"The devil was a monster, but I would become his nightmare." ― Kerri Maniscalco, Capturing the Devil

* * * *

It was getting late.

Tiara no longer knew what time it was, only that the deep gnawing in her stomach and the aching weight in her temples suggested it was well past ten, perhaps even closer to midnight.

She hadn't eaten all day. Again.

But hunger had long ago become a distant ache compared to the more urgent weight pressing down on her shoulders—expectation, betrayal, and the creeping certainty that the agency she once believed in was slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

She leaned back in her chair, the stiff leather creaking under her, tilting her head upward to stare blankly at the cold white ceiling. The light hummed softly above her—a quiet reminder that even silence in this place wasn't truly silent. Not in a building wired with cameras, scanners, and ears that didn't sleep.

For over a year and a half now, Tiara felt as though she'd been pulled in a hundred directions—her mind and conscience stretched thin, and her soul fraying along the edges. The hunters had grown more powerful with every passing day, worming their influence into the bones of the government, the public, and, most disturbingly, the ESA itself.

The agency that once stood for balance and unity was now little more than a leash dressed up in regulation and protocol. If this continued, she feared it wouldn't be long before the ESA became little more than a puppet. A pretty marionette dancing to the tune of its true masters.

"…Maybe you were right after all, child," Tiara whispered, her voice almost swallowed by the sterile hum of the office around her. Her fingers curled loosely on the desk, her eyes fluttering shut as memory bled into thought.

The last time she'd touched her niece—Sera, the last remnant of her brother's legacy, was now years behind her. The last of her blood.

The daughter of a man who had once sworn to protect the world, and who had died for that very cause. What would he say if he knew Tiara had failed to carry out his last wish? What would his wife, her beloved sister-in-law, whisper from beyond the afterlife?

Would they still smile upon her when her own time came, or turn their backs in disappointment?

The shrill chime of Tiara's burner phone—high, sharp, and unmistakable, jolted her back into the present. Her breath caught as she instinctively reached into her bag, fingers closing around the device before she even glanced at it.

She didn't draw it out. Not here. Not with the cameras watching.

Instead, Tiara unfolded a report in front of her, letting the pages partially obscure her face from the surveillance lens in the upper corner of the office. Her movements were calculated and fluid, the product of years navigating a system that had long since forgotten what it meant to trust.

Her lips barely moved as she answered, her voice low. "Sera? Is that you?"

A pause. Then, a voice, so familiar, so achingly familiar, filtered through the line like a ghost returning home. "Yeah. It's been a while. Are you alone?"

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"Yes," Tiara murmured. "I'm still at headquarters, though."

A soft chuckle echoed from the other end. "I should've known. I saw Karl recently. He said even he's having trouble getting in contact with you."

Tiara allowed herself the smallest smile. "I'm still fighting. In my own way. Just like the two of you." A sigh slipped through her lips. "I never believed you were dead. Even when the news from Elvryn reached us—when we heard about Blade, I knew. Somehow, I knew you were alive." Her voice faltered. "…I'm sorry I couldn't do anything more."

Silence.

"You were always on a sinking ship, Auntie," Sera said softly. "The ESA isn't what it once was. You've had to follow their rules—play nice with the hunters. That's not why you took that post. I told Elijah and Taylor the same thing back when they joined—to find answers, sure, but not to fix the system. Because the system isn't broken. It was designed this way."

"I know." Tiara's voice was a whisper now, more breath than sound. "Karl said the same before he left. I wanted to believe change could come without blood. That we could reclaim our future through policy, through patience. But now…" Her fingers tightened around the edge of the report. "Now I think the path this nation will follow—the Gifted, the Normals, everyone—it's going to be yours, Sera. I know you're behind Aegis. I know what you're planning."

"You're not going to try to stop me?"

Tiara gave a quiet, tired laugh. "Would you listen if I did?"

There was no answer. She hadn't expected one.

With deliberate slowness, Tiara turned in her chair so that her back faced the camera, blocking any view of her face.

