The Gifted Divide

If you're betrayed, release disappointment at once. By that way, the bitterness has no time to take root. - Toba Beta (My Ancestor was an Ancient Astronaut)

* * * *

~Agnis; September 231~

"It's this way, isn't it?"

"No, it's that way."

Raul stopped in his tracks, golden eyes narrowing. He inhaled sharply and turned to Tatius with a flat look that said everything before the words even left his mouth. "Let's just be honest for a second," he said, his voice laced with dry irritation. "We're lost, aren't we? And remind me again—who was it that said we don't need a map because he has the 'perfect sense of direction'?"

Tatius scratched the back of his head sheepishly, his jade eyes looking anywhere but Raul's face. "Okay, so I may have slightly—mildly—overestimated myself."

Raul didn't even try to hide the roll of his eyes. "Slightly?"

"I said mildly."

"You said, and I quote," Raul deepened his voice into a mockery of Tatius's tone, "'Come on, Raul, I practically am a compass'."

"Okay, that does sound like me," Tatius admitted, pulling the red scarf around his neck higher like it could shield him from Raul's sarcasm. "Still, it's not that bad. I mean, Laura's only going to mildly murder me."

Raul gave a dry snort. "Claudia's next in line. You're dead either way."

It had been nearly six months since the Zalfari incident, and five since Leroy's unexpected drop-in. Since then, Aegis had thrown themselves headfirst into fulfilling contracts across the underground—rescue missions, supply runs, and even low-key information smuggling—anything that paid.

Letha had been blunt about it: idealism didn't keep people alive. Money did. And their group needed both weapons and provisions if they wanted to keep fighting the war no one else would admit was happening.

Today, it was Raul and Tatius's turn to handle the grocery run while the others enjoyed the brief pause in movement.

Days at sea had worn everyone down. Even the most resilient among them were getting tired of the constant sway of the ocean, the endless blue, and even the repetitive meals. Sera had finally ordered a temporary stopover in the coastal town of Agnis—a town that was small, quiet, and, most importantly, not yet hunter-controlled. Or so they'd hoped.

Raul's smirk slipped clean off his face.

He stopped walking, his gaze locking sharply on the two men stepping out of the café across the street. His golden eyes narrowed beneath the curtain of his raven-black hair.

The black coats. The unmistakable insignia on the shoulders.

"…Tatius," he muttered, his voice low but urgent, his head tilting just enough.

Tatius followed his gaze—and every trace of his usual casual demeanour vanished.

ESA agents.

Raul didn't need to say another word. Tatius gave a single, almost imperceptible nod. In perfect unison, the two peeled off the main road and slipped down a quieter side path.

Their pace wasn't hurried, but calculated. Deliberate. Like shadows sidestepping a spotlight.

They didn't need to look back to know the agents had noticed them—Gifted senses were sensitive like that. But if they didn't give the agents a reason to look twice, they might get away clean.

The wind shifted. Voices floated faintly through the alley behind them.

"…no sign… intelligence could be wrong…"

"…Gifted presence confirmed… been here days… report in soon…"

Tatius's jaw tensed. Raul's hand twitched near his side, where a signal whistle hung under his coat—silent, but always ready. One word from Raul and the entire crew would know they had trouble.

"They're hunting," Tatius said quietly, his voice a low murmur of disgust. "We'd better not linger."

Raul's reply was a grunt of agreement. "Let's just get the groceries and get out before this place turns into another Zalfari."

He turned the corner, and immediately slammed into someone.

There was a yelp, and then a loud crash as books cascaded around them like dominoes on pavement. Raul stumbled, catching himself with a curse under his breath.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" The girl cried, her face beet-red as she scrambled to gather the fallen books. "I wasn't looking where I was going—!"

Raul bent down quickly, helping her stack the volumes. "No, we're the ones who weren't watching," he said smoothly, golden eyes flicking over the titles.

Tatius crouched beside him, catching the glimpse of a few banned covers beneath the stack. His fingers froze briefly as he recognised the spine of one: Origins of the Gifted. Another bore the crest of the lost library archives of Aeshenport—destroyed three years ago in a purge.

That book alone could get someone locked up or tortured. Or worse.

He looked up, and Raul's eyes met his. No words passed between them, but the silence was loud enough. This girl was taking a risk. A stupid one. Or a brave one. Maybe both.

"I've never seen either of you around here before," The girl said loudly, awkwardly trying to shuffle the banned books deeper beneath the safer ones.

Tatius watched her every movement with a honed eye—not paranoid, but perceptive. The kind of alertness that came from living on the edge of a knife.

Raul's lips curved slightly. "We're just passing through," he said, his voice easy, but his gaze sharp. "You a local?"

She nodded a little too quickly, clearly trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Are you…visitors? Travellers?"

"Something like that." Raul handed her the last of the books, and his tone shifted ever so slightly—less amused now, more careful. "Actually, maybe you could help us. We're looking for the nearest grocery store."

"Oh! I was just heading there, actually."

Tatius stood, brushing off his knees, his expression unreadable. He scanned the street again before glancing at Raul. "Let's not keep her waiting."

Raul nodded, falling into step beside his friend. And as they walked, side-by-side behind the girl, both young men kept their senses alert—every sound, every flicker of shadow, and every shifting breeze tugging at the corners of their coats.

The ESA was sniffing around for a reason.

And Tatius, despite his earlier blunders, was razor-sharp now. He hadn't forgotten how to fight.

He just hadn't had a reason to draw blood yet.

* * * *

Even the locals rarely ventured into the narrow, crooked street where the little café sat crumbling between two derelict buildings. It was nestled in one of Agnis's poorer districts—the kind of place most people avoided unless they were desperate, lost, or hiding something.

To the locals, this was the slums. To the underground, it was neutral ground. Quiet, discreet, and invisible to most eyes that mattered.

Sera sat alone in a corner booth beneath the dim yellow light of a flickering bulb, a half-full cup of bitter coffee cooling on the chipped table before her. An open book lay in her hands, but the pages hadn't turned in over an hour. She was far more focused on the room around her than on the ink on the page. Her posture was relaxed, but her senses were taut like a coiled wire.

The others in Aegis had scattered for the day—Tatius and Raul were on supply duty, Claudia and Laura likely stalking leads or watching the streets. Kailey and Neil had gone off together, likely arguing about something entirely pointless. Even Ness had peeled off on his own.

It wasn't a rare thing for Sera to seek solitude when she needed it. But today wasn't about rest. Today was about Ethan.

The bell above the door jingled lazily, and she didn't even have to look up to know it was him. She recognised the weight of his gait, the unhurried confidence that came from years of never needing to run.

Ethan Simmons looked like someone who hadn't slept properly in weeks and didn't particularly care. Tall, lean, and wrapped in an oversized black jacket that had seen better days, he swept into the café like a shadow drifting between cracks.

His untidy black hair stuck out in all directions, save for the distinctive streaks of white that broke through his fringe like claw marks. His gloved hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his catlike green-gold eyes scanned the café lazily, until they landed on her.

The barista, a quiet man who knew better than to ask questions, flicked his gaze toward Sera's booth. Ethan caught the signal and gave a subtle nod in return before sliding into the seat opposite her without a word.

For a few long seconds, neither of them said anything. The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was familiar. It was the kind of silence shared by people who knew each other too well to need small talk.

"It's been a while, Ethan," Sera said at last, snapping the book shut with a soft thunk.

Ethan tilted his head in a lazy greeting. "Sera Kroix. Still dramatic as ever. I never doubted you were alive."

"Yeah, well." She raised her hand and made a rude gesture. "You could've written a letter or something. It's not like you're short on connections."

He smirked faintly. "I prefer to keep my fan mail selective."

Sera leaned back, arching a brow. "Still full of it, huh? I was surprised you reached out. You usually make me do the chasing."

"I know." Ethan shrugged off his jacket like it weighed him down. "But this time, it couldn't wait."

He was calm, but Sera knew him well enough to catch the tension behind the act. Ethan was the type who only made the first move when something serious was in the wind.

Ethan Simmons was a rarity in the underground—a man who'd carved out a place for himself not with weapons or a Gift, but with information. He wasn't flashy, didn't seek loyalty or respect. He traded in whispers, built his currency from secrets, and knew things before most people could blink.

Some people called him a parasite. Others called him indispensable. Everyone knew better than to underestimate him.

He was also one of the few people Sera trusted. That alone had caused more than a few fights in her past.

Even when she'd started Blade back in Elvryn, people had warned her about Ethan. Untrustworthy, self-serving, a sellout. Alexis had warned her. Raul had definitely warned her.

But Sera had seen something in him that no one else bothered to look for. Beneath the layers of sarcasm, cynicism, and careful detachment, Ethan had a line he wouldn't cross. He'd sold intel to ESA agents, sure, but never to the hunters. Not once. Not even when they offered more than the ESA could ever dream of.

They had history, the two of them. Before Blade. Before the name "Kroix" meant anything beyond a girl running through alleyways with scraped knees and a switchblade.

Ethan had always been around somehow, drifting through the cracks of cities like a ghost with a memory. He wasn't a Gifted, but in many ways, he'd survived worse. Out-thought worse. And more importantly, Sera had seen firsthand how he operated—how information followed him like a scent trail, how he could map out alliances and lies better than most generals could plan a war.

But despite Ethan's reputation, Sera had always trusted him. Not because she was naïve—far from it, but because she'd spent enough time watching people lie to her to recognise when someone was honest about being dishonest.

"You know, the way you do business makes people paranoid," Sera muttered, stirring her now-cold coffee with a finger. "Half the underground thinks you'd sell your own mother if the price was right."

Ethan gave a snort. "Good thing I don't have a mother."

Sera scowled at him.

He lifted his gloved hands defensively. "I'm joking. Kinda."

"You'd be less hated if you didn't talk like that."

"I'm not here to be liked, Sera. I'm here to stay alive." Ethan reached for his own coffee, took a sip, and made a face like he'd swallowed acid. "By the Goddess, that's terrible."

"That's your own fault for not ordering tea."

"You know I don't trust anything green that isn't money."

Sera smiled faintly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "So? What's the news?"

Ethan didn't answer right away. He traced a gloved finger around the rim of his cup, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke. "Hunter activity is climbing. I assume you've noticed."

"We've noticed." Her voice was flat.

Ethan nodded. "Then I'll skip the dramatic build-up. Agnis isn't safe for long. They're sniffing around. Not just for stray Gifted. Specifically for you. Or your group, I should say."

Aegis.

The name hadn't yet reached the mouths of the average civilian, but in the underground? Whispers were spreading like mould through old stone. People didn't know who they were, but they knew what they'd done.

Disrupting hunter operations. Freeing Gifted. Uncovering secrets.

"I've done what I can to keep your name out of the information pool," Ethan continued. "I'm not the only informant you've got on retainer, I assume. But others aren't as…cautious. Your group is getting attention from the ESA, the hunters, and now, civilians too. You're becoming a ghost story. The question is: how long until someone makes the story real?"

"That was the plan," Sera said calmly.

Ethan blinked at her, then gave a short laugh. "Of course it was. Why do I even ask?" He sipped again from the cup, made the same face. "Goddess, that's still awful."

"Then stop drinking it."

"I'm committed now."

Sera leaned forward, resting her arms on the table, her tone dropping just slightly. "You said Agnis isn't safe. How long do we have?"

