"Healing by way of vengeance ... no such thing existed; it never had. Hurting others had only injured me further." ― Sarah Penner (The Lost Apothecary)

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Late afternoon painted Zhane City in a washed-out golden hue, the kind of light that made everything look cleaner than it was. A deceiving glow, really. The streets of Zhane, polished and picture-perfect on the surface, masked the rot festering just beneath. Hunter banners hung like draped warnings from lampposts and tall buildings, proud and stiff in the breeze. Eyes followed every passerby—some hidden, some not.

But none noticed the two ghosts moving among them.

Sera Kroix walked silently, hood drawn low over her eyes. Her jacket was weathered but plain, the same utilitarian dark grey favoured by street vendors and labourers. Next to her, Zest moved with the confidence of a shadow slipping between cracks. He wore a rust-red hoodie, gloves on his hands, and his posture was loose and casual, but his eyes were always moving.

Zest was still seething from their encounter with Lucas when they've entered Zhane City. Thanks to the crowd, they managed to blend in with no one paying them a second glance.

"I don't know how you can stand him," Zest was muttering darkly. "Still convinced that the hunters and the ESA are good people, and there is only black and white. Head buried so deep in the sand that he didn't even know what is going on in Eldario."

"To be fair to Lucas, there are a few ESA agents who truly are protectors," Sera said. "But they are only a few amongst the many."

Zest grumbled something beneath his breath, but soon fell silent.

Neither of them flinched when they passed two tall men by the bakery, their jackets a little too well-fitted, their expressions a little too still. Hunters. Unmarked but unmistakable. The kind of men who'd slit your throat in an alley and write "self-defence" in the report.

Even though the hunters didn't have any obvious hunter gear on, Sera and Zest could recognise them from a mile away, the same way they could recognise ESA agents. Both organisations whom they have been on the run from or hiding from nearly their entire lives.

"You feel that?" Zest muttered under his breath, his tone quiet but brittle.

Sera nodded once. "They've tightened patrols. Word's out."

Zest's jaw clenched. "After what Nicolosi's about to say, it's only going to get worse."

As they merged into the crowd near the town's main plaza, the hum of static buzzed through the air. Large digital billboards, each over three stories tall, flickered before coming to life, their colours vivid even beneath the thickening clouds overhead. The largest of them loomed above the crowd like some ancient eye—watching and unblinking.

There he was.

Albert Nicolosi.

Draped in a formal dark coat, the man stood at a podium in the grand plaza of Blackpool, broadcast live from the main base and hometown of the hunters. His steel-grey hair was combed meticulously back, his face weathered with age, but hard as carved stone. His voice, when it came, was calm, but every word rang like iron through the crowd.

"Citizens of Eldario," Nicolosi began, his deep voice magnified across the square. "It has come to our attention that, once again, the peace we have worked so tirelessly to maintain is under threat."

The crowd in Zhane stilled. You could have heard a pin drop.

Sera and Zest stood near the back, their heads bowed, unnoticed amid the mass of citizens. But they weren't watching the crowd.

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They were watching the hunters. Too many of them. Spread out and still, like wolves pretending to be sheepdogs.

Zest's hand was casually palming the hidden dagger at his wrist. Sera's eyes narrowed. "That's not just a speech," Zest said quietly.

"I know," Sera replied. "It's a warning."

On the screen, Nicolosi continued. "You have all heard the rumours. That the Gifted are organising. That they hide among the underground, refusing to register, refusing to obey. They reject our authority, and they dare to call themselves 'protectors'."

He laughed, and the sound chilled the square.

"But the truth is this: they are nothing more than abominations, hiding behind false causes. And today, I stand before you not to plead, not to ask, but to command. The time has come to take back our country."

Applause erupted across the Blackpool square in the video, some of it echoed in Zhane. The worst part? The cheers weren't all from the hunters.

Sera felt a sick twist in her gut. "They buy it," she whispered. "All of it."

Zest's glare cut sideways toward the screen. "Because it's easier to blame someone else than face what the country's become."

Nicolosi raised his hand to silence the crowd. "I bring with me news that breaks my heart. Walden, the brave soul known as the Butcher to our enemies, a hunter of unmatched skill, was killed. Struck down by the very filth he sought to cleanse."

There were gasps. Cries. But Sera's hands curled into fists.

Walden hadn't just been a killer. He had slaughtered Gifted children, and even entire families. He was feared for a reason. And Nicolosi was making him a martyr.

