The dance club pulsed with neon lights, a kaleidoscope of colors reflecting off every surface. The words "The Floating Canary" hovered in vibrant holographic letters, scattered throughout the room, their glow casting an otherworldly hue over the writhing crowd. The club sprawled across two floors, the upper level a suspended ring that offered a clear view of the chaos below. From the railings, patrons gazed down at the densely packed dance floor, a heaving sea of bodies—men, women, and halfbreeds danced in various states of undress, moving in hypnotic rhythm to the throbbing music.

Holographic ads floated midair, flickering between images of products, dancers, and surreal animations that merged seamlessly into the haze of light and sound.  Screens mounted along the walls displayed sports, news streams, and shifting headlines, a dissonant backdrop to the primal energy on the floor. The air was thick with heat, excitement, and the faint hum of technology as sleek android servers navigated the throng, delivering glowing drinks with mechanical precision.

Ibris sat at a sleek, obsidian table reserved just for him, wearing DarkShades to sheild his eyes from the relentless glare of the holograms and advertisements. His fingers traced the cool, polished edge of the obsidian table as he briefly surveyed the scene. Above, the upper level buzzed with activity, patrons leaning against the railings or reclining at their own tables, their faces lit by the glow of the displays. Below, the dance floor was a blur of motion.

Ibris had just hung up with Yoshua, his mind still heavy with worry. The fluorescent lights of the club flickered above, but he barely noticed, lost in thought. Vega Serris, his old weapons dealer, had called a meeting, and he owed her a favor. Ibris' men had already alerted him to the strangely clad, silent security detail that had arrived a few hours earlier. The heavily armed men stationed themselves at the door, suggesting that Vega had brought someone of considerable significance and power.

Across the room, the snake halfbreed Vega made her entrance with a man Ibris did not recognize, her presence instantly commanding attention. He had known her since the Atlantean civil war, better known as the Nori Civil War or Nori War. War did that, forced paths to cross, forged strange alliances. Their recent work deals had only required them to meet more often.

Generally, they preferred more discreet meeting places, dimly lit corners of the Underworld or at the Clinic, where they could speak freely without drawing attention. Today, however, she had insisted on meeting in this chaotic cesspool.

Her skin glimmered with faint scales that caught the club's lights, radiating an ethereal beauty. Long, flowing hair, almost a silvery blonde, cascaded down her shoulders, framing her captivating features. When they reached the table, Vega approached Ibris and leaned forward, her slitted yellow-green eyes sparkling with seductive charm as she kissed him on the cheek. "Ibris, darling," she said, flicking her long, forked tongue playfully as she spoke, exuding an intoxicating mix of allure and seduction. Ibris felt an undeniable attraction, captivated by her unique allure, and he couldn't help but wonder, as he had for years, what it would be like to be with her.

"I want to introduce you to Donatello Jose Cavialli," she purred, gesturing to the man beside her. Late twenties, maybe early thirties, couldn't be much older than Ibris. "He's the younger brother of Roberto Cavialli, the pharmaceutical mogul, and cousin to Bahyan City's newly elected senator, Hugo Lancasto."

Donatello, with his slicked-back brown hair and confident smirk, oozed entitlement. The expensive suit clung perfectly to his athletic frame, tailored, calculated. He lit a cigar. The flame flickered against his sharp features. Ibris tried not to grimace. Something about him felt off. A quiet arrogance. A rehearsed charm. It made Ibris' skin crawl.

"You can just call me Don," he said, his voice smooth but insincere, extending a hand for a shake. "Pleasure." His gaze lingered. Not on Ibris' face. On his horns. A flicker of fascination. Something darker beneath it. He stared just a little too long. Ibris felt it, the disturbing curiosity. It made him acutely aware of his own stature: a bull halfbreed in a world that often saw him as either a play thing or a monster.

"Likewise," Ibris replied, a faint snarl creeping onto his lip. He removed his glasses to make eye contact before shaking Don's hand. Clammy. Too firm. Ibris forced himself to endure the contact. There was something off about the man, an unsettling energy, like a shadow lurking just underneath the surface. Ibris couldn't shake the instinctive urge to pull away.

