The Gifted Divide

"What man who has lived for more than a score of years desires justice, warrior? For my part, I find mercy infinitely more attractive. Give me a forgiving deity any day." ― Roger Zelazny (Lord of Light)

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The bar should have been quiet this early. Morning light filtered through the slatted blinds, casting pale streaks of gold across the scuffed wooden floors and the low haze of smoke that clung to the ceiling like a ghost reluctant to leave.

But Pandemonium was packed.

The murmur of too many voices filled the dim space, edged with tension—low, humming, and feverish. Every stool was taken, every table surrounded. Some sat with half-finished drinks at their elbows, others hadn't even touched the mugs in front of them.

A quarter of the bodies in the room bore the signature look of Blaze—red-trimmed jackets, calloused hands, and war-worn expressions. The rest were from the underground, the scattered and the desperate, fugitives, informants, former ESA defectors, and even a few Gifted hiding in plain sight. And then there were the civilians—ordinary people caught in the whirlpool of everything collapsing.

They were all gathered under the flickering glow of the mounted television screen above the bar counter.

No one spoke now. All eyes were fixed on it.

The screen showed smoke and ruin.

Where the proud silver-and-blue façade of ESA Headquarters had once stood, defiant, spotless, and even impenetrable, was now nothing but scorched black rubble. Shattered walls jutted like bones from the earth. Emergency responders in high-visibility jackets moved carefully through the debris, pulling out sheet-covered bodies one at a time. White, blood-soaked fabric clung to the outlines of limbs. A makeshift perimeter of yellow hazard tape fluttered in the wind. Behind it, a crowd had gathered, held back by silent, helmeted guards.

The camera panned slightly. Then the reporter came into frame.

A young woman with pale skin and hollow eyes, holding a mic with a shaky hand. Behind her, another stretcher passed. Two volunteers were struggling with it, one stumbling and sobbing. The sheet had slipped enough to reveal a small hand dangling from the edge, fingers blackened at the tips.

A whisper rippled through Pandemonium. Chairs creaked as people sat forward, their jaws tight.

The reporter inhaled and spoke, her voice brittle but steady.

"—what can only be described as a tragedy of unimaginable proportions. Yesterday morning, Eldario's very heart, the ESA Headquarters and the central Eldario Council building, were reduced to ruin. The attack has left the country shaken, the nation's highest leaders dead, and the streets of our cities boiling with unrest."

Her words struck like ash in the lungs. Some bar patrons exhaled curses under their breath.

"The number of casualties has not been confirmed, but unverified estimates suggest the death toll may be in the hundreds. Director Tiara Michabelle, head of the ESA, is among the confirmed deceased, as well as Chief Justice Arlin Haversham, three council chairs, and multiple ESA agents."

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A sharp clink echoed in the room as someone's glass slipped from their hand and shattered against the floor.

At the far end of the bar, seated with his arms folded tightly, Lleucu's grey eyes were fixated on the screen. His pale fingers twitched where they rested on the table, his knuckles white.

Across from him sat Wes, his back still ramrod-straight despite the crutches leaning beside him. He hadn't spoken since the broadcast began.

Next to them, in the corner booth bathed in shadow, sat Jamie Fletcher. His eyes reflected the flickering light from the television, and though he didn't move, something about him felt like a loaded spring.

Then the screen changed.

"This morning, the head of the Hunter Organisation, Albert Nicolosi released an official statement."

The bar filled with a sharp intake of breath.

The camera cut to a podium set outside a marble building. A black armband hugged Nicolosi's left sleeve. He looked mournful.

A man in his early fifties, white-haired and stately, in a dark trench coat that flapped gently in the breeze, with visible bandages around his arms and torso. He held his chin high. And when he began to speak, his voice was honey. Smooth, rich, and sickly sweet.

"What happened yesterday was not only a tragedy, but an act of war. It is with the deepest sorrow that I mourn the loss of dear friends and beloved leaders. Director Michabelle was a loyal servant of this country. An irreplaceable woman who fought tirelessly for unity and justice. Her murder, and the murder of so many innocent souls is unforgivable."

The silence in the bar turned sharp. Someone's teeth ground audibly.

"And who…who is responsible for this destruction?" Nicolosi paused. "Newly recovered evidence, including captured footage and coded transmissions, suggests that this was an orchestrated attack carried out by none other than the extremist faction known as Aegis, aided by various Gifted insurgents now under investigation."

Gasps and curses. A bottle cracked against a table. No one turned away.

"We have fought tirelessly to keep this country safe from these monsters. And yet, time and again, they prove that they do not belong among us. They do not understand peace. They do not want peace. All they crave is blood. Make no mistake," Nicolosi continued, his voice rising. "This is not simply about destruction. This is about terrorism. Treason. The Gifted have made their choice. From this moment on, martial law is in effect."

The screen froze on Nicolosi's face—his dark, gleaming eyes, and even his pristine expression of grief. It was almost convincing. Almost.

But inside Pandemonium, the dam cracked.

A tall man, one of Blaze's lieutenants, rose so quickly that his chair crashed to the ground behind him. His fists were clenched so hard that the skin stretched to bloodless white.

"This is BULLSHIT!" His voice echoed across the bar, raw and furious. "They're pinning everything on the Gifted and even on Aegis when anyone with even a lick of common sense knows that it's the hunters behind it all!"

Chairs scraped. A few patrons nodded, and others murmured in angry agreement.

"We knew that things were going to get worse," muttered a woman in a black cloak near the wall. "But even I never expected this."

Wes looked as if the weight of the entire world was pressing against his shoulders. His grey eyes were rimmed red. His voice was low and guttural. "…They're really trying to make the Gifted the enemy. They're giving the people a 'common enemy' to unite against." His hands trembled as he stared at the screen, where another replay of the explosion flashed in slow motion—frames of orange fire and black smoke frozen in time.

"Wes…" Lleucu placed a hand on his brother's, his own expression unreadable, but his eyes soft with concern.

Jamie's jaw was clenched, his sharp tendons visible. He hadn't moved from the shadows, but his voice was cool and level. "It's a war now."

At that moment, the doors to Pandemonium swung open.

Leroy strode in first, all fire and command. His reddish-orange hair was a tangled mess, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and fury. He was followed closely by Alisa, her dark blue jacket barely concealing the storm in her eyes.

Someone called out. "Leroy!"

Leroy didn't respond. His eyes were locked on the television.

"Turn up the volume." His voice cracked across the room like a whip. He didn't even glance at the bartender.

The newscast resumed.

"—and as of this morning, all major cities are under increased surveillance. Curfews will be enforced. Gifted citizens are being asked to register themselves at assigned posts for their own safety. Refusal will be met with immediate detainment. Aegis has officially been declared a terrorist organisation. A reward has been posted for the capture of known members."

"Investigators have released images suggesting that known Gifted leaders and underground elements were sighted near the scene of the explosion. Citizens are urged to remain vigilant and report any suspicious behaviour. Remember: If you see something, say something."

Wes let out a hollow breath and bowed his head. "They're going to come after all of us."

Alisa folded her arms. "Do you think Sera and the others knew?"

"If they don't," Lleucu said grimly, "they will now. Especially with former ESA agents amongst their midst."

Jamie's expression darkened at that, but he said nothing. Leroy's eyes, however, remained locked on the screen for several more seconds before he sighed. "…Coleen is there too. But I think that we need to get in contact with Ashenridge."

The name hung in the air like a spark above gasoline.

The screen continued to flash images of charred ruins and flag-draped stretchers. But inside Pandemonium, the air was no longer still.

It was boiling.

And somewhere in the quiet, the first seeds of rebellion were starting to bloom.