ã€ŠLanternã€‹


 Prologue

    <h2></a>Prologue</h2>

    Alexandre drew in a ragged breath, the searing, smoky air wrapping around him like a shroud. Below him, the city of Sesia¡ªonce a jewel of the continent of Etora¡ªnow lay in a smoldering ruin, a haunting echo of its former glory. Flames flickered in the shadows, casting eerie silhouettes against the backdrop of devastation, all of it caused by the colossal daemon that prowled toward the city''s heart like a dark storm threatening to swallow everything in its path.

    With each deliberate step, he moved through the charred remnants of what had once been vibrant buildings, now mere husks of their former selves. The streets were a graveyard of memories, and he embraced the silence, hoping to remain unnoticed by the monstrous figure looming above. They had yet to discover the full extent of this daemon¡¯s powers, and he couldn''t risk drawing its attention.

    His heart raced as he navigated the maze of destruction, his mind racing with thoughts of escape. In his current condition, a direct confrontation was unthinkable; he was merely a flickering candle in the presence of a raging inferno. The humans, in their panic, were no allies against such an unimaginable threat. As he slipped deeper into the shadows, Alexandre felt the weight of the city¡¯s fate on his shoulders, a chilling reminder that hope was as fragile as the ashes swirling around him.

    He tried to stay alert, but his thoughts drifted back to his last visit to Sesia, when the soft breeze carried the mouthwatering aromas of simmering delicacies and the rich scent of oil paint from nearby galleries. The Sesian people were infamously proud¡ªoften to a fault¡ªbut their fervor for their food, art, and women was undeniably justified. Those nights, sleepless yet vibrant, were spent indulging in the city¡¯s many vices, each more tempting than the last.

    One memory rose to the forefront, sharp and bittersweet¡ªa radiant young woman named Becca. Her laughter had echoed through the streets, a melody woven into the fabric of the city, and as he recalled her, a twisted grimace formed on his lips, a snarl that feline specialists might have whimsically termed a smile. She had been a beacon in the chaos, and now, in the shadow of destruction, the warmth of that memory felt like a ghost haunting him, a reminder of all that had been lost amid the ruins.

    As memories of Becca and her cozy studio flickered through his mind, a sudden movement in his peripheral vision jolted him back to reality. Instinctively, he dove behind the crumbling wreckage of a building, his heart pounding. He had heard tales of larger daemons creating smaller clones as spies¡ªrarely, but not unheard of. It was the squad¡¯s job to find these things out before he got here. ¡°Stupid humans,¡± he fumed inwardly, ¡°they can¡¯t even handle something this simple.¡±

    Peering cautiously around the debris, he felt a rush of embarrassment as he realized the source of the shadow: a large mirror, partially intact, reflecting his formidable form from within a less-damaged shop. But something darker caught his eye¡ªa trail of blood snaking from outside, leading deeper into the shadows of the store.

    Curiosity piqued, he stepped closer and noticed the spilled hair products scattered across the floor, a telltale sign of a beauty salon. The faint scent of floral shampoo mixed with the metallic tang of blood filled the air. It seemed the owner hadn¡¯t abandoned ship; a half-melted torso peeked out from behind a chair, a name tag reading ¡°Hi, I¡¯m John¡± affixed to a pin that proclaimed him the owner and manager. No sign remained of whatever sinister force had dragged him inside.

    He quickly averted his gaze from the gruesome sight, a chill running down his spine as he noted the potential acidic nature of the daemon¡¯s abilities. Instead, he focused on his reflection in the shattered mirror. He relished his current form: those piercing yellow cat eyes, a body twice the size of any normal jaguar, and dagger-like teeth that gleamed menacingly. Four twenty-inch horns spiraled from his head, two at the front and two at the back, making him a terrifying sight to behold.

    Turning away from the mirror, he began to stalk toward the source of danger, relieved that Liam wasn¡¯t there to witness his earlier fright. The memory would haunt him; he had once fought daemons the size of cities with ease, yet now he found himself jumpy, terrified of his own shadow. ¡°This is all her fault,¡± he growled through clenched teeth, frustration surging within him. If only she hadn¡¯t gone missing, he wouldn¡¯t be caught in this perilous situation, filled with uncertainty and dread.

    As he inched closer, Alexandre concentrated on estimating the daemon''s boundary. Liam¡¯s team had predicted it to encompass the entire city, and he reluctantly agreed. While it provided ample cover for him to hide, it also meant the search for the seed would be more complicated. At least Liam had ordered the evacuation of the residents¡ªa small mercy amid the chaos.

    In missions like this, he preferred his jaguar form, relying on his acute senses to track down the seed. However, the thought of being spotted by humans was a considerable annoyance. Even worse would be the sight of him shifting forms. The last time a human witnessed his transformation, it sparked the birth of a new religion, with him revered as a deity. In the small tribes of Ewor, they still worshipped Panthera, the god of the wild. Those had been the days¡ªfeasts overflowing with food, adoration from women, and the luxury of idleness.

    But experience had taught him that revealing his true nature to humans often led to disaster. Throughout the centuries, he had shifted forms in their presence only to be hunted down, accused of witchcraft, and chased from villages. Their erratic behaviour was a constant source of frustration, driven by a logic he could never quite grasp. A groan of annoyance escaped his lips as the device around his neck began vibrating again, cutting through his thoughts. Among all the bothersome humans, this one was the most insufferable.

    ¡°Black Cat, this is the command center. Over.¡± The voice crackled through the walkie-talkie strapped around his neck, irritation gnawing at him. A silver chain holding a dull emerald ring rattled with his every move, a constant reminder of his predicament. He despised the damned device¡ªnot only did it restrict his movement and choke his breathing, but it also forced him to endure Liam¡¯s annoying voice as if he didn¡¯t hear it enough in the course of a day.

    He shot a glance at the daemon, heart racing as he assessed whether it had noticed the sound. To his relief, the creature appeared oblivious, its grotesque back turned toward him. Ignoring Liam¡¯s incessant calls, he broke into a run¡ªhe wasn''t foolish enough to try contacting him twice in quick succession. The city center loomed ahead, and he could see the daemon more clearly now.

    The creature was far more hideous than he had anticipated, covered in slippery boils that oozed a green liquid, capable of melting anything it touched. His initial fears had been confirmed; it possessed acidic abilities. He noticed that it had no arms or legs; instead, it undulated across the ground on thousands of centipede-like appendages. This was a small relief¡ªthe more a daemon resembled a human, the smarter and stronger it tended to be, making it far more dangerous to confront.

    ¡°Don¡¯t make me come over there, Lexy!¡± Liam''s voice boomed louder, slicing through the tension. Alexandre halted mid-stride, seeking refuge behind a half-collapsed building, a low growl escaping his throat. The sound built within him, a primal rumble as his body began to shift. His powerful paw morphed into human limbs, his tail shrank into his spine, and the dark fur that cloaked him receded, revealing intricate tattoos etched into the skin on his left side.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Under the flickering light of the nearby flames, the complex lines and nested circles of the tattoo seemed to come alive, dancing and twisting as if they were responding to an unseen rhythm. As his growling transformed into a stream of curses, his throat morphed into that of a human, the bitterness of the situation settling like ash in his mouth.

    ¡°Shut the fuck up! Do you want me to get caught?!¡± Alexandre hissed, surveying the daemon with heightened caution. The creature remained blissfully unaware, its grotesque form still far enough away to pose no immediate threat. He let out a relieved sigh.

    ¡°And I told you my name is ALEXANDRE¡ªnot Lexy, not Lex, and definitely not any stupid nickname you can think of, little Lili!¡± His voice dripped with irritation.

    ¡°Stop calling me that!¡± Liam shot back, anger creeping into his tone.

    ¡°You started it! What do you want?¡± Alexandre snapped, frustration boiling over as he tugged at the radio. He briefly considered tossing the damned device into one of the smoldering wrecks surrounding him. ¡°I should¡¯ve never agreed to wear this abomination. I¡¯m tired of listening to your stupid voice.¡±

    ¡°Do you think I enjoy talking to you?¡± Liam replied, a smug smile evident in his tone. He had made a point of choosing the most uncomfortable comm device for this mission.

    ¡°Spit it out already! You know I¡¯m busy trying not to get detected by this huge-ass centipede.¡± Alexandre glanced back at the daemon, which had inched closer to the city¡¯s center.

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m calling you. Our people found the location of the seed,¡± Liam announced with a note of pride. For once, it seemed that other squads had actually managed to do something helpful against the daemon.

    ¡°People? I thought everyone had evacuated.¡± Alexandre groaned as he continued to shift back into his human form, the urgency of the situation weighing heavily on him.

    The band holding the radio around his neck constricted once more, fitting snugly against his muscular frame. ¡°They could¡¯ve made it a little larger, but no¡ªthis thing has to throttle me to death¡±, he fumed internally. Though he moved slower in human form, it was a fair trade-off for avoiding the scrutiny of onlookers witnessing his transformation.

    With a sigh, he withdrew the dull emerald ring from the chain and slid it onto his finger. For a fleeting moment, the green stone shimmered with a vibrant glow, radiating a brilliant hue that illuminated his surroundings. But just as quickly, it faded back to its usual dullness, leaving him momentarily disappointed. He tucked the chain back around his neck, the weight of the emerald a reminder of the burdens he carried¡ªnot just of the mission at hand but of the memories that haunted him as well.

    ¡°They did. They found the seed by accident,¡± Liam said, his voice brimming with pride. In situations like this, the most his team could typically do was evacuate civilians and keep watch over the boundaries, waiting for nature to run its course or for Alexandre and his squad to arrive. But today, they were actively engaged in the fight against the daemon.

    ¡°Ah, you humans and your luck! What would you do without it?¡± Alexandre shot back, his tone laced with mockery. Teasing Liam had become one of the few pleasures left to him in these dark times.

    ¡°By the looks of things, you¡¯ll find out soon enough,¡± Liam replied, a wince crossing his features at the words he''d just spoken. He knew the remark hit a nerve; it was a sensitive topic. As he had feared, silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

    Liam¡¯s mind wandered to tales told by his grandfather about Alexandre¡ªa formidable warrior once capable of battling titanic daemons with bolts of lightning that illuminated the sky. But the recent decline in daemon activity had taken its toll on him. If his search continued to yield no results, as many suggested, he risked becoming as powerless as an ordinary human. The thought hung in the air, a reminder of the precarious balance between strength and vulnerability that haunted them both.

    ¡°Where is it?¡± Alexandre asked stiffly, forcing himself to overlook the sting of Liam''s earlier remark and the sinking feeling it had left in his chest.

    ¡°What?¡± Liam replied, taken aback by Alexandre¡¯s brusque demeanor.

    ¡°The seed, you moron!¡± Alexandre snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, but he pushed the embarrassment aside.

    Liam decided to let the insult slide, relieved that Alexandre didn¡¯t seem as deeply affected by his comment as he had been in the past. Fourteen years ago, a similar quip had sent Alexandre spiraling into a dark place, isolating himself for weeks in his room, refusing to answer calls or attend missions. That memory lingered uncomfortably in the back of Liam¡¯s mind, a reminder of how delicate their friendship could be.

    ¡°Ah, yes. The seed was sighted on the roof of a restaurant called Beehive,¡± Liam continued, quickly flipping through the report he had been holding. He scanned the jumbled notes written by frightened soldiers, trying to extract useful information from their chaotic accounts. ¡°It¡¯s next to the Sennethon Tower, the tall one on the west side. You can¡¯t miss it¡ªit¡¯s painted yellow and black like a bee, with hexagonal windows.¡±

    As he spoke, a sense of urgency washed over him. It was remarkable that the soldiers had managed to stay calm enough to notice the seed amidst the chaos, given that most had never faced a daemon before. Their fear had to be palpable, yet here they were, offering invaluable intelligence.

    ¡°What kinda weird building is that?!¡± Alexandre asked, his curiosity piqued by Liam¡¯s description.

    ¡°Well, honeycombs are hexagons, so¡­¡± Liam replied, flashing a casual smile, not fully registering the magnitude of Alexandre''s question. He always found it amusing how Alexandre could fixate on details that most people overlooked.

    ¡°I meant the whole building! What do they sell, honey?¡± Alexandre pressed, baffled. His tone was laced with disbelief, as if the very existence of such a place defied logic.

    ¡°Apparently, it¡¯s a pizzeria,¡± Liam replied, struggling to stifle his laughter. The image of Alexandre¡¯s confusion was amusing to him. He could almost picture the scowl on his friend¡¯s face, more furious than puzzled, just a few miles away.

    Alexandre paused, contemplating whether to argue further about the absurdity of a pizzeria housed in a honeycomb-inspired building. He could almost hear Liam''s laughter echoing in his mind. But with a deep sigh, he chose to let it go; there was no point in getting worked up over trivialities, especially when time was of the essence.

    ¡°Alright, a pizzeria it is,¡± he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope it¡¯s not crawling with those damn centipede appendages when we get there.¡±

    He scanned the horizon for the tower Liam had mentioned. To his relief, the structure still stood tall, as if making a valiant last stand against the approaching monster on behalf of the town. ¡°I need to find her soon,¡± he thought, a surge of anxiety gripping him. He quickly stretched his limbs, mentally preparing for the sprint ahead.

    ¡°And Alexandre?¡± Liam¡¯s sudden call made him swear under his breath, halting him mid-sprint.

    ¡°What is it now?¡± he snapped, frustration bubbling over as he yanked on the band around his neck one more time.

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget to put on some clothes,¡± Liam said, laughter bubbling in his voice. Alexandre glanced down at his bare body, realization hitting him like a cold wave. Between the rising anxiety and the looming threat of the daemon, he had become a bit of a scatterbrain. Embarrassed for overlooking something so basic, he touched the dull emerald ring on his finger, focusing on the clothes he had stashed inside.

    In an instant, a simple black T-shirt, army trousers, and a sleek black katana materialized at his feet. After hastily dressing and fastening the katana to his back, he ripped the radio off his neck, tossing it into one of the burning buildings. The satisfying crackle of the fire consumed it, and with that, he launched himself toward the tower.

    This was all her fault. If she hadn¡¯t gone missing for so long, he wouldn¡¯t be in this mess. All he needed was to find her, to make her break this stupid pledge of his. Then he could retire to one of the warm, inviting islands southwest of Vatia, spending his remaining days basking in the sun, enjoying the beach life like those retirees on television.

    But first things first¡ªit was hunt time, and he was starving.

 Chapter 1

    <h2></a>Chapter 1</h2>

    In the heart of Pendle, just a stone¡¯s throw from the venerable Church of Saint Lucien, stood the Children of Lux orphanage¡ªan aging sentinel of history. This four-story Victorian mansion, a grand relic from nearly a century past, was originally crafted by the ambitious Sir Geoffrey Davis. Hidden within the embrace of the woods to the east of Pendle, it was conceived as a serene escape for weary souls seeking refuge from the clatter of city life.

    Alas, the mansion¡¯s dreams of tranquility were short-lived. After a mere decade of operation, it succumbed to the crushing weight of financial mismanagement, plunging the Davis household into a chasm of debt. The once-cherished retreat was seized as collateral, a bitter reminder of dreams dashed against the rocks of reality. Over the next forty years, the mansion passed through a series of owners, each hoping to restore it to its former glory, but the ravages of time proved relentless.

    Then came the fateful day when the Church of Lux claimed the property in a spirited auction, envisioning a new purpose for the decaying structure. By that time, the mansion was a shadow of its former self, its grandeur eclipsed by peeling paint and crumbling walls, requiring a Herculean effort to breathe life back into its haunted halls. One could almost hear Sir Geoffrey¡¯s ghostly gasp at the sight of his beloved resort in such disarray, had he not departed this world in the comforting embrace of his own bed¡ªsurrounded by the very loved ones who cursed him in hushed tones for squandering their fortunes.

    Once a majestic refuge with twenty-five elegantly adorned bedrooms, five inviting living rooms, and three grand dining rooms, the mansion had now turned into a bittersweet memory. Time had worn its beauty thin, leaving behind just ten weary bedrooms, a single forsaken living room, and one dingy dining room still standing. The rest had succumbed to decay, too damaged to be safely occupied. In a bid to preserve what remained, the church opted for minor repairs in the east wing, sealing off the rest of the building to protect its vulnerable residents.

    The surviving sections, though diminished, still held enough space to shelter around fifty children, yet rarely did more than twenty call this place home at any given time. Tonight, around ten children were nestled within its walls, their laughter and chatter filling the air, the warm light spilling from the dining room illuminating their evening supper. Yet one child was absent from the gathering.

    If you cast your gaze towards the upper reaches of the east wing, a faint glow flickered from the furthest room¡ªa soft, solitary beacon against the encroaching darkness. There, under a thin, threadbare blanket, a young boy wept silently, his heartache echoing in the stillness of the old mansion. At that moment, the world outside felt distant, and his cries merged with the shadows, a poignant reminder of the sorrow that lingered beneath the surface of this once-vibrant home.

    Nyla stopped at the closed door and listened. She could hear a small sobbing coming from inside. The sobbing stopped for a moment when she opened the door and then continued. The room was covered in a blanket of darkness. From the sliver of light coming from the hallway, she could see two single beds. The one on the left was neatly made, waiting for its owner, while the one on the right was already in use. The occupant was no one except Billy who was sent to bed without supper. She walked to the bed, placed the tray she was holding on the nightstand and turned on the lamp. The room was filled with warm yellow light pushing the darkness to the corners of the room and displaying an old tan wallpaper with tiny cowboy hats on it. She walked back to the door and closed it then returned to Billy¡¯s bedside. She gently patted the bundle hiding under the blanket.

    ¡°Billy, are you still crying?¡± she asked softly, her voice a gentle whisper in the stillness.

    ¡°G... Go aw...way!¡± he sobbed, his words punctuated by stutters.

    ¡°Are you sure you want me to go? I sneaked out some chocolate pudding and was hoping to share it with someone special¡­ Well, I suppose I could just keep it all to myself¡­¡± She teased, trying to coax him with the promise of his favorite dessert.