"You're a legend, ya know? Honestly, I thought you were just a myth," Don said, his enthusiasm just a little too forced. He took a long drag from his cigar, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. "Vega's told me all about you."

"All good things, I hope," Ibris replied flatly, forcing a polite smile as he mentally scanned the loud, colorful club. Don's entitled arrogance bored him.

In the corner, a stunning halfbreed caught his eye. Long, straight dark hair. Furry, pointed ears peeking through, playful, expressive. They bobbed with her every movement, her large eyes and pouty lips shimmering under the club's lights, adding to her effortless allure. She moved with liquid grace, her lithe body swaying to the rhythm of the music.

A cat halfbreed? Ibris wondered.

Suddenly, she looked at him.

Their eyes locked.

A playful smile curled her lips. She winked. Blew him a teasing kiss. And, just like that, she turned back to her dance, leaving Ibris momentarily stunned.

Damn. He exhaled.

"Of course," Vega interjected, her gaze sharp as she caught Ibris' attention drifting elsewhere. "Don's got an incredible record in business dealings and negotiations...especially negotiations."

"I'm a man of business," Don chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an air of confidence, completely unaware of Ibris' distraction. "With my experience in Atlantean corporations and family connections across the world, we could really help each other out."

As he spoke, Ibris barely registered the words, his attention still drawn to the dancing woman.

"What do you say?" Don asked, finally catching Ibris' gaze drifting past him toward the dance floor. Smirking, he started to turn, curious. But Ibris shifted his focus back to Don, determined not to draw attention to the beautiful cat halfbreed.

"I prefer to keep my business simple," he replied, curt. "I'm not looking to get involved with politicians." Ibris clenched his jaw, irritation coiling under his skin. He needed to wrap up the conversation swiftly.

The club pulsed. Lights flashed and swirled. A beat dropped, heavy, bone-deep.

"Right." Don raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering, just for a second. "We all got people we wanna protect." He took another puff from his cigar.

"I know the sky gods. They made me," Ibris said, almost a low growl. In his early life on the floating islands, he had lived among the sky gods. They wielded power like a weapon. They reveled in their authority. Manipulated those beneath them and dismissed the struggles of the common folk and halfbreeds, as if they meant nothing.

Ibris had experienced their cruelty firsthand. He had been created to be a showpiece for their grand Citadel and their precious Queen. Leaning in, he added, "They called me holy and sacred because I resembled the sacred Atlantean Bull and the great Mansa of the Gab Nori. Yet in the same breath, they beat and abused me in ways you could neither imagine nor survive."

Vega cleared her throat. Her posture straightened. The tension crackled in the air. "Ibris, Don didn't mean any offense or harm."

Ibris barely looked at her. Rage rising inside him.

Don nodded, raising his hands slightly, a hollow gesture of peace. "Exactly. That was all before the war."

Ibris' teeth clenched. I thought things would change after the war. His mind raced back to the hope that had flickered in the aftermath.

But it only got worse.

Ibris shook his head, the frustration spilling over. "You think the war changed anything? It just drove the darkness underground." He paused, looking directly at Don. "The same horrors are still happening, just hidden away where no one can see them." What had once been done openly and legally had now slipped into the shadows of Atlantis, taking place in dark corners, illegally and under the table. Slavery, halfbreed trafficking, cruelty, and manipulation persisted, but in secret, far from the eyes of those who might hold the sky gods accountable.

Ibris could see it in Vega's eyes, she knew he was right. As a halfbreed, she had lived it. Despite the war ending a decade ago, the scars were still fresh. But unlike most, she had the credits to drown her pain, to buy her way into comfort.

She placed a hand on both men, leaning in.

"Let's not get off track," she said smoothly, glancing between the two men. "We're here to move forward. There's a deal to be made, and it deserves our full attention."

Ibris met her gaze, unmoved. "Fine. Get to the point."

Don's smirk vanished. He took a slow drag, eyes flickering with something sharper than irritation. Leaning forward, he cut through the air between them. "I don't do small talk either," he said sharply. "But let's not forget...sky gods are called gods for a reason."

Ibris tensed. Triggered. There was an edge to Don's words, a threat wrapped in reverence.

Vega shifted, her posture tight.