"A week, maybe less. ESA's got a local contact sniffing for Gifted patterns—migration, buying habits, even old utility bills. It's clever. Quiet. But I picked up on it. They're being subtle, which means they suspect something, but they don't know yet."

"And the hunters?"

Ethan's jaw tightened. "They're looking. More violently. If they find out Aegis is here, you won't get a polite warning."

"I never expect anything polite from them."

"Then you're ahead of most."

For a moment, Sera didn't speak. She just studied Ethan's face—his too-sharp smile, his guarded posture, and even the tired flicker in his green-flecked eyes. Beneath all the cleverness and the posturing, he was worried. That said more than any warning could.

"I trust you," she said softly.

Ethan blinked again. "You really shouldn't."

"Too bad."

Their eyes met. Mismatched and multicoloured, wary and gold-flecked.

It wasn't the kind of friendship that looked good on paper. But in a world built on betrayal and blood, the fact that they were still sitting across from each other, still talking, still trusting, even after everything, that meant something.

And both of them knew it.

"I'm guessing you called me here for more than the fact that the hunters are sniffing around for us?" Sera asked.

Ethan stared at her for a moment, unreadable. Then he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "ESA's in town. Not just scouts. Gifted Task Force agents. Even agents from Special Operations. And it gets worse. The hunters are here too. Elite ones. The kind that don't bother showing up unless there's blood in the water."

Sera's fingers curled around the edge of the table. "So it's not just for us. There's a Gifted nearby. One they're tracking."

"Exactly." Ethan nodded, the gold flecks in his eyes catching the dim light. "You need to move. Fast. This place isn't safe anymore."

"Is it ever?"

"I'm serious." Ethan's tone sharpened. "Things have changed, Sera. The underground's fractured. Whirlwind's gone. Dragonfly's scattered. Even Blade's a shadow of what it was. And someone's been feeding the hunters intel. Sabotaging from the inside. We think it's someone high up in the Abyss."

"Figures," Sera muttered darkly. "It always starts at the top."

"You leave that part to me," Ethan said, straightening. "That's my arena. Yours is survival. Yours is keeping that group of yours from falling apart before you can even finish what you started."

Sera met his gaze, steady and unreadable. "You think I'm crazy."

"I think most people who try to rewrite the rules are," Ethan said quietly. "But you? I've seen what you're capable of. And I think if anyone has a shot at changing the game… It's you."

There was a pause, long and weighted, before Sera stood up. "I'll find the Gifted. I'll get my people out."

Ethan stood as well, more slowly. "Drinks are on me."

She gave him a nod, brushing her fingers over her scarf as she turned toward the door.

"And Sera?" Ethan added before she could leave. She looked back at him. "Don't die."

The bell above the café door chimed softly as Sera vanished into the city.

Ethan remained behind, finishing the last dregs of his coffee in silence. After a beat, he crossed to the counter and slid a handful of bills across the surface—neatly folded, one containing a discreet slip of paper between them.

"For the coffee," he said casually. "And one to go."

The barista accepted the money without a word, hands moving with practiced ease. The message vanished into a hidden compartment behind the counter.

Ethan drummed his fingers absently. "You might want to warn him to lay low," he murmured. "There's talk. Hunters going missing. Some even turning up dead. Sounds like someone's been busy."

"He won't listen," The barista replied while mixing another cup.

"No," Ethan sighed. "They never do. The ones from Blade were always like that. Him especially. He's not the kind to do what she asks. He does what she needs."

The barista handed him the drink. "I'll try to reach him. But he's hard to pin down these days. And with the hunters stirring, it's not hard to guess what he's up to."

Ethan took the cup, eyes momentarily distant. "Tell Jamie to watch his back."

"I will."

And just like that, Ethan was gone, coffee in hand, and his coat fluttering behind him like a shadow blending into the street, already thinking ten steps ahead.

* * * *

"Is that everything on our list?"

Tatius's voice was light, almost lazy, but Raul could hear the subtle alertness beneath it. His jade eyes flickered over to Raul's hands as they grabbed the last item—some obscure spice Laura insisted they pick up, from the shelf.

Lucie Dressen, the girl Raul had quite literally run into, had insisted on accompanying them. She'd seemed amused, not annoyed, by the accidental bump and had quickly offered to guide them to the nearest grocery store, explaining that there were two in Agnis, but she preferred this one because it had "better light and fewer old people giving her weird looks."

She'd stuck with them since, chatting easily and offering help with navigating the tightly packed aisles, as if they weren't strangers but long-lost classmates reunited on a shopping run.

Tatius had taken to her quickly—he always did open up easier than Ness. But Raul, ever cautious, kept a layer of reserve.

Still, he couldn't deny the girl had a charm to her.

Lucie talked about her father—how he was a freelance journalist, always travelling, chasing rumours and stories across Eldario. Raul had caught the flicker of pride in her voice, the sort that said she loved him dearly, even if she felt like an afterthought sometimes. Her mother was never mentioned.

Both Raul and Tatius were smart enough not to ask.

They had kept their own answers vague—half-truths and deflections, a skill Raul had perfected over the years. Tatius tried, but he always gave away too much with a glance. Raul often stepped in to steer the conversation, a rhythm the two of them had perfected over the months.

Tatius was halfway through laughing at one of Lucie's stories—something involving a bee, a camera drone, and her father's panicked voice, when Raul's phone buzzed with a message. He fished it from his coat pocket, his expression sharpening into focus the moment he read the name.

"Sera?" Tatius asked, casually leaning over Raul's shoulder, but his posture shifted too, more alert now.

"Yeah." Raul read the message twice. "Nothing urgent. Just something she wants me to look into when we get back."

He lifted his eyes meaningfully to Tatius, who glanced at Lucie, still blissfully unaware of the subtle exchange. The red-haired boy gave a short nod. Message received.

"We got everything on the list, right?" Tatius asked, rerouting the conversation as they turned into the checkout line.

Raul double-checked the list Laura had sent them, running a finger down the handwritten scrawl. "We're good. Best to get back, anyway. Laura gets fussy when food's late."

Lucie let out a soft sigh, adjusting the bag on her shoulder as she stepped behind them. "It must be nice, being able to travel," she murmured, her gaze distant as she stared at the rows of shelves. "I've never even left Agnis. I mean, technically, I could now. I'm old enough. But school, you know? And Dad gets nervous. Says the world's gotten ugly lately."

Raul frowned slightly at that. He glanced at her sidelong. "You were homeschooled, right?"

Lucie nodded. "Yeah. My 'friends' are mostly people I talk to online. I mean, I don't mind it that much, but…" She hesitated. "Sometimes, it just feels like I'm missing something."

That struck Raul more deeply than he expected. For all his rough edges, Raul had never been truly alone. Even in the darkest parts of the underground, he'd had Dragonfly before everything went down. Even Sera and the guys in Blade. People who, for better or worse, kept him tethered.

"Sounds kinda lonely," he said, his voice softer than usual.

They reached the cashier then—a bored-looking teen who didn't even glance up as they scanned the items and bagged them. Once outside, the sun hit them like a punch, all warm light and golden haze.

"I should head home," Lucie said, shielding her eyes. "Dad should be back soon. Let's exchange contacts? It'd be nice to talk to someone who isn't him."

Raul nodded, already pulling his phone out. Her smile made something flicker in his chest—something warm and unfamiliar. It wasn't loud or immediate, but it was there, a subtle thread pulling taut between them.

"Sure. Let's stay in touch," he said, offering her a crooked grin.

She waved as she turned the corner and disappeared down the sunlit street.

Raul didn't realise Tatius was grinning until he turned back to find the youngest Black sibling looking at him like a smug older brother.

"What?" Raul muttered.

Tatius shrugged, still grinning. "Nothing. Just didn't think you were the soft smile type."

Raul rolled his eyes. "I wasn't smiling."

"You totally were."

Ignoring him, Raul adjusted the grocery bags and said quietly, "Did you notice anything…off about Lucie?"

Tatius blinked. "Off? You mean like weird-weird or hunter-weird?"

Raul sighed. "Neither. Just…something."

Tatius tilted his head, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Nah. She seemed normal to me. Kinda lonely, yeah, but not suspicious."

Raul didn't reply immediately.

The truth was, he didn't expect Tatius to notice. The Black siblings, gifted as they were, hadn't exactly grown up surrounded by other people. They were powerful, sure, but raw, and sometimes naïve about reading people.

Tatius had a sharp mind, but instincts? That came with the street. With survival.

Raul, on the other hand, had lived in the underground his entire life. Slept in alleys. Traded favours and information. Survived not because of brute strength, but because he knew how to read a twitch, a glance, and even the tension in someone's voice.

Those within the underground have respected power and authority, and honestly don't care if one is a Gifted or not. To them, power is power. There is a reason why most of the Gifted community normally seek refuge with the street gangs if they don't decide to become a nomad.

And Raul could tell. Lucie was hiding something.

"She's probably a Gifted," he murmured. "Dormant. Unawakened, maybe. But it's there."

Tatius blinked. "Seriously?"

Raul nodded once, his golden eyes thoughtful. "Yeah. It's subtle, but you can feel it if you know what to look for. Like a hum just under the surface."

"You're just mad I didn't pick up on it."

Raul gave a snort. "Not mad. Just proving why I'm the brains and you're the brawn."

"Excuse me, I've definitely been the brains in at least one situation. Probably."

Raul laughed, the tension easing off his shoulders. The two fell into a comfortable silence as they walked toward the harbour, the crashing waves ahead drawing them onward like a lullaby of home.

"You gonna tell Lucie?" Tatius asked eventually.

Raul shrugged. "Maybe. Not yet. Let's see what she does next."

"Bet she'll message you before we even get back."

Raul glanced sideways, catching the teasing glint in Tatius's eye. "Shut up."

Tatius just grinned.

* * * *

Sera stared at the screen of her phone, watching as it dimmed to black a second after her message to Raul sent through. It slipped into sleep mode, but the weight of what Ethan had told her barely an hour ago didn't leave with the fading glow.

It hung there, thick and lingering, in the pit of her chest.

A Gifted? In a place like Agnis?

A quiet, unassuming town tucked between crumbling roads and half-forgotten outposts. Not a place that called for alarms. But a Gifted? Someone significant enough to pull both the ESA and the hunters in?

Sera's jaw tensed.

Every instinct she had was screaming at her to gather the others, to disappear before dusk, before surveillance drones started combing the skies or another shadowy black van rolled in through town limits.

She could still feel the echo of the last time she'd ignored that instinct.

But Ethan had passed this to her for a reason. And Sera had learned, more often through pain than patience, that when people like Ethan came bearing warnings, you didn't run.

Not yet, at least.

"You'll do the right thing, Sera. Like you always do." Zest's voice, soft and steady, flickered through her thoughts.

Will I, though? she wondered, not for the first time. Her grip tightened around the phone.

"Uh… Sera?"

The voice pulled her attention sharply, her head snapping toward it. She wasn't sure what she expected—a stranger, a threat, or even some ghost of her past, but instead, she found herself staring into the familiar face of Lucas Alescio.

He stood at the threshold of a small oddities shop a few feet away, one hand still resting on the doorframe, the sunlight catching in his tied-back raven hair.

Beside him, just a step behind, stood a younger version of him—same eyes, with even the same quiet posture, though his hair was longer, brushing his jaw. He was looking between her and Lucas with confusion in his dark eyes.