    At the mention of pudding, the sound of his weeping ceased, and a small face timidly peeked out from beneath the blanket.

    ¡°W... with whipped c¡­ cream?¡± he asked, a flicker of hope sparking in his brown eyes.

    ¡°Lots of it,¡± she assured him with a warm smile.

    Encouraged by her words, Billy pushed the blanket aside and sat up, revealing his tousled golden blond hair and the remnants of tears that stained his cheeks. His nose was red from all the crying, and he looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and yearning.

    She pulled a tissue from her pocket, settling down on the edge of the bed to gently wipe away the tears and snot from his face. With tender care, she placed a tray on his lap, adorned with a couple of sandwiches and a generous bowl of chocolate pudding crowned with a fluffy layer of whipped cream.

    Billy picked up a sandwich, his small hands trembling with eagerness, and devoured it in a few large bites, the comforting taste momentarily lifting the heaviness from his heart.

    As Billy reached for his second sandwich, Nyla sensed it was the right moment to gently probe.

    ¡°What happened out there, Billy?¡± she asked, her voice soft and inviting. She wanted to reassure him that he wasn¡¯t being accused; she was simply concerned.

    He stared down at his sandwich, silence hanging heavily in the air, uncertainty clouding his brown eyes. It was as if he were weighing the trustworthiness of her intentions. Nyla waited patiently, her heart aching for the little boy who had been through so much. Less than an hour ago, after returning from the exhausting task of shoveling snow¡ªsomething she loathed, but felt responsible for¡ªshe had overheard Maryam, the orphanage director scolding him for some unknown misdeed.

    While preparing supper, Maryam had filled her in on the incident and asked Nyla to check on him. She had always been particularly sweet on Billy, perhaps because he reminded her so much of her own son, Matthew. Maryam couldn¡¯t bear the thought of the child going to bed without supper, especially after whatever trouble he had encountered.

    ¡°I... I was playing with T¡­ Tommy¡­ and¡­ I th...throw the ball at him¡­¡± Billy finally began to share, his voice a timid whisper.

    Nyla noticed a slight improvement in his stutter compared to earlier; he was becoming more comfortable with her. He had come to the orphanage about a year ago, a small boy who had lost his entire family to a demon attack. In the beginning, no one could decipher his words, his pain manifesting as an almost incomprehensible jumble. Now, he managed to speak in full sentences, stuttering only once or twice, unless he was nervous¡ªa testament to the small progress he had made in finding his voice amid the darkness that had surrounded him.

    He paused, caught in a swirl of uncertainty about whether to continue.

    ¡°Then what happened?¡± Nyla gently urged, hoping to coax him further.

    ¡°H... He couldn¡¯t c...catch the ball, and it hit the p...plates over the fireplace and b... broke them! But it w...wasn¡¯t my f...fault!¡± Billy blurted out, his words tumbling over one another in a rush. ¡°It was T... Tommy¡¯s fault for not c...catching the ball! And then M... Mrs. Gordon got v...very angry and started y... yelling at me¡ªfor just some s... stupid ugly p... plates...¡±

    As he spoke, his voice quickened, a desperate urgency underscoring his fear of interruption. Fresh tears welled in his eyes, shimmering like fragile droplets, and he turned his gaze back to the sandwich, nibbling at it in tiny bites, as if trying to consume not just the food but also the hurt that had bubbled to the surface.

    Nyla watched him closely, her heart heavy with empathy. She could see the weight of his emotions pressing down on him, the unfairness of it all evident in his trembling frame. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on his back, offering silent support as he wrestled with the storm of feelings swirling within him.

    When children play indoors, breakages are a foregone conclusion. Nyla and Maryam both understood this truth well; as long as no one was hurt, she wouldn¡¯t get mad or punish the kids. And Billy was right¡ªthose plates were undoubtedly the ugliest things in the world. Yet, they were incredibly important to Maryam, probably her most cherished possession.

    Nyla paused for a moment, contemplating whether to share the story behind the plates with him. In the end, she decided to reveal the truth. Maryam likely wouldn¡¯t mind; perhaps it would help Billy understand the weight of his actions.

    ¡°Do you know what those plates really are, Billy?¡± she asked, her tone calm yet inviting.

    ¡°S¡­ Some old ugly p¡­ plates¡­¡± he replied hesitantly, picking up on the subtle shift in her voice

    ¡°True, but they are also gifts from Mrs. Gordon¡¯s son. He made them for her when he was around your age,¡± she explained, a sad smile gracing her lips as she brushed a few strands of hair away from his brow.

    Billy¡¯s brow furrowed, confusion mingling with bitterness. ¡°So, w¡­ what?! H¡­ He can make her s¡­ some more!¡±

    Nyla sighed, feeling the heaviness of the moment settle around them. ¡°The thing is, Billy, her son passed away about four years ago... he died fighting a demon.¡±

    Her voice dropped to a whisper, the weight of the words hanging in the air. Talking about Matt was difficult; memories of his passing and the funeral with its empty casket still made her heart ache. He and Maryam had been like family to her, and losing him was one of the hardest trials she had ever faced¡ªa pain she was all too familiar with, having endured a challenging life filled with loss.

    Nyla took a moment to gather herself, letting the silence envelop them like a warm embrace. She wanted Billy to understand that while mistakes could be mended, some things, like love and memory, were irreplaceable.

    You see Nyla was herself an orphan. She had been left on the doorsteps of this very orphanage, once affectionately called the ¡°House of Joy.¡± About ten years ago, however, Father Francis deemed the name inappropriate and changed it to ¡°Children of Lux,¡± believing that orphans needed religion more than joy.

    On a frigid winter night, she had been abandoned with nothing but a thin blanket wrapped around her tiny body. Whoever left her hadn¡¯t even bothered to ring the bell¡ªmost likely too afraid of being discovered in the dark woods surrounding the house. So, she had lain there, alone, until morning light.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    It was Matt who discovered her. He had ventured outside to check on the snowman he had built and found her, her small form nearly frozen, a half-blue hue coloring her delicate skin. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, he scooped her up and rushed inside to Maryam, who quickly took action. She hurried the tiny baby to the hospital, where everyone feared the worst, certain that Nyla wouldn¡¯t survive the night.

    But by some miracle, she did.

    From that day on, Matt became her guardian angel, always by her side, protecting her and nurturing her through the trials of their shared childhood. In a world filled with uncertainty, he was her steadfast light, a bond forged in the fires of adversity that would forever shape her understanding of family and love.

    Nyla searched Billy''s eyes for a flicker of understanding. After all, he was one of the few who had faced a demon and experienced the chaos that followed its wake.

    ¡°I¡¯ll ap...pologize to Mrs. Gordon t...tomorrow,¡± he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll appreciate that, love,¡± she replied, a warmth spreading in her chest. Billy had a reputation for being stubborn and a bit spoiled, so witnessing his newfound maturity filled her with pride.

    Feeling a bit lighter, Billy pulled the bowl of chocolate pudding closer and began to devour it in generous spoonfuls. Nyla wiped his mouth with a napkin between bites as they chatted about the upcoming charity event. They were planning to build a massive snowman in the front yard to raise funds for their summer trip to the lake.

    ¡°Phew, that hit the sp...spot!¡± he exclaimed lazily, pushing the tray away and letting out a loud burp.

    ¡°Billy!¡± Nyla scolded gently, suppressing a smile.

    ¡°Sorry! But it¡¯s better to let it out from the top than the bottom!¡± He grinned back at her, his mischief shining through.

    ¡°Seriously, you boys! Don¡¯t forget to brush your teeth,¡± she reminded him, taking the tray back to the kitchen, her heart light. Having many boys in the home, she had grown accustomed to their antics.

    With a groan, Billy trudged toward the bathroom. By the time Nyla returned, he was already finished and ready for bed. She helped him tuck in, raising her hand to turn off the light, casting a soft glow over the room as she watched him settle down, a satisfied smile lingering on his face.

    ¡°Can you tell me the hero¡¯s story again?¡± Billy asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Nyla¡¯s hand froze in mid-air, then dropped slowly, hesitation washing over her. The tale he requested wasn¡¯t one she relished recounting. It was a story of how demons once ravaged their world and of a legendary hero and his twelve companions who stood against them. This narrative contradicted everything the church had taught these children. Moreover, she wasn¡¯t even supposed to know it; the teller had specifically asked her to keep it a secret.

    Over the years, many children had come to stay at the orphanage. Some had lost their parents, while others couldn¡¯t remain with theirs for various reasons. For most, their stay was temporary, and unlike Nyla, whose past was forever intertwined with the orphanage, these children would eventually be picked up by parents or relatives after a few months.

    One boy in particular stood out in Nyla¡¯s memory: Alvin. They were in the same grade, and Maryam had asked her to keep an eye on him, especially during school hours. To be honest, Nyla hadn¡¯t liked school at that time. Initially, she was thrilled at the thought of attending the same school as Matt. However, her excitement turned to disappointment when she discovered that he was in a different grade. During recess, she would race to find him, only to see him surrounded by a throng of older children, his outgoing nature drawing them in.

    Matt was kind and considerate, always trying to include her in his circle of friends, but she was too young and shy to fit in. As the weeks passed, Nyla realized she couldn¡¯t rely on Matt at school and settled into a quiet acceptance of having him all to herself at home, cherishing those moments when it was just the two of them.

    But Alvin was more like her¡ªquiet and contemplative, often finding solace in the corners of the classroom while other kids played. Their friendship blossomed as they bonded over their shared experiences. One day, in a hushed voice, he recounted a secret story of legendary heroes and the demons they fought, insisting she never tell anyone. Nyla felt a thrill at being entrusted with such a secret, unaware that Alvin¡¯s intention was to protect her from potential danger.

    In a moment of youthful exuberance, Nyla couldn¡¯t resist sharing the tale with Father Francis, the man who had always been a source of kindness, showering her with sweets and compliments. But his reaction was swift and brutal. Fury clouded his eyes, and he locked her in the basement, a dark space that felt like a prison. ¡°The sadistic son of a bitch,¡± she thought bitterly, recalling the sharp sting of the switch he wielded on her calves, a punishment meant to break her spirit.

    Days stretched into an eternity as she sat in the dimness, her throat dry and her heart heavy. The fear of the dark lingered, and the cold concrete felt like a reminder of her betrayal. When Father Francis finally released her, she emerged frail and shaken, carrying with her the weight of that betrayal and a deep-seated mistrust. Even now, the mere thought of basements sent a shiver through her, as the memories of fear and loneliness haunted her like a specter.

    Later, Nyla discovered that Maryam had pleaded with Father Francis, desperation spilling from her voice, even threatening to reveal his cruelty to the higher authorities of the church. The Church of Lux, revered as the bastion of faith on the continent, instilled a chilling doctrine: demons were mere shadows of humanity''s sins, unleashed by Lux, the god of light, to exact divine retribution. Followers were taught to embrace this suffering, viewing it as a sacred test of their piety. Any whisper of defiance, any tale that dared to challenge this dogma, was met with swift and merciless retribution¡ªeven a child''s innocent story, woven from imagination and fear.

    In Pendle, a town cloaked in the rigid embrace of piety, such transgressions were particularly dangerous. A century earlier, after the grand cathedral rose like a sentinel in the heart of the town, demon attacks had inexplicably vanished. The townspeople heralded this as a divine miracle, their faith solidifying into an unyielding wall against any dissent. Over the years, their devotion grew fervent; they even exiled the local branch of the Anti-Demon Association (ADA) to the shadowy woods, banishing them from the town¡¯s embrace as if they were the very demons they sought to combat.

    But in Pendle, the elderly formed the majority and children were cherished like fragile glass. The townsfolk could not fathom the idea of an innocent child suffering due to a mere story. Father Francis, eager to secure his position and win the hearts of the community, ultimately chose to release Nyla. His terms were laden with threat and consequence: she must erase the tale from her mind, bury it deep within her heart, and never let it slip from her lips again.

    But Nyla understood the weight of that promise, the gravity of the secret now entwined with her soul. Each time she thought of the hero and his battle against the demons, she felt the truth coil around her heart like a viper, ready to strike if ever revealed. It was a burden she bore in silence, a testament to a world that shunned the light of truth, where shadows lingered just beyond the periphery, whispering secrets of bravery and resistance that could never find their voice.

    After the incident with Father Francis, Nyla felt a chasm grow between them that could never be bridged. It wasn¡¯t just her; the shift was palpable. Matt, once an enthusiastic parishioner, withdrew completely from the church, while Maryam''s attendance dwindled to a mere formality. Nyla often wondered if Matt had joined the ADA after graduation, driven by a need to counter the oppressive silence of their past. Guilt wrapped around her heart like a vine, tightening with every thought of how her revelation had shattered their innocence.

    Then came Billy, a boy lost in a storm of grief. Orphaned and adrift, he wept incessantly, his sorrow spilling into the lives of the other children. He couldn¡¯t find solace in play or comfort in sleep, waking each night with screams that echoed through the orphanage. Nyla watched helplessly as the darkness consumed him, the joyful spark she knew was buried beneath layers of pain. With each tear he shed, Nyla felt the weight of her own unspoken story press against her.

    In a moment of desperation, she shared the tale of the hero who battled demons, weaving a narrative of courage and hope. She had kept it locked away for so long, but the sight of Billy''s suffering shattered her resolve.

    And to her surprise, the boy¡¯s tears dried up. The nightmares receded like shadows at dawn, and the laughter that emerged from him was a melody she thought she¡¯d never hear again.

    He blossomed, becoming a charming, bright-eyed boy who filled the orphanage with his laughter. Occasionally, he¡¯d ask her to retell the story, a ritual she had initially embraced with trepidation but later welcomed with a warmth that filled her heart. Yet, as the months rolled by, those requests dwindled, and she believed that he had finally moved on from his sorrow, finding peace in the life he was beginning to rebuild.

    But tonight was different. Billy¡¯s eyes sparkled with an eager light as he looked up at her, the anticipation evident in his voice as he asked,

    A battle raged within Nyla. The story was more than just a tale; it was a fragile thread connecting her to a painful past. Could she risk it again? But looking into Billy¡¯s trusting gaze, she felt the weight of her fears lift slightly. Maybe sharing the story once more wouldn¡¯t just be a gift for him¡ªit could be a way to heal, to reclaim a piece of herself she thought lost forever.

    ¡°All right, but you remember the rules, don¡¯t you?¡± she asked, her fingers playfully ruffling his hair.

    ¡°Don¡¯t t¡­ tell anyone!¡± he exclaimed, his smile brightening the dim room.

    ¡°And?¡± she pressed, a teasing glint in her eye as she mirrored his grin.

    ¡°Sp¡­ pecially not to F¡­ Father F¡­ Francis!¡± he replied eagerly, clearly proud of his grasp on the secret they were sharing.

    ¡°Good boy!¡± she said, her heart swelling with warmth as she gently patted his head, feeling a sense of camaraderie blossoming between them.

    Then she settled back onto the bed, smoothing out his bedsheets as she gathered her thoughts. With a soft, soothing voice, she began to weave the tale of a magical world where demons originated¡ªa realm shrouded in eternal night and filled with darkness. She described how the demons, feeling envious of the warm, beautiful world of humans, launched an attack, driven by their desire to seize it for themselves. Their might and strength made them formidable opponents, and for a time, it seemed they might succeed. But then came the oracle¡¯s prophecy, proclaiming that in times of dire need, a hero would rise to unite humanity against the encroaching darkness. She told him the remarkable story of a small, seemingly useless boy who became that celebrated hero, leading the charge against the demons in an epic war. As she narrated the jubilant celebration that followed their victory, she noticed Billy''s eyelids growing heavy, surrendering to the pull of sleep. With a tender smile, she tucked him in snugly under the blanket, switched off the light, and quietly slipped out the door, closing it gently behind her.

    As she started to turn around, she suddenly felt a strange, ominous energy from the room. She instantly reached out to open the door and check on Billy but stopped instinctively. ¡°Don¡¯t open the door¡± a scared voice screamed in her head. But she was worried about Billy. As she struggled between logic and instinct, the ominous feeling grew stronger. Now she could feel it on the tip of her tongue and in the air around her. Even the hallway seemed darker than before. The cold sweat slid on her back and the hair on the back of her neck straightened while her hand was frozen on the doorknob.

    Suddenly, she felt a tug at the back of her sweater, and it was as if a spell had been broken¡ªthe ominous feeling dissipated in an instant. Nyla swallowed hard, her mouth dry, and exhaled the air she had unknowingly been holding. She turned around to find Luke, the newest addition to the orphanage.

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± he asked, his voice cold and detached, his green eyes piercing beneath his jet-black hair. He appeared to be ten, but the way he carried himself, with an air of maturity, made him seem much older. Luke had arrived at the orphanage two months ago, alone and secretive, offering only his name and age, steadfastly refusing to divulge anything about his past. Maryam was still grappling with how to approach him. Nyla swallowed again, attempting a smile that felt forced.

    ¡°Yes, Luke. I just had a dizzy spell,¡± she replied, her voice quivering slightly. While any other child might have accepted her explanation, she sensed that Luke was not easily convinced. His gaze lingered on her as if he could see through the facade she had put up.

    She released the doorknob, discreetly rubbing her sweating palms against her pocket, careful not to let Luke see her discomfort. As they stood there, more children began to filter into the hallway, laughing and chattering, accompanied by three young nuns trailing behind them. The nuns merely nodded at her and Luke, leaving him in her care without a second thought.

    ¡°Are you done with supper?¡± she asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a lighter direction, but Luke¡¯s gaze remained fixed on her. It was as if he were on the verge of asking her something profound, but then he hesitated, nodding slowly instead.

    ¡°So, you must be tired. Here you go, off to bed,¡± she said, opening the door and giving him a gentle push inside. As she prepared to close the door, guilt washed over her, and she peeked at Billy¡¯s bed. Relief flooded her as she saw him sleeping soundly, his peaceful expression resembling that of an angel. Perhaps the uneasy feeling she¡¯d sensed earlier had just been a trick of her imagination, a product of fatigue.