Ibris was on the edge. Seconds from snapping. Ready to tear this man apart. The only thing keeping him seated was Vega. He respected her. Though, in this moment, he was beginning to wonder why.

"I'm not interested," he said through clenched teeth, frustration thick in his voice.

His focus was already drifting. Back to her. The cat halfbreed. But the neon jungle had swallowed her whole. The crowd throbbed with movement, shadows shifting beneath flickering lights.

She was gone.

A flicker of disappointment.

Vega leaned in again, sensing the tension thickening between Ibris and Don. "Let's take a breath, gentlemen," she urged, calm but firm. "Don has access to Ashaelix that he's willing to—"

Ibris sat up immediately. "Ashaelix?" Curiosity sliced through his earlier disinterest. The medications name hung in the air, laden with implications. "Is your brother's company still producing it?"

Most pharmaceutical companies in Atlantis had halted Ashaelix production following the recent bans on quarzolene, a crucial active ingredient derived from the crystalline structure of emerald quartz, uniquely found in Alemuria. Quarzolene was not just a compound; it was a key enzyme in the metabolic processes of halfbreeds, essential for nearly all medications designed to address their unique health issues. The news streams framed the ban as a political embargo on trade with Alemuria, but Ibris knew the truth: it was really about suppressing halfbreed freedom and power.

"No, not exactly," said Don.

"Then how?" Ibris ground his teeth, almost growled, but stopped. Ashaelix was more than just a medication. It was a lifeline for many halfbreeds at the Clinic. Ibris felt uneasy in negotiations where he had no leverage. He didn't just want Ashaelix. He needed it.

Vega glanced between Ibris and Don again, her composed facade cracking. Ashaelix had shifted the balance in Don's favor, and she knew it. Ibris could see the smile she was trying to suppress.

"Don has a contact who can produce quarzolene," she said finally.

Skepticism clouded Ibris' features. His lips pressed into a thin line, the corners barely twitching. "Quarzolene can't be bought as-is. It's not shelf-stable," he said, his impatience clear.

Don leaned forward, his posture tightening now. His cigar burned out, and with a flick of his wrist, he ground it into the ashtray on the obsidian table.

"Look, I get it. It ain't shelf-stable. It's gotta be mixed into a medication to actually work."

"Exactly," Vega cut in, confidence sharp. "That's what Don is offering. His contact can create whatever medications you need...Ashaelix or otherwise." She glanced at Don, her snake tongue flicking. "We have an opportunity to connect you with the manufacturer directly."

What you won't do for a fat commission check, Vega. Ibris shook his head.

He studied them both, measuring their words against the neon glow and pulsing bass. The stakes were rising.

His mind raced. A storm of thoughts. This was it. The golden goose. The solution he'd been searching for. But revealing too much could jeopardize his position. He felt trapped. Trapped in a precarious game. High stakes. And every word mattered.

Don leaned back, grinning slyly. "Listen, he ain't the easiest guy to deal with," he said, eyes glinting—equal parts charm and menace. "But trust me, he'll come around if the incentive's right."

Ibris narrowed his eyes. Studied Vega. "Is the contact in Atlantis?"

Vega's snake tongue flicked as she considered. A pause. A glance at Don.

"No," she said finally. "But he's very accessible."

"Is he Alemurian?" Ibris pressed, catching the hesitation in their response.

Silence.

Vega and Don held their ground. Their faces unreadable.

Ibris exhaled.

"What do you want in return?"

Vega interjected quickly, before Ibris could change his mind. "Don wants to use your facility here in the Underworld for research that... isn't permitted in Atlantis."

Ibris' mind raced as he considered their proposal. Research and growth, he thought bitterly. Those was the term the sky gods used to justify the horrors inflicted on halfbreeds in labs across the Underworld before the war.

He shook his head, frustration rising. "No," he said firmly. "I'm not interested in your research project." His expression hardened as he locked eyes with Don. Cold. Unyielding. He turned to Vega, his voice cutting sharp. "You should be ashamed for bringing this to me. Betraying your own people. Their history."

The facilities Ibris now owned had been built a century ago, maybe older. No one knew for sure. Secret labs. Sites of illegal experimentation. The birthplace of halfbreeds. Equipped with everything needed to work on them. To create them. Which made Don's request even more troubling. Ibris felt the weight of history press down. The dark legacy of those walls never truly faded.

