"Justice without the possibility of mercy is simply vengeance." - Kertin Espinosa Rosero (Burn Red Skies)

* * * *

Rain struck the world like a slow, unrelenting drumbeat, tapping against the windshield of the parked vehicle just down the east road to Zalfari.

Through the blurred droplets sliding down the glass, the faint silhouette of the fortified iron gates stood under the glow of electrified floodlights, soaked in silver rain. Watchtowers loomed above, black against the cloudy sky like sentinel beasts, silent and waiting.

It had been years since Elijah had seen Zalfari. Not since he'd gone off to join the ESA with Taylor years ago, despite the protests, even though most of those who'd tried to change their minds knew exactly why the twins were doing that.

"You'll regret it," Their mentor had told Elijah and Taylor. "The ESA will show you sides of Eldario that even you wouldn't want to know exist."

And their mentor was right. Some days, Elijah had wondered if it had been a mistake, remaining in the ESA, especially with the current situation.

And yet, as the hooded shape of the town came into full view past the perimeter lights, a part of Elijah wished he had never returned.

The last time he stood at Zalfari's gates, the town was broken. Blood still stained the dirt from the Whirlwind Massacre. The hunters had stormed the town in search of Letha, Whirlwind's sole Gifted member. Whirlwind, however, had refused to give Letha up, all defending her to the last man.

Zalfari had changed since the last time Elijah was here, back when Klein and Whirlwind were still the guardians. Whirlwind weren't bad guardians, exactly. They kept the town safe, and did everything necessary to keep the underground's secrets and protect the people that came to them for sanctuary. But they didn't go beyond that.

When Leroy and Alisa were made the new guardians, however, they made Zalfari thrive.

Their street gang Blaze was formed out of necessity, mainly to protect Zalfari. But either it was something Leroy and Alisa have learned from their Blade days, or it was respect that the underground still showed Blade—one of the three pillars of the underground, but people flocked to Zalfari the moment Leroy had put word out amongst the underground that he's looking to rebuild Zalfari.

In less than a year, Zalfari went from a town on the brink of destruction, to a place that truly earned the name as the surface hub of the underground.

Now, Zalfari had teeth.

From here, Elijah could see the figures on the watchtowers—mercenaries dressed in mismatched combat gear, their rifles primed, scanning the perimeter with trained precision. Spotlights swerved methodically across the tree lines, pausing just long enough to make the shadows flinch. The gates themselves were fortified slabs of black metal, lined with reinforced bracing and crudely welded plates.

Makeshift perhaps, but effective. And deadly.

"I take it back," Misha said quietly, finally breaking the silence. His voice was calm, but too measured. "This isn't just a sanctuary. This is a fortress."

Elijah didn't respond right away. He glanced out the car window again and spoke only after a long beat. "It has to be. After Blackpool, after…everything, Zalfari's one of the last safe places for the Gifted. They know it. So the hunters hate it."

Taylor shifted slightly in her seat, her gloved fingers flexing. "They've tried attacking this place five times in the last two weeks. That's what Ethan said." Her voice was steady, but the tightness in her shoulders betrayed her tension. "Five times. Each more brutal than the last."

"And they still failed," Elijah added, quietly. "Blaze made sure of that."

The rain intensified, sweeping sideways in gusts as the wind howled through the trees. The gravel crunched beneath their boots as the trio stepped out into the cold. Their raincoats darkened with water immediately, the hoods concealing most of their features as they approached the gates.

Zalfari didn't take chances anymore. Even friendly faces could bring knives.

Elijah moved first, his hood still drawn low, and his hands visible at his sides. Taylor followed, her posture sharp, and her eyes scanning for threats. Misha's pace was just behind theirs, but there was no mistaking the tension in his gait.

He wasn't used to places like this. Misha Alescio was ESA. Fire-user or not, his last name bore weight. And to the underground, that weight was synonymous with betrayal, and with systems that had let the Gifted burn.

The guards spotted them from the tower before they even reached the gate. Two figures, both masked, with combat harnesses, descended from a watchtower catwalk and approached the gate entrance, their rifles shouldered but not yet raised. One of them lifted a hand, palm open.