    ¡°Good night, Luke,¡± she said, closing the door gently behind her. As she walked away, the memory of those piercing green eyes lingered in her mind, entwined with the unsettling feeling that still trailed her, refusing to fade.

 Chapter 2

    <h2></a>Chapter 2</h2>

    Nyla attempted to shake off the lingering sensation as she descended the stairs. With the feeling now faded, she found it difficult to articulate her experience, left only with a hazy recollection of what it had been. As she reached the first floor, a sudden movement outside the window drew her attention.

    ¡°Dammit, it¡¯s snowing again,¡± she groaned, irritation creeping into her voice. The orphanage sat deep within the woods, linked to the main street by a narrow, winding road. To reach it, she had to take a bus, with the nearest stop a gruelling forty-minute walk along the main road. Normally, she relished her nature walks, finding solace in the sounds of chirping birds, rustling leaves, and the gentle whistle of the wind. But in the snow, those peaceful moments turned into a tortured ordeal.

    She shook her head and entered the living room where she was greeted by a warm fire in the fireplace and kind Maryam who was knitting a scarf on a rocking chair next to it. She was a woman in her late fifties with strands of gray mixed in her auburn hair. The life has not been kind to her. Being widowed at a young age and losing her son so early had affected her, making her look much older than she actually was. But the years left one thing untouched: her eyes. Her warm brown eyes constantly watched over the children under her roof as if they were her own. Even after the children had gone to bed, Maryam remained busy, tending to their needs¡ªmending their clothes, planning for the next day, or, in this instance, knitting them warm winter garments.

    ¡°How did it go, love? Was he¡­ um¡­ upset?¡± She asked nervously as she poured a steaming cup of coffee and handed it to Nyla, her hands trembling slightly.

    Nyla settled onto the couch, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as she gratefully accepted the warm cup. The rich aroma of the freshly brewed coffee enveloped her like a comforting blanket, washing away the lingering, indescribable fears that had plagued her earlier, pushing them to the farthest corners of her mind.

    As Nyla took a sip, she felt the warmth spread through her, soothing her frazzled nerves. The dark liquid was a familiar comfort, a small indulgence that reminded her of simpler times. She could almost hear Maryam¡¯s voice in her head, expressing her disapproval of caffeine this late in the evening. Yet, Maryam had long since given up that battle, realizing that sometimes, a little rebellion was necessary for happiness.

    Nyla glanced around the cozy living room, its soft lighting casting a warm glow on the walls adorned with group photos of children who had stayed here. She could hear the faint sounds of the wind outside, but inside, the atmosphere felt safe and inviting. As she cradled the cup in her hands, she let herself relax, grateful for this moment of peace.

    ¡°He is completely fine, Maryam. You worry too much.¡± Nyla said with a smile while taking another sip of the delicious dark liquid.

    ¡°I can¡¯t help it. Nutrients are very important for growing boys and God knows that they already don¡¯t get much of it. I shouldn¡¯t have sent him to bed without supper, but I lost my temper¡­¡± Maryam said, pulling on the yarn she held.

    The orphanage depended on the Church and a few outside donors for funds, but each year, they received less support than the last. This was especially true in election years like this one when money was often redirected to other priorities. Maryam felt the pressure of the orphanage''s struggles. Each pull of the yarn reminded her of the tightening budget and the challenges they faced in caring for the children. Despite the difficulties, she was determined to provide for them. She looked down at the unfinished clothes in her lap, imagining how warm and cozy they would be for the kids during the cold winter months.

    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine.¡± She assured Maryam and tried to hide her smile. Earlier when she entered Billy¡¯s room, she had caught a glimpse of snack cakes hiding on his nightstand. He probably had persuaded Emma to give him some in secret. He could be very charming when it suited him, and Emma was a simple girl who managed the kitchen.

    She continued sipping her coffee as Maryam continued to tell tales of the children and activities of the house, especially the winter charity event. Everyone was excited about it. Her main concern was that Father Francis was returning as an inspector to make sure that the orphanage¡¯s operation was going smoothly.

    Maryam glanced at Nyla with concern. She had to admit she was relieved when Father Francis left the orphanage a couple of years after the basement incident because of a promotion and was not pleased at all about his return. His visit would likely affect the children, especially since she hadn¡¯t focused much on their religious education. But Maryam was more concerned about the impact it might have on Nyla.

    Even though Nyla tried to hide it, Maryam knew she avoided basements whenever possible. It was a subtle sign that the incident still lingered in her mind. However, Maryam was relieved to see Nyla showing no visible reaction to the news. Instead, she casually scrolled through her phone, just like any other young person her age, giving no hint of distress. But Maryam wondered if this was a sign that Nyla was truly indifferent or if she was just masking her emotions as she often did.

    Nyla stood up and stretched, glancing out the window at the snow swirling in the wind, creating a picturesque scene outside. The soft white flakes danced through the air, settling gently on the ground. She turned to Maryam with a warm smile, a hint of reluctance in her eyes.

    ¡°Is it time for you to leave, Nyla, darling?¡± Maryam asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

    ¡°Unfortunately, yes,¡±  Nyla replied, carefully placing her cup on the table. Although she was aware of Father Francis''s return, she didn¡¯t see any need to worry Maryam about it. There was no point in adding to her concerns when she was already managing so much.

    ¡°That¡¯s disappointing, I was hoping you would stay the night since it¡¯s been a while. Do you have to go in this weather?¡± Maryam went to the window to see if it was still snowing or not.

    ¡°I have an early shift tomorrow so¡­¡± Nyla responded while checking her schedule on her phone.

    ¡°Wait! I know what to do! I just remembered Brian was saying he is going to be around here tonight. How about we ask him to give you a ride?¡± Nyla froze at the mention of Brian¡¯s name.

    He was one of Matt¡¯s friends, a fellow worker in the same field. They had met at the academy and later joined the same division of the ADA. It was Brian who had delivered the heartbreaking news of Matthew¡¯s death three years ago. Though she understood that Brian wasn¡¯t responsible for the tragedy¡ªhe had been one of the few who tirelessly searched for Matt until the very end¡ªshe couldn¡¯t help but feel a twinge of resentment. Death was an inherent risk for hunters, but a part of her heart still held him and the others accountable for the loss.

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    He still visited the orphanage regularly, doing what he could to honour his fallen comrade, despite the town''s cold attitude toward the ADA. Each time she saw him, however, Nyla was haunted by memories of that dreadful day. In fact, she often tried to schedule her visits to avoid running into him. Unlike her, Maryam appeared to relish his visits, eagerly soaking up the endless stories about Matt¡¯s academy years. Just as Nyla opened her mouth to oppose the idea, the doorbell rang and interrupted them.

    ¡°Great! It must be him!¡± Maryam walked to the entryway to answer the door, and Nyla could hear her greeting someone cheerfully. Moments later, she returned to the room, accompanied by a young blond man with a striking figure clad in an army green uniform adorned with the panther emblem of the ADA on his chest. Nyla forced a smile, feeling a mix of emotions as she took in his presence.

    ¡°Come in, come in. Sit next to the fire to warm yourself, Brian. Would you like some coffee?¡±

    Maryam asked while guiding him toward Nyla.

    ¡°Thank you, Mrs. Gordon. Don¡¯t mind if I do.¡± He glanced at Nyla cautiously, relieved to see a faint smile rather than her usual frown. With a cheerful demeanour, he settled down next to her. His hair was slightly damp, and the tip of his nose had turned red from the cold, suggesting he had been outside for a while, likely mustering the courage to come in. He was well aware that Nyla would be here tonight; Maryam had made sure of it.

    ¡°Hello, Nyla. How are you doing this evening?¡± He asked with a wide smile while carefully sitting on the couch next to her.

    ¡°Hi Brian, I¡¯m fine, thanks, how are you?¡± As Maryam left the room to make more coffee, Nyla felt an awkward silence settle in. Small talk had never been her forte, but fortunately, Brian was quite adept at it. He effortlessly shifted between various topics, filling the space with his chatter while occasionally glancing at Nyla to gauge her reactions. She listened, doing her best to engage, even as her mind wandered back to memories she preferred to forget.

    As Maryam stepped into the room, she caught sight of the two on the couch. For a fleeting moment, she recalled a time when she had envisioned her son occupying Brian''s seat, but that was a chapter long closed, and life was meant for those still living. Now, her thoughts turned to Nyla, and the desire for her to start a family of her own blossomed in her heart. After all, time was a precious commodity, and she wouldn¡¯t be around forever.

    Brian seemed a fitting match¡ªhandsome, charming, and dedicated to his work with the ADA branch in Pendle, which was renowned as the safest haven against demon activity. Maryam couldn¡¯t help but suspect he had transferred to Pendle to be nearer to Nyla. She observed the way his eyes sparkled when they met hers; it was evident he was already smitten. Yet, Nyla seemed oblivious to the budding affection. A little push was all she needed¡ªa gentle nudge that only Maryam could provide to set them on the path to something beautiful.

    ¡°You came right on time, Brian.¡±  She set the freshly brewed pot of coffee, along with extra cups, milk, and sugar, on the table in front of the couple. Nyla preferred her coffee black, just like Matthew had, while Brian enjoyed his sweetened with milk and sugar. Maryam smiled as she began pouring coffee for Brian, her eyes twinkling with the hope that the warmth of the beverage would spark a little warmth between them as well.

    ¡°Really? How come?¡± He asked accepting the cup of coffee from Maryam with a grateful smile. The warmth of the mug seeped into his hands, and he took a moment to inhale the rich aroma, savouring the moment.

    ¡°Nyla was about to leave by herself in this weather¡ªcan you imagine? I told her to wait for you since you wouldn¡¯t mind giving her a ride, would you?¡± Maryam said, winking at Brian when Nyla wasn¡¯t looking. Her playful gesture was subtle but carried a knowing encouragement, hinting at her hopes for the evening''s unfolding dynamics.

    ¡°Maryam!¡±  Nyla cried, her voice laced with disbelief. It felt as if her friend was practically forcing the poor guy into giving her a ride. She turned to Brian, ready to apologize, but before she could utter a word, he interrupted her with a warm smile.

    ¡°It would be my pleasure, Nyla.¡± He said with a big smile.

    ¡°God bless you, Maryam,¡± Brian thought to himself as he picked up his cup. If he had offered Nyla the ride himself, she would have surely refused, just as she always did. He had harboured a crush on her ever since Matthew introduced them during a summer break from the academy. However, Nyla never seemed to show any interest in him, making it difficult for him to muster the courage to ask her out or even get closer. The warmth of the coffee did little to ease the nervous flutter in his stomach; he felt as though this was a rare opportunity to change that.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to bother you, Brian. I¡¯m sure you have better things to do¡­¡± Nyla said apologetically as she racked her brains to find an excuse.

    ¡°Please, a gentleman must make sure beautiful ladies such as yourself get home safely. We can leave as soon as I finish my coffee.¡± He flashed another dazzling smile that made her cheeks heat up, stirring a wave of guilt for mixing his presence with the haunting memory of Matthew¡¯s death. With a resigned sigh, she thanked him and rose to gather her things, her heart a fluttering mess as he continued to chat with Maryam.

    As she picked up her coat from the entryway, a sudden squeak echoed from the stairs, slicing through the quiet like a whisper. She spun around, but the space behind her was empty. A shiver crawled up her spine as she peered into the shadows of the staircase, feeling an unsettling awareness that someone¡ªor something¡ªmight be watching her from the darkness. The sensation clung to her like a chill in the air, and she strained her ears, hoping to catch a hint of movement or breath.

    ¡°Are you ready to go?¡± Brian''s voice broke through her thoughts, his presence a reassuring anchor as he stepped in behind Maryam. He reached for her coat, grabbing it from where it hung and holding it out for her to wear.

    ¡°Ah, yes. Thank you,¡±  she replied, the warmth of his smile momentarily dispelling the eerie feeling that lingered in her mind.

    As she slipped into the coat, she took a deep breath, reminding herself that she wasn¡¯t alone in the house¡ªand that whatever shadows lingered, they had no power over her. It had been a strange day for her, one that felt heavy with the weight of memories and unspoken thoughts. It had been ages since her last day off, and juggling full-time responsibilities at both the orphanage and the supercenter was beginning to take its toll. She chuckled to herself, realizing that she was probably just overworked and imagining things.

    As she made a mental note to ask Oliver for fewer shifts, she wrapped her arms around Maryam in a warm goodbye. The comfort of her friend¡¯s embrace reminded her of the warmth that existed in her life, even amidst the chaos. With a determined nod, she stepped outside to join Brian, who was patiently holding the car door open for her.

    ¡°After you,¡± he said, his voice inviting as she slipped past him

    ¡°Thank you.¡± She felt the heat rise to her cheeks once more as she stepped past him.

    Brian was accustomed to this kind of behaviour; he had dated enough girls to know how to charm and make them blush. But for her, it was different¡ªunfamiliar and exhilarating. Her heart raced as she climbed into the car, the gentle hum of the engine contrasting with the fluttering in her stomach. She stole a glance at him, catching the easy confidence in his smile, and wondered if she would ever feel as at ease with someone as he seemed to be.

    ¡°You are very welcome.¡± He spoke politely, carefully closing the door before walking around the car to take his place in the driver¡¯s seat. Inside, he fought to maintain a nonchalant demeanour, attempting to mask the giddiness bubbling beneath the surface.

    As they drove toward the main street, the world outside began to blur into a flurry of white snowflakes, and Nyla turned to wave at Maryam one last time. She watched as her friend gradually became a smaller figure in the rearview mirror until she finally disappeared from view

 Chapter 3

    <h2></a>Chapter 3</h2>

    To her disappointment, Nyla couldn¡¯t return to the orphanage for the next two weeks. The supercenter had become hectic with new hires, leaving her buried in extra shifts. She had been working there ever since she left the orphanage at eighteen. College had once been a dream, but her grades weren¡¯t enough to secure a scholarship, and without that, attending was impossible. Still, she managed to land a job at the only supercenter in town. She probably could¡¯ve found something better in a bigger city, but the idea of being too far from the orphanage was unbearable. It wasn¡¯t just a place¡ªit was home, the one constant in her life, and she couldn¡¯t bring herself to leave it behind, especially after Matt¡¯s death.

    After what happened to Matt, leaving Maryam had become impossible for Nyla. The bond between them only grew stronger after his death, and the thought of being far from Maryam felt unbearable. She had even considered staying at the orphanage full-time, but the orphanage was too poor to employ her.

    The job at the supercenter wasn¡¯t bad, though. It had its tough moments, but overall, it was manageable¡ªat least, it had been until recently. Kyle, one of their best employees, had left for a better opportunity somewhere out east, leaving a noticeable gap in the team. Since his departure, the workload had doubled, and things had become far more chaotic.

    They had hired someone new to replace Kyle, but it was painfully obvious that the guy had never worked a day in retail¡ªor anything remotely similar. He was the clumsiest person Nyla had ever seen in a store. Every shift seemed to bring a new disaster, and she couldn''t understand how he had managed to get hired in the first place. Tania, one of the other floor managers, had joked that it was probably nepotism, whispering that there had to be some "family connection" behind the scenes.

    Because of him, Oliver, the store manager, couldn''t afford to give Nyla her much-needed break. Instead, he¡¯d put her in charge of training the new guy, promising her three days off for the upcoming winter charity event at the orphanage¡ªa small reward she desperately needed. That event was happening this afternoon, and all she wanted was to finish her shift and head there.

    She glanced at the clock, checking how much longer she had to endure when the unmistakable sound of shattering glass echoed through the store. Her stomach sank. It didn¡¯t take a genius to know who was responsible for the latest disaster.

    ¡°Dang, it!¡± A startled voice rang out from three aisles over. She sprinted toward the commotion, rounding the corner just in time to witness the aftermath of yet another disaster. There, standing in the middle of an expanding pool of champagne and shattered glass, was Gale¡ªthe new employee¡ªlooking as if he''d just set off a bomb by accident. Nyla sighed inwardly. It was like watching a bad movie on repeat. Gale stood frozen, wide-eyed, as the sea of broken bottles and fizzing liquid spread around him, and Nyla could only think: Of course it¡¯s champagne.

    ¡°Oh my god¡­ how¡­ why¡­¡±

    Oliver, the store manager, stood at the end of the aisle, speechless, staring at the mess as if unsure whether to scream or faint. Nyla noticed customers gathering, murmuring among themselves, some stifling laughs, others shaking their heads. ¡°Great¡±, she thought, ¡°just what we need¡ªan audience¡±. Without wasting another second, she darted toward Oliver.

    "I¡¯ll handle it,"  she whispered urgently, trying to sound more confident than she felt. He blinked, still processing, and nodded gratefully and walked toward his office at the back of the store as she rushed past him toward Gale, who was awkwardly attempting to scoop glass with his bare hands.

    ¡°Stop! Don¡¯t touch that, you¡¯ll hurt yourself,¡±  she said, crouching beside him and gently pulling his hands away from the shards. This day was getting worse by the minute.

    ¡°Hey, Gale¡­ are you all right?¡± Nyla gently asked, while carefully checking Gale for any cuts or injuries. Health and safety always came first¡ªshe could scold him later if needed. Gale blinked at her as if her calm words triggered something inside him, and suddenly his face flushed a deep, bright shade of red. His embarrassment was almost palpable.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m fine,¡±  he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, clearly mortified by the scene he''d caused. Nyla offered a reassuring smile, doing her best to ease the tension.

    ¡°Good, Maggie will help you clean your uniform,¡± Nyla said, motioning to the older woman who had just arrived. Maggie, always the mother figure among the staff, smiled warmly and guided Gale toward the storage and employee lounge, comforting him as they walked away. Nyla turned and waved to Steven, who was already approaching with mops and cleaning supplies. Together, they began cleaning up the aisle as quickly as possible, making sure the store floor was safe again. The gathered customers disappointed that the dramatic scene they had anticipated didn¡¯t escalate, slowly dispersed.

