Vengeance is one of life's great motivators. - KS Brooks (Lust for Danger)

* * * *

There was only a single window in the small, suffocating room—a slit of light carved high into the wall, too narrow and too distant to offer escape. It did not illuminate so much as haunt, a cruel reminder that the world still existed beyond the concrete walls, even if it no longer belonged to him.

Dirty brown hair clung in damp strands to the face of the room's lone prisoner, the colour matted and dulled from sweat, blood, and the grime of captivity.

His pale, thin frame sat curled against the farthest corner of the room, as far from the rusted door as possible, and his bruised hands trembled faintly as he tilted his head upward—toward that unreachable sliver of sky. His eyes, a once-clear shade of blue, now carried a dim, worn-out sheen—like glass fogged over from years of storm.

How long had it been?

Days? Months? Years?

He had stopped counting. Time had decayed into something meaningless—nothing more than a blur of torment, silence, and waking nightmares. The only rhythm that remained was routine—a brutal, calculated clockwork orchestrated by faceless captors.

Every day, they dragged him from this prison. Every day, they broke him down with precision, carving at his body and mind with the same twisted tools—some metal, some words.

They trained him like a weapon. Like an animal. Told him again and again that he had been forsaken. That the people he once called family were nothing but ash and memories. They whispered poison into his ears with voices like broken glass.

And yet, he endured.

He never gave them the satisfaction of obedience. Never once gave up the names or secrets buried in his bones. Even when his body failed him—when he collapsed under his own weight, or when blood pooled where sweat should have been, he held onto something stronger than the pain.

He held onto memory.

He clung with every thread of his fraying soul to the people who mattered. To the home they had built. To the code they had written into their hearts together.

Even when hope was scraped raw and faith was fractured, he recited the names. Like a mantra. Like a prayer. Like a lifeline.

And when night returned, when the footsteps of his captors vanished down the hallway and the world once more shrank into this frozen crypt, he would curl into himself on the coldest patch of stone he could find, wrapping thin arms around knees that had forgotten the warmth of sunlight. And he would look, always, always, to the window.

To the weak, flickering light that spilled through it. The last tether he had to the sky, to freedom, to them.

"I won't forget," he whispered, voice hoarse from screams that never reached help. "I won't…"

A promise to himself. A defiance against erasure.

"I will never forget. For as long as I live."

And he began to speak the names again, slowly, reverently—each one a memory carved into him deeper than any blade.

"Angela. Jun. Earl. Lleucu. Zest. Sera. Alisa. Jamison. Yunan. Terra. Senri. Yuna…"

He whispered them again, even softer this time, as if saying them too loudly would risk the universe taking them away.

"…Angela. Jun. Earl. Lleucu. Zest. Sera…"

Each syllable brought a flicker of something human back to him. Each name—each person, was a story that reminded him of who he was before. Before the prison. Before the pain. Before the world went dark.

And as long as he remembered them, he hadn't lost. He couldn't lose.

Because if they were still alive out there—if even one of them still remembered him, then maybe, just maybe, he could survive this.

Maybe, one day, he would see the sky not through a window, but with his own eyes, standing free beside them again.

* * * *

~Waters of Aurora; March 231~

Sera leaned quietly against the rooftop railing of the boathouse, the cool sea breeze brushing gently across her cheeks like the ghost of something once familiar—something soft and kind and far removed from the ache that lived in her chest.

The night was quiet, blanketed in the hush that came only when the world had finally tired of itself. Inside, the lights had been dimmed to a soft golden hum. Most of the others were asleep by now. Even the Black siblings, despite everything they'd endured, had settled in faster than she expected.

She didn't mind the quiet. In fact, she craved it—these moments when she could just breathe and not be anyone but Sera. Not a leader, not a fighter, not a survivor. Just…a girl.

A small, creased photo trembled between her fingers, the edges worn soft from countless times being taken out and traced over. Mismatched eyes stared down at the faces frozen in time.

Smiling. Laughing. Whole.

"I won't forget," Sera whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. "I promised I'd live on for all our sakes. But it's easier said than done…"

A memory rose up uninvited, tugged loose by the weight of that promise.

"The name's Christopher—"

A boy's voice, roughened by wind and fire and defiance. Blue eyes staring into hers, intense and pleading.

"Promise me. You'll live on. No matter what. Do you understand me?"

Sera squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the photo against her chest like it might stop the memory from splitting her open again. "I don't know how much longer I can keep that promise, Chris…"

A soft sound behind her startled her out of the moment. Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing slightly. "Who's there?"

There was a pause, then a figure stepped into the moonlight. Claudia. Dressed in oversized sleepwear with a jacket draped over her shoulders, her pale blonde hair tumbling down past her shoulders in loose waves.

Sera exhaled and turned back toward the sea. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Something like that." Claudia's voice was quiet, but steady. She came to stand beside Sera, tilting her head back to stare up at the stars peeking through the thinning clouds. She raised her hand, fingers splayed as though trying to catch starlight through the gaps.

"I wonder how long it's been since I've felt this…calm," she murmured. "Not having to wonder if I'll still be here in the morning. Or worse, if one of my brothers won't be." A faint smile touched her lips, tired but real. "This world's never been kind to the Gifted, huh?"

Sera was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, "People fear what they can't control. What they don't understand."

Claudia glanced at her. "Why did you let us come with you?"

Sera didn't answer immediately. Her fingers drummed once against the rail before stilling. Her voice, when it came, was distant. "I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm not as cold as I look. Maybe I just didn't want to watch three kids walk into their deaths." She turned to Claudia then, her gaze sharp. "The hunters don't show mercy. Not to kids. Not to anyone."

Claudia studied her. There was something raw beneath Sera's cool mask—something fragile that she was trying so hard to keep hidden. Claudia recognised that kind of pain. She saw it in the mirror every day.

"You're not heartless," she said quietly.

Sera looked away.

Silence stretched between them, comfortable but heavy.

"I almost forgot what freedom feels like," Claudia said at last, her voice laced with an ache too deep for words. "I was starting to believe I'd never taste it again."

Sera didn't speak, but Claudia noticed the slight twitch of her fingers—small tells of someone listening more closely than they let on.

"My brothers and I… We were in one of the experimental labs before Aurora," Claudia continued, her voice softer now, less certain. "They marked us. Branded us with numbers. Broke us in ways they thought we'd never recover from. And then Timo… He helped us escape. We thought we could start over. Then the hunters found us again. Ness nearly died."

Sera turned her head just slightly, eyes narrowed at the horizon as if it held all the answers she hated. "I'm not surprised," she said finally. "I've been in the underground long enough to know the rumours. Labs. Experiments. Vanished Gifted that no one ever hears from again." Her voice hardened. "I saw the number on Ness's arm. I figured you escaped from one. No lab worth anything would admit to losing its precious 'subjects'."

The disgust in her voice was palpable.

Claudia didn't flinch. Instead, she took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the rooftop, legs dangling over. "You sound like you've seen more than just rumours."

Sera was silent.

Claudia let the silence hang, then finally added, "I think I get why you don't trust people easily. You've lost a lot, haven't you?"

Sera didn't deny it. Instead, she slowly lowered herself beside Claudia. "Everyone I ever trusted is either dead… Or I don't even know if they're alive anymore. Some days I wake up and I think, what if I'm the last one left?"

Claudia leaned forward, arms resting on her knees. "You're not."

"I know." Sera's voice wavered, then steadied. "But knowing doesn't make it easier."

There was a long pause, and then, quietly, almost too softly to be heard, Claudia said, "I still have nightmares. Some nights, I can't even breathe. I wake up and I feel like I'm still there, still strapped down to that table. I can still hear them…"

Sera didn't respond with platitudes. She just looked over, her mismatched eyes shadowed. "I have those nights, too."

Claudia looked up, startled.

"I don't talk about it," Sera said. "Not to Laura. Not to anyone. But… I know what it's like to be broken and still be expected to fight like you're whole."

Something passed between them then. Not quite a bond, but something beginning to take root. A fragile thread between two broken girls who were learning, in quiet, painful moments, that maybe, they weren't alone in their healing.

Neither said anything more for a long time.

Then, softly, Sera said, "The world's always hunted us. Always feared us. I wonder when it started. When cruelty became normal."

Claudia didn't have an answer. But she reached out, just barely, and let her shoulder rest against Sera's.

It was a quiet kind of comfort. And for now, it was enough.

For a while, neither girl said a word. The only sound came from the wind rustling gently through the trees beyond the boathouse and the rhythmic crash of waves against its weatherworn sides. Soft and steady, like a heartbeat too tired to care if it was heard.

Claudia hugged her knees loosely to her chest, the night air brushing against her bare shoulders. She had just begun to relax into the stillness when the sharp chime of a ringtone shattered the quiet, slicing through the calm like a knife.

She flinched.

Sera didn't. She calmly reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a sleek silver cell phone. She pressed it to her ear, her face unreadable. Claudia didn't mean to listen, but she was sitting close—close enough to hear everything. And like most Gifted, her senses were sharper than they should've been.

"Sera?" A boy's voice could be heard, low and taut with anxiety.

"Alexis?" Sera's tone didn't change, but Claudia noticed the shift in her eyes—alert now, scanning the waterline out of habit.

"Yeah. Sorry for calling so late. You got a minute to talk?"

Sera hesitated only a moment. "What's going on?"

There was a pause, the kind that carried weight before a storm. Claudia felt her skin prickle.

"Do you remember Raul?"

Sera's brows furrowed. Claudia glanced over at her, silently curious.