"Lucas," Sera said, her voice flat but not cold. She gave him a short nod, her gaze flickering automatically to the black jackets both brothers wore. The insignia of the ESA stitched neatly over the chest.

Not unexpected. But still unwelcome.

"Lucas, someone you know?" The younger one asked.

Lucas cleared his throat, stepping forward onto the pavement with practiced calm. "Something like that." He glanced at Sera again, a flicker of something softer passing through his expression. "It's been a while. What, six months? Eight months? Give or take?"

Sera's eyes remained steady. "Around there."

She hadn't forgotten. Their last meeting in Aurora had been brief but meaningful—one of those strange, quiet memories you couldn't quite categorise, but couldn't let go of either. He'd been walking a fine line even then. She hadn't expected to see him again.

Her gaze shifted to the younger one, scanning with unspoken precision. Same build. Same fire beneath the surface.

"Your brother?"

"Yeah." Lucas placed a light hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Misha, this is Sera. I met her before. Sera, my kid brother."

"Misha Alescio," The younger Alescio said with a polite nod. "It's a pleasure."

Sera didn't miss a beat, though a slight twitch in her hand betrayed the flicker of unease at that last name. She nodded back. "Pleasure."

Lucas studied her for a moment before speaking again. "I went back to Aurora after that. Looked for you. But you were already gone."

"I don't live there," Sera answered simply, keeping her posture relaxed. "It was just one of my stopovers. I travel. Mercenary work." Her voice didn't waver. She used that cover often—it was close enough to the truth that it didn't require much invention.

Misha raised his brows, surprised. "Huh. Sounds like something we used to do," he said, looking at his brother with a small smile. Lucas gave a faint, grim chuckle.

Sera crossed her arms, eyes back on the ESA insignias stitched into both jackets. "So you did join up, after all. I wondered. And I see you dragged your brother in, too."

Misha grimaced at that, the smile slipping for just a second before his expression neutralised again. Sera noticed.

She always noticed.

Sera looked from one brother to the other with a raised brow, her expression unreadable. "I was going to ask what you're doing here in Agnis," she said dryly, her voice laced with faint amusement, "but I think I'm better off not knowing."

Misha's lips quirked at her deadpan tone, a flicker of reluctant amusement breaking through his otherwise unreadable face.

Lucas opened his mouth, ready to respond, but was interrupted by the sharp buzz of his phone. He frowned, glancing at the screen. "Misha, wait here. I need to take this."

Without waiting for a reply, Lucas stepped off the sidewalk and down the street, holding the phone to his ear. He kept walking until even Misha, Gifted senses and all, couldn't hear a single word of the conversation.

Misha folded his arms across his chest, silent for a beat. He didn't like being out of the loop—not when he'd been summoned to Agnis under vague instructions, alongside his older brother, no less.

He and Lucas almost never worked the same assignments, even though they were both fully ranked ESA agents now. Their roles diverged sharply. Lucas handled the high-profile targets; Misha's team was often tasked with cleaning up the aftermath, or the messes no one else wanted to touch.

"I really don't want to know," Sera muttered again, mostly to herself this time, her gaze shifting briefly toward where Lucas had vanished into the distance. Then, after a moment, she tilted her head toward Misha. "But I'm guessing you're here on a case."

Misha let out a small, dry laugh. "Don't ask questions you already know the answer to," he muttered, glancing sideways at her. She grinned, and for a brief moment, the tension between them softened just slightly. "How'd you meet my brother, anyway?" Misha asked, genuine curiosity bleeding into his tone.

Sera tilted her head, studying him. He didn't ask the question like someone digging for intel—just someone trying to piece together a puzzle.

Her eyes lingered on his face a second longer than necessary. He looked like Lucas, but younger, and rougher around the edges. Quieter, maybe. Or simply better at hiding what simmered underneath.

They were about the same age, and yet something about him felt older—too practiced in carrying a weight no one should have to at his age.

"A while back," Sera said finally. "He hadn't joined the ESA yet. At least, that was the impression I got. He was still…debating things. Wrestling with choices."

"Sounds like him," Misha muttered, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.

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Sera's gaze sharpened slightly, narrowing on Misha. "You don't seem all that thrilled to be with the ESA yourself."

That earned her a crooked, tired smile. "You're the first to pick up on that," Misha admitted, his tone low and slightly bitter. "Not even Lucas or my best friend figured that out. Not really."

Sera didn't respond immediately, but her expression turned contemplative. "Far be it from me to give advice to someone I just met," she said, her voice low, "but you might want to keep that kind of thing to yourself. People disappear for a lot less."

Misha smiled. "I'm not worried," he said quietly. "You don't strike me as someone who's exactly loyal to the ESA, either. Or the hunters. I'm not gonna ask. But… Underground? Or Gifted?"

Her fingers twitched, the smallest involuntary movement—but he caught it. And yet, oddly, his instincts didn't scream at him like they usually did when someone was hiding something dangerous. If anything, it was the opposite.

There was something…grounding about her. Familiar, somehow, in a way that didn't make sense.

"I won't push," Misha said. "Some truths are better left unsaid. But if you are what I think you are… Well, I don't blame you. The ESA isn't exactly what people think it is. I knew that before I even signed up. Sometimes, doing the right thing isn't even an option."

Sera sighed and swept her bangs out of her eyes, her gaze drifting upward toward the overcast sky. "Everyone has to walk their own path," she murmured. "So that when the end comes, they can face it with something close to pride. Or at least… Clarity." She shook her head lightly, as if to push away the weight of her own words. "I should go. I've got a few things to take care of."

Misha nodded, though his eyes lingered on her face. "Should I tell my brother anything?"

Sera hesitated, then offered a faint, almost wistful smile. "Tell him I said goodbye."

He watched her turn and walk away, her dark silhouette slipping down the street like a shadow, fluid and silent. She moved with the ease of someone used to disappearing, used to walking away. When she turned the corner and vanished from view, something like the ghost of her presence still lingered in the air.

Lucas returned a few moments later, his expression pinched and distant. His brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched—something about the phone call had clearly rattled him.

"Where's Sera?" he asked, glancing around in confusion.

"She left," Misha replied simply. "Said she had things to do."

Lucas exhaled sharply, disappointment flashing across his face. "Damn. I wanted to ask her something. There's a lead about the Gifted we've been hearing about. I thought maybe, as a mercenary, she'd have heard something through her contacts." His frown deepened. "But maybe it's better she stays out of this. I don't want to drag her into ESA business. It might make her a target."

Misha blinked, turning to stare at his brother like he'd grown a second head. "…You think she needs your protection?" he asked incredulously.

Lucas arched a brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Misha sighed and shook his head, his lips twitching at the corners. "Nothing. Forget it. If you didn't notice, I'm not about to spell it out for you."

Lucas narrowed his eyes but didn't press. Misha was already turning away, adjusting the strap of the small utility pack slung over his shoulder. "Come on," Misha said. "We've got to meet up with the others, don't we?"

Lucas followed without a word, but his eyes lingered on the corner where Sera had vanished, as if hoping she might reappear.

She didn't.

* * * *

It was just past seven in the evening, and the last hues of daylight had already surrendered to the encroaching dark. A chill breeze from the coast whispered across the rooftop of the boathouse, ruffling Sera's hair as she sat cross-legged, her eyes fixed on the restless waters.

There was a kind of peace in the ocean's rhythm—the waves endlessly crashing, receding, and returning, so unlike the world she lived in.

The only other sound came from behind her: the rhythmic clack-clack of fingers dancing over a keyboard, crisp and methodical. Raul was hunched over his portable setup again, his face faintly lit by the soft glow of his custom-rigged laptop screen. The click of keys had long become part of the background noise of Aegis, almost soothing in its familiarity.

So when it stopped, Sera noticed immediately.

She turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder to find Raul leaning forward, his brows furrowed in deep concentration, a thin metal cylinder, etched with tiny, meticulous engravings and wires, already in his hand. He was attaching it to his system with the kind of precision that came only from months of obsessive refinement.

"Is it ready?" Sera asked, watching him curiously.

Raul didn't look up. "Set it to passive scanning mode just now," he said, gesturing towards the compact device, now humming with a low, static pulse. "Took long enough to get the calibration right. This thing's designed to detect residual energy flares, specific to Gifted aura spikes."

Sera shifted, now watching him fully. "That the one you've been building since… Well, since practically the founding of Aegis?"

Raul nodded, brushing a few strands of his hair from his eyes. "Yeah. Took scraps from old ESA wreckage, repurposed components from Blacknet comms satellites, and rewrote the entire firmware to isolate aura fluctuations. Neil helped stabilise the signal feed, and Tatius patched the outer casing with obsidian and grounded quartz. He said it'd help with interference."

Sera raised an eyebrow, both impressed and unsurprised. Raul had always been like that—brilliant, relentless, and resourceful to a dangerous degree. When he wasn't working with animals or commanding flocks of crows mid-air, he was coding, decrypting, and hacking into systems most thought were impenetrable.

There was a reason he'd once been blacklisted by three syndicates and the ESA's cyber division simultaneously before he'd even turned twenty.

"But," Raul continued, leaning back with a sigh, "it only works if someone uses their Gift. Can't detect what doesn't make noise." He rubbed at his nose tiredly. "Until we crack how to read passive aura fields, this is as close as we get to tracking Gifted activity in real-time."

Sera nodded slowly, folding her arms. "Honestly? A part of me hopes it never goes further than this."

Raul looked up at her, brows lifting in surprise. "You don't want better detection?"

"No," she said, her voice quiet. "Because once they can track a Gifted without that Gift being used, without that person even knowing, then it's not just the hunters we need to worry about. It'll be everyone. No more hiding. No more breathing room. Just cages."

Raul fell silent, staring at her for a moment. He understood, even if it wasn't easy to accept. Technology was a double-edged sword, especially in Eldario.

A moment passed. Then, in a lower tone, Raul asked, "You really think we can trust the intel from Ethan?"

Sera's gaze didn't shift. "He's never lied to me. Not once."

"I'm not saying he has. But… There's talk," Raul said carefully. "Yusa brought him up once, before everything. Said Ethan plays both sides. Said he's sold info to the ESA before."

Sera's jaw tensed slightly. "I know. But Ethan wouldn't sell this kind of information. Not to them."

"You're sure?" Raul pressed, his golden eyes narrowing. "Because this isn't something we can afford to be wrong about. If the ESA gets wind of what we're after—"

"They won't," Sera cut in, firm but not unkind. "Ethan values his neutrality. He might sell location data, movement trends, and even bounty stats. But he won't betray someone he owes."

Raul watched her, then gave a small shake of his head and a resigned sigh. "Alright. I trust you. But I'll keep my guard up around him. Brokers are like mirrors—they show you what you want, then sell the reflection to the highest bidder. And Ethan Simmons's reputation is there for a reason."

Before Sera could respond, the scanner let out a high-pitched beep, slicing through the quiet like a siren.

Both of them whipped toward the source. Raul was already dropping to his knees, fingers flying across the keyboard. The device's blue glow had turned to a pulsing red, its panels blinking erratically.

That was no false alarm.

"Raul?" Sera's voice was calm, but laced with edge.

"We got something." His voice was tight with focus. "Massive spike in Gifted aura—Class 2 levels, maybe even borderline Class 1. Location pinged… Residential district, Agnis sector three."

