The Scavenger’s Sister

He pressed forward, pushing the smell to the back of his mind as he focused on the task at hand. Scavenging, finding something worthwhile—until the stench grew stronger, sharper. It burned at the back of his throat, making his chest tighten with each breath.

Leon coughed, the foul air forcing itself into his lungs. "Damn... what is that?" His hand instinctively shot to his pack, fingers fumbling for the rebreather. As the sulfuric stench grew overpowering, he quickly slipped it over his nose and mouth, the filter clicking into place with a practiced motion. "Better not be toxic. I'm not in the mood for dying today."

With the rebreather on, the world seemed slightly muffled, but at least he could breathe. The filter dulled the worst of the smell, though the sulfur still lingered, heavy and oppressive in the air.

The filter muffled the worst of the smell, but the sulfur still lingered in the air, thick and oppressive. Leon pressed on, stepping cautiously into the vast, pitch-black expanse. No natural light reached this place, but it wasn't completely dark. A faint glow pulsed from somewhere ahead, casting eerie, flickering shadows across the ground.

He took another step, his eyes scanning the floor for traps, when his boot crushed something soft beneath it. He froze, his breath catching. "What now?" he grumbled, lifting his foot carefully.

A flower. White, delicate, and far too pristine to be growing in a place like this. He frowned, crouching down to get a better look. As he shone his light over it, his breath caught.

"What the...?"

The petals shimmered in the beam of his flashlight, and suddenly, it was like he was staring into a galaxy. Purples, blues, and flecks of gold swirled across the surface, each movement of the light making the colors shift like stars being born and dying in rapid succession. It was mesmerizing.

Leon reached out, gently brushing the petals. "Where the hell did you come from?"

He stood, sweeping his light across the ground. The whole area was covered in them. "A flower bed? Here?" He shook his head, incredulous. "This place shouldn't even be able to grow mold, let alone flowers."

He took a cautious step forward, his boots barely grazing the edges of more of the strange blooms. Every flower he passed came alive with that same galaxy effect, like a thousand tiny worlds trapped within each petal. "No sun, no water... how are these even alive?"

The flowers shifted underfoot, soft but sturdy, and Leon couldn't help but feel uneasy. They didn't belong here. Nothing did.

His gaze followed the trail of blooms, leading his eyes to the faint glow at the center of the space. The sulfuric air hung heavier the closer he got, and despite the rebreather, he could feel the weight of it pressing down on his chest. "Alright, whatever you are, you better be worth the trouble."

He stepped carefully through the field of flowers, his boots stirring up the soft earth beneath them. His pulse quickened with each step, the glow growing brighter as he approached. And then, in the center of the cosmic blooms, he saw it.

A figure. Motionless, surrounded by the flowers, with dark flames flickering across their body but not burning. Not the flowers, not the stone beneath them—nothing.

Leon took a step back, his breath hitching behind the rebreather. "What the hell...?"

Leon's heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the motionless figure. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. A woman, lying in the middle of a field of impossible flowers, dark flames licking across her body but leaving no marks. No burns, no scorched skin—just the eerie flicker of fire that seemed to defy every rule he knew.

"How the hell did she even get down here?" he muttered, his voice muffled by the rebreather. There was no entrance nearby, no signs of disturbance—nothing to suggest that anyone had been here, let alone someone in her condition.

He took a cautious step forward, the glow of the flames growing brighter as he approached. Heat radiated off the dark fire, thick and oppressive, making the air around him feel heavier with every inch he drew closer. Even through his rebreather, Leon could feel the intensity, the strange energy that seemed to pulse from the flames.

But she wasn't burning. None of it made sense. The fire should have consumed her by now, and yet there she was—unharmed, her skin untouched by the flames. The flowers, too, were on fire, their petals glowing with that same galaxy-like shimmer, yet they remained pristine.

Leon's brow furrowed as he crouched down a few feet away, careful not to touch the flames or the flowers. "What are you?" he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to the unconscious woman. His light flickered across her face—young, maybe mid-twenties. But her clothes were strange, almost too revealing for someone in a place like this, and torn in places as if she'd been through some kind of struggle.