"Yeah, I remember him. One of Alan's guys, right? From Dragonfly. He was stationed in Azura." Sera's voice stayed level, but something shifted in it—a tension Claudia had only heard once or twice before.

"Yeah," Alexis said. His voice cracked slightly. "I've got some bad news."

Claudia stiffened, her breath catching. Sera said nothing, but her fingers tightened around the phone.

"I've been tracking hunter movement for a while now," Alexis went on. "And let's just say, things are spiralling fast. After what happened with Blade, the whole underground's in chaos. The Abyss are scared. Everyone's either laying low or fleeing to the borderlines."

"I'm aware," Sera said quietly. "The Premier's issued a warning already. Asked the Gifted to keep off the streets unless absolutely necessary. But… Something's off. The hunters keep finding us, Alexis. They're not just guessing anymore. They know. It's too precise. Too clean. Like they've got a map of where every single Gifted is."

Claudia shivered at her words. She'd thought the same once. But to hear Sera say it out loud…

Alexis hissed on the other end, the sound sharp and furious. "You think they got the Registration List."

Claudia's blood ran cold.

The List.

It was a law—passed decades ago, when paranoia against the Gifted had been at its worst. Anyone born with a Gift was required to register through the ESA or face imprisonment. Some families fled before registering their children. Some didn't. Most didn't even get a choice.

If the hunters had access to that list…

"I doubt it came from the head of the ESA," Alexis muttered. "Say what you want about her, but she's no hunter sympathiser. I've heard whispers—she's been trying to pass reforms for years. Things that would protect us, and even give the Gifted some rights for once. But she's been blocked at every step."

"The hunters won't give up control easily," Sera murmured. "And at least a quarter of the ESA is loyal to them. Doesn't matter what the director wants when her own people are handing intel to her enemies."

Claudia glanced at her, stunned by how calmly she was stating all of it. Like it was just another fact of life. Like betrayal didn't even surprise her anymore.

"The Gifted Task Force is one of those branches," Sera added, her voice darkening. "I've suspected for a while that some of them are actually hunters in disguise. That would explain how they're tracking us. How they knew where to find the Gifted in Rockvale. Or those in East Vale. Or—" Her voice faltered, just for a second, "—or Blade."

Claudia's fists clenched around her sleeves. She knew what that meant.

"That's not good," Alexis muttered, clearly echoing her thoughts. "But it makes sense. Most of the Gifted across Eldario are already in hiding. And the ones who are part of gangs, they're scared, Sera. Really scared. I just got word that hunters were spotted in Azura."

Sera tensed. Claudia felt the change in her posture—tight shoulders, shallow breath.

"And Raul?" Sera asked, already knowing the answer.

"You know how Alan is," Alexis said grimly. "And when the hunters came knocking…"

Sera didn't need him to finish.

She closed her eyes, a flicker of something bitter ghosting across her face. Claudia had only seen that look once—when Ness had nearly died in her arms.

"He gave him up," Sera said flatly.

Claudia's breath caught in her throat. "What…?" she whispered, but Sera didn't look at her.

"He always was a coward," Sera said. "I never liked him. Never understood why Yusa picked someone like him as a successor."

There was a long silence, filled only by the sound of Claudia's heart pounding in her ears.

"I'm heading to Azura in the morning," Sera said suddenly. "Send me the coordinates of their current base. I'll get Raul out."

"Are you sure—?"

"Of course." Her voice was cold and steady. "Alan's got a lot to answer for."

Claudia shivered. There was a chill in Sera's tone she hadn't heard before—like a storm about to break.

"I need you to do something for me," Sera added. "Find Larissa. Tell her and the others that I'll bring Raul back."

"I'm already on it," Alexis replied. "And Sera?"

She paused, just as she reached the door to the stairs. Claudia followed close behind, still trying to catch up to everything she'd just heard.

"Try not to kill them."

Both girls knew he wasn't talking about the hunters.

"…I'm not making any promises."

* * * *

Bang!

The entire room jolted as the door exploded inward, torn off its hinges and flung across the room with a thunderous crash. It slammed into the opposite wall, splintering wood and silence alike.

Chaos should've erupted. But no one moved.

No one could move.

"What the—?"

"I… I can't move!"

"Don't even try."

The voice was soft. Too soft. But it carried like steel in the air—smooth and unyielding. Footsteps, light as a whisper but heavy with intent, padded forward across the concrete floor. And then she appeared.

Petite and lean, wrapped in black from coat to boots with a scarf tied at her waist like an unfinished promise of violence, Sera Kroix stepped into the room with mismatched eyes that blazed across every face: one amber, one a searing green shot through with red. Behind her, Tatius Black and Laura O'Boyle followed without a word—guardians to the storm.

"You won't be able to move even if you want to," Sera murmured.

"A Gifted?!"

"…Sera Kroix…" croaked a voice.

All eyes snapped to the speaker—a young man at the fore, trembling where he stood. Alan, the current leader of Dragonfly. His face drained of colour.

"You're still alive?"

Sera scoffed, the sound sharp and mirthless. With a flick of her wrist, the shattered door lifted from the floor as if summoned by an unseen force and slammed itself back into the doorway, cutting off the outside world with a final boom as Laura and Tatius stepped fully inside.

"Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated," Sera said coldly. "You already know why I'm here, don't you?"

Alan's silence stretched too long. "…Raul."

At that single name, the entire gang stiffened like dominoes tipping. Tension spiked the air.

Sera's eyes narrowed, then, with a sweep of power, every single member of Dragonfly collapsed to the floor, boneless and limp like marionettes with cut strings.

Click.

Laura didn't even glance down as she raised a sleek black pistol, aimed low but ready. "Don't try anything stupid," she said smoothly, her dark eyes scanning the room. "I don't need my Gift to end someone's life."

Tatius remained beside her, silent, but the sharpness in his stance spoke volumes. Power coiled in his lean frame like a drawn bow.

But Sera… Sera moved with singular purpose. She crossed the space in heartbeats, seized Alan by the front of his shirt, and slammed him back against the wall. The impact echoed. His feet barely touched the floor. Alan froze, breath catching in his throat as those heterochromatic eyes locked onto him with murderous intent.

He had seen her before—back when Blade and Dragonfly were allies, when the world felt slightly less terrifying. Even then, she'd never made her dislike of him a secret. But this? This wasn't just dislike. This was rage. This was betrayal with a target.

"Raul was one of yours," Sera hissed, her voice low but venomous. "You were supposed to protect him. Not sell him out like trash."

Alan's face twisted. "I did what I thought was best—!"

"For who?!" Sera cut him off, her voice cracking like a whip. "For you?! For this cowardly band of traitors you call a gang?! You don't sell out your own! You know that!"

Alan choked on air as her grip tightened, cutting off his breath.

"I'm surprised the Premier hasn't already sent Enforcers to burn this place to the ground," Sera snarled. At the mention of the Premier, even the gang members on the floor flinched. Tatius's brows furrowed. He didn't know the name, but he remembered it. "You were raised in the underground. Same as the rest of us. You were taught from day one: you never turn on your own. Not for fear. Not for gain. Not even for your life."

Alan's voice cracked, ragged and desperate. "We heard what happened to Blade! Everyone did! The hunters came! No one survived! Not even you! What chance did we have? I needed to protect my people! I couldn't risk everyone for one person!"

Sera's jaw clenched. The room pulsed with the weight of her silence. Finally, she released him.

Alan crumpled to the floor in a coughing fit, one hand clutching at his throat. Already, the skin was bruising.

Sera watched him like he wasn't even human.

"Yusa must've been a damn fool," she said softly, with a fury that burned hotter than yelling ever could. "Or blind. Or dead inside. To name you as his successor. You're not a leader. You're a coward hiding behind a title you never earned."

Alan winced.

"When you take that title, you protect your people," she continued, finger stabbing toward his face. "Even if it kills you. Especially if it kills you. You don't hand over one of your own and hope no one notices. You think Raul wouldn't have stood his ground for you?! You don't deserve what little loyalty you still have."

Laura flinched. She could picture it—Sera, facing down the hunters when Blade fell. Could hear in her voice the ghosts she'd never shake. She didn't need to ask what Sera had tried to do. She already knew.

"If you'd been one of mine," Sera finished in a deadly whisper, "I'd have had your corpse hanging by dawn."

No one doubted her. Not after Blade.

Tatius's voice cut in suddenly, sharp and disgusted. "…He was one of yours."

Every head turned toward him.

"You were supposed to fight for him. Watch his back. Stand in the way of anyone who came after him. Like he would have done for you." He spat the words like they tasted foul. "And instead, you turned your back and let him die. You make me sick."

"…We were scared," Someone croaked from the floor.

"So are we all," Laura snapped back without missing a beat. "But you don't see other gangs betraying their Gifted. They fled. They fought. But they didn't sell them out." She turned her dark gaze on Alan. "You broke the only law that matters down here. You turned on your own. There's no place in Eldario that's safe for you now. My advice? Run. Leave the country if you want to survive."

Sera nodded. "The Premier won't forget this. And the Enforcers never forgive."

Tatius raised a brow again, filing away the term Enforcers like another puzzle piece for later.

"Alexis already knows. Which means the Premier does too," Sera said. Her voice had cooled, but her eyes still burned. "You'll face her justice soon enough."

Silence pressed down like a second ceiling.