Sera's breath caught.

"There's more." Raul's tone dipped lower. "Multiple Gifted are converging on the same spot. Moving fast."

Sera didn't need to guess. "…ESA." Her voice was flat.

Raul nodded grimly. "It's them. Their movement patterns match protocol. Standard suppression formation."

Sera turned away, cursing under her breath. Just then, Raul's phone buzzed violently in his pocket, making them both jump. He snatched it out, and the name flashing across the screen made his eyes darken.

Sera stepped closer. "Who is it?"

"…Lucie."

Sera's eyebrows only rose with the sound of that unfamiliar name. "You better take it."

Raul doesn't need further prompting even as he clicked on the 'Answer' button on his phone. "Lucie?" Raul's voice cracked just slightly.

Sera tilted her head, silently watching him, even as the sound of hurried footsteps drew her attention toward the door. Tatius and Laura entered, their expressions drawn tight with unease.

"What's happening?" Laura asked immediately, scanning the rooftop.

Raul's breath hitched. "Lucie! Don't hang up!" he suddenly shouted, his voice raw. The others jumped. His grip on the phone tightened, knuckles pale. "Lucie, stay on the line! Are you hearing me?!"

"Raul, what the hell's going on?" Laura demanded, stepping forward.

"That was Lucie?" Tatius asked, his tone more serious now. "What happened?"

Then, a glow flared in the distance—faint at first, then building like a beacon, a scarlet bloom rising from the skyline.

Sera turned her eyes toward it.

Fire.

The horizon above Agnis flickered with unnatural intensity, flames licking up into the sky like crimson fingers reaching for the stars.

Raul's laptop emitted a shrill, continuous whine.

"Is that…?" Laura's voice caught. "That's…fire. That's coming from Agnis, right? From the residential sector?"

Sera didn't answer right away. She just stood there, watching the flames, her fists clenched tight at her sides. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"…Goddess above… Help us all."

* * * *

Lucas Alescio had woken up that morning expecting briefings, paperwork, and maybe another dull surveillance rotation.

Not a mission into the heart of Agnis's residential zone. Not the searing stench of scorched earth, screams, or fire flaring hot enough to melt skin from bone. And certainly not to spend the last hour of the day soaked in the lingering scent of smoke, his jacket charred at the sleeve, with his arm raw with second-degree burns.

It was just past ten at night, and both Team Alpha and Team Delta now occupied the ESA's dimly lit briefing room.

The overhead fluorescents buzzed softly above them. The air was heavy and thick with the acrid ghost of fire, clinging to their clothes, their skin, and even their memories.

Every single agent in the room bore some kind of injury: blistered hands, soot-streaked faces, bloodied gauze, and even ragged breath. Burn ointment and fatigue mixed into the atmosphere like fog.

Lucas sat hunched at the table, examining the angry red burn seared across his forearm. The fabric of his jacket had melted slightly into the wound; the stench of it still lingered in his nose.

He exhaled, grimacing. "I'm burning this shirt," he muttered, the dry rasp in his voice barely human. "No matter how much you wash it, smoke and blood… They never leave."

Beside him, Leonid O'Boyle nursed his own wounds, the ends of his long scarf singed black. The water user was usually composed, but even he looked rattled, even haunted. His fingers dripped residual moisture as though his Gift had been strained to the edge of collapse.

"…Is it too late to resign?" Lucas asked weakly, glancing sideways.

Leonid gave a noncommittal grunt. A flicker of dry humour crossed his face, but it didn't last. His control over water had kept several of them from becoming charcoal. The fire had come down on them like divine judgment, and Leonid had been the shield they clung to.

Across the table, Louis Krusen had gone completely limp in his chair, sprawled out over the meeting desk like a collapsed marionette. His pineapple-style ponytail had come half undone, and his shirt reeked of ash.

"I think that's the closest I've come to seeing my own soul leave my body," Louis groaned. "Misha, is it too late to beg for reassignment? Maybe back to Forensics? Or hell, put me in janitorial, I'll mop the walls."

He didn't raise his head as he spoke, his voice muffled by the wood.

Lucas, despite everything, managed a faint smirk. He remembered the story—how Misha had all but stolen Louis from the Cyber Division, pissing off more than a few higher-ups in the process. But he saw the genius behind the laziness: Louis was a tactician disguised as a burnout.

"What happened back there… It doesn't add up," Elijah Rosales muttered from where he sat nursing his singed hair, dark crimson strands scorched at the tips. "Whoever said her Gift was dormant should be fired. Or punched. Or both. We were nearly flambéed."

He didn't even try to hide his bitterness.

The Rosales twins, Taylor and Elijah, rarely made mistakes in threat assessments, and they both had been caught off guard. Elijah's catlike pupils were narrowed and unsettled.

Maia Travis, seated at the far end of the table, ticked off with a clinical grimness, "Three hunters dead. Two squads in the emergency Burn Unit. And half of Agnis's residential zone is now a smouldering crater. All caused by one Gifted girl. One." Her voice held disbelief, edging toward accusation.

"She's not just any Gifted," Misha cut in, his tone cold, and his face shadowed beneath the flickering light. "I told you not to underestimate what someone like her could do, especially when cornered."

"She's not trained. That was raw panic." Taylor's voice was soft, but edged with steel. "I watched her. That wasn't combat skill. It was instinct. Her Gift awakened in a crisis. She didn't even mean to kill anyone."

"She did kill people." Maia's voice sharpened, almost triumphant in its indignation. "Three of our own. Burned them alive. And you all are here trying to excuse it?"

"Watch your mouth," Remi Wayne growled suddenly, startling even Lucas. The usually flippant tracker winced as he adjusted the bandage on his arm, but his scowl was sharp. "We cornered her. Your so-called 'allies' executed her father right in front of her. Of course she lost it. What did you expect her to do—kneel down and apologise while we shackled her?"

"She's dangerous!" Maia snapped, her red eyes flashing. "She's not like us—she's one of them. If the hunters hadn't—"

That was the wrong thing to say.

There was a loud screech of chair legs on the floor as Misha surged up, his eyes blazing, and his fists clenched. The temperature in the room spiked dangerously as heat shimmered in the air around him.

"You bitch," Misha snarled, lunging toward the table.

Lucas was on his feet in an instant, but it was Louis who caught his captain first—arms locking around Misha's chest from behind, dragging him back before he could leap across the table and throttle Maia.

"Misha, stop! She's not worth it!" Louis hissed in his ear, his voice strained.

"You're siding with her?" Misha raged, struggling in Louis' grip. "She sounds like a damn hunter!"

"Because she might as well be," Taylor spat, rising to her feet too. "You ever say something like that about the Gifted again, Travis, and I'll make sure you never work with our teams again. Do you understand me?"

Maia looked startled, but only for a moment. Then her lips twisted. "They're unstable. Dangerous. Why do you think the hunters exist?" she said lowly. "They were right. I've seen what the Gifted can do."

"You don't even deserve to wear that jacket," Elijah said flatly.

Lucas was still, watching them all.

For the first time, he could see the fracture lines in Team Delta—ugly, unhealed things. Misha looked ready to burst apart at the seams. Remi was barely holding his composure. Coleen had said nothing this whole time, but her pale eyes were watching Maia with unblinking disgust.

It made Lucas sick.

His team had Normals too—Allen and Jonan. But neither of them had ever looked down on the Gifted. Not once. Lucas would've thrown them out himself if they had. But this?

This wasn't just prejudice. It was indoctrination.

And it was inside the ESA.

Lucas exhaled harshly. "It's been a long day," he said aloud, cutting through the silence. "We're all exhausted. Half of you should be in the infirmary. Write your reports, and send them in by tomorrow morning." His voice was flat. "Dismissed."

The agents filed out slowly, some limping, others leaning on each other. Louis herded Remi out with a grip firm on his jacket. Elijah glared at Maia as he passed. Taylor ignored her entirely.

Only when the door clicked shut behind their teams did Misha turn back. "This isn't right, Brother."

Lucas looked up, weariness etched into every line of his face. "I know."

"You and I both know what's going to happen to her," Misha went on quietly. "They'll give her a 'choice.' ESA enlistment…or death. And even that's only if the hunters don't get to her first."

Lucas rubbed at his eyes. "Do you think I don't know that?" His voice cracked. "She's just a girl. But she's powerful. That kind of power… The Council will never let her walk free."

"She'll be a weapon," Misha said grimly. "Either ours or theirs."

Lucas didn't answer right away. He just sat there, silent, the room flickering with shadows.

"What do you want me to do?" he said finally, his voice raw. "Defy orders? Turn her loose? We'd all be hunted. Branded traitors. They'd put a bullet in my skull and call it justice. Whichever way that I'm looking at it, she would be better off with us than with the hunters."

Misha clenched his fists. "Then what's the point of this uniform?"

Lucas gathered the files in front of him, his jaw tight. "I'm not about to get into this with you today, Misha. Delta's on guard duty for the night. Alpha will relieve you come morning. Rotate the shifts. Don't let her be alone for a second. If the hunters get wind that she's here, we'll have more than burn wounds to worry about."

Misha stood, the fire in his chest banked only barely. "…Fine," he said at last, the word burning like ash on his tongue.

And with that, he walked out, leaving behind the room, the heat, and the unbearable weight of another war none of them had asked for.

* * * *

It was a little past two in the morning when they slipped through the edge of the compound, where silence reigned like a curse. Save for a skeleton crew tasked with keeping appearances, ESA headquarters was lifeless and eerily still, unnaturally so.

The thick quiet that pressed around the building didn't just suggest sleep; it suggested absence. Or worse, bait.

At the front entrance, the lone guard leaned against the wall, half-asleep on his feet, his posture slumping under the weight of fatigue or disinterest. His grip on his weapon was loose. His mind was elsewhere.

He barely registered the whisper of movement behind him before an arm looped tightly around his neck, swift and practiced, and a needle pierced his skin with surgical precision.

There was no time to cry out. Just a brief jerk of resistance, then stillness.

The guard's body was lowered silently to the floor.

Laura O'Boyle pressed two fingers against her earpiece, her dark eyes scanning the perimeter even as she did. "…We're in," she murmured, her voice steady despite the adrenaline drumming beneath her skin.

"Time is ten minutes past two," came Kailey's voice over the comms—calm and efficient, but tight with the same tension that simmered beneath all of them. "Security cameras and feeds are offline. But this won't last long. Someone's bound to notice the blackout. You've got until three at best. Fifty minutes."

"More than enough," Raul Meyers muttered, already kneeling in front of the main door with a compact computer rig balanced on one thigh. His fingers were a blur over the keys, his golden eyes reflecting the soft glow of the screen. A few seconds later, with a satisfying mechanical click, the lock disengaged, and the doors hissed open like an exhale. "We're in."

"Neil and Tatius are still in position for backup?" Laura asked quietly, her eyes already flickering through the shadows within the threshold.

"Yes," Kailey confirmed. "Sera and Letha have both taken positions at the west and south entrances. All exits are covered. You're clear. At least for now."

"We'll make it fast," Laura replied with a sharp nod, stepping inside with Raul right behind her.

"The holding cells are in the dungeons of the north wing," Raul reminded her under his breath, recalling the schematics they'd received from Alexis and Ethan—a detailed map of ESA headquarters that had cost them dearly in favours and trust. "If Lucie's here, that's where they'd keep her."