"Halt," he called, his voice curt. "Who goes there?"

Elijah stopped mid-stride. Slowly and deliberately, he lifted the hood of his raincoat, letting it fall back to reveal his pale, rain-slicked face. Red strands of damp hair clung to his forehead, water trickling from his chin.

"It's me," he said, his voice low but firm. "Elijah Rosales. And Taylor Rosales."

The guard paused. His partner leaned over, pulling a tablet from the small terminal stand mounted on the gate's side. The rain made it difficult to read, but after a moment, the second guard nodded slowly.

"Their names are on the list," he confirmed. "It's been a long time, Elijah. Taylor." Then his gaze drifted. And settled on Misha. "But I don't believe we've met your friend."

Elijah's jaw tightened. "He's with us," he said evenly. "You can scan us, if you want."

The first guard, still wary, reached to his belt and pulled out a small device—an Abyss-made biometric scanner. Elijah recognised the sleek metal, the shimmer of the sensory lens.

The underground didn't play games with facial reconstructions or hunter plantings anymore. Too many had slipped past their defences once.

The guard stepped forward. He scanned Elijah first slowly, head to toe. The device beeped once, then again in confirmation.

"Clear."

Taylor was next, her face impassive, and her body still. Another set of beeps.

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"Clear."

Then Misha.

The device's pass over him was longer. The scanner paused at his jawline, then again near his left shoulder, perhaps searching for surgical scarring. The guard frowned slightly. The device gave no warning sound, but it didn't immediately confirm either.

"Lucas Alescio's brother," The second guard murmured under his breath, just loud enough for the others to hear. "He's ESA."

"I'll vouch for him," Elijah said quietly, his eyes sharp now.

"You know the rules," The first guard said. There was no anger in his voice, only wariness. "Leroy's orders. If your name isn't on the approved list, you don't get in. Especially for ESA."

"He's not here on ESA business," Taylor snapped. "We're here to speak to Leroy. And Ethan too, if he's here."

There was a beat of silence. Rain fell harder, drumming off the gate's top plates. Misha met the guards' eyes without blinking.

The second guard hesitated. Then he nodded slowly. "If it's Leroy you're looking for, he's at Pandemonium. Ethan and Zest are with him. But mind yourselves." His gaze lingered coldly on Misha. "We're on high alert. We see anything we don't like, and you won't get a warning. Understood?"

"Understood," Elijah replied without hesitation.

The gates screeched open.

The sounds of Zalfari greeted them. Not noise, but life. Footsteps echoing across scaffolding. The barked orders of patrolling mercenaries. The occasional shout from a street vendor. Music drifted faintly from somewhere deeper in, muffled beneath the thunder.

Zalfari had changed.

Misha hesitated just behind the gates. For a moment, he didn't move. He just stared, his eyes sweeping over the town beyond.

The street lights lit the rain-soaked pavement in orange and white streaks. Buildings, some old and crumbling, others reinforced with new steel and wooden reinforcements, lined the main street. People walked, bundled in jackets, their heads down.

Guards were everywhere. Mercenaries. Some were stationed on rooftops. Others marched in rotating patrols. Every last one of them armed.

"I thought the underground was just…scattered groups. Cells. Street rats in hiding," Misha muttered, stepping forward.

Elijah didn't look at him. "That was the illusion," he murmured.

They walked.

Zalfari had become something else in the years since Elijah left. It had once been a crumbling sanctuary, a dying heartbeat beneath Eldario's boots. But now? It felt like the last real piece of resistance left. The underground wasn't a whisper anymore. It had become a roar.

And it was angry.

The air here was electric. People moved with purpose. Side-eyes followed them. No one trusted easily anymore.

With everything that had happened over the past year—the witch hunts, the total madness, and even what happened at Veridale and Blackpool, everyone was waiting for the next betrayal.

Elijah could see it in their faces. Hope clashed against fear. Determination warred with despair.

They passed a wall covered in flyers. Missing persons. Gifted children. Adults. Notes from families hoping someone had seen them. But Elijah knew better. They were gone.