"…I was never meant to be the leader," Alan whispered finally. "I didn't want it. I just… I tried. After Yusa died, I tried. But I didn't have his strength. His way with people. I didn't know what to do. And Raul… He deserved better. We all knew it." He swallowed hard, trembling. "When the hunters came, I panicked. I chose the easy way out. I'm sorry."

"…It's not just on you, Boss," Someone else mumbled. "We were all scared. We all let Raul down. He was our brother. And we betrayed him."

Laura's voice was sharp now. "Then make it right. Start by helping us get him back."

Sera inhaled deeply, finally pulling herself together, though her hands were still clenched at her sides.

"Where did the hunters take Raul?"

* * * *

"And you think he's still alive?"

They were all gathered on the ground level of the boathouse—in the main lounge, the stormy silence thick enough to choke on. The air reeked faintly of salt, engine oil, and tension. Sera stood at the center, just returned from the Dragonfly hideout, her face carved from stone. Laura and Tatius flanked her—neither of them speaking much, but the fury simmering behind their eyes was more than enough.

It was Neil who finally broke the silence, his voice sharp with disbelief. "You think Raul survived that?"

For a moment, no one answered. The group was stunned—not just by the news, but by what it meant.

Even if only a few of them were truly involved with the underground, every single one of them knew the unspoken law that governed its chaos: you never sell your own out. Never.

It didn't matter if you were Gifted, Normal, criminal, or a saint. In the underground, that rule was sacred. A boundary no one dared cross. Because betrayal like that—it didn't just get you killed. It made you a pariah, hunted, spat on, and crushed under the weight of a system held together by mutual survival.

And Dragonfly—Alan—had crossed that line.

"They won't kill him," Sera said eventually, her voice quiet and tight, the words scraping against her throat. "Not yet."

The others turned toward her sharply. Her eyes flashed with something dark.

"What do you mean?" Ness asked. His brows furrowed, green eyes flickering from Sera to Laura, searching for some logic behind the madness.

Sera exhaled, slow and deliberate, her jaw clenched. Laura glanced at her, silently checking in. Sera gave a slight nod. Whatever restraint she'd been holding back, it snapped.

"You all know what Blade stood for," Sera began, her voice gaining volume. "You know what we fought for. Why the hunters hate us. Why the ESA hunted us down after the attack. Blade wasn't just another gang—we stood for something. For us. For Gifted. For survival and dignity. We got the underground to care—to take in the ones no one else would." Her fists curled at her sides, white-knuckled. "Do you have any idea how hard that was? How many times we had to throw ourselves into the fire just to make Elvryn a safe zone? To make people believe in something better than running and hiding?"

They listened, motionless, the gravity of Sera's voice pressing into their chests.

"And then Alan, that coward, sells out Raul like it means nothing?" Sera's voice cracked, just slightly, but her rage burned hotter. "Raul, who's Gifted. Who's one of us. Who's protected other people more times than I can count. And Dragonfly turns him over to the hunters like he's trash? Just to save their own skins?"

Tatius growled low in his throat, his shoulders tense. Even normally reserved Neil looked like he wanted to punch something. Ness spat on the floor.

"Bastards," Claudia muttered coldly. "Every last one of them. You don't do that. You don't sell your own, not even to the cops, and definitely not to the hunters. What the hell did they think would happen?"

"They're dead." Laura's voice was low, flat, and lethal. "Maybe not today. But word will spread. The underground will tear them apart. Nobody's gonna back a gang that turns on its own."

"It's suicide." Ness nodded, his expression twisted with disgust. "They're finished."

"They'll probably try to hide." Claudia folded her arms tightly, her pale green eyes dark. "But they'll learn quickly that no amount of running can protect them from the kind of fury this betrayal will ignite."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"They won't survive long," Tatius agreed. "Not once word hits the wrong ears."

"They already hit the wrong ears," Sera muttered. "Mine."

She paused, letting the silence swallow her words. Then, quieter, "Raul's one of the only people who ever had direct contact with Blade's inner circle. The hunters know that. And if I know them at all, they won't kill him right away. They'll try to break him first. Try to dig into his head and scrape out whatever secrets he's got."

"They'll fail," Laura said with grim confidence. "Raul's stubborn. He's loyal. And he's not stupid enough to hand over anything, even if it kills him."

Kailey's voice was soft and uncertain. "But… He was part of Dragonfly. Why would he stay loyal after what they did?"

"Because Raul's Gifted," Laura answered. "And because despite everything, he knows what the underground stands for. He knows the code. That no matter how dirty things get, we don't betray our own to the people trying to exterminate us."

Claudia nodded. "We already have the ESA treating us like weapons, and the common folk acting like we're monsters. The underground is all we have."

"The Premier made sure of that," Sera said. "With the Enforcers. With the black market regulations. You betray one of your own, Gifted or not, you get burned."

Kailey blinked. "So, who are the Enforcers exactly?"

"They're like the ESA, but for us," Sera explained. "They don't belong to any one gang. They serve directly under the Premier and make sure the underground doesn't fall apart. They're the ones who stop things like slave auctions and trafficking. Even the worst scum down there know better than to cross them. I heard that Timo used to be one of them. Had quite the reputation, too. Even now, no one dares to cross him."

"That's…actually kind of cool," Ness admitted. He then blinked, when he caught the last part of Sera's sentence. "So wait, you said Timo was one of them?"

Everyone turned sharply toward Sera, their eyes wide.

Sera nodded. "Yeah. When he was younger. I've only heard rumours, but… They say he was one of the best."

Silence fell again, this time heavy with surprise. Trying to picture quiet and gentle Timo as some kind of underground enforcer felt like trying to picture the ocean burning.

"You can ask him more when we stop by Aurora," Sera added, already turning back to the window.

Laura cleared her throat loudly, snapping them back to the issue at hand. "Right. Raul. How are we going to find him?" she asked.

Sera moved to the window and pulled aside the curtain slightly. Outside, the branches of the tree swayed gently, cradling several black-feathered shapes. Magpies and ravens sat quietly in the leaves, unmoving, their beady eyes locked on her like they were waiting.

A small smile ghosted across Sera's lips.

"We follow the animals," she said softly. "They'll lead us to him."

* * * *

Raul coughed, a sharp, ragged sound that echoed off the cracked wooden walls of the shack. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, warm and metallic, coating his tongue with every breath. His head lolled for a moment before he forced it back up, golden eyes narrowed with stubborn fire beneath sweat-drenched black bangs.

His arms ached from being bound behind the rickety chair for hours, maybe longer. He'd long lost track of time. Everything hurt. But the ache in his chest wasn't just from bruised ribs.

It was betrayal. And rage.

"You should just talk already." One of the hunters purred the words like they were a joke, tapping the flat edge of his dagger against Raul's cheek. The blade grazed skin that was already torn and swollen, brushing over wounds that hadn't yet stopped bleeding. "This would all be so much easier if you'd just tell us what we want to know."

Raul's answer came without hesitation.

He jerked forward and slammed his forehead into the man's nose with a sickening crack.

The hunter let out a furious snarl, staggering back, blood spurting from his broken nose. Another blow struck Raul hard in the stomach, robbing him of breath. He doubled forward with a hoarse gasp, his head spinning.

But he was still smiling.

"I've got more spine than you'll ever have," Raul spat, his voice hoarse but unwavering. "Even if I knew where they were, you really think I'd hand them over? Go to hell."

The first hunter snarled, wiping at his face with a snarl of disbelief. "Your gang threw you to us like garbage. You're protecting people who sold you out."

"And you're still pretending loyalty means nothing?" Raul coughed again, but his glare didn't waver. "You hunters walk around like you own the damn world—like our lives mean nothing. But we don't break like you do. The underground's not perfect, but we have lines we don't cross. Loyalty is one of them."

The second hunter scoffed. "Tell that to Dragonfly. They folded the second we offered them enough credits."

Raul flinched at the name but kept his chin high. "Then they're cowards. They don't speak for all of us."

"You're going to die for nothing," The first one hissed, stepping close again, the dagger in his hand flashing under the dim overhead light. "Tell us what we want, and we might make your death painless. That's generous."

Raul lifted his head slowly, golden eyes burning with defiance. "You'll have to kill me," he said, his voice low and firm. "I won't talk. I'd rather die than let you monsters near them."

The leader of the hunters snarled in frustration, raising the blade.

And then…

Bang!

The door exploded open, splinters flying as a single deafening shot rang out. Chaos burst into the room as gunfire tore through the air, louder than thunder, sharper than screams. Hunters barely had time to react before bullets found their marks. Two collapsed before they even turned their heads. The third screamed before silence fell again, sudden and jarring.

Raul flinched hard, his heart hammering, his eyes screwed shut.

When he dared to look, the shack was still—bodies on the floor, smoke curling from a barrel.

Sera Kroix stood at the center, gun lowered but not yet holstered. Her black coat swayed slightly, wind stirring the ends of her raven-black hair. Her mismatched eyes were hard and unreadable.

Beside her stood Neil, Laura, and Tatius—all alert, their weapons raised, and watching for movement. None of them spoke.

"Are they all dead?" Laura asked after a moment, her voice clipped as she changed the magazine in her pistol without looking up.

"No," Sera replied, her eyes fixed on the lone figure groaning in a heap near the far wall. "I left one alive."

She walked toward the fallen man without hurry, each step deliberate. The surviving hunter tried to push himself up, his red armband bright against his bloodied uniform. His chest rose and fell in painful gasps. His eyes widened when he recognised her.

"…Sera…Kroix…" he rasped, horror dawning in his gaze. "You're…still alive?"

Sera didn't stop. She stepped onto his chest with her boot, pinning him in place. The barrel of her pistol met the center of his forehead.