"She won't be here long," Laura muttered. "They'll move her to the capital by morning. If that happens, we'll lose our chance."

Raul didn't reply, but the tension in his posture said enough. He tugged on black gloves as he moved forward, pulling a sidearm from the holster on his thigh. The usually laid-back glint in his eyes had hardened into something grim.

"I've mapped a route with the lowest possible heat signatures. Sensors are blind in that hallway, at least temporarily. Stick close."

"You seem more worked up than usual," Laura commented softly as she followed him through the shadowed corridor.

She trusted Raul—had always trusted him, even from when they'd just joined Aegis, and back when Laura only knew of Raul by reputation. He didn't miss things. He didn't miscalculate.

But something about tonight had sharpened the edges around him.

"We save Lucie first," Raul said tightly, "Then maybe I'll talk."

Laura didn't press. Her instincts were already whispering what he wasn't saying aloud.

As they crept deeper into the north wing, every footfall echoed like a warning. Empty halls stretched ahead, quiet as a tomb. No guards. No movement. No voices. Just rows of doors and flickering lights that cast long, distorted shadows.

And that silence again—deafening, smothering, and wrong.

Laura's unease sharpened with every step. Where were the patrols? Where were the watchmen they should've encountered? After the chaos of the past week in Agnis, ESA should've been crawling with personnel. But it was…deserted.

Something was off.

They reached a steel-reinforced door marked by an embedded keypad lock. Laura recognised it instantly from the blueprints—an access point leading to the underground holding cells. The air here felt colder. Denser.

"Do your thing," she said, her eyes sweeping the hallway behind them while Raul crouched at the lock.

Her hand hovered near the pistol strapped to her back as unease curled in her stomach like smoke. Too smooth. Too quiet. They were ghosts in a ghost facility.

"Laura. Status report," came Sera's voice suddenly in her ear, sharp and low—tension barely veiled beneath her calm. "What's the situation?"

Laura's spine stiffened, but she forced herself to breathe, steady, as her eyes flickered to the corners of the ceiling and the blind spot above the nearest corridor camera.

"All clear," she replied, her voice hushed. "We're at the access to the holding cells. But… Something's not right. Security's too light. It's not just odd. It's suspicious. Especially with a Gifted held here. It's like they want us to get this far."

A low, bitter laugh echoed next—Neil's voice crackling through the comms. "I'm on the roof. Aside from standard patrols around the outer perimeter, I've got nothing. Not even the usual heat signatures near the ventilation sectors. It's…empty."

There was a pause. Then Sera responded, her voice taut. "Be on your guard. Every step."

"Understood," Laura answered grimly, glancing at her watch.

2:25AM. Thirty-five minutes left.

"Raul, how much longer?"

"I'm going as fast as I can," Raul hissed. Sweat beaded at his temples despite the cool air. He knew he was racing the clock, but it was more than that. He felt the trap they might be walking into, even if the tripwires hadn't been triggered yet.

Then, a click. A green light blinked on the panel.

The steel door hissed open, exhaling cool, recycled air from the subterranean level below.

Raul stood and drew his sidearm again. "Let's move."

Laura nodded once, her gun raised, her heart hammering.

The hunt had begun, but who was the real prey?

The stone staircase that stretched before them spiralled downward into the belly of the compound like a throat swallowing them whole, each step groaning beneath their feet as if the walls themselves resented their intrusion.

Cold, damp air clung to the narrow corridor, thick with mildew and old dust—a quiet rot that spoke of years of silence and suffering. Every time Laura's boot struck the stairs, the echo rebounded in the stone chamber like a war drum, jarring against her nerves.

She paused more than once to glance over her shoulder, half-expecting the clang of boots, a shouted order, or worse, a volley of gunfire. But there was nothing. Just the soft sound of their breath and the distant, rhythmic hum of the facility's ventilation system.

It was too quiet. Unnaturally quiet.

Every trained instinct in Laura's body screamed at her that this wasn't normal. That something was wrong. ESA headquarters was the most secure facility in the country, apart from perhaps the hunters' headquarters, and the building of the Eldario Council.

It should've been fortified. It should've been crawling with guards, checkpoints, scanners, and patrols. Instead, they had met a handful of half-asleep sentries, seen more empty halls than occupied ones, and walked past cameras that either weren't active or weren't being monitored.

It felt like walking into a trap with the doors left wide open.

Yet Raul, ever unbothered in his own strange way, didn't seem fazed. He moved with a quiet focus, his golden eyes fixed on the flickering screen of the small console in his hand, the glow of the data feed reflecting in his gaze as he scanned for electromagnetic pulses or tracking nodes.

He barely looked down as they descended the last steps, somehow not tripping despite the uneven stone. His coat trailed behind him like a shadow, the ends catching slightly in the faint draft that twisted through the corridor.

"Still clear," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Laura didn't answer. Her hand had dropped to the hilt of the blade she kept strapped at her hip, her fingers twitching with anticipation. It was too easy. The kind of easy that gets people killed.

They reached the bottom level in silence.

The dungeons were everything she'd imagined, and worse. The floor was slick with grime, the dim lighting flickering as if straining to stay awake. Rows of rusting steel doors lined the corridor like teeth in a predator's mouth. Most of the cells they passed were empty. Hollow.

But the silence that clung to the place was not peaceful. It was heavy, watching, waiting. Something was here. Someone.

Laura's heart clenched when she saw it. At the very end of the corridor, behind the final row of bars. A figure, small and curled in on itself, huddled in the corner with knees drawn tightly to her chest, like a ghost that had forgotten how to breathe. Her red hair, dull now, and tangled, spilled over her shoulders like dark flames muted by despair.

Raul inhaled sharply, his mask of focus breaking for the first time. "Lucie!"

The name cracked in the silence like lightning. He rushed forward without hesitation, dropping to one knee at the bars. His hand reached out, desperate, fingers wrapping around the cold iron.

Lucie Dressen lifted her head, sluggish and blinking through the dim light. Her eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, widened at the sight of him. Her lips parted, cracked and dry, the sound of her voice a breathless whisper as though she didn't believe he was real.

"…R-Raul?"

Her voice was hoarse, raw from screaming or crying, Laura couldn't tell.

Raul's voice shook with urgency and relief. "We're getting you out of here."

Laura had already dropped to one knee, pulling a slim tool from the hidden pocket of her jeans. Years in the underworld had made her resourceful. She wasn't just a fighter, she was a survivor. And among the many skills she'd picked up in the dark alleys of Eldario, lock-picking was one of her finest.

Her hands moved with precision, feeling out the tumblers in the outdated locking system.

Click.

The sound echoed through the stone chamber, sharp and clean, followed by the creak of the door as it swung open on rusted hinges.

"Hurry, Raul," Laura said tightly, rising to her feet and scanning the darkened corridor again. Her eyes flickered to her watch—2:40 AM. Twenty minutes until everything fell apart. "We've got to move before—"

"I can't," Lucie whispered, suddenly flinching away from Raul's outstretched hand. Her back hit the far wall as she recoiled, trembling. "I can't… Don't come near me!"

Raul froze. Pain flashed through his eyes, but he didn't reach again. "Lucie… It's okay. We're here to help you. It's me—"

"Raul, we don't have time." Laura's voice was steel. She didn't want to do it. Neither of them did. But they'd all made hard calls before. "Knock her out."

Raul hesitated just for a second. Then he nodded once, his expression grim but determined. "Apologies, Lucie."

Before she could protest or struggle, Raul stepped forward and struck a pressure point at the side of her neck—gentle, but effective. Lucie's body slumped in his arms. He caught her before she hit the ground, hoisting her into a fireman's carry like it was second nature. Her silver bracelets glinted faintly in the dim light, a quiet reminder of how fragile she looked in his arms.

"Let's get out of here—"

A sudden cackle crackled across their earpieces, sharp and jarring.

"Guys," came Letha's voice, laced with concern—too much concern for someone as calm as her. "Might want to pick up the pace. Looks like the guard shift just flipped. There's movement on the north side, upper floors. Someone's definitely noticing something."

Laura cursed under her breath and exchanged a glance with Raul, who adjusted Lucie's weight across his shoulders.

"We've got her," Laura confirmed over comms. Her voice was low and controlled, but the tension beneath it had become a coiled wire ready to snap. "But we need a distraction, or we're going to be trapped before we hit the second floor."

There was a pause, just long enough for Laura to feel the dread settle deeper into her chest.

Then Letha's voice came again, cheerful this time, dangerously so. "Very well. One distraction coming up."

Laura didn't want to know what that meant.

* * * *

It was a quiet and peaceful night at ESA headquarters.

The kind of stillness that clung to the halls like a veil, thick and stifling. Not even the whir of distant machinery or the hum of night-duty chatter disturbed the hush.

Then, the world tore open.

BOOM.

The explosion hit like thunder rolling through bone. The entire structure shuddered under the force, and Lucas Alescio sat bolt upright in bed, the tremor still ringing in his ears.

A second later, glass trembled in their frames, a dull, vibrating chime following the blast. His heart had barely caught up with his racing thoughts when…

WEEEEEOOOHH—WEEEEEOOOHH—

The alarm howled to life, shrill and piercing, slicing through the building's heart like a siren song of war.

A rapid pounding shook his door.

"Lucas!" came Leonid's voice, sharp and breathless. "Are you up?!"

Lucas, still half-tangled in his bedsheets, yanked on his jacket, barely noticing the stiffness in his limbs. He had collapsed in exhaustion after the last mission. But adrenaline didn't care for soreness.

He flung open the door to find Leonid standing rigid, his eyes flaring dark blue, his normally composed face drawn and tense. "We have intruders. Inside headquarters."

Lucas froze.

Intruders? In ESA headquarters? That was suicide. No sane faction would risk infiltrating the most heavily fortified agency on the continent.

Unless…

His stomach turned cold.

"The Gifted girl," Lucas muttered, jaw tightening. "The one from Agnis."

The only reason to break into ESA headquarters right now would be to extract her.

"Rally the team," Lucas barked, already striding back to grab his sidearm and communicator. "Head for the northern wing! Now!"

BOOM!

A second explosion split the air, this one much closer. The floor rocked beneath their boots, and heat surged in through the corridor's ventilation shaft. From the corner of his eye, Lucas saw Leonid rush to a window, his hand bracing the pane.

"Eastern wing," Leonid growled. "They just took out the communications tower."

"They're isolating us," Lucas snapped, already halfway down the corridor. "Let's move!"

The northern wing was a blur of smoke and chaos as the pair raced through corridor after corridor. Flames licked the ceilings, sending curls of black smoke spilling down the stairwells like hungry ghosts. Screams echoed from somewhere deeper in the east wing—agents calling for water, for medics, for control.

ESA's fortress was bleeding.

Down below, agents scrambled in disarray. Some were dousing fires, foam spraying wildly over the sleek tiles. Others ran with file boxes clutched to their chests, dragging backup drives and classified reports. They weren't just fighting fire. They were evacuating data.

Lucas caught glimpses through the haze: charred walls blown apart by precision strikes, the glint of sprinklers triggering too late, an entire hallway caved in from the second blast.

The headquarters wasn't just under attack. It was being dismantled.

"Lucas! Leonid!" A voice called, cracking over the roar.

