don’t mean nothin’. You guys are always talking a big game, and I am always back out here minding my own business.” Roadie gave a mean squint and a wicked confident smirk toward Rex, “You’re just another dog sniffing after scraps.”

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  Rex’s face stilled, his smile fading, leaving his gaze icy and sharp as glass. Roadie’s jab seemed to catch something as Rex’s eyes narrowed, and it made Roadie exponentially more nervous as the moment lingered. Rex tilted his head, giving a slow thoughtful nod.

  Rex’s darkening expression sent a new ripple of anxiety through Roadie, who quickly tried to slide away past the crates into the alley, only to find Duke stepping closer. Roadie shot Rex a worried look, his previous bravado draining.

  “That hurt my feelings, Roadie. Thought we were old friends?” Rex reached into his coat, pulling out a thick, white piece of chalk and letting it dangle from his fingers. Duke’s eyebrow lifted, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he caught on.

  “All bark, right?,” Rex said, his voice suddenly smooth and casual. “Maybe we do need to up the anti a bit this time.” Rex tossed the chalk up in the air and caught it with a quick snatch as it fell. “See, Roadie, you’ve had a lot of chances. I think it’s time for a little added… incentive.” Rex added a hint of malicious intent with the emphasis on the word.

  Roadie’s breath hitched as his eyes flicked to the chalk in Rex’s hand. He froze, his brain processing all of the potential aetherist tricks his imagination could conjure. “Aw, c’mon, Rex, what’re you plannin’ to do with that?” He tried to laugh, but his voice warbled and wavered, and he shuffled his feet in nervous anticipation, casting frantic glances at Duke. “Uhhh, Duke? You aren’t really gonna let him do this right?”

  Rex crouched down, not looking up, and began to press the chalk to the cobblestones, dragging a careful, slow line along the ground in a wide circle around Roadie and the crate he had pinned himself to. The deliberate pace made the long stroke seem louder than it should have, echoing with an almost ritualistic weight as Rex worked. Roadie watched in growing horror, his face contorting as he tried to find the words to protest.

  “What—what is this?” His voice rose in pitch. “Duke! You can’t let him do this! Ya’ll are cops, man!”

  Duke leaned in, arms crossed, smirking. “What’s wrong, Roadie? Big, brave toad like you, scared of a little chalk?”

  “No way that is ‘just chalk’! Rex, I take the mutt thing back!” Roady said as he made grasping hand gestures, clearly concerned to even approach Rex to try and stop him from whatever he was doing.

  Duke responded with a heavy amount of snark in his voice, “Looks like chalk to me.”

  Roadie scowled, muttering under his breath, but his shoulders slumped in defeat as Rex completed the circle and stood, dusting his hands with a faint, smug smile. Roadie’s eyes flicked between the circle and Rex’s expression, and he bit his lip, visibly trembling.

  “See, Roadie,” Rex began, his voice a low, taunting purr. “No resonants, no anchor, no big magical flash. Just a simple chalk line. Or is it?”

  Roadie’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He shifted his weight, then tried to inch forward, but his foot stopped at the chalk line as if an invisible barrier held him back. He stared down at the line, his hands clenching and unclenching as the panic set in.

  “This… this is ridiculous!” Roadie stammered, his voice breaking. “You’re just messin’ with me, right?” The desperation was clear as his eyes stayed fixed on the unbroken chalk line circling him.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of messing with an *honest* toad like you,” Rex replied, his voice thick with mock sympathy. “Think of it as… motivational encouragement.”

  Duke stifled a chuckle, enjoying the spectacle as he took a step closer, arms crossed and his gaze steady. “Now that we’ve got your undivided attention, maybe you’d like to tell us what you actually know about these ampules?”

  Roadie’s mouth opened, his defiance finally cracking under the combined weight of the detectives and his own fears. He glanced around the courtyard, swallowing hard, knowing he was well and truly cornered. “I have my rights! Drop whatever this is!”

  Rex’s gaze drifted past him, his attention snagged by something down the alley. At the far end, a tall figure leaned casually against a brick wall, watching them with unsettling intensity. A spotted hyena in a battered leather jacket, his sharp orange eyes glinting under the shadow of a cap.

  The orange glow of his eyes confirmed that he was aetherborn and while that was concerning, it was the glint of a gold tooth as the figure smirked that triggered a startling memory. Rex’s expression darkened. All his good humor was gone. Rex’s entire body snapped to alert, his fur standing on end, his eyes dilating as his hunter/prey instincts kicked in. Rex knew that hyena, and that hyena was dangerous.

  “Duke, cover Roadie!” he barked, shoving past him with a speed that left Roadie spluttering in surprise. Rex’s attention was solely on the figure at the alley’s end.

  Duke whipped around, his brows furrowing. “Rex! What?!”

