“If people could kill without going to jail and, perhaps, without getting their own hands dirty, they often would. Human nature is like that.” ― Donna Goddard (Waldmeer)

  * * * *

  The wind whispered against the wooden beams of the cabin like a ghost of the past.

  Outside, the once-forgotten ruins of Zone 0 had long since been transformed into the living heartbeat of the underground—a village hidden beneath the ash-stained peaks and overgrown woods, lit by the quiet glow of firelight and the restless murmurs of those who’d fled a country now openly hunting their kind.

  But within this single, candlelit cabin, there was no warmth.

  Only tension. Only truth.

  The war room wasn’t grand. It was practical—like everything Rex and the people of Ashenridge built. Reinforced walls, a high vaulted ceiling supported by blackened timber, and in the center, a long oval table of polished wood whose surface bore scratches, marks, and burns from months of use.

  Around it now stood a crowd that hadn’t once existed under one roof before the fall of Eldario’s last remnants of order.

  Former ESA agents. The underground. The once-feared and now reclusive. Former mercenaries. Former enemies.

  A family fractured by war, circumstance, blood, and loss, yet now forcibly bound by the one thing left to them.

  Survival.

  The hum of the hologram projector in the center of the table cast a soft blue glow that flickered off everyone’s faces, elongating shadows and distorting the lines beneath their eyes.

  The images weren’t active yet, but the presence of that device alone was enough to have everyone silent, standing stiff with expectation.

  Lucas stood among them, upright but clearly still in discomfort—bandages wrapped around his midsection, and his left arm in a sling. The aftershocks of his earlier fight with Zest still etched along the bruises visible at the base of his jaw, where the light met skin.

  He hadn’t looked at Zest once since entering the room, and the unspoken tension between them clung like a second atmosphere, crackling just beneath the surface.

  Zest, for his part, stood with one hand in his pocket and his other lazily draped at his side, completely unconcerned. He leaned against the far wall, not even attempting to take a seat or circle the table with the others.

  His crimson eyes were half-lidded, watching the proceedings as if bored, though anyone who’d dealt with Zest long enough would know better—he was never idle. He simply bided his time like a coiled fuse, waiting for the exact moment to light it.

  Rex, tall and sharp-eyed, stood at the head of the table. His caramel hair was messily tied back, and his coat bore fresh dust and scuff marks from patrol. He didn’t command attention with theatrics or raised voice—he never had to. Even without being a Gifted, Rex had always carried the weight of quiet authority, the kind of person whose presence was a scar that never quite healed.

  Mara stood at his side, her arms crossed. Her dark eyes scanned the room, always alert. Even in a room filled with powerful Gifted, it was her silence that spoke loudest, her stillness like that of a blade waiting to be drawn. The communication device at her belt flashed once, and she pressed a button to silence it.

  “Let’s get started,” Rex finally said, his voice rough with weariness but firm. “Sera?”

  Sera stepped forward from the other side of the table, her eyes casting a sharp glint beneath the fringe that brushed her cheeks. She looked paler than usual. Her eyes burned with a kind of quiet fury.

  She didn’t speak right away. She simply stood there, her fingers lightly brushing the edge of the table, gaze sweeping over the faces in the room.

  Raul and Laura stood on either side of her, as always. Raul’s golden eyes scanned the room with a deep wariness, as if ready for violence at the drop of a pin. Laura’s arms were crossed over her chest, her posture stiff and silent.

  Kailey and Neil flanked the back corner, their pearl-white eyes dim with something unspoken.

  “I asked Lucie and Tatius to check out the situation,” Sera finally said, her voice cutting through the silence with clarity. “Lucie is now resting, I believe.”

  She didn’t need to elaborate. The bruises on Lucie’s body upon their return had spoken for her hours ago.

  Tatius gave a brief nod, his messy dark red hair brushing his cheek as he tilted his head toward Misha.