It was Allen, his face damp with sweat and soot. He was wrestling with a fire extinguisher, its foam already coating the floor around him in erratic patterns.

Lucas skidded to a stop. "What's the status?"

"It's a damn mess," Allen panted. "Half the agents are salvaging whatever classified files they can get their hands on. The rest are trying to keep the structure from collapsing."

"Communications?"

"Gone. I got an emergency call out to the city's fire department, but there's no guarantee it'll reach the field agents in time."

"What about Elijah and Taylor?"

"They've secured the Alpha team files. They're guarding the backup server room now."

Lucas's voice dropped, urgent. "The holding cells?"

Allen blinked. "What about them?"

Lucas's expression darkened. "We have a Gifted prisoner in there. You really think this is a coincidence?"

Allen's face drained of colour. The implications clicked into place instantly. "Goddess damn it!" he hissed, hurling the extinguisher to the floor. "I knew this was too clean."

Together, the three of them took off again, their boots pounding against the wet floor, their shadows flashing against smoke-streaked walls. Around them, ESA agents tried to restore order, battling back the inferno with gritted teeth and shouted commands.

"Team Delta was supposed to be guarding the holding wing!" Leonid barked over the chaos, dodging a collapse of falling plaster. "Where the hell is Misha?"

"They're trying to evacuate R&D," Allen shot back, urgency flaring in his voice. "The labs are close to the epicentre of the second blast!"

The corridor to the holding cells loomed ahead, the heavy steel doors already wide open.

Lucas's stomach sank like a stone.

"Shit," Allen swore, his eyes narrowing as they reached the staircase leading down.

They didn't hesitate. The descent was a blur—stone steps thudding underfoot, and shadows dancing along the dungeon-like walls. Every instinct in Lucas's body screamed too late.

And it was.

The final cell at the end of the corridor stood empty, its door ajar, the locking mechanism still slightly warm to the touch.

Leonid ran a hand along the wall, his eyes scanning for clues. "Damn it. This was all staged. The fires, the chaos—it's a smokescreen."

Allen crouched by the lock, inspecting it with sharp, mechanic-trained eyes. "They picked it. Cleanly. Professionally. No brute force. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing."

Lucas stood still for a moment, with his jaw clenched, and shoulders tense. Then his voice came, low and bitter.

"Aegis."

Allen nodded grimly. "They're the only ones capable of pulling off an infiltration of this scale, with this much coordination."

Lucas closed his eyes for a heartbeat, resisting the urge to punch the wall.

The Gifted girl was gone. Stolen right from the heart of their stronghold.

And as smoke filled the air and firelight flickered in the distant corridors, Lucas Alescio felt the full weight of what had just transpired.

ESA Headquarters had been breached. Not by brute force, but by surgical precision.

"Goddess," he muttered under his breath, staring upward as if the ceiling might offer answers. "Help us all."

* * * *

It was the third meeting in as many days.

And for what felt like the hundredth time that week, Lucas Alescio found himself back in the half-rebuilt northern wing of ESA headquarters, seated at the oval-shaped meeting table surrounded by his own team and his brother's.

The clean-up of the aftermath at ESA headquarters is a logistical nightmare in the making, along with having to check just what needs to be replaced or fixed. As a result, only the most urgent cases are still being investigated or pursued, whereas the less urgent cases were put on the back burner for now until they could sort out the mess at ESA headquarters.

The attack was a little less than a week ago, and the ESA agents are still trying to clean up the mess. The attack was also all over the Eldario Times for days—Eldario's daily newspaper, and didn't exactly paint the ESA in the nicest light.

Surprisingly, the northern wing that held the team offices as well as the holding cells was relatively unscathed. Hence, the moment that the fires were battled out, and clean-up was in process, the ESA agents were quick to move their files back to their team offices—as the majority of those files were highly confidential.

The light overhead buzzed faintly, one of many fixtures still flickering or half-dead after the blast surge that had knocked out half the circuit grids. Coffee mugs sat cold and untouched, abandoned papers were scattered across the desks, and nearly everyone looked one hard breath away from collapsing face-first onto the table.

The air was heavy with fatigue—not just the kind that clung to your bones after a long mission, but the deeper, grinding exhaustion that followed days without proper rest, without answers, and with the looming burden of cleaning up a disaster they'd barely survived.

Lucas himself looked as if he hadn't had more than an hour or two of sleep in the last three days. His raven-black hair, normally neat and tied with precision, had stray strands falling into his onyx eyes. His jacket was wrinkled, and his voice came out more gravel than tone when he spoke.

"All right. Status report," he began, fingers curled together in front of his lips, eyes scanning the room. "Misha, what's the number of casualties we've got?"

"None," came the clipped response.

Silence.

Lucas's brows furrowed, and several heads around the table turned, disbelief flickering in their eyes.

"Pardon?" he asked, not because he hadn't heard, but because it didn't seem possible.

"I said none," Misha repeated, sharper now, his words cutting through the air like shrapnel. The younger Alescio looked no better than his brother: chin-length black hair unkempt, grey jacket stained with soot from fires he had helped contain, and dark circles forming bruises beneath his eyes. "No casualties. We had several injured. But nothing fatal. They're being treated, and most of them are due to be released from the hospital by tomorrow."

"That's not—" Maia began to object, ruby-red eyes narrowing. "Have you even seen the east wing? The walls are scorched. You can still smell smoke halfway through the archives—"

"And remind me again, Travis," Misha interrupted, his voice deceptively quiet—dangerously quiet, "who is in charge of structural investigations?"

Maia flinched slightly at the use of her last name, a reflex born out of experience. Because when Misha started using last names, it meant the leash on his temper had snapped.

Louis, seated to Misha's right, winced and exchanged a knowing glance with Remi, while Coleen sighed deeply, as if resigned to yet another round of inner-team hostility.

Maia scowled, her lips curling into a sneer, but she said nothing further.

The fracture in Team Delta had been visible for months. But after the attack, the cracks were wider than ever.

Maia, with her simmering contempt for the Gifted, had never made an effort to hide her views, and that hatred had always put her at odds with Misha and Louis, both of whom were Gifted, and made no apology for it.

Even Remi and Coleen—Normals like Maia, kept their distance from her rhetoric. They were loyal to Misha, not just out of respect, but because he'd dragged them through too many missions to count.

Maia, on the other hand, had always felt like a wedge driven into the team by external forces—likely the Director herself, for reasons no one ever dared to voice aloud.

"Okay, enough." Elijah cut in before the room could devolve into another blow-up. His voice, though calm, held a tone of command as he adjusted the hood of his jacket. The dim lighting highlighted the strange feline glint in his dark blue eyes. "Maia, I'm afraid Misha's right."

Maia shot him a look of disbelief. Elijah, undeterred, continued. "I ran checks myself with the R&D units. Outside of the communications tower and the eastern wing, the damage is largely superficial. The structural integrity of headquarters remains sound. Mostly smoke damage, broken windows, and walls scorched with just enough fire to look like destruction. Headquarters will need a thorough scrubbing as well as a new paint job for some of the walls. But apart from that, there isn't much damage. The attackers wanted us overwhelmed, not dead."

Leonid leaned back slightly, his arms crossed, with his voice laced with frustration. "So you're telling me no one died, despite the number of explosions that night?"

"Only the one that hit the communications tower was real," Misha responded flatly. "Standard gunpowder. The others? Flash bombs. Designed to start fires and cause panic, not take out support beams. Whoever pulled this off wanted noise, not blood."

"A distraction," Taylor murmured from Elijah's side, her paper-white blouse miraculously unstained despite the week's chaos. "They came here with one goal—get in, grab the Gifted from Agnis, and get out. Anyone not on the list wasn't their concern."

"Fits Aegis's pattern," Elijah agreed with a nod. "Minimal violence unless forced. Strategic. Clean."

Lucas exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face as he stared across the dim table, as if hoping the cracked concrete of the far wall would offer some kind of divine insight. "Which means we failed," he muttered bitterly. "We were caught off guard in our own territory, and now, I have to figure out a way to explain this to the Director without having the hunters breathing down our necks about security again."

Jonan, who had remained unusually quiet, finally spoke up, his voice dry but laced with fatigue. "They're already breathing down our necks. This'll just make them bite harder."

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Allen muttered from across the table, rubbing his eyes. "Maybe next time we just give them the building. Save everyone the trouble."

Silence fell again, heavy and grim.

Lucas straightened, though his body visibly protested the movement. His voice, though tired, was firm. "Elijah. Misha. I need a full report on the structural and internal damage. Including logs of anything missing from the archives and storage rooms. I want it on my desk before the end of the day."

Both nodded. No complaints. They were used to it.

Lucas glanced across the table once more—eyes sweeping across faces hardened by duty and dulled by exhaustion, lingering a second longer on Maia, who had the gall to look offended.

"Dismissed."

Chairs scraped quietly against the floor. Conversations resumed in tired murmurs. But no one smiled, and no one looked relieved. Because this wasn't over.

Not by a long shot.

The last of the voices faded as the room emptied out, boots echoing softly against scuffed tile and dust-lined halls. One by one, the members of Team Alpha and Team Delta drifted out of the meeting space, weariness draped over their shoulders like leaden cloaks.

The air still held the stale scent of burnt wires and charred concrete, the ghosts of the fire clinging stubbornly to the walls.

Elijah and Misha lingered behind, the only two who moved slowly, neither eager to rejoin the whirlwind chaos that still churned through the halls of the damaged ESA headquarters.

They were both carrying folders of reports, half-filled and smudged with notes written in haste and exhaustion. Elijah's crimson hair fell forward slightly as he glanced down at the documents, though his sharp, pupil-slit eyes were already trained elsewhere—watching Misha, studying him with the same surgical precision he applied to enemy movements during missions.

"…You let her go on purpose," Elijah murmured, his voice just above a whisper. Quiet enough that the words dissolved into the air before they reached anyone else. "The Gifted girl. From Agnis. You let her walk."

Misha's steps faltered—not by much, but enough for someone like Elijah to catch it. The younger Alescio brother recovered quickly, turning his head with a pointed frown. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Elijah didn't press the point. Not directly, at least. Instead, he gave a simple nod and said, "We still have the structural reports to finish. My room's quieter."

There was no question in the offer. Not really.

Misha looked as though he wanted to decline, his jaw tightening with stubborn reluctance, but the truth was unspoken and undeniable: Elijah outranked him, regardless of team status.

While Lucas was the formal head of Team Alpha, it was Elijah who crafted the battlefield plans, who read the enemy like an open book, and whose tactical mind had saved them more times than any of them could count. Leonid might have held the second-in-command title, but even he deferred to Elijah in most things that mattered. Everyone did.

So, Misha went—grudgingly and quietly, and found himself deposited in the spare chair across Elijah's desk, the older agent already seated and turning his chair to face him fully, his cat-like gaze boring into him with quiet intensity.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Misha repeated, but the line was thinner now. Frayed.

Elijah exhaled softly, brushing his fringe back from his eyes as he leaned forward slightly. "There are no surveillance cameras in the agents' quarters. You know that. I know that. It's why we're having this conversation here." His voice was calm, almost detached, but the undercurrent of insight in it was unmistakable. "I saw the guard detail that night. Sparse. Distracted. Almost like someone intentionally made them thin. And with everything going to hell—the fires, the tower collapse, even the chaos… You were counting on no one noticing if one particular prisoner just…slipped away."