    Thanks to the incident, Nyla had to stay longer than expected to review the safety procedures with the rest of the employees¡ªeveryone except Gale, who had been sent home early due to the shock. As the floor manager, she filled out the necessary paperwork to report the accident to Oliver, ensuring everything was properly documented. By the time she finished, it was already 3 PM. She let out a deep sigh, realizing she would miss the snowman-making contest but might still catch the judging if she hurried.

    Stretching her arms, she glanced at the clock once more, already dreaming of the warm fire, the food, and the good company that awaited her. Her much-needed break couldn¡¯t come soon enough.

    **********************************

    The bus dropped her off at the road that led to the orphanage. Although the actual stop was further along, the driver had kindly veered off course to let her off right at the entrance of the winding side road. The path was blanketed in untouched snow, the trees standing like sentinels on either side, their branches heavy with glistening white.

    Before it became an orphanage, the building had been envisioned as a retreat by Sir Davis, a visionary hotelier, nearly fifty years ago. To reach the hidden structure nestled among the trees, one had to navigate a serpentine path, lined with nature''s stillness. The seclusion of the surrounding woods made it a perfect escape from the bustling noise of town life, or at least that¡¯s what Sir Davis believed. Unfortunately, the inn never gained traction; its remote location and the harsh winter snow hindered tourism, leaving the Davis family drowning in debt.

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    Over the years, the property changed hands several times, and local lore whispered of Sir Davis''s ghost still roaming the halls, lamenting the retreat that never was. But in all her time there, Nyla had yet to catch a glimpse of anything supernatural; no ghostly figure had ever crossed her path, only the familiar echoes of laughter and life that filled the orphanage''s walls. As she trudged down the path, her breath visible in the chilly air, she felt a comforting warmth wrap around her, reminding her that, despite the building''s haunted history, it had become a home for many.

    Nyla always cherished the walk from the main street to the orphanage, a journey that took about thirty to forty minutes, enveloped in stunning scenery that never failed to lift her spirits. Memories flooded back of her and Matt wandering this very path after school, their laughter echoing through the woods as they explored, chasing each other between trees and creating a world all their own.

    Once, the orphanage had its own car, a convenience for transporting children and guests. But that had long been sold, a casualty of the orphanage''s dwindling funds. Maryam did her best to maintain the path during the warmer months, pruning overgrown branches and clearing away debris. However, winter painted a different picture. The snow piled high, transforming the once-familiar route into a challenging trek, a white labyrinth that concealed the way.

    While the city prioritized main roads for cleaning, the orphanage''s path languished at the bottom of the list. Yet, there was solace in knowing that the snow season didn¡¯t linger for long. Nyla found comfort in the thought of spring¡¯s arrival, with flowers pushing through the melting frost and the promise of new beginnings, a gentle reminder that every winter eventually gives way to warmth and renewal.

    Nyla started walking toward the building, her brow furrowing as she took in the strange sight of the untouched snow. The path should have been filled with children''s footprints, echoes of laughter and chatter marking their return home from school. Instead, the snow lay pristine and undisturbed, a blanket of white that seemed to muffle the usual sounds of life around the orphanage.

    She wondered if Maryam had decided to let the children stay home for the day, allowing them to enjoy the winter festivities instead of trudging through the snow. But what about the patrons¡¯ cars that would have come for the event? Surely there should have been some tracks leading up to the building.

    Looking up at the sky, Nyla squinted against the bright white light reflecting off the snow, her thoughts racing. Had it really snowed recently without her noticing? The clouds looked heavy and gray, but there hadn¡¯t been any news of a storm. The silence around her deepened, an unsettling feeling creeping into her chest as she continued along the path, each step stirring a sense of foreboding that contrasted sharply with the idyllic winter scene.

    Halfway along the path, Nyla suddenly felt a tremor ripple through her legs as the ground began to shake, accompanied by a loud rumbling noise. Startled, she lost her balance and fell into the snow, the cold engulfing her. Earthquakes were unusual in this area; a feeling of dread washed over her as she quickly scrambled back to her feet once the shaking stopped.

    Adrenaline surged through her veins as she began to run toward the orphanage. The sound she heard just moments before could only have meant one thing¡ªa building collapse. They had repeatedly requested maintenance for the unused part of the orphanage from the church, but their pleas had fallen on deaf ears. An earthquake like this could easily compromise the old structure, and she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of impending disaster.

    Frantically, she dug her cell phone out of her pocket and dialled the emergency number. To her dismay, the call didn¡¯t go through. Frowning, she tried again, then again, and each attempt met with the same frustrating silence. Her heart raced as she stopped to stare at the screen. This made no sense. Had the cell towers been damaged in the quake?

    Panic began to settle in as she continued calling, increasing her pace toward the orphanage. With every hurried step, the weight of her unease grew heavier. She could only hope that the building had held up against the tremors and that the children and staff inside were safe.

    As Nyla approached the end of the path, a sinking feeling grew within her. Larger pieces of debris littered the ground, and surprisingly, the snow seemed to thin out, revealing patches of bare earth underneath. But there was no sign of life¡ªno children playing, no adults milling about. Just silence.

    A chill crept up her spine as anxiety coiled tightly in her belly, rising like bile to her throat. How had the debris scattered all the way out here? Her heart raced with each step, a growing sense of dread urging her to turn back.

    She reached the final turn, unconsciously slowing her pace until she came to a complete stop. An unsettling sensation hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. It felt as if the world around her was holding its breath, and something deep inside her screamed to flee, to run away from whatever lay ahead.

    Yet, her legs betrayed her, moving forward as if compelled by an unseen force. With each hesitant step, the oppressive atmosphere grew thicker, wrapping around her like a shroud. Finally, she emerged into the open area in front of the building, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the scene. The ground was eerily devoid of snow, the remnants of the recent quake evident all around her. But more than that, it was the absence of life¡ªthe orphanage stood silent and still as if time itself had paused.

    Every year, as a cherished tradition, they gathered to build an enormous snowman, adorning the entrance of their home for Christmas. This joyful event had evolved into a charity competition where children vied to create the most beautiful snowman, while patrons from across the country supported their favourite contestants. The funds raised were used to finance the children''s summer trips, and the winner received a special prize from their patron.

    However, this year, instead of a joyful snowman, something far more sinister adorned the entrance.

    Nyla approached cautiously, her heart racing. As she drew nearer, the grotesque reality of the scene became painfully clear. Her legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed into the snow. Before her stood a horrific sculpture made of skin and bone.

    There was no head¡ªjust a severed neck protruding grotesquely, from which multiple human arms jutted out at unnatural angles. The neck, paired with what would have been a torso, was a disturbing pile of innards, adorned with various organs that seemed to drip from the makeshift structure. The entire macabre figure was propped up by legs that were grotesquely separated from the torso by a crude belt.

    Nyla could hardly comprehend the horror before her, a jarring contrast to the warmth and joy the season had once promised.

    As Nyla''s gaze remained fixed on the abomination, her mind wrestled with the incomprehensible horror unfolding before her. Then, something caught her eye¡ªa flicker of familiarity amidst the grotesque chaos. Leaning closer, her heart thundered in her chest as she locked eyes with a face staring back from the heart of the sculpture, a face that was all too familiar.

    Panic gripped her as more faces emerged from the chilling mass, each one a haunting echo of the residents of the house. They were twisted and contorted, their eyes wide with terror and despair. The realization crashed over her like icy water, and a scream erupted from her throat, raw and primal, reverberating against the walls of her sanity.

    With horror clawing at her mind, Nyla wrenched herself away from the gruesome sight, her body moving on instinct. She bolted toward the side of the building, tears blurring her vision, her mouth still open in a silent scream that seemed to echo in the still air. Desperation drove her to the cool stone of the east wing, where she pressed her back against the wall, seeking any semblance of stability.

    But her body betrayed her; a violent wave of nausea surged up her throat. Before she could regain her composure, she doubled over, the contents of her stomach spilling forth onto the cold, unyielding bricks. The acrid taste of bile burned her throat, mingling with the taste of horror that lingered in the air, as the nightmare of the sculpture and its grim visage gnawed relentlessly at the edges of her mind.

 Chapter 4

    <h2></a></a>Chapter 4</h2>

    Nyla clamped her right hand over her mouth, trying to quell the churning in her stomach as she leaned heavily against the wall for support. A sob escaped her trembling lips. ¡°This isn¡¯t real¡±, she thought desperately. It can¡¯t be real. Her mind scrambled for an explanation, grasping at the idea that this was all just a nightmare¡ªa cruel trick of her exhausted imagination. She had fallen asleep at the office after filing those endless reports on the store incident, her stress bleeding into her dreams.

    It wouldn¡¯t be the first time she¡¯d been haunted by vivid, nightmarish visions. Since childhood, these dark dreams had been her constant companions, lurking in the shadows of her subconscious. She never remembered the exact details upon waking, but the feeling of dread they left behind always lingered, clinging to her like an unwelcome fog.

    But this time, the cold¡ªsharp and biting¡ªseeped through her glove, anchoring her to the present. It wasn¡¯t a dream. The chill gnawing at her fingers was too real, too visceral to be imagined. Reality settled in like a weight on her chest.

    The horrific scene she had just witnessed flashed behind her closed eyes¡ªthe mutilated sculpture, the faces she knew¡ªand a fresh wave of nausea rolled through her. Her stomach lurched again, the familiar faces from the gruesome tableau refusing to leave her mind, their expressions twisted in agony and despair. Nyla¡¯s breath hitched, her body trembling as the line between nightmare and reality blurred and crumbled around her.

    Another wave of bile surged up Nyla¡¯s throat, and she bent over the bricks again, retching until there was nothing left. Her body shuddered, weak and drained. As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, she staggered upright, trying to steady herself.

    That¡¯s when she noticed something strange. There were more bricks scattered along the ground, forming an unsettling trail that led further along the wall. With growing dread, she raised her eyes and froze. The east wall of the building was shattered, a gaping hole where a solid structure should have been as if something had violently torn it apart.

    Her breath caught in her chest. What on earth had happened here? She stood staring at the jagged edges of the breach, her mind racing with questions. The destruction seemed impossibly large, and yet there it was, the building broken in half as if ripped open by some immense force.

    Fear prickled at the edges of her thoughts. Whatever had caused this¡ªit wasn¡¯t human.

    Tears streamed down Nyla''s face as she stood there, shaking. But amid her sobs, a new sound broke through the haze¡ªthe crunching of footsteps on snow. Instinctively, a warning bell went off in her mind, a primal urge to run, to get away, just like the feeling she''d had while walking toward the house earlier.

    She turned slowly, dread tightening her chest, afraid of what she might see. But when her eyes finally landed on the figure a few feet away, her heart skipped a beat. It was Billy.

    Relief washed over her like a warm wave. He was alive. Whatever nightmare had unfolded here, he had survived it. She blinked away the tears, hope flickering inside her. Maybe, just maybe, there were others. Maybe not everyone was gone.

    "Billy¡­" she breathed, barely able to believe it. Her voice trembled as she took a shaky step toward him.

    "You made it." Nyla hugged Billy tightly, her arms wrapped around him as if to shield him from the horrors they had both witnessed. For that fleeting moment, the crushing weight of fear lifted, replaced by a fragile hope that there might be others who had survived too. But something felt off. He was too cold, his hair messy and dusted with snow, his clothes damp from being outside for too long. He must have been hiding, she thought, probably in the trees, staying out of the killer''s¡ªor killers''¡ªsight. There was no way one person could have done all of this.

    "Are you alright? Is there anyone else with you? What happened here?" she asked in a flurry of questions, her voice trembling as she gently brushed the snow from his hair and coat. But as she wiped the fabric clean, her hand paused. There were dark patches on his coat. At first, she thought it was wet from the snow, but when she touched the stains, her glove came away smeared with red.

    Nyla¡¯s heart dropped.

    "Billy¡­ are you hurt? Did you get injured anywhere?" she asked in a panic, frantically pulling off his coat, and scanning him for any sign of a wound. Her breath hitched as she looked him over, only to find his skin unmarked. She exhaled a shaky sigh of relief, but something still felt wrong.

    She hugged him again, tighter this time, but Billy said nothing. His silence was unsettling, unnerving. Slowly, he raised his arms and wrapped them around her neck, returning the hug, but there was a stiffness to his embrace. Something about it felt hollow, empty.

    Nyla pulled back slightly, searching his face for any sign of emotion, but his eyes seemed distant as if the boy standing before her wasn¡¯t entirely there. The gnawing feeling of unease began to creep back into her chest.

    "First, we need to get out of here," Nyla whispered urgently, loosening Billy''s arms from around her neck. Her mind raced with one goal¡ªto get him as far from this nightmare as possible. They had to find help and call the police. They could search for other survivors once they were safe. She hugged him quickly again, a surge of gratitude washing over her, before releasing him, but she kept her hands on his small shoulders.

    That¡¯s when she felt it¡ªsomething was off. Billy stood there, but there was a strange stillness to him. His eyes didn¡¯t meet hers, his gaze unfocused, distant. She frowned, trying to shake off the growing unease as she studied him more closely. There was something... wrong, but she couldn¡¯t put her finger on it. The boy she had known for so long suddenly seemed foreign, like a shadow of himself.

    As Nyla tried to piece together the unsettling feeling gnawing at her, neither of them noticed the figure watching them from the gaping hole in the second-story wall. A shadow moved silently, its gaze locked on them from above, hidden among the debris and darkness, waiting¡ªwaiting for the perfect moment.

    *******************

    Alexander crouched low, catching his breath behind the crumbling wall, his pulse pounding in his ears. He''d been in a brutal struggle with the daemon for hours and this brief respite was a rare chance to regroup. But then a scream tore through the air¡ªsharp, human, and chilling. It sliced through his exhaustion like a blade, making his heart leap in his chest. Instinctively, he froze. This wasn¡¯t the wail of a daemon or its twisted seed. It was something else. Someone else.

    Curiosity overrode caution, and Alexander edged toward the source, but before he could investigate, the source came to him. A woman, wild-eyed and breathless, dashed into view, skidding to a halt mere feet from his hiding spot.

    ¡°How the hell did she get in here?!¡± Alexander muttered under his breath, disbelief knotting in his chest. He was certain no human could have breached the perimeter unnoticed. The boundary surrounding the daemon¡¯s domain wasn¡¯t vast¡ªroughly 300 yards, a tight radius for something so dangerous. The humans tasked with watching it had been vigilant, reporting every anomaly. Yet, here she was. He hadn¡¯t received a single word of warning.

    For a moment, he was frozen, unsure of his next move. Then it hit him¡ªhe knew exactly who she was. He''d seen her before, volunteering at the orphanage. His undercover mission there was meant to be seamless, blending in among the residents while gathering intel. But she had been a problem. Even two weeks ago, during his recon, she had sensed him. That unnerving awareness she carried was rare. And then there was that story she told, the one that set off alarm bells in his mind. It wasn¡¯t just a coincidence¡ªsomething about her was off.

    Now, here she was again, right in the heart of the daemon¡¯s lair.

    This was bad. Really bad. Alexander knew that Liam would want her alive¡ªhe¡¯d been itching to follow up on that strange story she had been telling the orphan boy. But how was Alexander supposed to protect her from the daemon if it decided to show up? This was no ordinary creature. It was powerful, fast, and far more intelligent than most of its kind. Alexander had been lucky enough to hold it off for two brutal hours, just long enough for his squad to step in and give him a chance to catch his breath. Had they not been in the area, the daemon and its seed would¡¯ve already torn through the town, leaving nothing but carnage in their wake.

    He almost moved toward her instinctively, muscles twitching to act. But then he hesitated, grounding himself. The daemon was being kept busy by his squad, drawn farther away for now. There was no immediate danger¡ªat least, not yet. And honestly, he had no real obligation to help her. She was just a part-time volunteer at a run-down orphanage where he¡¯d spent the last two months barely surviving because of Liam¡¯s stupid, though admittedly correct, suspicion. No orders had come down about protecting her, and Liam¡ªever so cautious¡ªwould¡¯ve issued a directive if he knew she was here.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    But something didn¡¯t sit right with Alexander. He couldn¡¯t put his finger on it. She wasn¡¯t the key¡ªhe¡¯d already tested her after that bizarre story she told the young boy in his dusty shared room. It hadn¡¯t revealed anything of value. So why was his gut screaming at him to act?

    He watched her closely, torn between instinct and logic. She was doubled over now, retching violently, her sobs echoing in the eerie silence. Completely vulnerable. As Alexander debated what to do next, something shifted in the atmosphere. His senses sharpened.

    And then, out of nowhere, the seed appeared.

    It slithered from the shadows like a nightmare, its grotesque form barely making a sound as it moved¡ªstraight toward her.

    Alexander¡¯s heart lurched.

    His first instinct was to stay hidden. Seeds didn¡¯t typically act like this, and something about it unsettled him. The small, twisted figure moved with an eerie calmness, with no signs of the usual bloodthirst or agitation that came when separated from its daemon. Even stranger, there was no sign of the daemon itself. Normally, seeds either hid or clung to their daemon''s side, especially when under attack. But this one was different, almost serene. Peculiar.

    Seeds were notorious for their violent, writhing reactions when faced with someone like Alexander. Yet this one moved almost deliberately, its quiet approach towards the girl unsettling. He strained his ears and caught the distant echo of gunfire¡ªhis squad was still engaged with the daemon, buying him time.

    The longer he watched, the more his curiosity piqued. This wasn¡¯t typical behavior, not for a seed, and not for this particular daemon, which had already proven to be more intelligent than most. Could she be the reason? Could she be connected to this strange calm in the seed?

    Alexander made his decision. There was something about her that nagged at him, something that went beyond Liam¡¯s suspicions and that damn story she¡¯d told. He didn¡¯t know why, but it felt like protecting her might lead to answers he hadn¡¯t yet considered.

    Without another second of hesitation, he stepped out of the shadows, drawing his blade and sprinting towards the girl. Whatever the seed''s intentions, it wouldn¡¯t get the chance to act on them.