  “Yeah,” Misha added, stepping forward, his arms loosely folded. He looked older than he had just a week ago. The loss of the ESA, the betrayal, and the deaths… They had stripped away any remnants of youth from his features. “Remi and Coleen went with them when they went to check out the situation.”

  Lucas blinked. For a moment, the haze in his mind cleared as he turned toward Misha. “Wait… Remi and Coleen?” he said. “I haven’t seen either of them since yesterday. At least until now.” He added, looking at Coleen who smiled faintly, and Remi shrugged.

  “You won’t,” Tatius said, fishing into the inner pocket of his black coat and pulling out a small data card. His usual laid-back confidence was absent, replaced by something rawer. A grimness rarely seen on his face. “This is what we got. It’s not pretty.” He warned.

  He handed the data card to Raul, who quietly nodded and inserted it into his portable computer. With several rapid taps, the projector hummed louder, and the hologram screens burst to life.

  Images. Grainy, half-captured footage. Towns lit by the sterile glow of surveillance drones. Hunters, fully geared, armour-clad, and visors down, marching through the streets in rows.

  Streets that should have belonged to civilians. Shops closed. Schools shut down. Armed checkpoints and public hangings of those accused of harbouring Gifted.

  Kailey took a step forward, her breath hitching. “Is that…?”

  “Yes,” Remi’s voice came, low and worn. He scratched at his messy brown hair, only making it look wilder. “That’s Blackpool. And that one’s Kald. We didn’t get into the capital. It’s locked down tight, but honestly… We didn’t need to. We got enough from just talking to people along the outskirts. Word spreads fast. They’re already starting drafts.”

  Kailey’s face hardened. “Drafts? As in…drafting soldiers? To fight us?”

  “They're calling it a ‘Protective Mobilisation Order’,” Coleen said quietly, stepping into view. She no longer wore the purple dress she favoured, but a far more practical outfit of black trousers and a grey blouse. Her pale hair was tied back, and her eyes had lost that glint of amusement they so often held. “But make no mistake. They’re drafting civilians. Forcibly. Anyone who refuses is labelled a sympathiser. Or worse.”

  “They’re not even hiding it,” Raul said darkly, gesturing to one screen where a newscaster parroted Nicolosi’s rhetoric in front of a banner bearing the hunters’ symbol. “Martial law has given them free rein. All of it is being done under the guise of protecting ‘humanity’ from ‘Gifted aggression’.”

  Zest’s lips curled with cold amusement, but his voice was flat. “I expected this the moment Nicolosi declared martial law. By Eldario law, any citizen in Eldario can’t refuse the drafting order once martial law is declared.”

  Sera nodded, her expression unreadable. “With the ESA gone and the Council wiped out, the hunters are the only governing body left. No checks. No oversight. No laws to stop them.”

  “And the people?” Leonid asked, his voice low. “What about the people?”

  “They believe it,” Louis muttered from the far end of the room, the glow from the holographic screens casting a dull blue over his pale face. “They believe everything Nicolosi feeds them. After all, Gifted were always the enemy. It didn’t take much convincing.”

  “It’s like they were waiting for this,” Allen said bitterly, his arms folded tight. “Like they were just looking for an excuse.”

  “The hunters don't see us as human,” Taylor said, her voice a blade barely sheathed. “To them, we’re weapons. Monsters. Vermin to be put down. It doesn’t matter if you’re a child, or if you’ve never hurt a soul in your life. They see one flicker of power and that’s it.”

  Lucas’s fists clenched at his sides. “They’re the ones who murdered the ESA… And the Council… Even the director…” His voice broke, but he forced himself to continue. “And now, they’re painting us as the villains?”

  “Yes, Lucas,” Sera said quietly, her eyes meeting his with surprising gentleness, even as the entire room tensed, with more than one pair of eyes going towards Zest who only looked faintly annoyed, but was more than content to ignore Lucas or treat him as part of the wall, much to Rex’s bemusement. “We all know that. But the problem isn’t what we know. It’s what the rest of Eldario believes.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The tension in the room coiled like a spring. No one spoke for a moment. Even the projector’s hum felt like a siren in the stillness.