"Surprise," she said, her voice flat and cold. "You rats thought wiping out Blade meant the end. You thought the Gifted would scatter like prey." Her gaze darkened. "But you didn't kill us all. And you didn't kill me."

"You're a freak—" The hunter coughed, struggling to breathe beneath her weight. "All of you are. The Council…agreed. You shouldn't exist."

"Yeah, we've heard that before." Sera's smile was humourless, her tone like ice. "But let me make something clear. You think you're hunters. But the truth? You've been hunting scared kids, runaways—anyone who didn't fit your version of 'normal'." Her gun clicked as she took the safety off. "You kill because you think it makes you righteous. But it doesn't. It just makes you worse than the monsters you're afraid of."

The hunter tried to speak, but Sera didn't give him the chance.

Bang.

Neil flinched and looked away. The silence afterward was almost louder than the shot itself.

Sera replaced the safety and slipped the weapon back into its holster as if nothing had happened. She turned and walked toward Raul, where Tatius was already crouched, slicing through the blood-stained ropes with his dagger.

Raul winced as his wrists came free, rubbing at them slowly, his jaw clenched. He looked up groggily as Sera knelt in front of him. His golden eyes widened as recognition cut through the haze.

"…Sera?" he whispered, hoarse.

Sera offered a tired but genuine smile. "Yeah. It's me."

Raul blinked, stunned. "…Didn't think I'd see you again. Not like this."

"Me neither," Sera said softly, brushing damp strands of hair from his face. "But you're alive. That's what matters."

Raul let out a weak chuckle, the sound wet from blood and exhaustion. "Still got that dramatic timing, huh?"

"Always."

Behind them, the others stood watch, their expressions grim.

Laura's jaw was tight, her hands shaking slightly as she reloaded again. Neil's face was pale, his lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes focused on the floor. Even Tatius, silent and cold, looked murderous.

No one said it out loud, but it was clear on every face.

The hunters had crossed a line.

And they wouldn't get a second chance.

* * * *

"Hold still."

Raul hissed softly through clenched teeth as Kailey dabbed another cotton wad against the bruised edge of his ribs, soaked with antiseptic that stung like fire across his broken skin. The scent of alcohol and blood clung to the air, sharp and bitter. His shirt had long been discarded, now a tattered, blood-soaked heap on the floor beside the cot.

Kailey's hands moved gently but efficiently—her touch was careful, but her expression was firm, her pearl-white eyes narrowed in quiet concentration.

Raul glanced past her, toward the doorway where Sera leaned silently, arms crossed, one shoulder propped lazily against the frame. Her raven-black hair hung in a low side ponytail, the ends curling slightly, brushing against the collar of her coat. Her mismatched eyes watched without blinking, unreadable and sharp, like a blade sheathed but never far from use.

He recognised that stare. It was the same look she used to give back in the streets when someone had crossed a line she couldn't forgive.

"She's mad," he murmured to himself, half-laughing, half-wincing as Kailey wrapped gauze around his arm.

"You're lucky we got to you when we did," Sera said quietly, her voice carrying across the room. "Any later and there might not have been anything left to find."

Raul grinned, the motion pulling at a split lip. "Devil's luck, huh?"

"You've always had too much of it," Sera muttered.

He winced again as Kailey pressed gently into a gash on his side, but his voice didn't falter. "I didn't think you were still alive, Sera. After Blade went under… I figured if anyone survived, there'd be whispers. Rumours, at least. But there was nothing. Silence."

"Exactly," Sera replied. "That silence kept me alive." She didn't look away as she spoke. "Only a handful knew I was breathing. I didn't even tell the others who got out." Her tone was calm, but Kailey noticed the way Raul's shoulders tensed at that.

He let out a quiet, pained sound. "You didn't tell Leroy?" he asked, almost more to himself than her. "He'll have your head when he finds out."

Kailey blinked, confused at the name, even as Sera winced. Raul didn't explain. He didn't need to.

He'd known the Blade inner circle. He remembered the weight Sera's name used to carry—half myth, half warning. If even a whisper of her survival had reached the wrong ears, it would've changed everything.

"Do I even want to know if you left Alan in one piece?" Raul asked finally, his voice more bitter than sarcastic. The words tasted like ash. The memory of Alan's eyes looking away, pretending not to hear the hunters shouting Raul's name, stabbed deeper than the knives ever had.

Sera's expression darkened. "He's still breathing. For now."

That was all she said, but the room turned colder.

"He and your old gang will wish they weren't, though. If Alan has any brains left, he'll go underground and stay there. You and I both know—traitors don't last long in the underground."

Raul nodded quietly. "I know why they did it. Doesn't mean it doesn't sting."

"They could've fought for you," Kailey said suddenly, her voice sharper than expected. She'd been silent until now, but there was a fire in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "They could've protected you. Instead, they handed you over like meat to be slaughtered."

Raul opened his mouth to speak—maybe to defend them, maybe to lie to himself, but found the words caught in his throat.

"They were scared," he muttered, but even to his own ears, it sounded hollow.

"They were cowards," Kailey replied, tying off the bandage on his arm with a firm tug. "And they don't deserve you."

Raul blinked at her, caught off guard. Then he dropped his gaze to the floor. "…Has the Premier been told?" he asked quietly, directing the question to Sera.

"Probably," Sera said with a shrug. "Alexis is the one who found out you'd been taken. She sent the message to me. I left as soon as I got it." She hesitated, and her voice dropped. "I was worried we'd find your body instead."

Kailey's hands paused briefly, her expression faltering.

She remembered the last time Sera had said something like that—back when Ness had nearly died in Aurora. Sera never voiced fear unless she meant it.

"…Honestly, it's kind of weird seeing you with a group again," Raul said, forcing a faint grin. "Back in the day, even Leroy and the rest had to break their backs to get you to let them follow you around. Now you've got a whole team of Gifted watching your back?" He glanced at Kailey, who offered a small, curious smile at the unfamiliar name.

Sera exhaled slowly, as if letting go of something heavy. "Yeah," she said. "They're young. Most of them don't know half of what the world's really like yet. But I can't abandon them. If I leave them on their own, it's no different than killing them myself."

"They trust you?"

"They have to," Sera said simply. "It's not safe anymore. Eldario's unravelling faster than anyone expected. And the hunters…" Her voice trailed off.

Kailey looked at her, something unreadable flickering in her pale eyes. "The ones who took Raul. What did they do to him?"

Sera didn't answer at first.

Raul glanced away, shame creeping into his features despite the bruises already painting his face. "They didn't care if I talked or not," he said finally. "They just wanted to break me. I think they enjoyed it."

Kailey looked horrified. "You mean they—"

"They cut me," Raul said bluntly. "Starved me. Used me as bait. Called me a freak. A waste. Said Gifted should be put down before we spread." His voice didn't waver, but it felt like it should have. Like maybe he was too tired to cry about it anymore. "They said they'd kill me quick if I gave them names," he added, meeting Sera's eyes. "I didn't."

"You stubborn idiot," she muttered, but there was a strange pride in her voice.

Raul chuckled weakly. "You'd have done the same."

Sera stepped closer, crouching in front of him. She looked him over again—closely this time, as if trying to memorise the damage. Her hand reached out briefly, brushing a matted strand of hair from his face.

"You're still the same Raul I remember."

"And you're still terrifying," he replied.

That made her smile—small and crooked, but real.

From downstairs, faint murmuring echoed up—Claudia's voice, maybe Ness's, too. The others were keeping guard, but tension pulsed under the floorboards like electricity.

Something had shifted. The hunters hadn't just captured Raul.

They'd sent a message.

And this time, Sera intended to send one back.

* * * *

~Ravenrin; March 231~

Lucas Alescio frowned at the scattered coins in his palm, his thumb brushing over the worn edges as if willing them to multiply. His other hand gripped the carton of milk loosely, hesitation flickering across his face.

The numbers weren't changing.

He sighed, barely audible, and returned the milk to its place on the dusty shelf with reluctant fingers.

The store was quiet. Too quiet. A ticking fan overhead moved the stale air in slow circles, and from the corner of his eye, Lucas could feel the shopkeeper's gaze burning into the back of his skull.

"I can cover it, if you're short."

Lucas tensed immediately. His head turned on instinct, his onyx eyes narrowing as they locked onto the stranger behind him.

The guy looked a little older, maybe early twenties at most—tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed far too cleanly for this part of Ravenrin. Dark hair with a bluish sheen fell to just below his ears, and his deep blue eyes were disarmingly calm. A white scarf sat snug around his neck, oddly pristine in a town like this. Even with the long black overcoat concealing his frame, Lucas could still tell the guy was fit—muscular in a way that hinted at formal combat training.

He didn't need a badge. Lucas recognised an ESA agent when he saw one.

"No thanks," he muttered tightly and turned sharply, leaving the milk and the offer behind. His boots echoed on the cracked tile floor as he headed for the exit, his jaw clenched, ignoring the subtle tightening in his chest.

But the stranger wasn't done.

He followed, matching his pace with casual ease, not even breaking a sweat as Lucas veered sharply past an old alley. "You're Lucas Alescio, right? I'm Leonid O'Boyle. ESA. I just need a word."

Lucas spun around, seething, his voice low and tight. "Stop talking to me."

His eyes darted quickly down the street, toward shuttered windows and crumbling brick walls—toward the people he knew were watching, even if they pretended not to. This town didn't take kindly to outsiders, much less ones dressed in ESA black.