"He died protecting Eldario from threats that grow bolder every day," Nicolosi said. "And I vow to all of you: his death will not go unanswered. Aegis will be rooted out. The Gifted hiding among us will be brought to justice. And I promise you this—our future will be free of their poison."

The screen zoomed in on Nicolosi's face. He wasn't shouting, but the intensity in his voice was sharper than steel. "The hunters will not stop until every single one of those abominations is wiped out."

Sera felt something inside her shiver. Not fear. Something deeper. Older.

Grief.

Next to her, Zest's lips moved silently. A prayer. A name. Someone they lost.

Nicolosi's speech pressed on, fire and brimstone wrapped in charisma and authority. "As many of you know, there are plenty of dangers outside of the biggest cities. Yes, the Gifted and even the people of the underground have become even more of a threat in the past years!" He paused as a ripple of gasps flowed through the square.

"It has reached a point where we need hunters to protect our towns and villages from those pests, despite taking pride in the might of the ESA! I am telling you here and now that this cannot continue any further!"

His fists struck the podium, knuckles turning white.

"We must take swift action and bring about change! As my personal new year's resolution, I swear to you, that you will not have to fear those criminals any longer!"

The screen cut to a panoramic of Blackpool's crowds—cheering, saluting, and filled with zeal.

Sera's voice was soft but grim. "He's not just inciting them. He's giving them permission."

Zest didn't answer. He didn't need to.

They both knew.

A storm was coming.

Then Zest's hand touched her shoulder. A slight pressure. He nodded toward the edge of the plaza. Her heart skipped.

Sera followed his gaze.

Movement.

Subtle. Too smooth. Men and women drifting through the crowd like currents beneath still water. One adjusting a cuff to reveal a hunter's seal. Another whispering into a concealed comms device.

Sera's blood went cold.

They'd been made.

Without a word, they stepped back from the square. The crowd had thinned slightly, the outer edge beginning to shift as people left the plaza—enough cover to move. But even still, the air had changed.

She could feel it.

Eyes. Watching. Calculating. The first step was always the same: don't cause a scene.

Then came the net.

"This isn't good," Sera muttered. "We need to get out of here."

Zest nodded once. "We split?"

She hesitated, but nodded. "Meet me at the city gates. If you get there first—"

"I'll wait," he said. No hesitation.

Sera pulled her hood up tighter, her face shadowed entirely.

Zest was already moving in the opposite direction, melting into a cluster of departing market-goers. Sera waited three beats, then turned down an alleyway, fast and silent.

Behind her, boots scuffed the stone.

The net had dropped.

Hunters and ESA agents moved in waves, sweeping the side streets. Sera ducked under a hanging clothesline, then vaulted a low wall into another alley.

A squad spotted her just as she landed.

"There! It's her!"

"That's Kroix! Don't let her get away!"

Sera was a blur. She spun on her heel, ducking the swing of a stun baton, and delivered a crushing blow to a hunter's sternum. He went down hard, gasping. She swept a second attacker's legs from beneath him, grabbing his weapon mid-fall and throwing it into the trash.

A hunter charged her, trained and fast. But not fast enough.

She twisted, seized his wrist, and drove his elbow back at a sickening angle before hurling him into a wall. He crumpled like paper.

They were shouting now.

But she was already moving again.

Her phone vibrated. A message from Zest.

I'm heading for the bike. Meet me at the entrance of the city.

She veered left, her heart pounding, and her lungs burning. Clouds were gathering fast above, rumbling ominously. A fine mist began to fall.

Perfect.

The rain blurred lines and faces. Gave her cover.

Sera slipped down a narrow gap between buildings. The hunters were close behind, their radio chatter frantic and disjointed.

"She's evading us!"

"Where is she?"

"Dammit, how did she do this?"

"It's Sera Kroix! If there's anyone capable of evading us all or taking on an entire squad on her own, it's her! There's a flee on sight order for her for a reason!"

A bolt of panic laced their voices now. Not fear of failure. Fear of her.

And they were right to fear her.

From the shadows of the alley, a figure stepped out. Hooded. Cloaked. Silent.

He spun a strange black blade in one hand, the steel catching the faintest light. On the side of his neck—bold against pale skin, was a tattoo of the same blade. A symbol most had forgotten. Or wished they had.

One of the hunters chasing Sera skidded to a halt, eyes wide.

"You're… It can't be…"

The man raised his head, and light hit his face.

No more hiding.

"You hunters really want to play it this way, huh?" His voice was calm, but a storm churned beneath it. He flipped the blade in his grip. "Then so be it."

And the alley exploded into motion.

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