The Obsidian Calling

The rain falls in cold, relentless sheets, hissing against cracked asphalt and flickering streetlights. You stand alone in the heart of downtown, where rainwater runs down concrete walls and pools in gutters. Amid the rubble of a derelict structure, something glows faintly through the downpour: not light, but the suggestion of it, a soft pulse of black radiance too dark to be natural.