Hell, they still didn't fully accept him or his brother, even after nearly a year of laying low in Ravenrin.

Lucas had kept his head down, and never spoke more than needed, and didn't use his Gift unless forced, but it didn't matter. The Alescio brothers were still the ones people talked about in whispers, still the ones who got glances too sharp to be polite and silences too loud to ignore.

So no, the last thing Lucas needed was some ESA agent striking up a conversation with him in the middle of the goddamn street.

"I live here," Lucas said under his breath. "I've worked for every scrap of goodwill I've got, and people still don't trust me. They barely tolerate me. You think I can afford to be seen chatting with the ESA?" His voice dropped even lower. "They don't like your kind here. Neither do I."

The words came out bitter, sharper than intended, but he didn't take them back.

Leonid slowed slightly, guilt flickering across his features. "It won't take long."

"Doesn't matter." Lucas was already swinging a leg over his battered old bike, fingers white-knuckling the handlebars. "If you know who I am, then you know what I'm capable of. Back off, or I'll show you."

His Gift stirred faintly at his fingertips—just a whisper of heat, a threat.

Leonid raised his hands and stepped back. "Alright," he said quietly. "I won't push."

Lucas didn't wait. With a roar of the engine and a screech of worn-out tires, he was gone, his figure shrinking into the hazy stretch of alleyways and rusted fences.

The street quieted again.

Leonid stood there for a while, his expression unreadable. The town around him was in shambles—graffiti-scarred walls, burnt-out signs, and even trash clinging to curbs like barnacles on a sinking ship. The houses were patched together with desperation and rust, windows either boarded up or permanently dark. Posters for missing persons flapped weakly in the breeze, their edges yellowed and peeling.

Ravenrin wasn't unique in its decay. There were dozens of towns like it across Eldario since the war ended years ago—abandoned by the government, left to rot while the country burned beneath its own weight.

But Ravenrin had a particular kind of quiet hate, a weariness in the way the townsfolk looked at strangers, like they'd seen too many good things taken and too many bad things left behind.

And the ESA? Here, they weren't saviours. They were reminders.

Reminders of burned-out homes and bodies that were never found. Of Gifted children taken in the night. Of promises broken again and again.

Leonid let out a long breath, dragging a hand over his face. He could still hear Lucas's words echoing in his mind.

They don't like your kind here. Neither do I.

And really, could Leonid blame him?

He turned his eyes to the sky. Clouds hung low and heavy, threatening rain. "…Laura," he whispered, her name caught like a splinter in his throat. He squinted upward as if searching for her face in the grey. "Would you be proud of your big brother, if you could see me now?"

But the sky gave no answer.

Would she even recognise him anymore? Working for the ESA—the organisation that once sanctioned the very systems that allowed Gifted to be hunted, caged, and torn apart in secret facilities. The same ESA that stood by in silence while people like Laura were sacrificed.

Sure, the new director was trying. But her power was a joke compared to the hunters' stranglehold on the country. Entire departments within the ESA still whispered their loyalty to the old regime—to the shadows that had never truly been exorcised.

And Leonid? He'd stayed. Out of guilt. Out of duty. Out of…something.

Maybe he was waiting for a reason to leave. Maybe he was too much of a coward to stop.

He stared after the path Lucas had taken, the bike already long gone, just a blur in the memory of the dust it kicked up.

You're right not to trust me, Leonid thought.

Because sometimes, he didn't trust himself either.

Is it even possible to despise and hate himself even more than he did?

Some days, it felt to Leonid that it was.

* * * *

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The sound was too deliberate. Too confident.

Lucas Alescio froze mid-step, the creak of the warped floorboard beneath his feet snapping him back into the dingy one-room apartment he and his brother called home. His pulse quickened as his fingers curled instinctively, heat gathering just beneath his skin, warning him that it could be anyone behind that door.

And Ravenrin wasn't the kind of place where people knocked unless they had a reason. Especially not at this hour.

With a flick of his hand, he unlocked the rusted bolt and opened the door just wide enough to peek through.

Then immediately tried to slam it shut.

Leonid O'Boyle's foot caught the frame before it could close, wedging the door open with practiced ease, his weight braced like he expected it.

"Look, I just want to talk. Five minutes. That's it," Leonid said, his voice low but firm, as Lucas shoved harder against the door, his entire body radiating irritation, and something just beneath it. Fear.

"Get your damn foot out of my door," Lucas hissed, glaring down at the boot jammed against the threshold.

Leonid winced a little, but didn't budge. "I promise I won't take long. Five minutes, and I'll leave."

Lucas pressed harder, his jaw clenched, but the door wouldn't shut unless he risked breaking Leonid's ankle, and honestly, that would just wake up his brother.

With a sharp exhale of defeat, Lucas finally stepped back and let the door creak open, the dim light from the hallway spilling over the ESA agent's sharp silhouette.

"How did you find me?" he asked, his tone clipped and guarded.

Leonid stepped inside cautiously, like he was crossing into sacred ground, or enemy territory. "You're not that hard to find," he replied with a half-hearted shrug. "I'd be a terrible agent if I couldn't follow basic tracks."

Lucas's onyx eyes narrowed into something cold and bitter. If looks could kill, Leonid would've dropped dead at the threshold. Twice.

The silence was heavy, pressing in between them like the cracked, yellowed wallpaper on the walls. The air was thick with old smoke, mildew, and exhaustion.

Lucas didn't bother hiding his scowl as he jerked a thumb behind him. "My kid brother's asleep," he said stiffly. "So keep your voice down."

Leonid's gaze followed where Lucas gestured. In the far corner of the room, curled under a threadbare blanket, was a boy—probably a pre-teen or just barely in his teens. A nest of messy black hair peeked out from beneath the fabric. The camp bed was thin and crooked, with metal legs that didn't sit even on the floor. It looked like it had come from a secondhand shop, or the garbage.

Leonid swallowed. Somehow, it hurt more than he thought it would.

Lucas's posture didn't soften. He leaned against the doorframe like he hadn't decided whether to punch Leonid or shove him back out into the street. But beneath all that anger was something harder to hide.

Worry. Deep, bone-tired worry.

"Don't make me regret letting you in," Lucas muttered.

Ravenrin was the kind of town that tolerated people like Lucas and his brother. Barely.

Suspicion clung to them like soot, no matter how quiet they kept or how many shifts Lucas picked up fixing bikes in the back of someone else's garage. They were still outsiders. Gifted ones, at that.

Too many people around here had lost family during the war—some to the hunters, some to fire, and some to blood, and it didn't matter where you stood now.

It only mattered what you were.

And the ESA? The people in Ravenrin would rather see their faces on wanted posters than in their streets.

Lucas had risked a lot just by opening the door. And Leonid knew it.

He stood still, eyes scanning the small apartment. The walls were patched with old newspaper clippings, maybe to block the draft. There was a sink with no hot water, a half-burned coil stove, a cracked window covered in plastic and duct tape.

The place reeked of survival, not comfort.

"Thanks for letting me in," Leonid said softly.

"I didn't let you in," Lucas snapped. "I just got tired of wrestling with the door." A pause. Then, he spoke quieter, "If you wake him, you're out."

Leonid nodded, silent now. But his heart ached a little as he looked again at the boy sleeping under the blanket.

That used to be him. That used to be Laura—his little sister, curled up in some basement while he lied through his teeth about how things would get better. That they were safe. That he'd protect her.

And he'd failed. He wondered what Lucas told his brother at night.

"We'll leave soon."

"Things will get better."

"The ESA won't find us."

Maybe Lucas still believed it. Or maybe he didn't.

Maybe that was why he looked so hollow around the eyes—like the fire that lived in his blood was being eaten from the inside by something colder.

Guilt twisted through Leonid's chest, sudden and sharp.

What was he even doing here? Pretending to offer help from the same institution that let towns like Ravenrin fall through the cracks. That let Gifted children disappear and never come back. That turned a blind eye to everything Laura died knowing.

Lucas crossed his arms, watching Leonid carefully, wariness etched into every sharp angle of his lean frame. "You've got four minutes left. Talk."

And still, Leonid hesitated, because standing in this room, it was harder to believe in what he was doing.

* * * *

Lucas sat hunched on the worn couch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his scowl deepening with every word that fell from Leonid's mouth. The younger man's gaze, sharp as flint, never left the older male seated across from him. The tension between them was brittle, stretched taut like an old wire on the verge of snapping.

Honestly, Lucas had already started piecing it together the moment he noticed Leonid following him—even before Leonid had approached him at the grocer's. He'd caught him outside the mechanic's, by the butcher's stall, even once at the outskirts of the marketplace. Never close enough to start a scene, but always near. Always watching.

There were only so many reasons why someone like Leonid O'Boyle, an ESA agent, would tail someone like him.

And with everything spiralling across Eldario—the rising hunter presence, the disappearances, and even the blood-slick rumours about what they were doing to Gifted, Lucas had already begun packing. His brother's clothes, a bit of food, spare parts from the garage.

Just enough to vanish again.

They'd done it before. They could do it again.

"You want me to become a dog of the ESA," Lucas said, his voice laced with venom, dragging his words like barbed wire.

Leonid winced. "That's not what I—"

"It's exactly what you're implying." Lucas didn't wait for excuses. "Don't insult my intelligence. You're one of them, aren't you? A Gifted working for the same system that hunts its own kind."

Leonid didn't speak, but his silence spoke volumes. He held Lucas's glare without defending himself, and that, more than anything, infuriated Lucas further.