He frowned, considering the implications.

"Ibris, you misunderstand," Vega replied. "The research won't be on halfbreeds, it'll be on humans."

But Ibris remained unmoved. "I want no part in this," he stated firmly to Don, his resolve unwavering.

He turned to Vega, glaring. You thought it was a good idea to tell an outsider about my facilities?

She shifted, almost as if she could hear his thoughts.

Disgust curled in his chest. The vibrant lights of the club cast sharp shadows across his face, outlining the barely contained rage in his features.

"Here us out, Ibris. It's a a good deal. Don wants access to the unused Western facility," Vega explained quickly.

Of course, he does.

Ibris owned five underground facilities hidden deep within the Underworld, sprawling labs carved from the very shadows of the dark city. The two largest had been transformed into the Clinic, a hospital dedicated to halfbreeds, offering vital care and refuge. Vega was aware of only one other facility, so Ibris knew precisely which facility she was asking about.

Ibris exhaled again. "I see." Frustration bubbled, aimed squarely at Vega. "Tell me about this research."

Silence again. Uneasy. Heavy. Vega and Don exchanged glances, a conversation unspoken.

Then Don broke the tension. "Look, we wanna experiment with altered halfbreed blood on humans to make specialized STIMs."

"What kind of STIMs?" Ibris asked curtly.

"You know, the kind soldiers and athletes could use to make 'em faster, smarter, and stronger... maybe permanently." Don said, smirking.

Ibris felt the sting of betrayal. Rage churned. He growled, huffing.

"Listen, this could work out for everyone, Ibris," Vega insisted, voice smooth, coaxing. "And Don can help you acquire halfbreed blood for your blood bank too. It's a win-win."

Ibris' eyes darkened.

"Where exactly is Don getting this blood?" His voice dropped, low, menacing. A growl beneath the words.

Don leaned forward, a defiant spark in his eyes. "Donors across Atlantis," he replied firmly.

Ibris narrowed his gaze, skeptical. "Willing donors? Really?"

The tension crackled as both men sized each other up.

Don held his ground. "You know that this is really good deal."

Just then, Ibris' tablet buzzed with a series of incoming messages. The sharp sounds cut through the pulsing atmosphere of the club. He swiped the screen.

It was Mazi.

Ibris' heart sank as he opened the first message.

"Jahui is dead. We couldn't save her."

Fury igniting in Ibris' chest. He felt the weight of loss settle like a leaden shroud over his thoughts. Then, as Ibris glanced up, the flickering screens lining the walls behind Vega and Don caught his attention. The streams were displaying chaotic footage of Esa flipping a military vehicle off the highway in the Northern Forest near the Ajeel River, followed by a police wanted image. Ibris clenched his fists.

This was not how things were supposed to go.

Vega caught the shift in his demeanor. Hesitant. "So, what do you think, Ibris?"

He shook his head, immediately. "No. No, thank you," he replied, pushing back from the table. He slipped on his DarkShades again, the lenses filtering out the vibrant chaos around him. With a subtle gesture, he signaled to his men scattered throughout the club. The silent command put them on alert.

"I've got to go, Vega," he said briskly.

Vega reached out, with a hint of desperation. "Ibris, wait—"

He brushed past Don, determined. "Very nice to meet you, Don." He didn't wait for a response. Didn't care for one. Vega and Don faded behind him as he strode toward the exit. "What a waste of time," he muttered.

As he walked out, his men adjusted their stance. Their weapons subtly targeted Don's crew, a warning that didn't go unnoticed. The tension in the air shifted, but Ibris didn't look back.

Ibris walked past Don's armed men at the club's door, who were now sharply aware of the laser targets painted on them by Ibris' security. Once he was cleared the entrance, he stepped onto the bustling street, the cacophony of the club fading into the background.

The crowd on the street immediately took notice of Ibris. Whispers rippled. A low hum through drunken revelers. Ibris was used to it. Unwanted attention. He pushed forward. Kept walking. Unbothered. People stumbled past, in the haze of drugs and ambrosia. But he felt their eyes. On his face. His horns. Fascination. Arousal. Fear. Sometimes all of it at once. Palpable in the air.