  Rex exhaled slowly, his eyes scanning the screens. “The Normals in Eldario outnumber the Gifted ten to one,” he said, his voice grim. “The Gifted are a minority. Always have been. If this escalates into a full civil war between Normals and Gifted, and their supporters, we’re looking at a slaughter. Even with the Abyss on our side, we don’t have the numbers. We’ll be overwhelmed in a war of attrition, especially if the hunters are boosting their ranks with this draft.”

  “And let’s not forget how effective propaganda is,” Louis muttered. “Nicolosi doesn’t need to raise an army. The people are already handing him one.” He exhaled. “Ever since they blew up ESA HQ and even the Council building, they kept reminding the people how it was “those abominations” that did the deed, and are “their enemies”. And to be honest, even without it, people just swallow whatever the hunters told them. Before this entire madness begun, Gifted have already been seen as the enemy by literally half the nation. It’s not a hard thing to make them believe the hunters’ lies. I doubt Nicolosi even had to try very hard.”

  “They’re afraid,” Mara said flatly. “And fear makes people do unspeakable things. They’ve turned on their neighbours, their friends… Even their own children.”

  Taylor gritted her teeth. “I’ll bet Parliament regretted giving the hunters that much power, right before their throats were slit. But whatever the case, we can’t ignore this. Even if we have to leave the country of our birth to save ourselves, we at least owe it to our nation to clean up this damn mess.”

  “That’s why we can’t retaliate directly,” Sera said, her tone steely and final. “A frontal assault is suicide. We do what we’ve always done. What the underground does best.”

  Leonid arched a brow. “Which is?”

  “Elijah?” Sera glanced his way.

  The red-haired tactician lowered his hood. His dark blue eyes gleamed with something sharp and cold. Calculating. “Espionage. Sabotage. An information war. We plant rumours. Mix truths with lies. Cast doubt. Spread paranoia. Make them question each other. Every false whisper could be a blade at their throat.”

  “But we need more than that,” Allen added, his voice edged with frustration. “We need intel. If we want to bring them down, we need to know their next move. Their supply lines. Their weaknesses. But Kald and Blackpool are more fortified than ever. We’d be walking to our graves.”

  The room fell silent again. No one could argue.

  Because every word was true.

  Sera was silent for a long time, her small frame cloaked in shadows, her face unreadable.

  The silence wasn’t heavy. It was oppressive. It carried the weight of everything left unsaid.

  Of broken chains and smouldering buildings.

  Of a war that had begun long before any of them had been ready.

  Then her voice broke through.

  “Raul.”

  The man in question, lounging lazily in his seat, perked up immediately. “Yo?” he drawled with mock innocence, but the room caught the subtle twitch in his golden eyes. “And why do I not like the look on your face right now?”

  A few weak chuckles stirred the air. Laura snorted quietly behind her hand, and even Taylor allowed a small exhale of amusement.

  The tension, if only for a heartbeat, eased.

  Sera’s lips quirked slightly. “Can you hack into the hunters’ mainframe?” Her voice was casual and almost nonchalant, but it was the kind of question that didn’t allow room for jokes.

  That drew an immediate reaction.

  Raul’s arms dropped from behind his head, and his expression shifted from cocky ease to visible alarm. “Wait, wait, wait. You mean their internal systems? Like the black heart of their network? Straight into the belly of the beast?” His voice sharpened, and the amusement bled out of his tone. “Sera, I mentioned this before. Hacking their mainframe is suicide.”

  He leaned forward, his brows furrowed. “Their encryption layers are military grade—some of it retrofitted with tech scraped from the old war satellites. There’s no backdoor. If I try a direct forced entry, they’ll see us. It’s not a maybe. They will know someone tried to break through. And if they trace the signal back…”

  “They’ll raze Ashenridge to the ground,” Mara finished coldly, her dark eyes narrowing.