"Tell me," Lucas continued, his voice low and bitter. "Do you feel proud, wagging your tail for the ESA like a good lapdog? How many families have you torn apart? How many lives have you ruined? How many Gifted did you help kill just by standing by?"

The words landed like fists. This time, Leonid flinched visibly. But still, he didn't rebuke the accusation. He couldn't.

Because it was all true.

"Look, Alescio…" Leonid began, his tone quieter, heavy with something too raw to name. "I understand where you're coming from—"

"Like hell you do—"

"I have a younger sister," Leonid cut in, and just like that, Lucas's words died on his tongue.

There was something in the way he said it. Not sharp. Not defensive. Just…broken.

Leonid's eyes dropped slightly, the blue in them dimming with memory. "Or had, I guess. Her name was Laura. She died a long time ago."

Lucas didn't speak, but his fists loosened, just barely. He studied the older male warily, waiting.

"She was a Gifted," Leonid said. "Same ability as me. Water. Only… She was better at it. She could make it dance." His voice thinned, almost wistful. "I used to tell her she could carve rivers through mountains one day. She believed me."

"…Was it your parents?" Lucas asked quietly. He didn't have to ask more. He'd seen it too often. Heard the stories whispered in alleys, beneath bridges, and even in safehouses. Parents who turned on their children the moment a spark flickered in their eyes or a shadow bent wrong.

But Leonid shook his head. "No. Our parents tried to protect us. Hid what we were, even from the town. They were scared, but they loved us. It didn't matter." His voice dropped. "Because when the hunters got tired of waiting, they came anyway. Killed the whole town trying to flush us out."

Lucas swallowed hard, his throat dry.

He didn't ask what happened to the townspeople. He didn't need to. He could see it in Leonid's eyes—the weight of it, still anchored behind his silence.

"I was taken to one of the hunter facilities," Leonid said, his voice growing quieter. "They had different paths for different kinds of Gifted. I was strong enough to be trained. Laura…wasn't. She was sent somewhere else. A lab."

Lucas winced.

"The ESA got wind of it. The director stepped in, and rerouted me into one of their training programs. It wasn't mercy. It was convenience. But I survived. Finished my training. Became a proper ESA agent." He gave a small, brittle laugh. "And the first thing I did was look for Laura." Leonid stared at his hands as he spoke. "But I was too late. They'd already… She was already gone."

Silence crept back into the room like fog.

The only sound was the soft, steady breathing from the corner, where Lucas's younger brother still slept beneath a patchy blanket, curled in tight like a rabbit hiding from wolves.

Lucas rubbed the heel of his hand over his face, exhaling slowly. His expression softened, but not by much. "…And you're still working for them?" he asked at last, his voice coloured by disbelief, maybe even disgust. "After all that?"

Leonid's smile was thin and bitter. "Some days, I ask myself the same question. But the ESA… It's the only thing I have left. Back then, I confronted Tiara—our director. I was angry. Furious. But I knew she did everything she could."

Lucas frowned. "The ESA's in charge, right? What's stopping her from—"

"The ESA's not in charge," Leonid interrupted quietly. "Not really. The common folk think they are, but those of us in the trenches know the truth. The real power lies with the hunters. Always has. The ESA is a figurehead at best. A fractured one, at that."

Lucas stared at him, stunned.

"Every bill Tiara tried to push to protect the Gifted? Shot down. Every attempt to fight back? Blocked. There are entire departments in the ESA that report straight to the hunters. Tiara's swimming upstream in a river that wants her drowned."

"…You're telling me this like it's supposed to convince me to join," Lucas muttered, rubbing at his temples. "All I'm hearing is that it's a mess."

Leonid chuckled softly. "It is a mess. And I won't lie to you about that. I'm not here to promise a better world, Lucas. I'm just asking you to think about something." He leaned forward, his eyes level. "You have a younger brother. And if you're anything like me, you'd let the world fall apart before you let anything happen to him."

Lucas flinched, visibly this time.

"You're out here," Leonid continued, "scraping by, hiding who you are, who he is. Always looking over your shoulder. How long do you think you can keep this up? You're living in a town that hates outsiders. You and your brother—they know you don't belong here. You think people haven't noticed the way your hands burn through your gloves? You think they don't hear rumours?"

Lucas clenched his fists.

"You're one wrong move away from a mob. And he's one wrong spark from getting dragged into a life that'll chew him up."

"Leave him out of this!" Lucas snapped.

From the corner of the room, a soft whimper could be heard. Lucas immediately turned, his expression breaking as he hurried over to the bundle on the cot. He knelt by his brother's side, smoothing the blanket as the boy stirred faintly, then stilled again.

"…I don't want him involved," Lucas whispered, not turning around. "I don't want him to know what this country does to people like us."

Leonid stood, slower this time. He didn't approach. Just watched. "He's a Gifted too, Alescio. You can't protect him from that forever. The world's already noticed him. Whether you like it or not, the clock's ticking."

Lucas didn't reply.

"I'm not here to sell you the ESA," Leonid said at last. "But between this mess and the one outside that door, at least inside, you'd have someone fighting with you. And maybe that's worth something." He reached into his coat, and pulled out a thin, worn card, placing it carefully on the table between them. "If you change your mind, call me," he said, his voice quieter now. "Not for you. For him."

He turned, pausing only once at the door to glance back.

Lucas still hadn't moved from his brother's side.

* * * *

"I see." Timo's voice was calm, almost gentle, as he passed the steaming cup of coffee to Sera across the worn café counter. "Thank the Goddess you got there in time."

Sera nodded, but there was no relief in her expression—only grim fatigue. "Things are getting so bad now for the Gifted it doesn't even feel real anymore," she muttered, her voice low and bitter. "It's a sign of what's coming next, you know? When even the underground starts turning on its own." Her fingers clenched slightly around the cup. "Dragonfly's panicking. Half the gangs are. And Alan? He's probably praying to survive the month. If they're still hiding in Eldario, they won't last long."

The words came out sharper than she meant. Her eyes narrowed, focused somewhere distant—far beyond the modest little shop or the safety of Aurora. She wasn't really looking at the coffee in front of her. She was remembering that night—when she'd come face to face with Alan and the others, when betrayal tasted like ash in her mouth.

Alan's face twisted. "I did what I thought was best—!"

"For who?!" Sera cut him off, her voice cracking like a whip. "For you?! For this cowardly band of traitors you call a gang?! You don't sell out your own! You know that!"

Alan choked on air as her grip tightened, cutting off his breath.

"I'm surprised the Premier hasn't already sent Enforcers to burn this place to the ground," Sera snarled. At the mention of the Premier, even the gang members on the floor flinched. "You were raised in the underground. Same as the rest of us. You were taught from day one: you never turn on your own. Not for fear. Not for gain. Not even for your life."

Alan's voice cracked, ragged and desperate. "We heard what happened to Blade! Everyone did! The hunters came! No one survived! Not even you! What chance did we have? I needed to protect my people! I couldn't risk everyone for one person!"

Sera's scowl deepened, but before the bitterness could turn into something uglier, a warm hand landed softly on her head. It ruffled her hair the way a father might comfort a grieving daughter.

Timo.

She blinked and looked up to find his familiar face, brown eyes calm and kind. His scarred nose twitched with the trace of a smile.

"You made it in time, Sera," he said, voice quiet but steady. "You saved Raul. That's what matters."

"…Yeah." Sera dropped her eyes to her coffee again. "I made it in time," she echoed, but there was no conviction in her voice. "So why couldn't I save the rest?"

Timo's hand fell away slowly. Unseen by Sera, his expression tightened.

"Why are hunters, just people, able to do this?" she murmured. Her voice cracked slightly, and she covered part of her face with one hand, peering through her fingers. "Why is killing someone who's scared, who's begging, so easy for them? Most of the people they took, they weren't even Gifted. They were just…Normals. But because they were with us, they were targets. Guilty by association." Sera's hand fell from her face. "What did we ever do to deserve this? Angela, Jun, Yunan… All of them. What did they die for?"

The silence afterward stretched long, filled only by the soft crackle of an old record spinning in the corner, playing some half-forgotten tune. Timo didn't speak right away. He just let the question hang in the air.

Then, softly, "…Sera, how long have we known each other?"

It caught her off-guard. She blinked again, brows furrowing. "Uh… Seven years? Give or take?"

Timo nodded thoughtfully. "You know, the first time I saw you at Elvryn—before Blade was even a name, before Leroy or Jamie started following you around, you looked like a kid who'd been left out in the rain too long. Drenched. Cold. Empty."

Sera didn't reply, but her fingers curled tighter around the cup.

"I always wondered if those boys pushed you into leading. You had that look in your eyes, back then. The kind of look someone gets when they don't care if they live or die." Timo glanced at her carefully, his voice quiet but unwavering. "But little by little, I saw you change. I saw life come back. It started when Zest joined. He was like your anchor."

Sera's throat bobbed.

"And then, after everything, you came back here with Neil and Kailey, and the way you looked… Sera, you scared me. It was like all the light had drained out of you again. Like someone had taken the little spark you'd managed to find and crushed it in their palm."

Sera let out a shaky breath. "I'm tired, Timo." Her voice was small now. Raw. "I don't want to keep living if it means killing again and again just to survive. The fights. The losses. Every death chips away a part of me I'm scared I won't get back."

Timo didn't interrupt. He just let her speak.

"What's it even for?" she whispered, rubbing at her forehead.

