Mod Superhero (Book 6 STUBBING on Oct 27th)

Chapter 7.14 - A Stroll in New Venice

Decades ago, the United States descended into its second civil war. But the rest of the world wasn't spared. Conflict burned across the globe. Venice was one such place. The city was ground zero for a clash not between heroes and villains, but between mage guilds whose powers defied mortal understanding.

At the heart of the devastation was the Black Crucible—an order of warlocks and soulbinders who trafficked in ancient pacts and whispered to things best left nameless. In secret, they transformed Venice itself into an enormous summoning rune, carving eldritch geometry into the city's very bones: Its buildings, bridges, and waterways all woven into the design of a ritual meant to tear the sky asunder—

To open a portal to another world.

The Ardent Sigil and the Order of the Glass Thorn, once rivals, joined forces in desperation. The battle-mages of the Ardent Sigil, clad in their silver robes, fought with binding magic and runes that glowed like molten silver. They etched containment spells into the air itself to halt the Crucible's ritual. Meanwhile, the Glass Thorn shattered corrupted structures and raised their own crystalline spires to channel and disperse the unleashed forces. Together, they broke the summoning circle before it could be completed, but not before Venice was scarred beyond recognition.

The Black Crucible was outlawed and its surviving members were hunted across Europe. Now its name is spoken only in cautionary tales.

And in the ruins, New Venice was born.

The reborn city still bears the marks of that battle. Crystalline resonance towers stand where historic bell towers and domes once stood, remnants of the Glass Thorn's desperate architecture. On rainy days, the wards and bindings left in the air by the Ardent Sigil pulse softly.

Some say those wards are just afterimages burned into the air. Some say they're still holding back whatever the Crucible had tried to bring through. And others say they're a ruse for the mages to retain control over the city.

Guild banners in deep reds, silvers, and blues fluttered from the stone buildings that line the canals, each symbol marking the territory or vault of a powerful mage order. The streetlights burn with soft, enchanted flames unbothered by wind or rain. Gondolas glide silently along the canals without oars or engines, propelled by enchantments woven into their hulls. The rivers are lined with enchanted vines that bloom year round. Along the rooftops and pathways, gargoyles watch in stoic silence—each of them a guardian and sentry. Their eyes glow as they track the flow of tourists and citizens alike.

The guild strongholds extend deep beneath the riverbed: Sanctums, vaults, and secret meeting halls, hidden behind layers of spellwork. The waterways themselves shimmered with anti-detection wards, their surfaces rippling with faint threads of magic that defy prying eyes.

~

Emmett walked along the Riva Canda, the sun-warmed stone firm beneath his boots. Most of the stones on this particular path had been worn smooth—they were original, salvaged from the wreckage of old Venice. The breeze off the canal mingled the salt of the sea and the sweeter pull of nearby bakeries. Music drifted from ahead and mixed with the hum of conversations.

His cloaking disguise projected just enough illusion to make him pass for any other traveler: Plain clothes, forgettable face, no trace of Mod's infamous features.

Emmett let himself take in the vista: The sunshine on his face, the cool edge of the wind against his skin, the rhythm of his footfalls on ancient stone. He could almost pretend that he was like any other tourist, that he wasn't a wanted man.

Almost.

Maybe it would be easier to pretend if those were the only details that Emmett perceived.

His enhanced eyes picked up what most would never see. To him, the city was bathed in layers of UV light. Wards and bindings floated in the air like neon signs. Runes glowed along bridges and archways like hidden graffiti. Symbols shimmered just beneath the water's surface. And below it all, at the canal's bottom, old glyphs glowed softly, carved deep into the stone.