  Caught in the confusion, Roadie stared at Rex’s receding form in sheer panic, his fingers twitching as if trying to claw his way out of the chalk circle. “Hey! You… you can’t leave me like this!” he cried, frantically attempting to scrub at the line on the ground with his toe, but recoiling each time he neared it, as if the chalk might burn him. “Duke, get him back! I’ll tell ya everything, I swear!”

  Rex was already halfway down the alley, Duke was an afterthought and his senses zeroed in on the familiar form disappearing into the crowd beyond.

  Duke glanced at Roadie, exasperated but not unsympathetic. He crouched down, eyeing Roadie with a raised brow, “I need you to answer all of our questions, no arguments, no wild words.”

  “Look, fine! Whatever, I don’t care! Just get me out of this!” Roadie exclaimed.

  Duke prepared a set of handcuffs from the satchel at his hip, and started to enter the threshold of the circle before he froze. After a moment’s hesitation, he timidly scuffed the line of the circle with the tip of his hoof. When nothing happened he gave an audible sigh of relief without any effort to hide it.

  Roadie’s eyes bulged with a mixture of disbelief and fury as his brow furrowed. The realization of falling for Rex’s trick grew more apparent as he trembled with righteous indignation.

  “That was just chalk?!” Roadie exclaimed through a mix of anger and despair.

  “Don’t make me chase you, Roadie. You're coming with me to the station.” Duke declared.

  Rex’s pulse hammered as he caught sight of Gnash weaving through the narrow streets of the harbor. The hyena darted between pedestrians and vendors, sending crates of goods crashing and animals sprawling in his wake. Each disruption Gnash caused was another obstacle in Rex’s pursuit. Tightening his grip on Steel, the firearm’s weight steadied him. He unholstered the weapon and vaulted over fallen crates and toppled bystanders.

  “Gnash!” Rex shouted, his voice bellowing over the panicked voices. “Freeze!”

  Gnash glanced back with a wicked grin, his voice laced with mockery. “Rex! Good to see you!”

  With a sharp turn, Gnash barreled through a fruit stand, scattering oranges and nearly trampling a fox woman and her children.

  Rex surged forward, barking orders at the startled crowd. “Get down! Move aside!”

  Trinkets and food scattered underfoot as vendors shouted in confusion, their cries mingling with the clatter of toppled carts.

  Rex pushed harder, frustration sharpening his focus. He’d thought Gnash was a ghost from his past, buried with The Crimson Ward. Yet there he was, alive and clearly as dangerous as Rex could remember. Gnash ducked into a side street, and Rex followed.

  They burst onto a wider street, where a stopped bus momentarily slowed Gnash. Spotting an opening, Rex charged, closing the gap. Gnash turned with a sneer and unleashed a crackling wave of bright orange energy.

  Rex barely reacted in time, channeling energy from the resonants on his wrists to form a makeshift barrier. The force slammed into him, hurling him backward. He hit the ground rolling, his momentum carrying him back to his feet. Vendors and bystanders cried out as another burst of orange energy from Gnash scattered everyone in his path.

  Gritting his teeth, Rex pushed through the chaos, eyes locked on Gnash, who ducked into another alley. “You’ll have to do better than that, Rex!” Gnash called, laughter echoing as he vaulted over a dumpster.

  Rex followed, channeling energy from resonants on his belt into his shin guards to propel himself forward. The force hurled him down the alley, and he slammed into Gnash like a battering ram. They tumbled to the ground, crashing into a brick wall.

  Fists flew in a brutal struggle for dominance. Rex drove punches into Gnash’s face, his knuckles connecting with a sickening crunch as he fought to pin the hyena down. “I saw you die,” Rex growled through gritted teeth, straining to secure Gnash’s bracer to the ground.

  “You should have made sure,” Gnash spat, his muscles surging. His eyes flared bright as an explosion of energy erupted from his chest, launching Rex backward.

  Rex hit the ground hard but rolled to his feet just as Gnash unleashed another aetheric blast. A blinding flash forced Rex to shield his eyes. Before he could recover, Gnash closed the distance, slamming a fist into Rex’s face. The blow staggered him, and another strike to his chest nearly sent him to the ground.

  Rex maneuvered Steel aside his hip. The runes on the firearm’s barrel ignited as he channeled energy through it, firing a sharp burst that struck Gnash square in the stomach. The blast sent Gnash crashing into a dumpster.

  Gnash scrambled up, orange energy blazing around his arms before bleeding into the dumpster. With a twist of his body, he hurled the energized dumpster at Rex, who narrowly dodged the flying mass of metal. The distraction gave Gnash just enough time to dart out of the alley.

  Rex charged after him into the street.