    <ul>

    <li>"I¡¯d step away from him if I were you,"</li>

    </ul>

    Alexander said, his voice cold and steady as he made his presence known. His silhouette emerged from the shadows, standing tall against the pale, snow-covered ground. Nyla¡¯s head snapped up, startled by the sight of a man perched casually on the broken edge of a wall. He moved with an unsettling grace, leaping down to the snow with ease, landing in a way that made him seem¡­ not quite human.

    <ul>

    <li>¡°Who are you? Did you do that to the others?¡±</li>

    </ul>

    she demanded, her voice trembling with both fear and anger. She shoved Billy behind her, shielding him instinctively from the stranger.

    Alexander felt a flicker of irritation. He would never harm innocents, despite the coldness in his demeanour. How could she even think he was responsible for the horrors that had taken place? The bodies left in the daemon''s wake haunted him, but he was not their killer. It was infuriating to be accused of such a thing when the real monster lurked nearby.

    Still, he couldn''t blame her. He raised his hands slowly, trying to signal that he meant no harm, but as his gaze flicked down, he saw the blood¡ªstreaked across his sleeves, splattered on his clothes. Fresh and vivid. His gut twisted. Of course, she thought he was the culprit. She had no way of knowing that most of this blood was his own from the brutal fight with the daemon.

    His mind wandered briefly to the residents of the house. Many had been kind to him during his undercover stay, offering smiles and small kindnesses. He hadn¡¯t wanted to return here, but seeing their fate made his blood boil. "If only I were stronger..." the thought slipped into his mind before he cut it off. Regret was a useless emotion, especially in his line of work. He couldn¡¯t save everyone¡ªthat was a bitter truth he¡¯d swallowed long ago.

    But now, standing here covered in blood, with this girl glaring at him as if he were the monster, he felt that familiar pang. He forced it aside. Regret wasn¡¯t going to help anyone now.

    <ul>

    <li>¡°I didn¡¯t do this,¡±</li>

    </ul>

    Alexander said, his voice steady but tired, as he lowered his hands to his sides.

    <ul>

    <li>"But if you don¡¯t want to end up like the others, you should listen to me. That thing behind you... it''s dangerous."</li>

    </ul>

    His eyes shifted toward the seed, still lurking near Nyla, silent but waiting.

    As Alexander raised his hand, Nyla instinctively pushed Billy further behind her, shielding him completely from view. The man standing before her radiated danger. Something about him felt wrong. He had just leapt down from a second-story building without so much as a stumble, his clothes were soaked in blood, and there was a massive weapon strapped to his back. He carried himself with an unsettling calm as if this chaos were nothing more than a leisurely afternoon. No, this was no ordinary person. She might as well sprout wings and horns if he were just a bystander.

    Billy¡¯s small hand gripped hers tighter, trembling as if he shared the same unease about the blood-soaked stranger. Nyla could feel his fear radiating through the touch, which only heightened her own. She quickly scanned their surroundings, desperate for something¡ªanything¡ªthat could serve as a weapon. Her heart raced when her eyes fell on a few bricks scattered at her feet. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was all she had. She scooped one up, the weight heavy in her free hand, and turned back to face the stranger.

    He was watching her with a smirk of mild amusement as if the sight of her clutching the brick was a harmless joke to him. His eyes gleamed in the dim light, unreadable but sharp.

    "Seriously?" Alexander mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You¡¯re going to protect that thing? And with what? A brick?"

    With deliberate slowness, he started walking toward them, his hand moving to the katana strapped to his back. He slid it free from its sheath with a metallic whisper, the blade gleaming in the cold air. "I¡¯ve used all kinds of weapons over the years," he said, more to himself than to her, "but nothing cuts through bone and flesh quite like this."

    Nyla¡¯s heart pounded in her chest. She raised the brick higher, her arm shaking but steady enough to show she wasn¡¯t backing down. "Stop!" she shouted, her voice cracking under the pressure. "Don¡¯t you dare come any closer, or I¡¯ll¡ªI¡¯ll¡ª"

    "You¡¯ll what?" Alexander interrupted, his tone both intrigued and mocking. He was genuinely impressed by her resolve. Most people would have run the moment he unsheathed his sword, their survival instincts triggered by the bloodthirst that radiated from him. But not her. She stood her ground, glaring at him, trembling but unmoving.

    It made him smile.

    He towered over her, at least a head taller, his broad frame casting a long shadow across the snow. He moved with the sleekness of a panther stalking a kitten¡ªdangerous, graceful, and without a shred of hesitation. There was no comparison between them. Physically, he was stronger, faster, deadlier. Yet here she was, facing him down with nothing but a brick and a fierce glare.

    "You¡¯ve got guts," he muttered, almost to himself.

    Nyla¡¯s hand tightened around the brick, her knuckles white from the effort. She wasn¡¯t sure she could actually use it. She had never hurt anyone in her life, not even an insect. And now, faced with this... whatever he was, she wasn¡¯t sure if she could follow through. The fear gnawed at her, but she pushed it down, standing tall, even as her heart raced.

    Nyla¡¯s pulse quickened, but she stood her ground. She had to. For Billy. "I¡¯m not afraid of you."

    The corner of his mouth twitched as if he were trying not to laugh. "You should be," he said, his voice dropping to a serious tone, "but not because of me." His gaze flicked to the space just behind her, where the seed had silently clung to her.

    Nyla glanced back at Billy, her heart pounding. She knew she couldn¡¯t fight this man and win, but maybe she could stall long enough for Billy to escape. Slowly, she loosened his grip on her hand and began backing away, subtly maneuvering toward the exit path.

    "Billy, listen to me," she whispered, her voice low but urgent. "I¡¯m going to keep that bad man busy. You need to run to the main street and get as far away from here as you can, okay?"

    She kept her gaze locked on the stranger, watching for any signs that he might have overheard. His expression was unreadable, but she prayed he hadn¡¯t caught wind of her plan. Billy whispered something, but she couldn¡¯t make it out.

    "What did you say?" Nyla asked, her attention divided between Billy and the man standing before them. She shifted another step closer to the exit.

    Alexander paused in his slow approach, his eyes narrowing. Something about this situation wasn¡¯t adding up. He thought he saw the seed¡ªBilly¡ªmurmuring. But that shouldn¡¯t be possible. Seeds weren¡¯t supposed to speak, not after awakening. He had fought seeds for millennia; they could only communicate with their daemons telepathically, through emotion, not words. Yet here was this boy... whispering again.

    "Seriously, young lady!" Alexander snapped, the urgency in his voice rising. "Just hand that thing over! You¡¯re making this far more difficult than it needs to be!"

    He didn¡¯t like this. The boy was different¡ªdangerously different¡ªand that always meant trouble.

    "That thing has a name!" Nyla shot back, her voice trembling with anger. "And why should I give him to you? So you can add him to that abomination at the entrance? Y-you... SICKO!"

    Her voice cracked with the kind of fury she never thought she was capable of. This felt unreal, like one of those absurd movie scenes where the villain demands you hand over someone you care about. But this wasn¡¯t a movie. This was her life.

    ¡°What?!" Alexander roared, his frustration mounting. "How dare you! I didn¡¯t kill those people!"

    His fists clenched around the katana as he stepped forward again, his patience wearing thin.

    "Yeah, sure! Who else could it have been?" Nyla¡¯s voice was defiant. "You¡¯re standing here, covered in blood, at the crime scene! Who in their right mind would believe you didn¡¯t do it? Billy, what¡ª"

    Her argument was cut short as Billy tugged on her sleeve, his small voice barely audible over her frantic thoughts.

    "Did you like my artwork?" he asked quietly.

    Alexander froze in place, his expression suddenly shifting from anger to confusion. Nyla, too, felt a shiver of unease ripple through her. She turned, staring down at Billy, her mind racing.

    "Artwork?" she asked, her voice faltering. She blinked, trying to understand, but something was off. Horribly off.

    Billy''s eyes¡ªshe hadn''t noticed before¡ªwere brighter, almost glowing with a yellow hue, his pupils unnervingly narrow. But it wasn¡¯t just his eyes. His smile had changed too, stretching into something unnatural. Something¡­ wrong.

    "What do you mean, Billy?" she whispered, her heart now racing for an entirely different reason.

    His grip on her sleeve tightened, his voice soft but full of eerie glee. "I need a head for my snowman... Can I have yours?"

    Nyla''s blood ran cold. The playful tone in his voice was as chilling as the words themselves. His smile widened even more, an expression of pure, innocent malice.

    "SHIT! LOOK OUT!" Alexander¡¯s voice cut through the moment like a knife.

    In a split second, she turned, Nyla saw him sprinting toward her, but it was too late. Something massive struck her from the side, knocking the wind from her lungs. The world spun into darkness as she was thrown to the ground, her body collapsing under the weight of whatever had blindsided her.

    The last thing she heard was Alexander shouting, and the coldness of the snow beneath her cheek.

 Chapter 5

    <h2></a></a>Chapter 5</h2>

    Nyla jolted awake, a sharp pain lancing through her chest as she instinctively gasped for air. Confused and disoriented, she opened her eyes to a blinding expanse of white. Panic surged within her; for a terrifying moment, she feared she might be blind. Desperately, she blinked rapidly, and slowly, blurry shapes began to emerge from the haze. Each shallow breath sent waves of agony rippling through her body, but amidst the discomfort, she felt the cold bite of snow against her chest and right cheek, a chilling reminder of her precarious position on the ground.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Nyla thought, the question echoing in her mind like a haunting refrain. She attempted to push herself up, but a fresh wave of pain crashed over her, forcing a groan from her lips. Resigned, she sank back into the snow, grateful for the numbing coolness that provided a small respite from her agony.

    She focused intently on her vision, blinking again in a desperate attempt to clear the fog. Time stretched painfully as she waited, but gradually, the shapes around her sharpened. The world slowly came into focus, revealing a serene, snowy landscape that contrasted starkly with the turmoil inside her. As her breathing steadied, she resolved to understand what had brought her to this strange and cold place.

    In the distance, the silhouette of a familiar building loomed, its dark form cutting through the endless expanse of white. Confusion swirled in Nyla''s mind like the snowflakes around her. How had she gotten here? As she squinted through the haze, she realized she was nearly 300 yards from where she last remembered standing. A sense of dread gripped her¡ªhad someone taken her? The last thing that pierced her foggy memory was the violent jolt of impact, like a truck colliding with her side while she¡¯d been animatedly talking to Billy. It had to be that intruder¡¯s partner. But if he was involved, why had he tried to warn her?

    With effort, she blinked, trying to clear the lingering blur from her vision. Gradually, the shapes around her solidified, revealing figures darting about like phantoms in the snow. One form towered over the others, moving with a feral grace. At first, it appeared as if they were dancing, caught in some wild choreography of chaos. But no, this was no mere dance; it was a fierce confrontation, a primal struggle that set Nyla¡¯s heart racing.

    As if sensing her heightened state of awareness, a low, throbbing buzz began to fill the air, vibrating through her bones and mingling with the crispness of the cold. The world around her sharpened, the shapes gaining clarity, but the scene before her was anything but comforting. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, igniting a flicker of resolve. What was happening? Who were these figures?

    She squinted harder, desperate to decipher the unfolding drama, aware that understanding her situation could be the key to her survival.

    In the distance, Nyla¡¯s gaze locked onto a creature engaged in a fierce struggle against several shadowy figures. It was too far to make out every detail, but one thing was unmistakable: this being was unlike anything from her world. It stood upright, balancing on its powerful legs and arms like an ape, but its features were twisted and otherworldly. Horns jutted out from its shoulders, sharp and menacing, while two more protruded from its head like a crown of nightmares.

    With dagger-like claws gleaming in the dim light, the creature slashed at the people surrounding it, moving with a speed and ferocity that sent chills down Nyla''s spine. She blinked, hoping to dispel the image before her, convinced she was trapped in a surreal nightmare.

    She must be hallucinating, her mind whispered the only plausible explanation. Maybe the impact had rattled her brain more than she realized; after all, she had been hit by a truck driven by that psycho killer¡¯s partner. A heavy throb in her head suggested the injury might have been severe enough to plunge her into this phantasmagorical scene.

    But as the creature roared and the figures stumbled back, Nyla felt a surge of adrenaline override her disbelief. She couldn''t just lie here. If this was real, she had to find a way to escape.

    Suddenly, Nyla heard the crunch of footsteps breaking the fragile silence of the snow behind her.

    ¡°He said she flew somewhere in this direction¡­¡± The voice, authoritative yet tinged with urgency, belonged to Lieutenant Kain Lyons. A seasoned veteran of the ADA main branch, Kain had spent nearly a decade in the field, with half of that time dedicated to a special unit under the command of the enigmatic Alexander. This was his fifteenth demon-hunting expedition, and so far, this alpha demon was proving to be the most cunning adversary he had ever encountered.

    Memories of the recent skirmish flooded his mind¡ªa chaotic battle where they had drawn the demon away from their commander, using military vehicles as bait. The damn thing had decimated six of them, and he couldn¡¯t help but groan at the thought of the paperwork awaiting him back at base. Then, the creature had vanished into thin air, leaving them scrambling in confusion.

    Now, as he and his sergeant, Emily Kirby, navigated the dense woods, their mission had shifted. They had received orders to locate a civilian injured by the alpha instead of pursuing the demon. Kain¡¯s heart raced at the thought. A civilian? Here? In this frozen wilderness, with a relentless predator lurking in the shadows?

    With each step, he scanned the surroundings, eyes sharp for any sign of the girl they were sent to find. The weight of responsibility bore down on him as he whispered to himself, ¡°Stay focused, Kain. We will find her.¡±

    Nyla remained frozen, her heart pounding in her chest as she sensed the weight of their intentions. She had little choice in the matter, her tattered body betraying her fragility. Fear coursed through her veins; she couldn''t shake the feeling that they might be enemies lurking in the shadows.

    ¡°Does he really believe we¡¯re all like him?¡± Emily scoffed, her voice dripping with annoyance. ¡°The poor girl is probably dead. We would be more useful fighting the demon than combing through the woods.¡± The frustration in her tone was palpable. Emily had spent too long stuck in the administrative side of things, yearning for the thrill of battle. Just six months ago, she had clawed her way into the special unit, only to find herself sidelined, deprived of the action she craved.

    ¡°So, that creature was a demon¡­¡± Nyla pondered, her thoughts swirling in confusion. Could the ¡°he¡± they were discussing be the very intruder she had encountered? If so, did that mean he wasn¡¯t responsible for the devastation wrought upon Maryam and the children? She was certain he was after Billy, the last glimmer of hope in her shattered world.

    ¡°I hope she¡¯s alive,¡± Lieutenant murmured, his voice tinged with desperation. ¡°It would be good publicity if we had at least one survivor.¡± His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Their standing with the locals in Pendle was worse than he had imagined; a survivor could ease the mounting tension, though he remained oblivious to the impact of his statements on Nyla.

    At least one survivor? Panic clawed at her insides. Was Billy dead, taken down by that monster or by the man they were debating? Tears spilled down her cheeks as sobs racked her frail frame. He was the only one left, and now she couldn¡¯t save him.

    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Sergeant Kirby asked, raising her weapon and signaling for silence, her gaze sharp and focused.

    ¡°I did. I think it¡¯s coming from this side,¡± Lieutenant replied, brushing aside the sergeant¡¯s unspoken defiance. He pointed his gun in the direction of Nyla, who was concealed behind a thicket of bushes, hidden from their sight. Nyla''s heart raced as she heard their footsteps drawing nearer. She tried to shift her position, but the effort felt futile; her body refused to obey.

    ¡°I found her!¡± Emily exclaimed, her voice a mixture of surprise and relief. She knelt beside the broken figure, her fingers gently grazing Nyla''s shoulder. At the touch, Nyla groaned, a sound that barely escaped her lips.

    ¡°Great! You¡¯re alive!¡± Emily exclaimed, her tone brightening. ¡°Hey, my name is Emily. I¡¯m a hunter from ADA. Can you hear me?¡± She shone a light into Nyla''s eyes, her voice soothing yet urgent.

    Nyla struggled to respond, but no sound emerged from her throat¡ªonly a faint, desperate groan.

    ¡°Don¡¯t force yourself to talk if it¡¯s too difficult,¡± Emily reassured her, concern knitting her brow. ¡°I think you¡¯ve hurt your neck, so I¡¯m going to check your condition and provide some first aid until the medics arrive.¡±

    With careful movements, she began to examine Nyla, gasping softly as she took in the extent of the injuries before her. The broken figure was in worse shape than she had anticipated. Nyla, though unable to turn her neck, could now see her surroundings more clearly. The sky overhead was still bright, much like when she had first arrived at the building¡ªindicating that not much time had passed.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Suddenly, Emily¡¯s face loomed into view. Despite the warmth in her voice, her expression was serious and intent. With golden-brown eyes that seemed to hold both strength and compassion, a prominent nose, and honey-colored skin, Emily possessed an untraditional beauty that was hard to overlook.

    ¡°Hey, pretty girl. How are you holding up?¡± Emily asked kindly, though she could see that the girl before her was clearly in too much pain to respond. Gently, she adjusted Nyla¡¯s position, doing her best to make her comfortable while assessing the extent of her many injuries.

    ¡°Hey¡­ OH MY GOD!¡± Kain gasped in shock, his face paling as he stumbled back. Without a moment''s hesitation, he rushed away to contact headquarters, urgently requesting medics. He had never been good with injuries, and Emily knew it all too well.

    ¡°How long until they get here, sir?¡± Emily asked, her voice tinged with worry. She couldn¡¯t fathom how the poor girl could endure without proper medical attention, and moving her might only worsen the situation.

    ¡°They can¡¯t come here yet; this zone is still too dangerous for them,¡± Kain replied, sadness creeping into his tone. They had a limited number of medics, and losing even one was a risk they couldn¡¯t afford.

    ¡°What?! Those cowards!¡± Emily¡¯s anger flared. Medics were still soldiers of ADA and should be ready to enter the red zone at a moment''s notice.