"How are you even alive?" His eyes narrowed as he scanned her body. It wasn't just the fire that was off—there was something else about her. Something... unnatural.

Instinctively, he reached out toward the flames, stopping just short of the heat. The fire licked at the air, dark and menacing, but it didn't behave like any fire he'd ever seen. It was as if it were alive, moving with purpose but not spreading, not consuming.

Leon pulled his hand back, shaking his head. "No way," he muttered, taking another step around the woman, his mind reeling. "Fire doesn't just... stop like that. And these flowers—"

His gaze shifted to the flowers around her. They were burning, just like her, but they weren't wilting. The petals weren't curling, weren't drying up in the heat. If anything, they seemed to glow brighter, more vibrant with every passing second, like they were feeding off the flames.

"This shouldn't be possible," he murmured, feeling the weight of the impossibility pressing down on him. "Nothing down here should be alive. Let alone on fire without burning."

He took another slow step forward, the heat growing more intense the closer he got. Every instinct told him to back away, to leave this strange, impossible scene behind. But he couldn't. Something about this woman, about the flames, held him in place, urging him to understand what was happening. Was she dangerous? Had someone left her here as a trap? But if it was a trap, it was the strangest one he'd ever seen.

"Hey..." Leon called out softly, not really expecting a response. "You alive?"

No answer. The flames continued to flicker around her, casting eerie shadows on the stone floor, but there was no sign of pain or movement. She lay completely still, as if the fire had no effect on her at all. Leon's brow furrowed as he studied her more closely. Her outfit—if you could even call it that—was torn and revealing, her skin exposed in places that seemed inappropriate for someone venturing into ruins like these.

She looks like a night worker, Leon thought, his lips pressing into a thin line. That's what anyone else would assume, right? The skimpy clothing, the way her skin was barely covered—it wasn't the attire of someone who came down here on purpose. More like someone who'd been caught up in something or... left behind.

Leon frowned, running a hand over the back of his neck. "You don't exactly scream 'scavenger,' do you?" he muttered under his breath, his eyes drifting over her again. "Escort, hostess maybe?" He huffed to himself, shaking his head. "Hell, you're dressed like..."

His words trailed off as his gaze landed on something at her neck. Hidden among the torn fabric and exposed skin was a white habit, the cloth frayed and dirty, but unmistakable. It was paired with a heavily worn bib collar, both of which had clearly seen better days.

Leon's eyes narrowed. "Wait... what the hell?"

He knelt down slightly, his light casting a clearer glow on the habit and collar. It was damaged, torn in places, but there was no mistaking the style. "A priestess?" he whispered, incredulous. "There's no way."

Priestesses didn't dress like this. No one from any of the Houses did. They were modest, proper, fully covered in ceremonial robes, never wearing anything that exposed them like this. The thought of someone bearing a religious title wandering around in an outfit that barely covered them... it didn't add up.

Leon leaned back, confusion settling over him like a thick fog. "No priestess I've ever seen would wear something like that... right?"

He stood again, keeping a cautious distance from her. The heat from the flames still pressed against his skin, but the deeper mystery of who she was gnawed at him. A priestess, dressed like this, surrounded by fire that didn't burn. What was she doing down here?

Leon hesitated, torn between his instinct to get the hell out of there and the pull of curiosity that urged him to investigate further. There was power here—something beyond what he understood. And if there was one thing Leon had learned in his years as a scavenger, it was that power—if you could harness it—was valuable.

But was it worth the risk? His mind raced, weighing the danger against the potential reward. There was no doubt that this woman, with her strange flames and her impossible presence, held something unique. Something that could be worth more than all the scrap he'd ever found.

He took another cautious step closer, his heart pounding as he leaned down slightly, trying to get a better look at the dark flames that surrounded her. The heat rolled off them in waves, thick and oppressive, but the flames themselves remained confined, almost... controlled.