Misha looked at one of the flyers. His shoulders stiffened. "That girl," he said slowly, "she was in the reports. Julia Maher. Twelve. She went missing six months ago."

"At this point, if someone goes missing, we all know what happened to them," Elijah said flatly, "and where they are taken to."

Misha looked away.

As they neared Pandemonium, the bar lit in neon blue, its name flickering through steam and smoke, Elijah felt the heaviness settle into his bones. This was the edge now. Where truths bled. Where allegiances broke.

They were here to find Lucas. To bring him home. But this wasn't the ESA's world. This was Zalfari.

And Zalfari didn't forgive.

* * * *

The second floor of the Pandemonium Bar was a realm suspended in tension, a quiet storm pressed tight within wood and stone. Flickering candlelight softened the rough edges of the room, but it couldn't disguise the coiled anxiety hanging in the air like smoke. Faint thumps of distant music and the muffled voices of Zalfari's nightlife drifted up from below, but in this room, everything felt still.

Zest stood by the window, his arms crossed, one shoulder leaning against the frame, his red eyes narrowed as they scanned the alleyway below without truly seeing it.

Rain spat against the glass, though it hadn't broken into a full downpour yet. Just enough to thrum faintly against the pane like a ticking clock.

On one of the couches, Wes sat with the posture of a soldier still healing from battle—rigid back, one leg curled slightly to support the other, with fresh bandages still visible beneath the sleeve of his loose shirt. His crutches were propped against the couch's arm, ready. His gaze was tired but alert.

Alisa knelt at the side table, pouring hot tea into a porcelain cup, steam curling up and drifting toward the ceiling. Her sharp eyes watched Ethan closely, concern faintly tugging the corners of her lips. She passed him the tea wordlessly.

"When's the last time you actually had a full night's sleep, or even some actual food?" she asked, her voice low but firm.

Ethan Simmons looked like a man being held together with frayed string and raw will. His untidy black hair hung over his eyes, white streaks catching the dim light like silver threads, and his hands trembled slightly as he took the tea. His oversized jacket swallowed his slight frame.

"I didn't have the time for that," he replied, his voice hoarse. "Every single informant in the underground has been running around like headless chickens for the past year. It got worse after Blackpool." He took a long sip and leaned back with a sigh that sounded like it came from his soul. "And with the Abyss on full lockdown, only messages are getting through. Even Alexis isn't staying in one place for long. Too dangerous."

A heavy silence followed. The Blade survivors exchanged grim glances.

"Yeah," Zest finally said from the window, his eyes unreadable. "Even Aegis got called to Ashenridge two days ago. Something stirred up there. I just got back from scouting one of the hunters' outposts. Didn't go in. Didn't need to." He looked over his shoulder, his voice dropping. "Security's suffocating. But there's buzz. Big buzz. Something's happening behind those walls. And it's never anything good whenever there is buzz."

Jamie frowned, his arms crossed as he leaned against the corner wall beside the bookcase. "That doesn't sound good."

"It's not," Zest replied flatly.

"I'll go check it out," Lleucu added. "Can't sit around with everything brewing."

He didn't get the chance to say more. A soft knock came at the door.

Everyone stiffened, instinctively reaching for weapons. Even Wes's fingers brushed the strap of the knife holster on his belt, despite the pain it caused.

The door creaked open, and one of the bar's employees poked his head in, looking mildly winded. "Leroy, you have visitors."

Leroy, seated behind his desk with a blade propped against the side, blinked. "Visitors?"

The bartender nodded. "Elijah and Taylor are here. With a guest. Should I send them up?"

Leroy's eyes darkened. "Elijah and Taylor? With a guest?" he parroted.

The tension in the room doubled.

"…Yeah," The employee said uncertainly. "Should I…?"

"Send them," Leroy said, then muttered something under his breath.

As the employee left, Alisa exhaled. "Elijah and Taylor? Haven't seen them in a while." She tilted her head, thoughtful. "Not since they joined the ESA."

"I know they had their reasons," Jamie muttered, "but still…"

The room returned to silence, heavy and electric with anticipation. Only the rain against the windows dared make sound.