"Maybe it's because I've seen too much," she said. "Because I lived through the last war. Through the raids. Through the collapse of the Nonary Project and the things we found in its ruins. I still dream about those days—about the children, about the labs. Evil doesn't wear a face. It wears a white coat and calls itself protocol." Her throat tightened. "But if bloodshed is the only way to wake this country from its slumber, then so be it. Eldario has slept long enough in a dream of peace built on the bones of the innocent."

Sera's voice was softer now. "When I was a child, I remember Karl telling me a fairytale—one where the hero slew the Demon King. But life's not that simple, Auntie. Heroes kill, too. And people like us? We don't get fairytales. We don't get happy endings. So if I'm going down either way, I'm doing it my way. I'll carry the curse of history if I have to, but I won't run from what needs to be done."

"You sound just like him." Tiara's throat ached with restrained emotion. "Eugene would've said the same thing. As did your mother. Our family… We don't run."

"No," Sera agreed quietly. "We don't."

There was a long pause.

"I'm sorry," Sera said at last. "But I'm going to make things harder for the ESA."

Tiara chuckled dryly. "I expected that the moment Aegis made its first move. But off the record?" She lowered her voice. "You have my permission. Do what you must. I can't help the Gifted trapped in this country, but you might." Her hand trembled slightly as she smoothed out the corner of the report. "The ESA's not clean. I've known for years that the hunters have moles inside our ranks. Too many for me to root out on my own. But you… You're not chained the way I am. You still have your freedom."

"I'll be careful."

Tiara hesitated. Karl's voice echoed through her mind again—a warning that had never left her.

"You'll regret this one day, Tiara. Walk away before it's too late. Before you become the very thing you swore to fight."

She should've listened to him. But it was too late for regrets.

"Don't get caught, Sera. The Goddess be with you."

There was no reply. The line went dead.

Encrypted or not, even Tiara knew better than to linger too long on a call like that.

She exhaled shakily and stood, collecting her bag with one hand and throwing her coat over her shoulders with the other. She didn't look back at the office as she left. There was no reason to.

It no longer felt like her space. Not really.

The halls were empty at this hour, save for the occasional echo of distant boots—night patrols and duty officers, too absorbed in their routines to question her.

Only once she was behind the locked doors of her car did Tiara finally allow her shoulders to drop and her breath to release. There, in that small moment of solitude, she reached into her bag and retrieved a cream-coloured envelope.

She didn't need to open it again. She'd memorised every word. But still, she unfolded it, compelled by something deeper than reason.

Karl's handwriting was uneven and rushed, but unmistakable.

This might be the last letter I'll be writing to you, Tiara. Take care of yourself. And Sera, too. If I don't come back, I'm asking you to take over for me. We fought decades against the hunters. An invisible war, in a sense. But in the end, it amounted to nothing.

Our enemy is too powerful, and we're fighting within the rules back then. I think it might be the reason why we never managed to get one up on them.

But Sera and her group? Her generation? They don't play by the rules. And for the first time, I'm seeing hope in them. It is my belief and my hope that they can end this cancerous tumour that has taken root in Eldario for generations.

Our pride and our freedom. I want that for our people and our country—for a country that has long forgotten what it means to live life on their own terms and to make their own judgments and decisions.

I'm willing to fight to the death if that is what it takes. I think that this old body of mine can handle one more fight. One more war.

Eugene died for his beliefs and conviction. And I will do the same. To the death if necessary.

~Karl

Tiara pressed her knuckles to her brow, blinking back the sting behind her eyes. "Don't you die on me, you old pervert," she muttered, her voice thick with grief she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years.

With trembling hands, she reached for the silver chain around her neck, gently opening the locket she wore every day.

Inside was a photograph—faded with time, but still so clear in her memory. A younger version of herself stood beside a tall man with raven-black hair and mismatched eyes, holding a baby with a familiar, gentle face.

Her throat tightened.

"Brother…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Watch over Sera."

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