  Raul nodded grimly. “Exactly. We’ve seen what they did to the ESA headquarters. And the Council. They don’t even wait for trials anymore. The moment they know where we are… It’s execution. Not capture. Not containment. Execution.”

  A grim silence followed. Eyes darted across the table. Some, like Misha and Lucas, remained unreadable, though their jaws were tight. Others like Allen, Jonan, and Kailey visibly paled.

  The thought of Ashenridge being found—the final safe haven for the hunted and the forsaken, was more terrifying than anything else. This was all they had left, apart from Zalfari and the Abyss.

  And yet…

  “We probably could access the hunters’ files without that method,” Sera said suddenly.

  All eyes swivelled to her.

  Sera pulled a small, black phone from her coat pocket, placing it gently on the wooden table with a faint click. The soft light above them reflected off its smooth surface. It was unremarkable at first glance—like any standard burner phone one might buy in a side alley in Zalfari. But the weight behind it, the deliberate care with which she set it down… It shifted the air in the room.

  “Before she died,” Sera said quietly, “my aunt sent me something.”

  A beat of silence. Then…

  “Your aunt?” Misha echoed, frowning. “You never mentioned you had family left.”

  Sera hesitated. Her fingers curled slightly on the edge of the table, her knuckles pale. For a second, the mask slipped, and they all saw the rawness just beneath the surface. Then she exhaled.

  “At this point,” she murmured, “there’s no hiding it any longer.” Sera’s voice hardened just slightly as she continued. “Tiara Suzanne Michabelle Kroix. The former Director of the ESA. My father’s sister. My paternal aunt.”

  The room erupted in stunned silence. Even the hum of the projector seemed to stall in disbelief.

  Several people visibly stiffened. Kailey blinked rapidly, her lips parting but no words forming. Jonan’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline. Misha looked floored, his dark eyes locked on her as if trying to find the resemblance. Even Laura’s hand dropped from her face in open shock.

  “Wait. What?” Neil spluttered, rounding toward Zest, Elijah, and Rex who didn’t look surprised. “You three knew this?!”

  “Yeah,” Rex said without missing a beat, shrugging one shoulder. “Tiara was part of the team that rescued us during the operation to shut down Project Nonary. She helped get us out. Even asked Karl to take us somewhere safe.”

  “I heard about it from Sera after Taylor and I joined the ESA,” Elijah added, his voice calm but laced with old weariness. Taylor gave a small nod beside him.

  “I did some digging.” Zest’s voice was low. He didn’t elaborate, and no one asked.

  The revelation was like a boulder dropped into still water.

  Of all the people to be connected to the late director—the woman who had tried to walk the tightrope between Gifted rights and political compromise, who’d worn masks within masks to keep herself and those around her from being slaughtered, Sera had never once revealed the link.

  Not during her days in Blade. Not during the formation of Aegis. Not even in the weeks leading up to the destruction of the world they once knew.

  No one knew what to say.

  Sera ignored them all. She slid the burner phone across the table toward Raul, the device stopping just shy of his fingers.

  “This was how we communicated,” she said softly. “She didn’t trust standard encrypted lines. This was her personal method of contact. Moments before she died, she sent me files—highly encrypted ones.”

  Raul’s hand hovered over the device.

  “I didn’t dare open them,” Sera continued. “Knowing my aunt, she likely set a failsafe. If I attempt to open the files and fail…” She didn’t need to finish. Everyone could guess what would happen.

  Gone. All of it. Another dead end.

  “I haven’t had the chance to ask you for help. Not with everything happening. But maybe what she sent us can help. If I know her, she’s been compiling information on the hunters for years. Probably even has information on their current plans.”

  Raul was quiet for a long moment. Then he slowly picked up the phone and exhaled, long and low. “…Alright,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do. But I’m going to need help.” He turned to Elijah, who already nodded.