"That's not you, kid," Timo said quietly and firmly. "You're not the type to give up. You've never been. And you've got people now—Neil, Kailey, Laura. Even Raul and the Black siblings. You brought them with you because you knew what you were doing. You knew you were their best chance."

"…Sometimes, I look at them, and I see the others. I wasn't trying to replace anyone, it's just…" Sera's voice wavered. "It's only been a few months, but it feels like years."

Timo nodded slowly. "Feels like it, some days. There are mornings I hear the bell over the door and I think I'll see Jun dragging Yunan and Terra in, or Senri cracking jokes, or Yuna singing that stupid little tune she liked. It's hard to believe they're gone. They were so full of life. All of you were. Not what you'd expect from Eldario's most infamous gang."

Sera managed a half-smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "We wanted to make a place where kids like us could feel safe. No one else was going to."

"And you did." Timo gave her a firm look. "Elvryn is still standing. It's still a haven. Even without you watching over it every second."

Sera scoffed quietly. "Some days, I wonder if that's true."

There was a beat.

Then Timo asked, "Have you ever…actually let yourself grieve? For them?"

Sera stared at her cup again. "…No," she admitted. "Not really. I didn't have time. Zest was bleeding out, and then, I had to go back. I had to make sure they wouldn't try again."

Timo didn't push further. He didn't need to ask what happened to the attackers. He already knew. Anyone who tried to tear apart Blade and lived to tell the tale had clearly never met Sera Kroix.

He turned back to the counter, quietly scrubbing it. Even now, the memory of Sera arriving that day, with blood on her coat, and that distant, haunted look in her eyes, still chilled him. Those kids weren't just kids. Not anymore. They'd seen too much. Survived too much. And Sera… She carried it all on her shoulders, every death carved into her soul.

"You know," Timo said after a pause, voice gentler than before, "there's this old custom… Something my parents told me about when I was little. If you have a wish, or something you want to let go of, you write it on a piece of parchment. Seal it in a glass bottle. Then send it out to sea. And maybe, one day, it comes back to you changed. Or doesn't come back at all." Sera blinked up at him. "It's just a story, I know. But maybe it's a way to say goodbye. To them. To everything that's still weighing you down."

Another silence. But this one didn't feel so suffocating.

"…Do you have a glass bottle?" Sera asked at last, her voice barely above a whisper.

Timo smiled, soft and warm. "Yeah," he said. "I've got one somewhere."

* * * *

The sun was already beginning its slow descent by the time Sera reached the seaside, its molten light spilling across the water like liquid gold. Orange bled into violet, and the shadows stretched longer, thinner, as if reaching for something they would never quite grasp.

She had taken the long way—an old path twisting between forgotten alleys and weathered fences, just to make sure she wouldn't run into the others.

The group had gone off to stock up on supplies, and she had used the time to visit Timo. Even now, months later, she hadn't spoken about her past. Not really.

Laura probably knew bits and pieces—maybe through Reina. Neil and Kailey had their suspicions. And Raul… Raul knew more than he let on. But he'd respected her silence.

No questions. No pressure. Just that quiet, loyal patience of someone who understood what it meant to bleed inside and still keep walking.

The rhythmic crash of the waves met Sera's ears like a pulse, a steady heartbeat that wasn't her own. She let herself sink into the sound. It was…soothing, almost. The gulls above cried their lullaby to the dying day, and the wind carried the brine of the ocean up to meet her, sharp and nostalgic.

In Sera's left hand, she clutched a small glass bottle, fingers pale around its slender neck. Inside, tightly rolled and sealed, was a scrap of paper.

She exhaled, eyes drifting shut as the wind pushed strands of her hair across her face. The scent of salt clung to her clothes and to her skin like old memories.

"Can sins be forgiven this way?" she whispered. "I'm sorry—"

—I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry I lived.

Her arm moved before she realised, flinging the bottle high into the air. The sunlight glinted off the glass as it spun, then fell with a soft splash into the waiting arms of the sea. It bobbed once, twice, and then began to drift, pulled steadily outward.

Superstition. That's what this was. A ritual from an older time, a forgotten corner of Eldario's culture. But as Sera watched that tiny bottle carry away her words, her guilt, and her grief, some small knot inside her chest began to loosen.

"If we have the chance to be reincarnated…" Sera's voice trembled, barely louder than the wind, "let's meet again. Somewhere better."

She might have stood there in silence forever, lost in the waves and that single fading promise, if not for the glint of glass that caught her eye a little further down the shore.

Another bottle. Another paper. Another offering to the sea.

Sera's gaze followed the bottle to the boy standing nearby. He couldn't have been much older than her—maybe eighteen or nineteen. Tall, with the wind tugging at his hair and the hem of his coat. He turned at the weight of her stare, his expression unreadable at first. Then his mouth tilted in a small, almost rueful smile.

"I didn't think anyone remembered that old custom," he said. "I only heard about it once, when I was little. From my parents. Before they passed."

"…Some of us remember," Sera murmured. "Still practiced in a few of the rural districts."

"Guess so." He shrugged, a lazy motion that didn't quite mask the tightness in his posture. "Lucas Alescio."

"…Sera."

It was an instinct to withhold her surname. Her last name would only add weight, and add danger. Sera Kroix wasn't just a name. It was a target.

But his name had struck her too.

Alescio. She knew that name.

Lucas nodded slightly, not pressing for more. His eyes went back to the sea. "You know…" he started slowly, "saying you'll protect someone with your life… It's easy. Dramatic. Something you say when you're full of hope or anger or fear." He raised a hand, studying the fading light as it slipped between his fingers. "But actually doing it… Actually being able to follow through… That's something else."

Lucas lowered his hand.

"My parents made me promise. 'Take care of Misha.' That was all they said. And I've tried, but… I haven't always been the best big brother." His voice cracked on the edges. "But the guy back there was right. You can't protect someone when you're still chained to the past. If I want Misha to have any kind of future, I have to stop dragging mine behind me like a corpse."

Sera stared at him, her breath catching. She remembered.

Not just his words, but the feeling. That same helplessness. That need to protect, and the soul-shattering pain of failing to.

There had been a time, not too long ago, when her Gift had surged too violently, too suddenly. It had overwhelmed her. She couldn't control it. Couldn't control herself.

She had isolated. Vanished.

For two weeks she'd hidden herself in a crumbling shed on the edge of Elvryn, the shadows her only company.

And then Zest had come.

He always did. Somehow, he always found her, no matter how far she ran.

"I can't control it," She had whispered back then, her voice breaking as her powers began to pulse through the room, shaking loose debris and rattling the shattered windows.

"Yes, you can," Zest had said firmly, kneeling in front of her and gently taking her chin in one hand, her trembling forearm in the other. "You've always been able to." His red eyes had been steady. Sure. "You told me once that Gifts are tied to emotions. And I know what you're feeling, Sera. You feel too much. You always have. You've just spent your whole life hiding it, because showing it meant getting hurt."

Sera had tried to look away. He wouldn't let her.

"You've always been angry," Zest said quietly. "Even before Blade. Even before you had a family. You were angry at this world. At how it breaks people. At how it forgot you. I know that, because I'm the same."

He had seen her—not just the face she wore, but the storm beneath it.

And he had stayed.

No matter how ugly her truth became.

People had left. People had betrayed. People had died.

But Zest had stayed.

"I see myself in you," He had whispered. "And that's why I'm here. I'll stay for as long as you'll have me. So don't be afraid to show who you are."

Now, standing beside Lucas, Sera blinked and swallowed back the lump in her throat. "Do you think it ever gets easier?" she asked suddenly, eyes still on the waves. "Living when others didn't."

Lucas was quiet for a long moment. "No," he said honestly. "But maybe… Maybe you can carry it differently."

Sera's lips curled faintly at the edge. Not a smile, not really. But something close. She looked down at her hands. "I was the only one who survived that night," she said, her voice hushed. "And I've asked myself again and again… Why me? Why am I the one still breathing when they're not?"

Lucas didn't say anything, but his gaze didn't leave her.

"I keep seeing their faces," Sera continued. "The way they smiled… Right before the end. They trusted me. They followed me. And I couldn't save them." Her voice trembled. "I lived, and sometimes it feels like the worst punishment."

Lucas's eyes softened. "I think they'd be proud you're still here," he said gently. "Even if you're still hurting. Especially because you are."

Sera stared at him. Then, slowly, she turned back to the sea. The bottle she had tossed was nearly gone now—just a flicker of glass, dancing on the horizon. "…Yeah," she whispered. "Maybe they would be."

'Zest…' Sera murmured, her voice soft as a ripple over water. Her heterochromia eyes stared blankly at the horizon, watching where sky met sea in a blur of muted gold. The waves rolled in steady rhythm, indifferent and eternal. 'Will you still stay by my side, like you said you would? Even after everything?'

A faint smile tugged at Lucas's lips.

"Sounds like you've made up your mind then," Sera added, almost absently, her gaze still lost to the tide. Lucas nodded silently.

"Sera!"

Both turned at the voice, just as Tatius strode toward them—wind tugging at the red scarf around his neck, his expression unreadable save for the tightening of his brows. His green eyes flickered to Lucas, sharp and measuring, and Lucas felt for a moment like he was being studied under a microscope.

"Tatius," Sera greeted, calm and unbothered.

"Friend of yours?" Tatius asked, still eyeing Lucas like a puzzle he wasn't sure how to solve.

Lucas offered a faint nod, feeling suddenly far too warm under Tatius's cool gaze. "Well, I guess I'll get going," he said, awkwardly shifting his weight. "I'll see you around?" His eyes were on Sera, carefully ignoring the scrutiny on his back.