Leon frowned, studying the way the fire moved. "This... isn't normal fire," he muttered. "Fire doesn't just sit like this. One—it's never this dark. Two—fire consumes everything in its path. And three—it burns, badly."

He glanced at the flames again. "Which this isn't doing." The eerie fire flickered around her, calm and controlled, but there were no signs of destruction. It didn't make any sense.

Curiosity gnawed at him, pushing him past the point of reason. "This is stupid, but..." He hesitated for a moment, then slowly reached down and let the edge of his scavenger cloak brush against the flames.

For a split second, nothing happened.

Then, suddenly, the cloak ignited, the flames crawling up the fabric faster than Leon could react. "Oh, hell!" he cursed behind the rebreather, his eyes widening as the fire devoured the material in seconds. The sulfuric smell hit the filter hard, but thankfully, the rebreather blocked most of it.

Without thinking, Leon tore the cloak off his shoulders, tossing it to the side. "Damn it!" he growled, watching as the flames ate through the last of it, leaving nothing but ash in its wake. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

"That was... incredibly stupid," he muttered, catching his breath. "Should've known better. Fire's still fire, I guess."

He glanced back at the woman, the dark flames still dancing around her, unaffected by the chaos they had just caused. "At least it didn't get to the pack," he added, patting the strap of his scrap pack with a sigh of relief. Losing the cloak was one thing, but losing the scrap? That would've been a disaster.

Leon shook his head, still trying to make sense of what he'd just seen. "What kind of fire burns that fast... and smells like sulfur?" he muttered, voice muffled but sharp. He looked back at the woman. 

"What are you?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. His mind buzzed with possibilities—was she some kind of experiment? A weapon? A trap? But none of it explained why she wasn't burning. Why the flames didn't consume her, or the flowers around her.

The pull of the unknown, the chance to uncover something that could change everything—it gnawed at him. He could walk away, leave this strange woman to whatever fate had brought her here. But if he did, he'd be turning his back on something extraordinary. Something that could make him more than just another scavenger.

Leon's gaze flickered over her again, his eyes catching on the strange fusion of flesh and metal beneath her torn skin. Mechanical parts—intricate, precise—melded with organic tissue in a way that made his stomach churn. "What the hell happened to you?"

The thought gnawed at him, but another, more unsettling realization crept into his mind. Splicer. She had to be one.

Splicers—people who willingly fused their bodies with machines, enhancing their physical capabilities at the cost of their humanity. Every House had their own version of them, devoted to some machine god or another, each pushing the boundaries of what it meant to be human. For some, it was about survival—replacing failing organs or limbs with mechanical parts. But for most, it was about power. The more you spliced, the more you gave yourself over to the machines, until the line between flesh and metal disappeared entirely.

Leon had encountered Splicers before. Hell, some of them had even tried to recruit him into their Houses, promising him strength, status, protection. But he'd never been interested. He didn't trust the idea of giving up parts of himself for a machine, no matter how advanced the tech was. Machines were tools. Useful, sure, but they weren't something you should worship, let alone fuse with.

He ran a hand over his face, glancing back at the woman. "So... you're one of them, huh?" he muttered, his voice muffled by the rebreather. "A Splicer."

It made sense. The mechanical parts, the strange fire that didn't burn, the air of power that surrounded her—she had to be tied to one of the Houses. But which one? And why was she down here, alone, surrounded by flames?

Leon shook his head, his thoughts racing. This was why he never got involved with Splicers. There was always something bigger, something dangerous lurking just beneath the surface. Once you were in, you were never really out. The Houses had too much influence, too many eyes watching. Splicing wasn't just about enhancing your body—it was about selling your soul.

He glanced down at his own hands, still shaking off the heat from his near-miss with the flames. If he had ever been tempted to join them, to splice himself up like they did, it had never lasted long. Leon valued his freedom too much. The idea of being tied to a House, of being someone else's pawn... no, that wasn't him. He was a scavenger, plain and simple. He worked alone, made his own way. Splicers? They were just another kind of prison.