    ¡°Well, what do you expect?¡± Kain tried to calm her down. ¡°No one in their right mind would get this close to a demon.¡± He understood her frustration; Emily had a fiery temper, but it was one of her charming qualities, he thought, even if it sometimes tested his patience.

    ¡°Then what are we going to do?¡± Emily asked, her fingers gently checking the girl¡¯s pulse. Nyla seemed to be conscious but completely unaware of her surroundings.

    ¡°I brought a stretcher. We can move her to the outside of the barrier¡­¡± Kain suggested.

    ¡°Are you crazy?! Can¡¯t you see¡ª¡± Emily moved him a few feet away to continue their argument in hushed tones, her eyes darting back to Nyla, concern etched across her face. After a moment, she returned to Nyla¡¯s side, the fight leaving her.

    ¡°Sorry, love. We don¡¯t have any other options except to move you ourselves. This is going to hurt a little, but try to stay with us. Blink twice if you understand.¡± Emily spoke gently, brushing a strand of hair away from Nyla¡¯s forehead.

    Nyla blinked twice in response, her eyes reflecting a mix of fear and resignation. She had no other choice.

    Emily nodded, determination setting her features. She slid her hands under Nyla¡¯s shoulders, gripping the fabric of her coat, while Kain took hold of her boots¡ªthe last gift Maryam had given her. A bittersweet memory flickered through Nyla¡¯s mind.

    ¡°On the count of three. One, two, three!¡± Emily counted down, and as they lifted her, an intense wave of pain shot through Nyla¡¯s body. Darkness enveloped her, and she felt her consciousness slip away.

    *************************************

    Nyla slowly regained consciousness, her senses awakening to the gentle caress of a cool breeze brushing against her face. A smile crept onto her lips, as the refreshing sensation reminded her of spring¡ªa season she had always adored. With effort, she opened her eyes to take in her surroundings.

    She found herself in a room with soothing blue walls, adorned with a few generic photo frames that offered little comfort. In one corner stood a simple chair, and the fluorescent lights cast a harsh, sterile glow over the space. As she turned her stiff neck, her gaze fell upon a large mirror, and her heart sank with disappointment. The source of the breeze was not a welcoming window but rather an air conditioner humming quietly above her.

    Next to the mirror was a door, barred at its small window, and a wave of unease washed over her. Nyla¡¯s throat felt parched, a painful reminder of her thirst. She turned her head slightly to spot a table beside the door, where a water container sat invitingly.

    Determined to sit up and quench her thirst, she attempted to move, but her body refused to cooperate. Panic surged as she discovered the restraints binding her to the bed, restricting her movements. Tubes snaked from her body, feeding her and monitoring her condition simultaneously, reminding her of the vulnerability of her situation.

    What were all of these? Nyla¡¯s thoughts swirled as she struggled to remember why she was here, but her mind felt like a foggy haze. The last thing she could clearly recall was her journey to the orphanage, excitement bubbling within her as she prepared to participate in the charity event. But then something happened. Something bad.

    She fixed her gaze on her reflection in the mirror, her heart sinking at the sight of herself tied to the bed, with casts encasing her left leg and right arm. Panic crept into her chest as she searched for answers, but her mind remained frustratingly blank. A flicker of memory surfaced¡ªshe remembered being in a hospital room, her screams piercing the air, surrounded by frightened faces. But why were they scared? The question echoed in her mind, unanswered and haunting.

    Suddenly, the door swung open, and a large, stout woman in a nurse''s uniform stepped into the room, balancing a tray laden with medical supplies. The woman¡¯s presence was a stark contrast to the sterile environment, her movements brisk and purposeful as she approached Nyla''s bedside.

    ¡°How are you feeling, sugar?¡± Nurse Millie Fowler asked cheerfully, her voice warm and inviting. Despite her stout frame, her face radiated kindness, and Nyla felt a flicker of comfort in the nurse¡¯s presence. She opened her mouth to ask for water, but the words tangled in her mind, slipping away into the haze.

    As if sensing her need, Nurse Fowler moved to the table, returning with a glass of cool water. After deftly pressing a button to raise the head of the bed, she helped Nyla sip the water slowly, the refreshing liquid soothing her parched throat. Nyla noted the nurse¡¯s name on her badge¡ªMillie Fowler.

    ¡°Th¡­ Thank¡­ you¡­¡± Nyla managed to croak, her hoarse voice surprising her. A smile blossomed on Nurse Fowler''s face, brightening the sterile room. With gentle hands, she set the glass aside and began to remove Nyla''s restraints, her touch careful and reassuring.

    ¡°Where am I?¡± Nyla finally found the strength to ask, her mind beginning to clear.

    ¡°You¡¯re at Hopkin¡¯s General Hospital, dear,¡± Nurse Fowler replied, her tone softening as she tended to Nyla. For nearly a decade, she had served as the head nurse for the psych ward, but this patient was different. The hospital¡¯s largest donor had requested more attentive care for Nyla, and for good reason. When she had been brought in, her body had borne the evidence of a horrific ordeal¡ªmultiple broken bones in her arms and legs, numerous fractures throughout her body, and a nasty concussion.

    According to her charts, Nyla had been the victim of a devastating hit-and-run. They had performed multiple surgeries to stop internal bleeding, and her heart had stopped twice while she was under anesthesia. It was nothing short of a miracle that she had survived.

    But then the real problem began. Nyla¡¯s mind, once a sanctuary of dreams and hopes, became a labyrinth of nightmares. She started hallucinating, vivid images of demons swirling in her mind, each more grotesque than the last. They tore through her memories, mercilessly reenacting the massacre of her family. She recounted the horror with such chilling detail that, for a moment, even the most skeptical listeners might have believed her. Yet, the truth lay stark against her claims: no demon had attacked in the entire country of Azul. The blessings of the church had safeguarded the land, a truth everyone accepted as gospel.

    As Nyla''s reactions to these hallucinations intensified, a tragic incident occurred¡ªher desperation boiled over when she stabbed an orderly with a syringe, a moment of frantic fear that sealed her fate. The authorities, alarmed by the escalation of her violence, swiftly transferred her to the psych ward. There, she was heavily medicated, the drugs designed to keep her calm and suppress the vivid episodes until she could recover physically. Nurse Fowler had been assigned to personally oversee her care¡ªa decision that felt both humiliating and burdensome for the head nurse. Yet, as she assisted Nyla into a fresh gown, a flicker of sympathy ignited in her heart for the girl caught in such turmoil.

    Just as Nurse Fowler turned to place the soiled gown on the table, Nyla¡¯s hand shot out, gripping her wrist with a sudden, fierce urgency.

    ¡°Billy! What happened to Billy?! Where is he?¡± she cried out, her voice a mixture of fear and desperation, shattering the stillness of the room.

    Nyla''s panic surged, and she tried to stand, her body trembling with the effort, but the world spun around her. She stumbled and fell to the floor, the cold tiles biting into her skin. Fortunately, Nurse Fowler was there, her reflexes honed from years of experience, and she swiftly caught Nyla before she could hit the ground.

    A flood of memories surged through Nyla, overwhelming her senses like a breaking dam. She recalled the terrifying moments on the helicopter, the chaotic rush into the woods, and, as if the pieces of a shattered puzzle fell into place, the horrific events that had led her here. She could see the grotesque sculpture made of Maryam and the children''s body parts, feel the icy grip of fear as the intruder appeared, and hear the echoes of Billy¡¯s sweet voice¡ªthe poor, innocent Billy.

    The recollection twisted in her stomach, and she bent over, fighting the urge to expel the horror trapped inside her. When she finally retched, all that came out was a watery liquid, a pitiful response to the trauma she had endured.

    As Nurse Fowler helped Nyla lay back down on the bed, she pressed a button at the head of the bed to call for the doctor. ¡°Easy now, here you go, darling,¡± she said softly, her voice a soothing balm against Nyla''s rising panic. But as the nurse began to secure the restraints around her wrists, Nyla''s eyes widened in horror.

    ¡°No! Let me go!¡± she cried, yanking her arm with all her strength.

    The room echoed with her desperate pleas as she kicked and squirmed, trying to free herself from the unyielding bonds. But Nurse Fowler was strong, her years of experience giving her the upper hand. After a brief struggle, she managed to secure Nyla back in her restraints, carefully reattaching the tubes that had been knocked loose in the chaos.

    Nyla¡¯s screams filled the air, a raw expression of her terror and helplessness. That was all she could do¡ªscream, as the reality of her situation crashed down around her like a relentless tide.

    The door buzzed open once more, and a man in a white coat entered, exuding an air of authority. Nurse Fowler stepped back, giving the doctor better access to Nyla. She returned moments later with a tray, placing it on the table at the end of the bed and handing a syringe to the doctor.

    ¡°What is that?¡± Nyla''s voice quivered with suspicion, her screams momentarily silenced as she watched the doctor prepare the injection.

    ¡°Sedative,¡± he replied, his tone flat and disinterested as he inserted the syringe into the IV tube connected to her left arm.

    Nyla tried to protest, to assert that she didn¡¯t want a sedative and that she was fine¡ªif only they would tell her what had happened. But before the words could form, the world began to spin, blurring around her. The room swayed, and the edges of her vision darkened, pulling her into the familiar abyss.

    Finally, as the darkness enveloped her, she felt herself slip away once more.

 Chapter 6

    <h2></a></a>Chapter 6</h2>

    The doctor stepped out of Nyla''s room, the heavy door clicking shut behind him. He made his way to the observation room, where Liam Turner awaited him, his brow furrowed with concern.

    ¡°How is she, Tim?¡± Liam asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

    The doctor shook his head, a deep sigh escaping his lips. ¡°Her physical condition is deteriorating. This place isn¡¯t helping her¡ªit¡¯s like throwing a wounded animal into a cage.¡±

    Liam clenched his fists, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. ¡°You need to get her out of here. Keeping her in this psych ward is only amplifying her trauma.¡±

    Regret gnawed at him; he could see Nyla''s face, wild with fear and confusion. It was his fault she was here. When she¡¯d been transferred to the capital, he hadn¡¯t been where he should have been. By the time he arrived, she had already been branded a psychiatric case, her ordeal deepening as they treated her like a monster instead of a victim.

    ¡°I¡¯m doing everything I can,¡± Liam said, his frustration bubbling to the surface. ¡°It¡¯s taking longer than expected to orchestrate her exit from Azul without drawing suspicion. I can¡¯t even meet her face to face.¡±

    The doctor nodded, understanding the delicate web of politics they navigated. ¡°Just remember, every moment counts. The longer she stays, the harder it will be to bring her back.¡±

    As he turned to leave, Liam¡¯s mind raced with thoughts of Nyla, trapped in her own hell. He felt the suffocating walls of the hospital closing in on him, mirroring the confines of her room. Alone in the observation room, he wrestled with the shadows of his choices, hoping to find a way to save her before it was too late.

    Azul was a nation ensnared in the iron grip of the church, its power woven intricately into the very fabric of society. The authorities propagated the illusion that the divine presence rendered them immune to the horrors of demon attacks, but the truth lay buried beneath layers of propaganda and secrecy. For over a century, the church had silenced any mention of demon incursions, manipulating information to fortify the faith of the populace.

    But when the unthinkable occurred¡ªa real demon attack¡ªtheir carefully constructed facade began to crack. The Anti Demon Association (ADA) became a pawn in this grim game, tasked with controlling the narrative. Their mandate was clear: maintain silence, bury the evidence, and deal with the aftermath¡ªall in exchange for a steady stream of funding from the church, which feared that even a whisper of truth could shatter their authority.

    Liam Turner felt the weight of this corruption bearing down on him. The ADA executives were trapped in a web of moral compromise, knowing that without the church¡¯s backing, their operations would collapse. Money flowed, but at what cost? Lives hung in the balance, and the truth was twisted into knots, suffocated under the pretense of divine protection.

    As he contemplated Nyla¡¯s situation, Liam¡¯s heart raced with frustration. Every step he took to extricate her from this nightmare was met with resistance, bound by the very forces that claimed to keep the people safe. The shadows of the church loomed large, and within them, the screams of the forgotten echoed¡ªa haunting reminder of the demons that walked among them, both literal and figurative.

    Liam had smuggled survivors in such a situation before. But Nyla was a different story altogether. According to Alexander¡¯s report, she possessed knowledge about demons that was far beyond what any ordinary citizen of Azul would ever know¡ªknowledge that could threaten the very foundations of the church''s power. Whispers of the world from which demons originated and the existence of the twelve Watchmen, guardians who wielded power against the darkness, lingered on her lips like forbidden fruit. Such secrets were confined to the hushed conversations of the ADA¡¯s executive circle, away from the prying eyes of the public.

    Liam realized that if the other executives caught wind of her revelations, they would do anything to silence her permanently. He had to uncover how she learned about these secrets before it was too late. Smuggling her out of Azul became an urgent mission, fraught with peril and complexities. He had barely managed to cover up Nyla¡¯s incident as a mere hit-and-run, thanks to the discreet help of allies like Dr. Tim Pearce. But escaping the country¡ªnow that was an entirely different beast.

    Every step he took felt like walking on a tightrope, teetering dangerously between the need to protect Nyla and the suffocating scrutiny of the church''s enforcers. The clock was ticking, and each passing moment brought them closer to a revelation that could unravel everything.

    Liam leaned against the glass of the observation room, his heart heavy as he gazed at Nyla''s frail figure, illuminated under the stark fluorescent lights. The girl he once knew as a beacon of calm had been reduced to this: a tattered soul, haunted by memories that danced just out of reach. It felt grotesque, the irony of survival hanging in the air like a thick fog. She had escaped the clutches of brutality only to be ensnared by a system that would bury her truth.

    He knew that Nyla held secrets about the demons and the twelve Watchmen¡ªarcane knowledge that would shatter the carefully constructed illusion the church maintained in Azul. To the outside world, demons were but shadows, their existence denied. Yet Nyla had glimpsed beyond the veil, and that made her a target.

    With a deep sigh, Liam turned away from the glass, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. There was a way to get her out, but it involved traversing a labyrinth of complications, not least of which was the insufferable Alexander. The man-child had a knack for turning even the simplest plans into grand disasters. As he plotted, a plan began to crystallize in his mind.

    ¡°Jamal!¡± Liam yelled. Jamal¡¯s imposing figure filled the doorway, the reddish-brown of his skin contrasting sharply with the sterile whiteness of the hospital corridor. He wore a simple suit today, a break from the austere ADA uniform, and Liam couldn¡¯t help but notice how the change suited him. The tailored fabric draped elegantly over his broad shoulders, lending him an air of authority that was almost regal.

    ¡°Liam!¡± he said, his voice deep and rumbling, yet warm. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°Please tell Dr. Pearce to prepare her for transfer. We¡¯re going back home,¡± Liam replied, a smile tugging at his lips. There was a lightness in his chest he hadn¡¯t felt in weeks¡ªa rare flicker of hope amid the heavy shadows of Azul.

    Jamal nodded, his serious demeanor softening as he returned the smile, though it transformed his face into a mask of fierce intensity. The contrast between his cheerful expression and his menacing build could be jarring to anyone who didn¡¯t know him, but Liam was well aware of the gentle heart that lay beneath the surface.

    As Jamal closed the door behind him, Liam leaned back against the glass wall, feeling the weight of their prolonged stay in this godforsaken country lift just a little. He couldn¡¯t wait to return to the warmth of home and the embrace of his lover, where the air was free of secrets and shadows.

    But first, he had to ensure Nyla was safely out of there. This was just the beginning, and he was ready to face whatever storm lay ahead for the sake of the girl who had fought so hard to survive.

    *********************************

    Nyla groaned softly as she peeled her eyes open, the dim light of the moon casting eerie shadows around the room. Her throat felt as if it had been lined with sandpaper, and a dull throb pulsed through her temples. Everything around her was engulfed in darkness, save for a narrow strip of silvery light that sliced through the blinds, illuminating the contours of her unfamiliar surroundings.

    She strained to remember how she had gotten here. Flashes of being moved on a gurney, the rattling of wheels over pavement, and the overwhelming sensation of being airborne flickered in her mind. And then there was that doctor, his relentless insistence on injecting her with drugs, leaving her feeling violated and powerless. She had half a mind to confront him when she got the chance¡ªafter all, wasn¡¯t consent supposed to mean something?

    With a determined grunt, she pushed herself into a sitting position, relieved to discover that her restraints had been removed. She scanned the shadowy corners of the room, searching for a light switch but finding nothing. Her cast weighed heavily on her leg, a constant reminder of her frailty, yet her mind buzzed with clarity, sharper than it had been in days. She needed to escape, to understand where she was now. Was this a different hospital, or just another room in the asylum she had been confined to?

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, ready to stand, a sudden awareness prickled at the back of her neck. She was not alone. A pair of piercing green eyes watched her from the shadows, observing her every move with an intensity that sent a shiver racing down her spine.

    Alexander leaned against the cold concrete wall of the dimly lit room, the faint scent of iron lingering in the air from his recent encounter with the daemon and its vile seed. He had just finished cleaning up, his mind still racing with the memories of the struggle, when Liam¡¯s voice crackled through the comms, snapping him back to reality.

    The news about the girl caught him off guard. Surprised and somewhat relieved that she had survived, he couldn¡¯t help but recall their brief interaction before everything spiraled out of control. Nyla had been so kind to him while he masqueraded as ¡°Luke,¡± the orphan. How ironic that the very girl he had shared a fleeting connection with was now entangled in the dark web of their grim reality. Her accusations of murder had been a harsh blow, but he couldn¡¯t hold it against her. She had been fighting for her life.

    As Liam detailed his plan to smuggle Nyla out of Azul, Alexander nodded, already anticipating the complications ahead. The church had a firm grip on the narrative surrounding daemon attacks, erasing any trace of survivors to maintain the illusion that their god, Lux, was a protective force. It was a ruthless strategy that allowed them to dominate the continent, reinforcing the belief that the faithful would be spared from harm.