He didn't sound accusatory. Just certain.

Misha didn't answer. He looked away, his fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the report file. There was no point denying it further. "…Are you going to report me?"

"No," Elijah replied without hesitation, and that did catch Misha off guard. The young fire user blinked, staring across the desk at him. "I won't say a word to Lucas. Or to anyone else. I doubt most of them even noticed. And I get why you did it."

That quiet understanding disarmed something in Misha's posture. He slumped slightly in his seat, shoulders relaxing by an inch. "You know better than most how bad the ESA is for the Gifted," Misha muttered after a pause. "Even with Lucas trying to change things from the inside. Even with his endless speeches about balance and trust and law. I get why he joined. I do. But if I'd had a real choice… I never would've signed up."

Elijah nodded once. "Lucas still believes there's a way forward through justice. Legal channels. He's always believed in fairness. In the system. But the system doesn't protect people like us. Not anymore. If it ever did." He sighed and leaned back slightly in his chair. "We've all seen it. There are things the ESA won't touch. People they won't punish. The hunters have made sure of that."

There was a long pause between them, heavy and pensive.

"Aegis," Misha finally said, the name lingering like static on the air. "I've been hearing it more and more lately. Whispers in the black market. Scared tones in bounty networks. And every time their name comes up, it's never with casual disdain. It's fear. Respect. Even the damned hunters flinch when Aegis moves."

Elijah gave a grim little smirk. "You're not wrong. I've got a contact embedded in a merc outfit down south. He told me most of the bounty hunters just drop the job if they hear Aegis is involved. Doesn't matter the reward. They don't want to get caught in their crosshairs. And these aren't rookies. These are the same people we used to hire before everything went to shit."

"That's insane."

"It's power," Elijah said simply. "And it tells you all you need to know about the shift happening out there. Aegis isn't just protecting Gifted. They're establishing something bigger. A presence. A reputation. And they're doing what we never could."

Misha lowered his gaze. "What we were never allowed to do."

For a moment, there was silence. The kind only shared by two people who had walked enough of the same path to know its pain.

"I don't think they're our enemy," Misha finally said, and his voice was steadier now, more resolved. "Whatever the hunters or the Council says, I don't buy it. Not completely. Aegis didn't attack to kill. They weren't looking for blood. They moved in with surgical precision, took what they came for, and vanished. That isn't terrorism. That's something else."

Elijah nodded. "Intent matters. It always does. They're targeting only the systems that hurt the Gifted. They're not after ESA agents, unless they're complicit. And you're right. As long as we don't stand in their way, they leave us alone."

Misha's brows drew low. "If only everyone saw it that way."

There it was. The crack, the splinter in his unit that had been widening for weeks now.

"…You mean Maia."

The younger Alescio brother didn't respond right away. But the silence spoke volumes. He didn't need to confirm it.

"I've seen how you look at her," Elijah said, his voice lower and more cautious. "You don't trust her."

"She's poison," Misha said flatly. "She doesn't even try to hide it. The way she talks about the Gifted. The sneers. The little comments. She thinks we're abominations. Even Louis. Even me. She doesn't belong on my team. But Command shoved her in, anyway. Said we needed her skills. Even the director can't do anything. Maia probably has some powerful backers." He scoffed bitterly. "Skills don't mean jack if your team won't bleed with you. She doesn't get it. She never will."

Elijah's voice was cool and even, but not unkind. "Give her time, or distance. But don't let her fracture Delta completely. Louis, Remi, and Coleen… They follow you. They respect you. Maia might not, but she's not the heart of your team. You are."

Misha looked at him, and for a moment, his eyes seemed hollow with weariness. "You ever think we're on the wrong side, Elijah?"

Elijah met his gaze. "Every single day."

* * * *

"We're going to need to lay low for a while," Sera murmured to herself, her voice nearly lost to the wind as she sat perched atop the roof of the boathouse. The night breeze tugged at the ends of her side ponytail, silky raven strands fluttering like dark ribbons in the moonlight. Her mismatched eyes gazed out over the inky expanse of ocean. "We've been attracting too much attention."

She had known, from the very start, that attention would be the least of their problems. That once they began interfering, once Aegis began doing what the others were too afraid to do, the hunters would never stay silent.

They would strike. They always did.

And she knew it was only a matter of time before they pieced things together and traced Aegis's trail back to her.

The boathouse, now safely anchored off the coast near Aurora, rocked ever so slightly with the lull of the tide. They had fled the city the moment Lucie was secure, driven by urgency and instinct.

It wasn't much, but for now, it was safe.

Lucie had been placed in the makeshift infirmary after her collapse, and most of the others had already turned in, too exhausted to speak. Only Raul remained awake with her, silent and watchful, as faithful as ever.

Sera lingered above, haunted by the earlier encounter with Lucas and Misha Alescio, and the boy's quiet words.

"I won't say anything. I think it's safer if I don't get a direct answer. But we can't always do what is right."

She stared into the empty night, thinking of that sharp-eyed boy.

Misha Alescio. He's dangerous. Observant. We'll have to tread carefully.

And then, the air shifted.

A sudden, electric ripple of aura pierced the quiet—sharp and volatile, like dry lightning in a summer sky. It crackled through her spine. Fire. Someone was losing control.

Sera bolted.

She leapt from the roof in one smooth movement, her boots hitting the deck with a solid thud before she tore through the halls of the boathouse toward the infirmary. The others were already there—roused by the spike, faces bleary and confused, still pulling on coats and jackets over nightclothes.

"What's happening?" Sera barked, her voice slicing through the din.

Kailey turned to her, her eyes wide and lips pressed into a tight, worried line. "It's Raul and the girl—Lucie. She woke up… But her Gift… It's reacting. He told us to stay out."

Sera turned immediately to Neil, who was still rubbing sleep from his pearl-white eyes. "Barrier. Now."

"Right," he muttered, yawning as he lifted his hands. A shimmering pale-blue dome of energy formed around the infirmary, humming faintly. "I can contain it for a while," Neil added, his voice grim. "But if she's as powerful as we think…"

"I know," Sera replied shortly, already turning the knob. "Laura, stand by. If it ignites, I want that fire out before it spreads."

"You got it," Laura answered, her tone clipped but resolute.

Inside, the room was sweltering.

Lucie was curled in the far corner, huddled like a child bracing for a storm. Her hands trembled violently, red-orange sparks leaping from her fingertips like angry embers. Her auburn hair clung to her sweat-damp face, and tears carved silent trails down her cheeks. Her wide, terrified eyes flickered from Raul to her hands, then back again.

"I… I can't—!" she sobbed, the fire jumping in rhythm with her panicked heartbeat. "I can't control it! I'm gonna hurt someone! I'm gonna burn everything down—!"

"Lucie," Raul said gently, crouching nearby, his voice a low balm against the growing chaos. His golden eyes held hers, unflinching despite the rising heat. "You're okay. I'm here. Just breathe, alright? You have to fight it. Don't let it take over."

"I'm scared!" she screamed. "I… I don't want to kill anyone! Raul, please… Run, get out of here—!"

"No."

Raul moved before anyone could stop him, before even Sera could react. He closed the space between them and pulled her into his arms.

Lucie shrieked, stiffening instantly. "No, don't! I'll burn you—!"

Sparks burst from her hands, hitting the wooden floor and igniting a flash of flame. Laura was already on it, flicking her hand to summon a wave of cool water that hissed as it smothered the blaze.

The others outside the barrier were hushed and tense, watching from the hallway. The corridor was packed, elbows brushing shoulders, and their breaths shallow. No one dared speak above a whisper.

"Raul!" Sera barked. "Hold her, but carefully! Laura, keep the fires down, don't stop for a second!"

"Sera… I'm sorry," Raul called, eyes pleading over Lucie's shoulder. "I couldn't just leave her like this."

"You trying to play Romeo and Juliet?" Laura muttered, splashing out another flare that had leapt to the bedside curtain.

From the hallway, someone snorted. A nervous laugh broke through the tension like a hairline fracture.

Lucie's eyes—wet, wild, and rimmed with fear—landed on Sera across the room.

"Help me…" she whispered. "Please… I can't… I don't want this… I…can't control it…"

"You can." Sera stepped forward, her voice soft but resolute. She kneeled before Lucie, calm despite the heat stinging her skin, despite the searing wind coiling off Lucie's body. "You're just scared. That's all."

Lucie shook her head violently. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I can't stop it—!"

"Yes, you can."

Raul held her tighter as she trembled, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a world on fire. Sparks danced around her wrists like angry fireflies.

Sera reached out and took Lucie's hands in her own. The burns came instantly—flesh blistering beneath the heat, but she didn't flinch.

"This is your power, Lucie," she said firmly, her mismatched gaze steady. "It doesn't control you. You control it."

Behind her, Neil started to speak. "Uh, Sera, maybe—"

"Quiet."

Sera's entire focus narrowed to the frightened girl in front of her, whose body was a live wire of fear and Gift, one breath away from catastrophe.

Lucie whimpered, breath shallow and shuddering. "I-I don't know how…"

"I know the feeling," Sera said quietly.

The memory flooded her—the broken-down shed, her hands trembling, her mind screaming. The fear of herself. Of what she could become.

"You're not alone," she whispered. "I've been where you are."

Zest's voice echoed from her memories. You've always been angry, Sera. You just hid it. But it's there. That's how I know you can control it. Because I'm the same.

"You're stronger than you think, Lucie. Even when you didn't know it, your power responded to protect you. You just need to do it with intention now. Focus. Breathe. It's your Gift. Not your curse."

Lucie's eyes locked with hers, wide and mesmerised.

The fire—still dancing, still burning—began to retreat.

"My dad…" Lucie murmured through tears. "He told me the Goddess blessed us with Gifts. That we were meant to help others."

"You were," Sera said, nodding. "And you still can. But first, you have to trust yourself. Take it back. Now."

Outside the room, the group watched in breathless silence as the sparks around Lucie's fingers dimmed, flickered…then died.

Lucie exhaled, and collapsed.

Raul caught her instantly, lowering her gently to the floor. "Lucie!"

"She's alright," Sera said quickly, catching Raul's arm. "She overexerted herself. I've seen this before. It'll pass."

Kailey was already moving, her long black hair sweeping behind her as she crossed the threshold with practiced speed. Laura followed close behind, water already pooling at her fingertips as she shifted focus to Sera's scorched palms.

"That was reckless!" Laura scolded, dabbing salve onto the burns with a scowl. "You could've been seriously hurt."

Sera didn't even wince. "I'd rather risk a few burns than lose the boathouse. Or her."

Laura huffed, wrapping gauze over the wounds. "Still. Idiot."

"She's powerful," Kailey murmured, brushing Lucie's hair back and checking her pulse. "Once she's trained…"

"She'll be a force," Sera finished, her voice low.

She looked at the sleeping girl—no longer burning, no longer breaking, and for the first time that night, allowed herself to breathe.

* * * *

'Your power is part of you, huh?'

Three nights had passed since the world Lucie Dressen knew was reduced to smouldering ash and memory, and she now found herself lying atop the roof of the boathouse, staring up at a sky scattered with stars that looked far too peaceful for how chaotic her life had become.

The soft lapping of waves below was constant and comforting, as if the sea hadn't yet learned of all the bloodshed and betrayal that plagued the continent.