  “I’ll help,” Elijah said without hesitation, his crimson hair shadowing one sharp eye.

  “I can help too,” Louis added from beside Misha. “I’m not on Raul’s level, but I’m still better than most.”

  “You’re also less of a pain in the ass,” Coleen muttered under her breath, her arms crossed.

  Raul grinned faintly. “Hey. Don’t be jealous just because I’m the charming one.”

  “No one said that,” Neil deadpanned.

  The faint laughter that followed was tired, frayed at the edges, but human.

  The holographic screens shimmered once more before dimming as Rex leaned forward and placed both palms against the wood. His caramel hair fell slightly into his eyes, the overhead lanterns catching the flecks of steel buried in his dark gaze.

  “While you three are at it, we gather more information on what’s going on in Eldario now,” he said, his voice low and clipped, dragging everyone’s attention back into the present. “I still have contacts out there. Not many, but enough. Some haven’t gone black yet.”

  Rex unfolded a physical, full-length map over the table beneath the hologram, grounding the conversation in tangible reality. He jabbed a finger near the eastern edge of the capital. “Two of them are in East Teros. Last transmission mentioned patrol increases and night raids. People are vanishing, entire blocks being dragged out by force.”

  “Same in coastal Elandir,” murmured Raul, his golden eyes narrowed as he traced a darkened quadrant on the map with a gloved finger. “Hunters have taken over the docks. They’re not even trying to be subtle about it anymore. We intercepted a convoy filled with Gifted corpses—stacked like fucking crates. They’re purging. Systematically.”

  Silence fell like a curtain, broken only by the sharp intake of someone’s breath. Taylor turned away slightly, her arms folded, her jaw clenched. Jonan looked down, fidgeting with the clasp on one of his belt pouches.

  Sera, standing near the projection’s edge, stepped closer now, her arms at her sides, her posture firm despite the weight that had not left her since the reveal of her bloodline earlier. The flicker of blue light danced across her face.

  “I can reach out to someone, too,” she said. “If they haven’t shut down the entertainment district in Zhane City, or what’s left of the old net routes through Kald and Blackpool.”

  Mara blinked beside her, crossing her arms. “You mean the pleasure district?”

  Sera nodded. “Yeah. Men’s tongues are looser in the throes of passion. Trust me, most informants have either bartenders or whores in their pocket. It’s where they get their info. And the hunters?” Her lip curled slightly. “They’re frequent customers.”

  A hushed, almost instinctive reaction moved through the room like a chill breeze. Some shifted uncomfortably, and others stilled. Everyone had their own understanding of what that meant. But no one dared interrupt.

  Lucas exhaled, then stepped forward, his voice careful. “You think that’ll work? Shouldn’t we be gathering the information ourselves instead? And how do you know all that?”

  It wasn’t accusatory, not quite, but the air shifted all the same.

  The silence was deafening.

  Sera pinched the bridge of her nose and released a slow, strained breath, as if she were physically restraining herself from snapping. When she finally spoke, her voice was laced with exhaustion—cold, sharp, and bitterly grounded in truth.

  “I’m going to make this as simple as possible for you,” she said. “Do you honestly think I hadn’t fucked for money? That any of us here haven’t?”

  That silence shattered.

  Her words hit like a blow, sudden and unapologetic, and still, no one interrupted.

  Sera’s voice didn’t waver. “Life on the streets isn’t kind, Lucas. Especially not to kids. We did what we had to do to survive. Zest isn’t my first. The first time I slept with someone, I was a damn brat. There are people out there with a taste for children. I know what it’s like to be looked at like meat before I even had breasts. I’ve had those eyes on me since I was a child, and I promise you, I’m not the only one.”

  Zest didn’t speak, but his jaw tightened, and something raw passed through his eyes. Raul looked away. Letha’s mouth formed a grim line. Even Neil and Kailey, composed as they often were, bore the shadow of familiarity in their stillness.