"Maybe," she said with a small shrug.

Lucas gave a polite nod to Tatius before slipping away, his footsteps crunching on sand until they faded behind the hush of the waves.

Only then did Sera sigh, long and low. "How did you find me?" she asked without turning.

"Timo called," Tatius admitted, stepping beside her. "He was…worried."

"…I'm fine."

Tatius tilted his head, one brow raised. "Is that your default answer for everything now?" His voice was light, but there was no mistaking the concern beneath it. "You don't sound fine. You sound…tired. Like you've given up."

Sera didn't answer. Her arms wrapped around herself as she stared out at the sea, the wind tangling strands of black hair against her cheeks. "I feel that way sometimes," she said at last, so quietly that he almost missed it. "Like I'm running on empty. Like my bones are hollow. Goddess above, Tatius, I'm so fucking tired."

Tatius looked at her—not the girl everyone saw, the one who always seemed composed, sharp, and unshakable, but the girl underneath. He thought of the times she had led them, stood tall and unbending when they were too scared to move. When Ness was poisoned. When Raul was captured. When everyone else had been paralysed, Sera had already been halfway to action.

She had always felt untouchable. Solid. Steel in the shape of a girl.

And now, seeing her like this—cracked and so heartbreakingly human, Tatius didn't know what to do with the weight pressing against his chest.

"I see why Timo's worried. And Raul," he said softly.

Sera gave a small, bitter smile. "It's only been a few months since Elvryn and everything… But it feels like years. I didn't stop. I couldn't. I kept moving because I was scared that if I stopped, I'd fall apart. That I'd feel too much, or nothing at all." She swallowed thickly. "I don't know when it happened, but at some point, I think I gave up. Like part of me just went cold."

Tatius frowned, Raul's earlier words echoing in his memory.

"Even the strongest person has a limit. Blade was everything to her. They were her first family. I don't think Sera even remembers how to cry anymore."

"No wonder you're tired," he said gently. "Carrying that much anger for so long, it drains you, doesn't it?"

She blinked, surprised. "Anger?"

Tatius gave a small, knowing smile. "The others might not see it, but I do. I've had enough practice reading people. Had to, growing up in the lab. One wrong move and—" He cut himself off with a shrug. "From the first moment I met you, you were angry. At first I thought it was us. Then the hunters. But after a while, I realised it's just always been there. Like a second skin."

Sera's eyes widened. The words echoed too loudly. Too familiarly.

"You've always been angry, Sera. Even before Blade. You just hid it behind sarcasm and indifference so no one would notice."

Sera scuffed her boot in the sand. "Sometimes, anger keeps you alive," she said. "It's all I've ever known. All I've ever been good at. Surviving. Fighting. Lashing out before anyone can hurt me. But you're right. I've been angry for so long, I forgot what anything else felt like." She hesitated. "Zest… Zest made me feel something else. He made me feel like I wasn't broken. Like I mattered."

Her voice cracked, but she didn't cry. She hadn't cried in a long time.

Tatius closed his eyes. Raul had been right.

"We're still here, Sera. Doesn't that count for something?" he asked quietly. "We're not leaving. Not now. Not ever. We're not Blade—we can't replace them, but we're still your people."

Sera gave a hollow laugh. "You sound like him."

Tatius blinked. "Zest?"

She nodded, a far-off look in her eyes. "He said the same thing. That he wouldn't leave. That I didn't have to hide around him. That being Gifted didn't make me a monster. Everyone else… They left. Or worse. I get it, though. I was dangerous. I didn't even trust myself back then."

Tatius tried not to show his shock, but her words landed heavily. If even Sera Kroix—the girl who could silence a room just by walking in, had once feared her own power, then how much had she endured before they met her?

"I've got it under control now," Sera added, sensing his thoughts, her voice flat but steady. "I'm not going to lose control again."

Tatius gave a small nod. "We'll stay with you, no matter what. You know that, don't you? Blade wouldn't want you to carry this weight alone forever. They'd want you to live. To find new family. To be happy again."

Sera didn't answer right away. But something in her shifted. Not healed, not yet. But cracked open. Just enough to let the light in.

"Live on."

Green eyes met her own strange mismatched ones. "Promise me. You'll keep living. No matter what."

Sera turned to the ocean, breathing in salt and sea spray. Can I be selfish for once? Just once?

The wind blew softly, brushing strands of raven hair across her cheek—like fingers she remembered too well. Like comfort. Like Zest.

She didn't smile, not really. But the corner of her mouth twitched, and her eyes didn't look quite so hollow.

It was a start.

"What do you want to do, though?" Tatius asked gently. "We said we'd follow you. That hasn't changed. So, what now?"

Sera looked at him, long and hard. She didn't speak right away.

But something fierce lit up behind her eyes—something reckless, half-crazy, and unmistakably her.

A plan. An insane one, if she were honest with herself. The kind Zest or Leroy would've cooked up without a second thought.

Sera exhaled slowly. "If you're serious, if you're really staying, then there's something I want to do," she said at last, her voice quiet but resolute.

And for the first time in what felt like forever… she sounded alive again.

* * * *

The rooftop of the boathouse was quiet that night, save for the soft lapping of water against the dock and the faint hum of lights across the river. Laura stood with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the girl in front of her—no longer just observing, but truly seeing her.

"…I think I finally get it," she said slowly, her voice carrying a hint of disbelief. "Why people say you're not like the rest of us."

Sera didn't look up right away. She was crouched near the edge, the cool night wind brushing past the ends of her raven-black hair, slight curls swaying against her cheek. Her eyes caught the starlight like fractured glass.

She was calm. Composed. Dangerous in the way a storm could be when it was waiting to strike.

"No one else," Laura continued, "would come up with a plan this insane. And the scariest part? It might actually work. Especially if you're the one leading it."

From her other side, Tatius gave a low chuckle. "She's got a point," he admitted. "None of us want to keep living like fugitives. If this makes life better for the Gifted, why not? We've taken enough hits for just existing."

Sera straightened up and stretched slightly, glancing toward them without a word. Her expression didn't change, but there was something sharper behind her gaze—calculating and relentless.

Laura frowned. "You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?" She narrowed her eyes. "This plan… A moving base on the water, staying just out of reach, slipping through the cracks like smoke—this wasn't a last-minute idea. It's tactical. Personal." Her voice softened. "Blade?"

Sera gave a slow nod. "It was something we talked about. Before…" She didn't finish. She didn't have to. Even the wind seemed to fall still as Laura and Tatius flinched, their eyes lowering.

"They wanted to create something mobile," Sera continued, twirling a lock of hair between her fingers, her voice flat. "Something that couldn't be pinned down or cornered. That's what this was supposed to be. I'm just…carrying it on." She turned to face them fully now, her coat shifting with the motion, scarf trailing behind like a shadow. "So let's do it. Let's create something new—a group, a crew… A shield. Call it what you want—a gang, a cause." Her voice grew steadier with every word. "The hunters are spiralling out of control, and the ESA's not doing a damn thing to stop it." She paused, her eyes flickering toward them. "I want to protect the Gifted. No one should have to go through what we did. What Blade went through."

Laura looked like she was holding something back. "You don't have to carry all of it alone, you know?"

Sera shook her head slowly. "It's not about what I have to do," she said. "It's about what most people wouldn't." She was quoting someone, though she didn't say who. "If that means becoming something the world doesn't understand, then so be it." She gave a rare smile—crooked and small, but real. "Think of us as vigilantes, if it helps."

"You've already made up your mind," Laura muttered, recognising the look in her eyes—sharp with resolve, mischievous, and impossibly alive. It was a thousand times better than the hollow, haunted expression Sera had worn since they'd first met her.

Sera nodded once. "We can't let Eldario keep bleeding like this. Not while we still have the strength to do something." She turned toward the distant skyline. "The ESA might be stagnant, but the hunters are chaos. And chaos doesn't stop until someone forces it to. If we wait too long, it won't just be Gifted suffering. It'll be everyone."

"Raul barely made it out alive," Tatius added quietly. "Ness nearly didn't. And we all know what the silence from the others means. They're scared, Sera. We all are."

"But fear's no excuse to do nothing," Sera replied. "Not anymore."

They were silent for a moment, the stars above them silent witnesses. Then Laura stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "We've told you before. You saved us, even when you didn't have to. You stepped into Hell for us and never asked for anything back. If this is what you want to do, we'll follow you." Her eyes burned with conviction. "To Hell and back, if it comes to that."

Tatius nodded, the wind tousling his red hair. "The Gifted deserve more than this broken world," he said. "And if you're willing to lead, we'll stand behind you."

Sera was quiet, her expression unreadable. But something shifted in her posture—a flicker of surprise, maybe even gratitude. She'd never asked for this. But somehow, they'd chosen her anyway.

Tatius grinned. "So, what should we name this 'group' of ours?" he asked, drawing air quotes with his fingers. "If we're going to shake up the world, might as well sound cool while doing it."

The question stirred something in Sera—a memory, quiet and buried. A girl once asked her that same thing, in a dusty alley filled with dreams too big for the streets they lived on.

Not Blade, Sera thought. That name belonged to something sharp, something born to fight and stand alone. But this… This was different. This was about protecting others. About giving people like Raul, like Neil and Kailey, a place where they didn't have to be afraid.

This was about being the shield, not just the sword.

"…Aegis," she said aloud.

They looked at her.

"It means protector," Sera added simply. And then, almost to herself, Will you agree with this path I've taken, Zest?

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.