The door opened again, and this time, Elijah entered first, tall and composed, though something in his stormy eyes betrayed exhaustion. Taylor followed, her movements tight, and her jaw clenched. And behind them stepped…

"Misha Alescio," Lleucu said flatly, rising to his feet. "Seriously?"

Blade's hands twitched toward weapons again. Even Zest stepped away from the window, his expression unreadable, his gaze landing sharply on Misha like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.

"ESA?" Leroy hissed. "You brought a damn ESA agent into my territory? Lucas Alescio's brother?!"

"I'll vouch for him," Elijah said immediately, raising a hand. His voice was firm but laced with urgency. "None of us are here as ESA agents. Not for this. We need a favour."

"Then start talking," Jamie said darkly.

Misha looked uncomfortable under so many eyes, but he stood tall, his face pale, and fists clenched at his sides.

Elijah took a breath, his eyes flickering toward Zest, then Wes. "Lucas went missing two weeks ago."

Zest straightened. Wes's brows furrowed. Alisa slowly sat back down.

Elijah continued. "Lucas came to me a while ago. Started asking questions. Questions about his father. About the reactions people have to the name 'Alescio'." He glanced down, guilty. "I gave him what I could. It wasn't enough."

"You should've told him the truth long ago," Wes said quietly. "He has the right to know what kind of monster raised him."

Taylor grimaced, whereas Misha flinched.

"…He went looking into it on his own when he wasn't satisfied with the information I got," Elijah continued. "And we think…" He hesitated, "We think he infiltrated Kald."

The room stilled.

"Kald?" Jamie said slowly. "As in…"

"The hunters' secondary base," Ethan finished grimly from the couch, sitting forward. "That's what my sources told me. There was some kind of disturbance there about two weeks ago. They didn't know what. Just that someone broke in."

Misha looked like someone had ripped the air from his lungs. "Kald?" he repeated, horrified. "He seriously went to Kald?" Misha looked ready to throttle Lucas.

"He didn't…tell anyone," Taylor murmured, her voice cracking faintly. "We only found out because Misha went through his room, and Lucas mentioned something of that sorts to Elijah before he disappeared."

"I told him not to," Elijah muttered. "I told him it was suicide. He went and did the one thing I begged him not to do?!"

"Kald," Misha said again, half to himself, looking like he was going to be sick. "That idiot. That absolute moron. He snuck into the base of the same monsters who… who…!" His voice broke, and he turned away sharply, his fists clenched.

"I can't confirm if it was him," Ethan said softly. "But if you want, I can go find out. If it was Lucas Alescio…"

Elijah nodded. "Please. We just want to know he's alive."

Jamie finally spoke, his eyes fixed on Misha. "Then for now, the three of you should go. You have duties back at the ESA. If your brother is in hunter hands, he's going to need help. But he's tough. He'll survive. You just need to hold the line until we know more."

Misha, visibly trembling, nodded. Taylor touched his arm gently. Elijah looked over the room, eyes lingering a moment on Wes, then nodded. "Do let us know," Taylor said quietly.

And then they were gone. The silence that followed was profound.

Ethan set down his tea with a shaky hand. "He really went to Kald," he murmured. "Lunatic."

Jamie leaned against the wall, his jaw tense. "He wants answers. He's chasing shadows."

"He might not come back," Alisa whispered. "We all heard the rumours about what the hunters are doing these days."

Wes, pale and quiet until now, finally spoke. "What are the chances the intruder was really Lucas Alescio?"

The room fell into thought.

Zest sighed deeply, walking back to the center of the room, his voice hard. "Knowing him? High. He's a storm held together by thread. I know we all agreed to ask Elijah to give Lucas Alescio the information about his father, but if I had his character pinned right, he will want to know more. He will want to know exactly what his father did as a hunter. And if he is one. He wouldn't just trust the information he gained from one source."

"And if he is indeed in the hands of the hunters? To be exact, in Nicolosi's hands?" Leroy prompted.

A long silence followed. Zest turned toward the rest, sighing. "We need to contact Sera. I got a bad feeling about this."

Alisa nodded. "This isn't just about Alescio anymore."

Leroy stared at the closed door, his voice low. "It never was."

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