  “Those of us who’ve lived on the streets—we know what it’s like to be starving, desperate, and forgotten,” Sera continued. “And if you’re desperate enough, you’ll do anything. We all did. And I’d bet anything that Zest did too, even when he was with the hunters.”

  Zest’s voice was low and rough. “I did.”

  Sera didn’t look at him, but her voice softened just slightly, enough to feel the invisible fracture in her armour. “So, believe me when I say, if there’s anyone out there who has access to what isn’t public knowledge, it’s the sex workers. Or the bartenders. The ones men don’t notice because they’re too busy spilling every sin from their mouth like it’s a goddamn confession booth.”

  Leonid blinked slowly, visibly shaken by the confession. He glanced at Elijah, his teammate, his closest ally outside Lucas. “You knew about this?” he asked quietly.

  Elijah didn’t look back. He only nodded, then lowered his gaze.

  “Why didn’t we know about this?” Leonid asked, almost quietly, like he’s afraid to know the answer.

  “It’s the stigma,” Rex said grimly, his voice tired. “There’s still this idea that sex workers are dirty or low class. In a way, they aren’t wrong. People don’t do this unless they’re really desperate, and has nothing left to lose or sell but their bodies. But it’s desperation, not dirt. That’s what people miss. They do it because they have no other choice. I did, too, before I made a name for myself. Before I got strong enough to stop.”

  He cast a glance around the room, and for a moment, he looked almost older. “No one wants to fuck for food. But sometimes, you either do it or starve. I’m not proud of what I did, but I’m not wholly ashamed of it either. The underground, the Abyss—we know what sells. And sex always sells. People talk when they’re vulnerable. Informants use that.”

  Allen’s lips were pressed into a flat line, his arms tightly folded. Beside him, Jonan looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Misha’s brows were furrowed, a vein of discomfort flickering in his eyes.

  “I didn’t realise how widespread it was,” Louis said softly, unusually subdued. “We dealt in code. Encryption. Intel. But never… Never this.”

  “It’s a war,” Mara said quietly. “It’s always been a war. The only difference is now it’s no longer in the shadows.”

  “And now we’re the enemy,” Kailey added, her voice calm but iron-edged. “Not just the Gifted. Anyone who helps us.”

  “Anyone who breathes wrong,” Raul muttered. “They don’t even see the Gifted as human anymore. Nicolosi and his inner circle… They see us as defects. Abominations. Even the non-Gifted who help us? They’re traitors. Filth.”

  “Eldario’s a tinderbox,” Rex growled, running a hand through his hair. “The Council’s gone. The ESA’s been slaughtered. The people are being fed lies by the hunters, by media plants, by bought-out stations. And even the ones who want to believe the truth don’t know where to look.”

  Zest exhaled sharply. “And Nicolosi wants it that way. The man’s a butcher. Always has been. Only now, he has the public behind him, and the blood of half a government on his hands to prove it.”

  “They’re branding the Gifted as monsters,” Sera said, “and branding anyone who helps us as collaborators. You think the witch hunts were bad before? They’ve just begun.”

  The map shimmered, the red zones bleeding outward.

  “We adjourn on this,” Sera finally said, looking to the three she trusted most for the task. “Raul, Louis, Elijah. We’re counting on you to finish decrypting the files. Everything we’ve seen, everything we’ve heard—it needs to be preserved, broadcast, and leaked. The truth needs to spread.”

  The three nodded solemnly.

  “Well,” Coleen murmured at last, brushing a pale strand of hair behind her ear, her expression wry despite the tension in the room. “At least now we have a plan.”

  “We’ve had pieces of one before,” Misha muttered.

  “But now,” Raul finished, “we light the fire properly.”

  Everyone in the room, once strangers or enemies, stood unified in silence, eyes fixed on the glowing map of a nation unraveling.

  The time for survival had ended.

  The time for war had begun.