Once he broke free of the crowd, Ibris' fingers flew across his tablet. He called Esa. No answer. He cursed under his breath, frustrated. Tried Mazi instead. The video call connected. His fury erupted.

"What happened, Mazi?" Ibris barked. "Why is Esa plastered all over the news streams? I told you to keep this quiet! His face is everywhere!"

Mazi shook his head. "I... I don't know, Ibris. After Jahui died, he just—he just left. He's gone. We can't get in touch with him."

Ibris inhaled sharply, forcing control over his rage. "What happened to Jahui? I thought we had it under control."

"She rejected Kaya and Yoshua's blood transfusions," Mazi replied, with dread. "Dr. Dubay is running analyses to find out why. She mentioned that Kaya is a part breed and that Yoshua's blood is different from other Atlantean halfbreed blood—"

Ibris' jaw clenched as he processed Mazi's words. "Get everyone in a transport to the Underworld. Right now."

Mazi's eyes widened, the urgency of the situation sinking in. "But—"

"But nothing," Ibris cut him off.

Mazi nodded quickly. "I'll arrange it, but what about Esa?"

Ibris growled so Mazi could hear him. "We'll deal with Esa later. Get moving."

Mazi got the message.

Ibris felt a wave of anger wash over him again, this time tinged with helplessness. Without another word, he ended the call. Stared at the blank glass screen. Frustration thick in his chest.

Ibris tried Dr. Dubay this time. No answer.

Damn it.

Frustration tightened in his chest again. Fine. He'd go to the Clinic himself.

Just as he was about to summon his transport, his tablet pinged. A message. "Ibris, we have an emergency at the Clinic. I'm working on getting answers about Jahui, but I need time. Please don't come here. The staff and androids are already under serious stress." A knot tightened in his stomach. Heavy. Unrelenting. Dr. Dubay's words were clear and direct. He had to respect her request. Had to wait. But anxiety clawed at his mind.

As he rounded the corner at the end of the block, the vibrant chaos of the street faded into a more intimate scene. There, amidst the throng of revelers, he spotted her—the cat halfbreed. The one who had caught his eye in the Floating Canary. She stood among a group of women, engaged in lively conversation. Dark hair shimmering under the neon lights. Her pointed ears twitched playfully, amused.

This distraction was a welcome reprieve from his chaotic evening.

Ibris' heart kicked up a notch as he closed the distance. He slid off his DarkShades, the neon flooded back in. The flickering ads, the city's restless glow, he barely noticed. His focus was on her. Feline grace. Sharp, striking features. She moved with effortless charm, pulling him in like a moth to a flame.

"Hey," he said simply.

"Hey yourself," she said, turning to face him. The scent of ambrosia lingered on her breath. Amber eyes, bold, curious. They flicked to his horns, then his shoulders, admiring.

"I'm Lira. What's your name?" She extended a hand.

Ibris took it. Firm. Intentional.

"Ibris." A slow, confident smile replaced his earlier frustration. "I like the way you move."

"Thanks," Lira replied, a playful grin forming on her lips. "I live for a good dance. But you seemed more interested in the shadows than the stage."

He chuckled, glancing back at the bustling crowd. "The lights are nice, but you were the real highlight."

Lira raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Smooth talker, huh? What's your angle?"

Ibris leaned in slightly, voice lower now. "No angle. Just a man who knows what he wants." A pause. His gaze didn't waver. "Let's get out of here. I know a place."

Her smile widened, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Bold," she mused, tilting her head. "I like that." She didn't break eye contact. Didn't hesitate. "Lead the way, Ibris."

▰▰▰▰▰ ◉ ▰▰▰▰▰

Chapter Soundtrack

"Animals" by Maroon 5

Author's Note

In this chapter, we return to the Underworld, this time at the club The Floating Canary. It is a living neon jungle where temptation, betrayal, and danger collide. Ibris is caught between the ghosts of old wars, the lure of power, and a fleeting spark of connection with a beautiful halfbreed woman. This scene is about choices: which shadows he entertains, and which he refuses.

Do you think Ibris was right to shut down Vega and Don's offer so firmly, or did he miss a chance? If you were in Ibris' place, would the promise of Ashaelix tempt you to compromise?

What do you make of Lira's appearance?