SEALED IN THE SLUMS: THE DRAGON’S AWAKENING

The basement room smelled like old water and rust. Rain water dripped from a crack in the ceiling, hitting a plastic bucket with a slow, steady sound. Plop. Plop. Plop.

Dax Thorne sat on the edge of the small bed. He held his sister’s hand. Her fingers felt like ice, but her face was burning hot. Under her pale skin, her veins showed a faint, strange purple light. It looked like glowing ink moving under her flesh. She was breathing in short, heavy gasps.

"Dax," Lila whispered. Her lips were dry and cracked. She did not open her eyes. "It burns. The purple lights... they are getting bigger in my head."

"I know, Lila. I'm right here," Dax said. He dipped a small cloth into a bowl of cold water, wrung it out, and gently pressed it against her forehead. "Just try to sleep. I am going to get the pills."

An old man walked out from the small kitchen area, holding a cup of warm water. It was Silas Vance. He walked with a heavy limp, his bad leg dragging slightly on the rough ground. His one good eye looked down at the coins in Dax's hand, then up at Dax's tired face.

"That is not enough for a single pill, boy," Silas said softly. He set the cup down on a broken wooden crate near the bed.

"I know it is not enough," Dax said, his voice dropping so Lila would not hear. "But if she does not get the dose tonight, her veins will burst. You see how bright the purple light is. The last time it got this bright, she bled from her nose for three days."

Silas sighed, leaning his heavy body against the wall. "The dealers in the Gutter do not care about tears, Dax. They want credits. If you go there with three coppers, they will throw you to the street dogs."

"Then I will find another way. I will beg, or I will offer to work another three shifts for free," Dax said. He stood up, pulling his old gray jacket tight around his shoulders. He zipped it up to his chin. "Please just stay with her, Silas. Keep the cloth wet. Do not let her fever get any higher."

Silas looked at the sick girl, then looked back at Dax. His rough, bearded face softened just a bit. "Go on then. But be careful. The Neon Heights lords are holding some big party tonight up above. When the rich people celebrate, the guards down here get meaner. They like to clear the streets with their iron rods."

"I'll be quick," Dax said.

He stepped out of the basement room and walked up the steps into the open air.

The rain hit him hard. The Gutter was completely dark, except for the dim green streetlights that flickered every few seconds. High above them, the great metal bottom of the Neon Heights blocked out the real sky. Massive neon signs from the rich city cast long streaks of blue, red, and yellow light down through the smog and rain, making the puddles on the dirty ground look like spilled paint.

Dax lowered his head against the wind and started to run. His boots were old, and cold water quickly soaked through the soles, making his feet numb. Ten minutes later, Dax reached the black-market clinic. It was a small, concrete building with a heavy metal door. A small red light blinked above the door, showing it was locked.

Dax slammed his fist against the metal. "Hey! Open up! Doc, please!"

Nobody answered. He banged his knuckles against the door again, harder this time. "Doc! It's Dax! I need the blue bottles for Lila! Please, she's dying!"

A small metal slit on the door slid open. A pair of tired, bloodshot eyes looked out at him. "Go away, kid. The clinic is closed for the night."

"Please," Dax begged, leaning close to the slit. Rain ran down his hair and into his eyes. "My sister’s fever is too high. Her veins are glowing purple. Just give me one bottle. I have three coppers now, and I will bring the rest tomorrow. I swear on my life."

The eyes in the door looked cold. "The council raised the tax on those suppressants this morning. A bottle costs fifty credits now. Coppers are useless to me. Come back when you have real money, or don't come back at all."

"Wait! Just listen to me—"

The metal slit slammed shut. Dax hit the door one last time, but it felt like hitting a mountain. His hand throbbed with pain. He stood in the rain, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Fifty credits. He couldn't make fifty credits in a month, let alone tonight.

He turned around, his mind spinning. He could not go back empty-handed. If he went back without the medicine, Lila might not wake up in the morning. He had to try the old industrial docks. Sometimes, the underground smugglers brought in cheaper medicine from the outer zones. It was dangerous, but he had no choice.

To get to the docks quickly, Dax turned into a narrow back alley. It was a dark, tight passage between two massive, abandoned factories. The ground was covered in old trash and deep puddles of muddy water. The only sound was the heavy thud of his own boots and the roar of the rain hitting the metal roofs above.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the end of the alley. It sounded like a heavy iron gate being ripped off its hinges.

Dax stopped. He froze, his body going completely still.

"Where is it, old man?" a deep, cold voice boomed through the rain.

Dax quickly ducked behind a large stack of rusted iron crates. He pressed his back against the wet metal, pulling his knees to his chest. He held his breath, his heart suddenly pounding hard against his ribs. He carefully peeked around the corner of the crate.

A few yards away, the alley opened up into a small courtyard. Under the dim light of a buzzing green bulb, four men were standing in a circle. They wore thick, expensive dark armor that didn't have a single scratch on it. Their faces were hidden behind black masks. They looked like high-level guards from the Great Families up in the Neon Heights.

In the middle of the circle, an old man was on his knees. His clothes were torn, and he was covered in dirt and blood. Even though he was beaten and bruised, the old man did not look weak. He held his head up high, his eyes steady.

"I told you," the old man said, his voice rough but clear. "You will not find it. It does not belong to killers like the Vane family."

Dax wanted to run, to slip away into the dark before they saw him. In the Gutter, if you saw a rich man killing someone, you ran. If you stayed, you became a body in the river. But his legs felt heavy, like they were stuck to the ground. He could not look away.