  Gnash was waiting for him, a manic grin splitting his muzzle as he snapped his fingers. A pulse of searing orange energy erupted to Rex’s right with a concussive force that ripped through the air. The shockwave took Rex off his feet, launching him sideways.

  Glass exploded in a glittering cascade as Rex crashed through the window of a nearby storefront. He hit the ground hard with a roll that sent shelves toppling and merchandise scattering. Cries of panic erupted around him as customers and the store clerk dove for cover, their voices rising in frightened yelps and screeches.

  For a moment, Rex just lay there in a daze before groaning and brushing shards of glass from his coat. He struggled to his feet.

  “Damn it,” he growled, his voice heavy with frustration. Around him, terrified customers froze in place, eyes wide with horror. A wiry possum clutched a broom, inching back toward the wall as if Rex were a monster. Somewhere to his left, the clatter of hurried footsteps marked the escape of other patrons.

  Rex barely registered the stunned faces around him, his focus sharpening as chaotic sounds reached him from outside. Shouts and frantic cries filtered in through the shattered storefront. Rex bolted through the shop’s door, the bell clanging sharply behind him.

  A distraught otter waving her arms frantically, cried out. Nearby a male otter lay sprawled on the ground, nursing a bruised shoulder shouting “My car! Stop!”

  On the street, a muscle car idled menacingly, a beast of steel and smoke. A machine with matte black paint and jagged red streaks slashing across its sides. Gnash slammed the door shut. Behind the wheel, he smirked. His glowing eyes locked onto Rex, their mockery palpable through the windshield. He revved the engine with a deep, taunting rumble, the car vibrating like a caged predator about to pounce.

  Rex froze, fury flickering behind his eyes as he raised Steel, sighting down the weapon at the rear tires. His grip tightened, but his finger hesitated on the trigger. The street was alive with frightened bystanders, some frozen in place while others darted for cover. Firing here wasn’t an option considering the risk to innocent lives.

  Gnash’s laughter spilled into the street through the open windows. It was a grating sound that cut familiar memories.

  “Too slow, Rex!” he shouted, shifting the car into gear.

  The tires screeched as the machine lurched forward, leaving a trail of blackened rubber and a deafening roar in its wake. Smoke billowed from the pavement as the car fishtailed before straightening, barreling down the street with reckless abandon. Pedestrians scattered, diving out of the way as Gnash disappeared into the distance.

  Rex’s jaw clenched as he holstered Steel, frustration mounting. He scanned the street quickly, mentally cataloging potential hazards and ways to give chase. A good officer didn’t let rage cloud his actions, and there had to be something he could use.

  His eyes locked onto a nearby motorcycle parked against a lamppost, its chrome glinting in the afternoon light. The machine was a beast, dark and sleek, clearly customized for speed.

  ““Holy… you look like you got thrown through a shredder man, are you Okay?!”

  Standing beside it, helmet in hand, was a startled and concerned raccoon in a weathered leather jacket. Rex was on him in an instant, his presence more than enough to make the raccoon take a few cautious steps back.

  “Whoa! What—” the raccoon stammered, instinctively holding up his helmet like a makeshift shield as Rex advanced.

  “I need your bike. Now!” Rex’s voice was tight with command, the controlled fury in his eyes leaving no room for negotiation.

  The raccoon clutched at the handlebars, his gaze darting from Rex to the bike and back again, fear and hesitation written across his face. “Cripes man, I just finished paying her off!”.

  Rex leaned in, and raised his badge into view. His voice was low and steely, “Don’t make me ask you again.”

  The raccoon gulped, hands releasing the handlebars as he backed away, ears flattened. “Y-yeah… just… Please don’t wreck her, man!”

  Rex didn’t respond, already swinging himself over the bike, feeling its weight settle beneath him. He kicked at, and broke the paw brace extensions, and the Racoon wailed in anguish at the damage. Rex’s grip tightened on the throttle, the engine roaring to life under his command.

  With a swift motion, he raised Steel and aimed high. Rex focused, mentally sketching the shape of an orb above. He tapped a resonant on his wrist, drawing a line of cerulean light from it up to his left eye.

  He pulled the trigger.

  Steel fired a brilliant light high into the air. It detonated in a burst of radiant energy that coalesced into a beacon. The glowing sigil hung in the air, pulsing like a suspended starburst.

  A moment later, his left eye locked onto the beacon’s vantage point. His vision split, with one eye anchored to the street, the other staring from high above. A piercing headache knifed through his skull as his brain struggled to reconcile the two perspectives.

  Through the beacon’s view, he spotted Gnash’s car weaving through traffic, tires screeching as he tore toward the Athelun Maysberry Bypass.

  “Got you,” Rex muttered. He twisted the throttle hard, and with a ferocious roar, the bike shot forward, tires spinning and gripping the pavement as he surged into the chase.