There was a theft last week. You probably didn’t hear about it. The news buried it under stories about traffic delays and weather anomalies. But I’ve confirmed it through three separate sources, none of whom know each other. That’s how you know it’s real.
A shipment of aether was stolen. Not just a few vials. A full containment crate.
Aether is not something you steal lightly. It is volatile, unstable, and alive in ways we do not understand. It is magic, distilled and pressurized into physical form. It hums when you get close to it. It warps metal. It whispers to the weak-minded.
And now it is missing.
No one knows who took it. The facility was locked down, the wards were intact, and the surveillance runes were still glowing. But the crate is gone. No forced entry. No magical residue. Just absence.
Word on the street is that the aether has made its way into the hands of whoever is running The Pale.
That would explain a lot.
The Pale has been changing. Users are reporting stronger effects. Longer visions. More permanent mutations. One man grew a second mouth on his neck and claimed it spoke in a language he had never heard. Another woman said she could see the future, but only in reflections.
This is not just a drug anymore. It is a weapon.
And the gangs know it.
The war is escalating. Turf lines are dissolving. Alliances are breaking. The old families are pulling out their relics, and the newer factions are recruiting mages with no scruples. The streets are not safe. Not for anyone.
But here is the part no one is talking about.
The chaos is not random. It is preparation.
The city is being softened. The infrastructure is cracking. The ley lines are bleeding. And when the dust settles, someone will step in.
It will not be the government. It will not be the corporations.
It will be the mole people. Or it will be Virex.
Both have been watching. Both have been waiting. And now, with the aether in play and The Pale spreading like a curse, the city is ripe.
They will not fight us. They will absorb us.