To her surprise, Aegis had accepted her more quickly than she had anticipated. She had expected cold shoulders, suspicious glares, maybe even wary distance.

Instead, she was met with quiet kindness.

Raul had held her when she'd woken up in the aftermath of her outburst—smoke still clinging to her skin, with the memory of fire in her veins, and he had let her cry until she couldn't breathe, her tears soaking into his shoulder as the grief of her father's death finally broke free.

There were no words offered, only presence. And somehow, that was enough.

She hadn't asked, but someone—probably Sera or Letha, maybe both, had risked a return to Agnis. Some of her belongings had appeared in a small bag beside the boathouse's bunk area: a half-burned photo album, a cracked bracelet from childhood, and even her father's old camera, miraculously spared from the blaze. She had clutched it in silence, her fingers trembling.

They'd been docked in Caer Thalor ever since, Raul had told her that much. With what Aegis had pulled at ESA headquarters, it was no wonder they were lying low.

Lucie understood. She'd felt the shift in her bones. She wasn't just a civilian anymore. The ESA wouldn't be sending rescue teams or condolences. No, she was one of the hunted now.

She raised her hand above her, silhouetted against the stars, and frowned.

'I wonder… Can I do what they did?' she thought. 'Can I help people with my Gift? Like Sera does? Like Raul, Kailey… Even Tatius? Or will I just keep losing control?'

"You know, hiding away up here won't work forever," came a voice behind her—light and dry, but not unkind.

Lucie flinched and sat upright, her heart lurching. She turned to see Letha stepping onto the rooftop through the narrow hatch, sipping lazily from a juice carton with a bendy straw. The pale silver of her hair glinted under the moonlight, the braid pinned at the back of her head catching just enough of the starlight to gleam.

"The rest of us might be doing mercenary jobs or scouting runs," Letha said, sitting down with her back against the wooden frame of the boathouse's edge. "But don't think they're going to forget about you. Sooner or later, either Raul or Laura's going to drag you out to face the crew. Or worse, drag you along on one of their less-than-legal missions." She tilted her head with a smirk. "They're basically in charge when Sera's not around."

Lucie tucked her knees close, wrapping her arms around them. "I'm not hiding," she said softly, unsure whether it was true.

Letha raised a pale brow but said nothing.

"It's just…" Lucie hesitated, eyes flickering back to the stars. "Everything's changed. So fast. It's like my whole life cracked open, and I'm still trying to…catch up. To understand who I even am now."

Letha nodded slowly, like she understood too well. "Too many things have changed in a short period, and you're still trying to adjust," she said, her tone losing its teasing edge.

Lucie blinked at her. "How did you—?"

"Because I've lived it," Letha replied bluntly. "Most of us have. You think you're alone in this, but you're not. The only unique thing about your story is maybe how late it hit you. But the rest? Pretty damn familiar."

Lucie said nothing. She stared at her hands instead—hands that had burned her own home down, that had glowed with crimson fire she didn't ask for.

"My dad used to talk about people like you," she said after a long pause. "Gifted, I mean. He wrote about them, about you all, for years. Most of the time, no one cared. His editor wouldn't publish half of it. Said it was dangerous and inflammatory. But he put it all online. On his blog. And people were starting to listen."

"Guess that's why he got targeted," Letha murmured. "You, too. The moment you awakened… It was a death sentence. The ESA might say they protect Gifted, but it's the hunters who pull the strings."

Lucie nodded. Her voice was small. "I think part of me knew, deep down. That something like this might happen. But knowing doesn't make it any easier."

"No," Letha agreed. "It doesn't."

Silence fell between them. It wasn't awkward. Just…still. Like two souls suspended in the same fragile moment.

"You know," Letha said eventually, swirling the carton in her hand, "I used to run with a gang. Underground town. Zalfari. You've probably heard of it?"

Lucie furrowed her brow. "Zalfari… Wait. You're talking about Whirlwind?"

Letha gave a faint smile, more bitter than proud. "That's the one."

Lucie's eyes widened. "My dad wrote about the fall of Whirlwind. He called them Eldario's misunderstood protectors. He said the media got it wrong. Said they were the only ones keeping order down there."

"He was right," Letha said, voice low. "Klein, our leader, was a good man. A Normal. No powers. But the streets respected him. He made sure no one laid a hand on me, even after I awakened. Treated me like a human being when no one else would. I was his second."

"I'm sorry," Lucie said, and she meant it.

Letha looked away. Her eyes gleamed, but not with tears, just old weight. "The hunters came for me a year ago. They made Klein choose. Me or Whirlwind. He chose me. So did the rest. They all died for it. Klein was half-dead before the fight even started, but he still took down half the bastards before he fell."

Lucie was silent, her heart aching.

"I wanted to burn them all to the ground," Letha admitted, her fingers tightening into fists. "Didn't care if I died. I just wanted revenge. I would've done it too, if not for Sera."

Lucie's head lifted. "She stopped you?"

"She gave me something else to live for," Letha said quietly. "She didn't talk me down. She didn't lecture me. She just showed up. Offered her hand. And that was enough. That's who Sera is."

Lucie swallowed hard.

"We've all lost something," Letha continued. "Families. Homes. Whole pasts. But you, Lucie… You had something most of us never did. A father who loved you. Who believed in you. That's not something to be ashamed of. It's something you carry forward."

Lucie's lips trembled, but she held it in. "Do you think I can be like you? Like Sera? Do you think I can…be someone who helps?"

Letha reached over and flicked her lightly on the forehead. "You've got fire in your blood, Dressen. Literally and figuratively. And you've got a stubborn streak too, from what Raul tells me."

Lucie smiled, faint but real.

Letha stood, finishing off her drink. "Come down from the roof tomorrow. Have breakfast with the rest of us. Sit with Kailey or Tatius. Or even me. We don't bite."

Lucie looked at her, surprised. "You want me to sit with you?"

"Why not?" Letha shrugged, though there was something warm beneath her voice now. "We've all got ghosts. Might as well share the rooftop with someone who knows how to talk to them."

Lucie let out a soft laugh, one hand still over her heart. For the first time since her world had gone up in flames, she felt the faintest pull of something new.

Not safety. Not yet.

But maybe, just maybe, belonging.

* * * *

The quiet hum of the clinic's machinery was all that filled the sterile stillness of the early morning hours. In the darkness of the private room tucked into the back of the Sanctuary Clinic, a pair of fingers twitched—barely perceptible, like a leaf stirred by the faintest breeze.

The machines beside the bed, which had for so long recorded a slow, steady rhythm with metronomic patience, suddenly began to spike.

A high-pitched beeping erupted through the clinic, breaking the silence.

Reina woke with a jolt.

The shrill alarm, the one she'd programmed nearly two years ago, more out of fading hope than practical expectation, was screaming through the quiet like a prophecy fulfilled.

Her eyes widened, and she didn't waste a second. Still half-wrapped in the tangle of blankets, she tore herself out of her cot in her room and rushed barefoot down the corridor, her white coat hastily thrown over her sleepwear.

She burst through the door to her office, the automatic lights flaring on above her.

There, in the soft spill of light, the figure in the bed, motionless for so long that she'd memorised the exact angle of every limb, was moving.

Reina's breath caught.

His hand twitched again. His chest rose and fell faster now. The heart monitor screamed with vitality.

"Zest?" Reina whispered, then, louder, "Zest!" Her voice cracked with disbelief.

She stumbled toward him, her stethoscope already swinging from her neck, and dropped to his bedside, fingers trembling as she gripped his wrist and checked his pulse manually, though the machine had already told her the truth.

His skin was still cool, but not lifeless.

She pressed the stethoscope to his chest and listened. The heartbeat was faint, sluggish from atrophy, but there. Steady. Real.

"Zexter?" Reina said again, tapping his cheek gently. "Can you hear me? It's Reina. You're safe. You're in Aurora. At the Sanctuary Clinic."

For a moment, she thought he might drift again. That this was just a neural misfire. A cruel trick of a dying brain.

Then, his eyelids fluttered.

Slowly, haltingly, a pair of vivid, crimson eyes opened.

It took several seconds before they began to truly see. They darted, unfocused at first, then settled on her face with dawning recognition.

"…Sera…" Zest rasped.

His voice was cracked and dry, like paper tearing. He coughed violently, the effort rattling in his chest like a broken bellows.

Reina, already retrieving a mask, slipped the oxygen apparatus over his nose and mouth with practiced ease. "Breathe," she said, her voice gentle but commanding. "Let your lungs adjust. You've been unconscious for a long time. Your body needs time to remember."

Zest obeyed instinctively at first, taking slow pulls of air, then more deeply as strength returned in faint increments. But already, the haze in his eyes was lifting. The weariness didn't disappear. Years of unconsciousness don't fade in minutes, but something fierce and alive sparked beneath it. A relentless, burning need.

Zest reached up and removed the mask with effort, ignoring the weakness in his limbs. His voice was little more than sand and steel. "Where is she?"

Reina blinked. "Zest—"

"I'm awake." Zest's hand shot forward and caught her wrist with alarming strength for someone who hadn't walked in two years. It startled her, not because she feared him, but because she hadn't expected this. This clarity. This urgency. "Tell me. Where's Sera?"

Reina hesitated, torn between her duty as a doctor and the familiar weight of truth she had carried far too long for someone so young.

"Zest," she said slowly, keeping her tone calm. "You need to lie back. Your muscles are severely atrophied. You haven't spoken in nearly two years. You need—"

"I need to know where she is," he said, more firmly now. "Right now."

Reina exhaled. She sat beside him, gently easing his hand off her wrist, but keeping hold of it. "She's alive," she said at last. "Sera's alive."

Zest closed his eyes in relief, the tension in his shoulders dropping ever so slightly.

"She's…fighting," Reina continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "She never gave up on you. Even when we thought you wouldn't make it. She never let your name be buried. You should know that, Zest. She believed you would wake up."

"…That sounds like her," Zest murmured hoarsely. His eyes fluttered open again, glassy with exhaustion but sharp with something else—resolve. "How long…?"

"Almost two and a half years," Reina said quietly. "You were brought to me after…Blade fell. You were already half-dead."

Zest was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, painfully, he turned his head to stare at the ceiling. "…Everyone's gone, aren't they?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Reina didn't answer at first. She couldn't lie to him.

Zest already knew.

He didn't cry. He didn't scream. But something in him went very still, like a great flame had just been smothered under ice. His eyes closed again, not from fatigue this time, but to keep himself from breaking.

"They died protecting Sera," Reina said softly, placing her hand against his. "Just as you would have. She never forgot that. But Leroy and Alisa, they're still alive. And Sera, she's not alone. Not anymore. She's building something, Zest. And she's going to need you."

Zest didn't speak for a long while. His breath evened out. The strength in his grip loosened. "…Then I'm getting up."

"You're not—"

"Reina." Zest opened his eyes again, the fire there undimmed. "I've been asleep long enough."

Reina stared at him, her heart caught somewhere between frustration and awe. And slowly, she let go of his hand, rising to her feet. "…Alright," she said. "But you'll do it my way. Under my supervision. We start physiotherapy at first light."

A faint, tired smirk tugged at the corner of Zest's lips. "Deal."

And in that moment, as the clinic lights hummed above them and machines kept steady rhythm, the world shifted.

Zest was awake. And nothing would be the same again.