    The ADA members were technically safe, but their status came at a steep price. Becoming an official member required years of grueling training, and even then, they were scrutinized relentlessly. The church kept meticulous records of their soldiers, tracking their movements and those of their fallen comrades. Any sudden influx of new recruits would raise alarm bells, and Alexander knew all too well that the church would not hesitate to eliminate perceived threats.

    ¡°Liam, this isn¡¯t just about getting her out,¡± Alexander said, his voice low and steady. ¡°We need to tread carefully. If we¡¯re caught¡ªif anyone finds out about her¡ªthere will be consequences, not just for us but for the entire ADA operation.¡±

    Liam sighed on the other end, his frustration palpable. ¡°I know that. But we can¡¯t just leave her here to be silenced. She knows things, Alexander. Things that could change everything.¡±

    A chill crept through Alexander¡¯s spine. He understood the weight of Nyla¡¯s knowledge. If she spoke of the twelve Watchmen and the world from which the daemons came, it could unravel the delicate threads of their carefully constructed narrative. But what if she held the key to solving their own dilemma?

    Alexander¡¯s mind raced. He pondered whether Nyla might be part of his special unit¡ªthe one that officially didn¡¯t exist, a phantom force that the church wouldn¡¯t dare mess with. He¡¯d made sure of that years ago. Yet why would he feel compelled to help her? Sure, there was something distinctly peculiar about her, especially after witnessing the seed¡¯s unusual behavior around her. But his ring hadn¡¯t reacted to her in the slightest. He had tested her multiple times¡ªjust as he tested any individual who piqued his interest. So, there was no way she was the one he had been looking for.

    Yet the possibility of this being an opportunity couldn¡¯t be ignored. An opportunity to check off an item on his retirement plan checklist in Keerly Key, Vatia. The image of the white sandy beach, the blue-green ocean, and perfect weather danced in his mind¡ªa paradise where he could finally laze around and do nothing. The cottage Liam had inherited from his grandfather had been a sore spot for him; he had been there when the late commander of the second division of ADA purchased it, only to spite him. That place could serve as his future haven.

    To his surprise¡ªand slight disappointment¡ªLiam accepted his conditions quickly, offering no resistance, which Alexander had anticipated. Liam¡¯s only stipulation was that Alexander would be the one to notify the executive board and secure their approval, a task Alexander accepted with a grin. Messing with Liam was always a pleasure, but annoying the old foxes on the board brought him even greater joy. It was these small victories that kept his spirit alive in this grim world.

    As soon as he secured the deed to the cottage, he took the first flight back to their headquarters in Ublos. Upon arrival, he wasted no time intimidating the other executives, who sat in their high-backed chairs, pretending to be in control. Their eventual capitulation was sweet¡ªsigning the necessary paperwork to facilitate Nyla¡¯s transfer.

    Afterward, he found solace on the training ground of the second division, the familiar atmosphere helping to clear his mind. Emily, who was usually responsible for his unit¡¯s paperwork (especially since Kain had managed to injure himself in yet another idiotic stunt), approached him with news of Liam and Nyla¡¯s arrival. Initially, Alexander brushed off the report, thinking little of it. But as night fell and curiosity gnawed at him, he found himself drawn to her room.

    Before he realized it, his feet had led him to stand over her bed, his shadow casting a dark shape across her still form. Nyla lay there, her features softened in the moonlight, a stark contrast to the turmoil she had endured. At that moment, Alexander felt an unfamiliar twinge of protectiveness¡ªsomething he had not anticipated. The girl had become a potential pawn in his game, but could she also be a crucial ally?

    He stood in the shadows, studying her with a gaze as sharp as the moonlight filtering through the window. Each rise and fall of Nyla¡¯s chest sparked a torrent of thoughts in his mind¡ªabout the secrets she held and the chaos that had drawn him here. Just as he prepared to slip away, she stirred, and an unsettling wave of urgency washed over him. If Liam caught him lingering, he¡¯d never hear the end of it. Instead, he decided to wait quietly hoping that girl would go back to sleep. But she didn¡¯t. He looked at her struggling to get out of bed and almost falling.

    ¡°Stop, you¡¯re going to fall¡­¡± The words slipped from his lips before he could think, his voice low and steady.

    Nyla jumped out of her skin, hearing Alexander¡¯s cold voice coming from the other side of the room. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± she shouted, squinting into the dimness, a captive bird looking for the source of the threat.

    As a shadow crept closer, Alexander hesitated, then stepped into the moonlight. The moment their eyes locked, recognition transformed into sheer panic. Nyla screamed and stumbled away, her movements frantic, her heart racing against the cage of her chest. She jumped out of the bed running to the opposite side of the room, trying to get away from him as much as possible. Unfortunately, the side she walked on was not a side with a door.

    ¡°Please, be quiet!¡± he urged, advancing towards her, but she darted to the far wall, desperately seeking an escape. Alexander walked towards Nyla, baffled by her reaction, and amazed that she could run with her leg in a cast. Their last encounter was not pleasant, but it was not bad enough to cause such a reaction in his opinion. Nyla ignored him and continued screaming while looking for the door, hoping that someone might hear her and come to her rescue.

    A door handle caught her frantic fingers. She grabbed the handle and pried it open with all her strength. Before she could fully open the door to exit, Alexander slammed it shut pinning her against the wall. His hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her cries, his other hand firm on her shoulder. ¡°I told you to shut the hell up! You¡¯re going to wake him up¡­¡± The words were harsh, but they held an undercurrent of urgency, for Liam¡¯s room was perilously close. He even asked her politely to be quiet so he wouldn¡¯t wake and find him here.

    Nyla whimpered beneath his grip, and at that moment, he saw the flicker of terror in her eyes¡ªfear that mirrored the darkness he¡¯d always known. Up close he looked larger and more dangerous than before. His long black hair was dishevelled and there was a threatening glint in his green eyes. The arm that was on her mouth was covered in bandages it was starting to get wet with her tears. After Mathew¡¯s death, Maryam used to tell her that death finds all of them and there is no way to hide from it. She couldn¡¯t help but think that he had finally found her too.  After all, wasn¡¯t that the nature of their world? Death lurking around every corner.

    ¡°What the hell is going on, Alexander? You¡¯re going to wake her¡­ ?¡± Liam burst into the room hurriedly, flipping on the light like a sudden dawn. Behind him, Jamal stood poised, gun drawn, muscles tense and ready for a fight. Earlier the nurse in charge of the room had told him that their patient had a visitor. He decided to not bother Alexander about his sneakiness. His presence meant that no one in the organization would bother Nyla and he could finally have some peace and alone time with Jamal. They were just starting to enjoy their time together when a scream from down the hall disturbed them.

    Nyla squeezed her eyes shut against the glare, and Alexander cursed under his breath, loosening his hold on her.

    ¡°WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?¡± Liam¡¯s voice cut through the air like a knife, his shock evident in his voice. Alexander let go of her completely. Nyla collapsed right where she was standing. As Alexander walked away, she started rubbing her eyes with her left hand trying to get her vision back. She could hear the new footsteps getting close to her and carefully opened her eyes which instantly filled with tears thanks to the bright light.

    ¡°Nothing. She woke up and started going crazy I was trying to help her¡­¡± Alexander shrugged, though the scene painted a grim picture. He stared at the gun targeted at him for a few seconds and then turned his gaze to its owner. Jamal seeing his gaze brought his gun down right away.

    ¡°HELP her? By choking her? She¡¯s a patient for God¡¯s sake¡­ IS THAT BLOOD?!¡± Liam¡¯s voice rose in disbelief, concern washing over his features as he examined the wound from her IV. Nyla instinctively flinched at his touch. She hadn¡¯t noticed that she was bleeding.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Nyla. You¡¯re safe; I¡¯m just trying to help you get up,¡± Liam reassured her, his tone softening as he reached out, grounding her in the moment. He sounded quite familiar. Nyla rubbed her eyes, blinking back tears as the brightness slowly revealed familiar shapes. She blinked a few times until a familiar face with caramel hair became focused. She stared at him with her mouth hanging open. What was he doing here?

    ¡°Gale, is that you?¡± she gasped, the shock echoing in her voice, relief threading through her as she reached for him.

    With a gentle smile, Liam offered his hand, and as she took it, warmth flooded her chest, replacing the cold fear that had gripped her. In that moment, she felt a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos, a lifeline in the dark.

 Chapter 7

    Alexander could barely contain his outrage. How could she? After everything he had done¡ªrisking his life to save her from the seed, enduring her accusations of mass murder, and navigating the treacherous dealings with the executives to free her from Azul¡ªthis was how she repaid him? Yes, he had his own reasons for getting involved, but that didn¡¯t erase the sacrifices he¡¯d made.

    He had even come to see her, against his better judgment, tried to steady her when she was on the verge of collapse. And now? Now she had the audacity to scream bloody murder at him while fawning over Liam like some obedient, starry-eyed puppy. The thought that Nyla might not even know of his efforts never crossed his mind; his bruised ego wouldn¡¯t allow it.

    Slumping back into his couch, Alexander¡¯s glare bore into the pair standing before him. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, a storm of indignation simmering beneath the surface. As Liam leaned closer to Nyla, laughing at something she said, Alexander¡¯s scowl deepened. If they thought this was over, they were sorely mistaken. A plan began to form in his mind¡ªa plan to make Liam regret ever stepping into the picture.

    Liam gently helped Nyla back onto the bed, his movements steady but careful. He pressed the intercom and called for a nurse, then rummaged through a drawer beside the bed, pulling out a clean towel. Folding it quickly, he pressed it firmly against the wound on her arm. It wasn¡¯t deep, thankfully, but the sight of her blood stirred something protective in him.

    Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Alexander¡¯s unwavering stare. The man hadn¡¯t left the room, though his body radiated a strange intensity. Alexander¡¯s gaze flicked between them, sharp and scrutinizing, like he was dissecting a puzzle only he could see.

    Nyla winced as Liam adjusted the towel, increasing the pressure to stem the bleeding. Guilt flashed across his face, and he gave her an apologetic look.

    ¡°Our roles seem to have reversed¡­¡± Nyla said softly, her lips curving into a faint smile. The memory of Gale¡ªthe chaos he had caused in the store before¡ªplayed faintly in her mind.

    ¡°Seems so,¡± Liam replied, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°But I¡¯m nowhere near as good as you when it comes to cleaning up the mess.¡± He added a playful wink, his tone light despite the seriousness of the moment.

    For a brief moment, the tension in the room eased, softened by their shared memory. Nyla winced at the pain in her limbs. In her panic, Nyla had completely ignored the tubes snaking around her arms and legs, as well as the sharp protests of her body. Now, the pain from her sudden burst of activity came flooding back, wave after relentless wave. Her muscles throbbed, her chest felt tight, and her head buzzed with dizziness. She cast a nervous glance at the black-haired intruder, flinching when she realized he was staring at her¡ªhis eyes burning with anger she couldn¡¯t place. She quickly looked away, her heart pounding.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, he¡¯s not going to hurt you,¡± Liam whispered softly, his voice calm as he inspected her arm. The gentleness in his tone soothed her for a fleeting moment, and she managed a faint smile. At first, seeing someone familiar had been a lifeline, a reassurance of her safety. But now, her nerves were returning with a vengeance.

    This man was Gale¡ªthere was no mistaking it. The new employee at the Supercenter, the one who had fumbled through his first day with a shy smile and thick glasses. Yet here he was, looking completely different. His hair was a disheveled mess, and the glasses were gone, revealing sharp features she hadn¡¯t noticed before. She hated to admit it, but he looked better like this¡ªconfident, almost commanding. But why was he here? And how did he seem to know the angry intruder?

    Her mind spun as she tried to piece it together. The man standing against the wall, his posture stiff and his glare icy, radiated an aura of menace. Who was he? Why was he watching them so closely? The questions churned in her head until they made her dizzy.

    ¡°What is¡­¡± she began, her voice trembling. Before she could finish, the door she had fought so desperately to open earlier swung inward, cutting her off.

    Two nurses rushed in, their eyes widening at the chaotic scene before them. One quickly turned and dashed out, calling for a doctor, while the other approached with hurried steps, gently nudging Liam aside to take over. As he stepped back, Nyla¡¯s panic surged. Her hand shot out, gripping the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

    ¡°Gale¡­ don¡¯t leave me,¡± she pleaded, tears brimming in her eyes. She felt a pang of humiliation¡ªshe was clinging to him like a scared child. But he was the only familiar face in what felt like an eternity.

    Liam placed his hand over hers, his touch firm yet comforting. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Nyla,¡± he said gently. ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere. The doctor just needs to check your condition. After that, we¡¯ll sit down and have a proper conversation. I promise I¡¯ll explain everything.¡±

    He smiled at her, though there was a hint of hesitation behind it, as if he wasn¡¯t entirely sure what to say. Nyla¡¯s confusion only deepened. This was not the Gale she remembered¡ªthe clumsy, endearing man who had knocked over shelves in the Supercenter. This person was calm, composed, and exuded a quiet authority.

    As the nurse guided her to lie back on the bed, Nyla¡¯s thoughts spiraled. Her heart raced, and a single question echoed in her mind, louder than the rest: What the hell is happening?

    **********************

    Liam walked over to the couch where Alexander sat, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his glare sharp enough to cut glass. The weight of guilt tugged at Liam as he approached. He knew he owed Nyla an explanation about his undercover role at the Supercenter, but he hadn¡¯t expected it to happen so soon¡ªor under such chaotic circumstances. And, of course, Alexander had made everything worse. A softer approach? Clearly out of the question for him.

    ¡°Why the hell did you scare her like that?¡± Liam hissed, keeping his voice low. He could still feel Nyla¡¯s wary eyes on him, tracking his every move, and the last thing he wanted was to unsettle her further.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything!¡± Alexander snapped, his voice rising loud enough to echo off the walls.

    Nyla flinched at the outburst, and Liam¡¯s stomach sank at the sight. Alexander, however, didn¡¯t miss it either. His jaw tightened, and a fresh wave of anger lit his expression¡ªnot at Liam this time, but seemingly at himself.

    Liam tilted his head, studying him. Something was off. Alexander enjoyed intimidation; it was practically his second language. Yet, this time, he didn¡¯t look smug. He looked... frustrated, almost bothered by Nyla¡¯s reaction.

    It was peculiar, to say the least. Liam opened his mouth, a question forming on his lips, but before he could utter a word, the door burst open with a loud bang, cutting through the tension like a blade.

    ¡°WHY ARE THERE SO MANY PEOPLE IN HERE?!¡±

    The furious voice sliced through the room like a whip. A middle-aged woman in scrubs stormed in, her bun disheveled and her scarred face etched with equal parts exhaustion and fury. Dr. Auset Anwar had barely scrubbed out of surgery when June, one of her most trusted nurses, pulled her aside. June had hurriedly explained the chaos unfolding in the patient¡¯s room, and Auset¡ªalready on edge¡ªfelt her anger bubbling over. She had explicitly declared the room off-limits until she could assess the girl¡¯s condition.

    The moment Auset entered, her sharp eyes scanned the scene: Nyla, pale and fragile on the bed; Liam, holding his hands up like a scolded child; and Alexander, whose dark glare only fueled her rage. The sight of him made her blood boil.

    Auset couldn¡¯t stop the torrent of memories that flooded her mind as she took another step inside. She had lost almost everything to the demons¡ªher family, her village, and most of her friends. Her brother, the last remaining piece of her family, had turned into a Seed before her very eyes, slaughtering their entire village in a storm of blood and chaos. Somehow, she had survived. But the knights of Lux had deemed her survival suspicious and nearly executed her before the Anti-Demon Association intervened.

    Years later, she had climbed the ranks of the 2nd Division, earning her reputation as its formidable lead doctor. But tragedy followed her like a shadow. She had lost friends, allies, and her heart along the way¡ªher beloved Jamal¡¯s father, torn apart in a mission Alexander had been the sole survivor of. It was Alexander who returned with the shattered remains of her life. She had hated him since.

    And now, of all places, these two¡ªher most despised figures¡ªwere arguing in front of her newest patient. Her temples throbbed as her anger escalated, her vein pulsing so visibly that her son, Jamal, instinctively stepped between her and Liam. Years of training with her had taught him to recognize the signs of her impending explosion.

    ¡°ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!¡± Auset¡¯s voice rose, sharp and commanding. ¡°ALL OF YOU¡ªGET OUT!¡±

    Her rage silenced the room. Liam and Jamal exchanged glances, both knowing better than to argue. They moved toward the door without a word, though Liam hesitated when his eyes met Nyla¡¯s. She was staring at him, her fear evident, pleading silently for him to stay.

    But one look at Auset¡¯s simmering fury convinced him otherwise. He mouthed a quick ¡°It¡¯ll be okay¡± to Nyla before stepping out, leaving her alone with the formidable doctor. Nyla¡¯s chest tightened. The woman standing before her seemed every bit as terrifying as the intruder she had fled from moments ago.

    Liam leaned against the wall outside the room, his arms folded, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Jamal stood beside him briefly, his presence a small comfort. Liam glanced at him with an apologetic smile.

    ¡°Sorry about tonight,¡± he muttered.

    Jamal smiled back, his expression understanding. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± he said softly. But Liam could see the disappointment in his eyes.

    This was supposed to be their first free evening together in what felt like an eternity, and now it was over before it had even begun. Liam watched as Jamal walked toward the corner and disappeared from view, a pang of longing tugging at his chest. He wished things could be simpler.

    It was no wonder Dr. Auset Anwar despised him. He had pushed Jamal into the 2nd Division against her wishes, knowing full well the danger it entailed. Jamal was too skilled to waste behind a desk, even if it meant standing up to his formidable mother. But that decision¡ªand their relationship¡ªhad only deepened the rift between him and Dr. Anwar. Her disapproval simmered constantly, flaring into outright hostility since their romance became public.

    Liam sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could only hope that, with him and Alexander out of the room, the doctor¡¯s fiery demeanor would soften enough to make Nyla feel safe. He owed her that much.

    Inside the room, however, Alexander was not so quick to concede.

    He stood his ground, his broad shoulders stiff, staring down at Dr. Anwar with a defiance that bordered on insolence. He didn¡¯t particularly want to stay¡ªhis emotions were too raw, a confusing mix of anger, embarrassment, and something else he couldn¡¯t quite name. But leaving just because he was ordered to? That wasn¡¯t in his nature.

    Dr. Anwar met his glare head-on, utterly unimpressed. She was one of the few people in the division who had never cowered before him, and Alexander respected that, even if she drove him insane.

    ¡°Well?¡± she drawled, her voice dripping with disdain. ¡°Are you planning to stand there all night like a creep, or are you trying to convince everyone you¡¯re a pervert?¡±

    Alexander blinked, startled. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± he snapped.

    Dr. Anwar gestured toward the nurse holding a clean robe for Nyla, who had shrunk into the bed, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

    ¡°You¡¯re standing there while she¡¯s about to change,¡± Dr. Anwar said with a sneer. ¡°You¡¯ve made enough of a scene already¡ªwhy not add that to your list of accomplishments?¡±

    Heat rushed to Alexander¡¯s face, and for a moment, he stood frozen in horror as the realization dawned. He turned on his heel abruptly, muttering curses under his breath as he stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

    The loud bang startled Liam, who pushed off the wall and eyed Alexander warily.

    ¡°What happened ?¡± Liam asked, raising an eyebrow.

    Alexander stormed past Liam, his scowl deepening, his ears a bright shade of red¡ªbetraying the embarrassment he was trying to mask.

    ¡°Nothing!¡± he snapped, his voice laced with frustration. This night had turned into a parade of embarrassments, one after another.

    Liam raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his outburst. ¡°What are you doing here, anyway? Where¡¯s your lover?¡±

    Alexander¡¯s gaze shifted, noticing the absence of Jamal. The two were inseparable, usually, like a pair of shadows trailing each other.

    Liam didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°I need to talk to you¡­¡± His tone was unusually serious.

    ¡°About what?¡± Alexander¡¯s annoyance grew. The last thing he wanted right now was another conversation about his personal life. He just wanted to retreat to his room and erase this entire night from existence.

    Liam didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he gestured somberly toward Nyla¡¯s room, his head tilting in that direction. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    Alexander followed his gaze, his brow furrowing in contemplation. The weight of Liam¡¯s tone, coupled with the grim direction of his eyes, made the gravity of the situation clear. Without another word, Alexander nodded sharply, signaling his readiness.

    Liam turned on his heel, his mind racing as he led the way down the dimly lit hallway. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken thoughts and the impending truth. He had no idea how to break the news to Nyla. He had no idea how he was going to explain that her life, everything she thought she knew about it, was about to change¡ªirreparably.

 Chapter 8

    Chapter 8

    In the room, Dr. Anwar finally turned to Nyla with a triumphant expression.

    "Finally, the annoying pests are gone," she said, her voice carrying a tone of satisfaction as she strode confidently to Nyla''s bedside. Her appearance seemed less intimidating now, and there was a certain grace to her movements that made Nyla feel a bit more at ease. Dr. Anwar¡¯s smile softened her features, and Nyla felt a flicker of relief. The doctor began to scan her charts with focused precision while the nurse gently helped Nyla into a fresh set of robes.

    "Stop!" Dr. Anwar suddenly commanded, halting the nurse as she caught sight of Nyla¡¯s back. The nurse quickly adjusted the robe, allowing the doctor full access. As the doctor¡¯s gloved hand brushed over the wound, Nyla couldn''t help but shudder slightly, the sensation causing an involuntary tremor in her body.

    "What kind of unprofessional idiot stitched this wound?!" Dr. Anwar hissed under her breath, her anger barely contained as she examined the haphazard stitching. "This is a disaster."

    She turned back to Nyla, her tone shifting to something gentler. "Do you feel any pain when I touch this area?"

    "No, but... it tingles a little," Nyla replied, her voice soft but steady, though the feeling of the doctor¡¯s touch still made her uneasy.

    Dr. Anwar nodded and, with a practiced air, moved to inspect more of Nyla¡¯s body. Her eyes scanned over Nyla¡¯s injuries with clinical detachment, but her actions were precise, methodical.

    "Dr..." Nyla began, her voice faltering as a thought crossed her mind. She hadn''t actually gotten the doctor''s name, nor had she learned anything about the nurses. She hesitated, unsure how to ask, but the question lingered in the air between them.

    ¡°Anwar. Auset Anwar,¡± the doctor introduced herself, her voice steady but with a hint of warmth, as she pointed to the two nurses standing by her side. ¡°And these are June and Pamela. We¡¯re the medical team here.¡±

    She indicated the nurses, each in their own way. June, the blonde, had a wide, crooked smile and an energy that filled the room, freckles dotting her face in contrast to her bright grin. She smiled back at Nyla, her eyes filled with reassurance. The other, Pamela, had dark hair and a quiet air about her, her presence subtle but no less comforting. She simply nodded in Nyla¡¯s direction.

    Nyla couldn¡¯t help but smile at both of them, but her mind was still racing with questions. ¡°Dr. Anwar, where am I? What is this place? Why am I here? What happened¡­¡±

    She¡¯d meant to ask just one question, but the floodgates opened, and her words tumbled out, frantic and confused.

    ¡°Slow down, one at a time!¡± Dr. Anwar replied, raising a hand to signal for calm. ¡°First things first: You¡¯re in the base of the 2nd division of the Anti-Demon Association, or ADA. We hunt demons and save lives,¡± she added with a small, reassuring wink, her tone light as she glanced down at the wound on Nyla¡¯s arm.

    ¡°The location?¡± She continued, focusing on the arm. ¡°We¡¯re somewhere in the Radisal Mountain range, out west in Ublos. And, looks like you need stitches.¡±

    Nyla froze for a moment, trying to process the new information. She hadn¡¯t heard of the Radisal Mountain range, but Ublos was famous. It was one of the few countries that had opened its doors to the ADA because of the constant demonic activity. She hadn¡¯t realized how far she¡¯d been taken.

    ¡°You¡¯re not anywhere close to Pendle,¡± Dr. Anwar added, noticing the confusion on Nyla¡¯s face. ¡°We¡¯re on the Trozan continent, far from where you¡¯ve been.¡±

    The realization hit Nyla like a wave. She was so far from home, from everything she knew. The distance between Pendle and Ublos was vast, and the uncertainty of where she was now felt more real than ever.

    ¡°Why am I here?¡± Nyla asked, her voice shaky as Pamela placed a tray with antiseptics and a stitching kit on the nearby table.

    Dr. Anwar glanced at her with a curt expression as she snapped on a fresh pair of gloves. ¡°That I don¡¯t know. You should ask the commander about it.¡±

    ¡°Commander?¡± Nyla repeated, confusion knitting her brow.

    Dr. Anwar''s tone soured as she began preparing the stitching materials. ¡°You know, the asshole with the bland caramel hair.¡±

    ¡°You mean Gale?¡± Nyla said, the name slipping out with a half-smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

    Dr. Anwar''s eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised. ¡°Yes and no. I don¡¯t know where you got the name Gale, but his name is William Turner. He¡¯s the commander of the 2nd division.¡±

    Nyla''s smile faded as her mind raced to process the new information. "William Turner? The commander?" Her voice trailed off as she pieced together the puzzle.

    Dr. Anwar¡¯s jaw tightened as her thoughts turned inward. And the asshole who¡¯ll guide my son to his death¡­ She bit back the anger threatening to surface, keeping her face neutral.

    ¡°No way,¡± Nyla muttered, her eyes widening with shock. ¡°He¡¯s Gale, the part-timer we hired at the store a while back. And¡ª¡±

    Her words faltered as the truth settled in, and the realization hit her like a punch to the gut. If Gale, the clumsy, awkward man she had known at the store, was really the commander of the 2nd division, then everything she thought she knew about him was a lie. What was he doing working there? he was so overqualified for such a menial job!

    ¡°He was probably doing some undercover stuff, dear,¡± June said softly, her tone meant to comfort.

    Nyla¡¯s eyes glazed over as she processed this, forcing a small smile. ¡°I see¡­¡± she said, but her voice was distant, the weight of the truth sitting heavily in her chest.

    Dr. Anwar''s eyes narrowed as she observed Nyla¡¯s reaction. She could read the disappointment in the young woman¡¯s face. Nyla had thought of the commander as someone else¡ªperhaps someone more approachable, more human. It wasn¡¯t the first time someone had fallen for that illusion. Dr. Anwar knew the truth about William Turner: He wasn¡¯t the charming, friendly man some made him out to be. In fact, he was the kind of man who sent people to their deaths without hesitation, all in the name of the mission. It was that ruthlessness that had earned him the command of the 2nd division at such a young age.

    The Turners were a family entrenched in the very fabric of the Anti-Demon Association. Their influence stretched back centuries. Some whispered that the association itself might not exist if it weren¡¯t for the Turners, and for generations, they held the reins of the ADA¡¯s direction. They controlled the vision, the decisions, the fate of countless hunters¡ªand the 2nd division had been passed down to them, one after another. But, over time, their power had waned. By the time Powel Turner took command, the division was little more than a ceremonial shell, a fading institution.

    Then came William.

    At just 16, after the suspicious death of his grandfather, William took over. His rise to power wasn¡¯t just sudden¡ªit was shrouded in mystery. Some whispered that he had been behind Powel¡¯s death, his ruthless ambition driving him to seize the command. Once in charge, he moved quickly, securing Alexander and his elite unit for the 2nd division. Their presence brought a new edge to the group, but it also came at a cost: the death toll of those under his command increased as his success rate against demons soared.

    Dr. Anwar knew the rumors. They were hard to ignore, especially the one suggesting that William had murdered his grandfather to take the position early. But that was something she¡¯d never say out loud¡ªnot even in her darkest moments. After all, the truth of it didn''t matter; William Turner was a necessary evil in the war against demons. And the rest? It was all just background noise.

    But Nyla¡ªNyla had seen something else in him, something Dr. Anwar couldn¡¯t quite understand. Perhaps it was the naivety of youth or maybe the fact that William had mastered the art of pretending to be what people wanted him to be. It didn¡¯t matter now. What did matter was that the same man who had gained power through bloodshed and manipulation was also the one she might have to rely on, and she hated that more than she could say.

    She wondered if Nyla¡¯s disappointment was a reflection of what her own son had felt when he first met the commander. If he, too, had once seen William as someone better, someone more. Dr. Anwar didn¡¯t know what to make of it, but she didn¡¯t need to. The commander¡¯s image was carefully crafted, and he was far more dangerous than anyone realized. And if Nyla was looking for comfort in that, she¡¯d soon learn that even the most charming faces could hide the darkest truths.

    "Dr. Anwar¡­ My family at the orphanage¡­ we were attacked by a¡­ a de¡­ demon¡­ do you know¡­"

    Nyla forced the question out, her voice shaking, though she already knew the answer. She had to hear it confirmed.

    Dr. Anwar paused, looking up from her work. Her gaze met Nyla''s desperate brown eyes, and for a brief moment, the doctor''s expression softened. Behind her, June and Pamela exchanged sad glances. They didn''t know the full details of Nyla''s situation, but they understood the consequences of demon attacks all too well. They had all been victims at one point, then soldiers, and they knew how rarely these encounters ended without loss.

    "I don¡¯t know¡­ you should ask the commander about it," Dr. Anwar said flatly, her voice cold.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    She deliberately shifted the responsibility, as if hoping the commander would take on the difficult task of telling Nyla the truth. Dr. Anwar could manage this much, at least¡ªa small consolation for the bitterness she harbored. She could never forgive the commander for taking her son away from her.

    ************

    For the next few hours, Nyla was moved between different rooms and floors of the building, undergoing a series of tests¡ªX-rays, blood samples, and various other procedures she didn¡¯t even know existed. Unlike the previous hospital, where she had been treated with efficiency but little care, everything here was handled by Dr. Anwar and her small, attentive team. They treated her with a kindness that made her feel, for the first time in days, a little at ease.

    Among the three, June was especially friendly. She was from Marvoria, a neighboring country to Azul, and although both nations shared many cultural similarities, Marvoria was more open-minded about the ADA. Nyla learned that June had once lived as a farmhand with her family before a demon attack claimed them all. It was during that attack that Dr. Anwar¡¯s husband had saved her, and from then on, June had followed the couple all the way to Ublos to train as a nurse. She spoke freely and openly, sharing her past and her journey with Nyla, making the long hours in the hospital more bearable.

    Pamela, on the other hand, was quieter. She didn¡¯t offer much in terms of conversation, simply giving Nyla clear instructions about what to do and what was coming next. She was all business, her face carefully neutral throughout the procedure. June later explained that Pamela came from a small village in Veilstead, a distant country on the far continent of Ewor, where demon attacks were a nearly daily occurrence. Pamela had lost everything to one of those attacks¡ªher entire village, including her family. She had joined the ADA with hopes of becoming a hunter, seeking revenge on the demons, but a genetic heart condition had kept her from passing the rigorous training exams. Now, she served the ADA in a different capacity, though her past still lingered, unspoken.

    After the final test, Dr. Anwar finally allowed Nyla to return to her room and gave her permission to eat. The day¡¯s exhausting ordeal was over, and while Nyla felt physically drained, there was a strange sense of comfort in the care she had received.

    As soon as June cleared away the trays, Dr. Anwar suggested a hearty meal to help Nyla replenish her strength. Before she could protest, the door opened, and in walked Liam, followed by Alexander. Liam looked exhausted, while Alexander wore a scowl that deepened the moment he saw Nyla. They had spent the entire morning in a video conference with headquarters in the capital, and Alexander was clearly running on fumes. Despite the brief respite, his day was far from over.

    ¡°How are you doing, Nyla?¡± Liam asked, flashing a warm smile, though it was clear from his eyes that he was tired as well. Alexander leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Nyla. His expression was unreadable, but Nyla could tell he was assessing her, noting the progress since this morning. She looked better¡ªcalmer, certainly¡ªbut there was still a hint of tension in her posture. Her long brown hair was braided neatly, resting over her right shoulder, and the bandages on her arms caught his eye.

    Nyla straightened up a little, feeling a surge of nervousness as her eyes flicked to Alexander before quickly looking back at Liam.

    ¡°All is good, Gale¡­ I mean, Commander Turner,¡± she said, her voice betraying an edge of accusation.

    Liam¡¯s eyes widened in surprise. ¡°You already figured it out, ha?!¡± he said with an embarrassed laugh. He wasn¡¯t particularly ashamed of the deception¡ªit was part of his role to gather information under a false identity. But his clumsy performance at the supercenter had caused more than a few problems, mostly due to the man standing right behind him.

    He shot a quick glare at Alexander, who returned it with an almost imperceptible sneer, one that made Liam grit his teeth.

    ¡°Dr. Anwar told me who you are. Gale¡­ I mean, commander¡­¡± Nyla stumbled over the words, unsure whether to feel more confused or betrayed.

    Liam smiled, attempting to ease the tension in the room. ¡°Liam is fine,¡± he said, his voice warm again, as if to downplay the awkwardness of the moment.

    ¡°Did Dr. Anwar tell you anything else?¡± Liam asked cautiously, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Nyla. Since his grandfather''s death, his relationship with Auset had been strained, and the tension only deepened over the years. She had loved his grandfather like a father and, in some ways, still blamed Liam for his death. But the situation worsened when she lost her husband, who had been sent on a mission by Liam. That had been a blow, but the final breaking point had come when she found out about his involvement with Jamal.

    Liam, though outwardly calm, couldn''t deny the weight of the fractured relationship. Since then, he''d been extra cautious during missions, afraid that any injury would bring out Auset''s wrath, especially when it came to his medical treatment. It was a strange sort of paranoia that he couldn''t shake, and Nyla, with her keen eyes, had no trouble noticing the subtle unease in his voice.

    Nyla shook her head slightly, sensing the tension between them. She had overheard June speaking about the rocky relationship between Dr. Anwar and Liam, the rift that had only widened over the years. June¡¯s words painted a picture of years of unresolved pain, and it wasn¡¯t hard for Nyla to see that some part of the bitterness lingered in the air.

    In Nyla¡¯s opinion, a proper conversation could probably clear the air, but then again, there were wounds so deep that they couldn''t be healed with just words. As much as she wanted to be the one to suggest it, she had learned enough to know that some battles weren¡¯t hers to fight.

    ¡°You guys have met before, but to formally introduce you, this is Alexander,¡± Liam said, pointing to the man who had been standing by the door, his arms crossed and gaze elsewhere. Alexander gave a curt nod, barely meeting Nyla''s eyes before quickly looking away.

    Nyla offered a hesitant nod in return, unsure how to feel about this new introduction.

    ¡°He¡¯s sorry for frightening you last night,¡± Liam added with a teasing tone, nudging Alexander with his elbow. Alexander mumbled something under his breath, barely audible.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Liam asked, his voice light, as if he were trying to get a rise out of him.

    ¡°My bad!¡± Alexander responded loudly, and Nyla flinched slightly at the sudden volume. The apology felt rushed, almost forced.

    ¡°SATISFIED?!¡± Alexander snapped, turning sharply to Liam with his arms crossed.

    Liam nodded slightly, clearly amused by the exchange, and then took a few steps toward Nyla, his tone shifting to something more reassuring. Nyla, still processing what she had just witnessed, glanced between the two of them. Liam seemed to have a friendly rapport with Alexander, but his blunt demeanor and the way he handled the apology left her uncertain. Was he really someone she could trust?

    ¡°He seems to be scary, but he¡¯s... okay,¡± Liam said, reading her hesitation. ¡°He¡¯s in charge of our special unit and one of the few people who can fight against demons.¡±

    Nyla¡¯s eyes flicked to Alexander, who had remained stoic throughout the explanation. His scowl only seemed to confirm her growing unease, but Liam¡¯s words did little to ease her doubts.

    ¡°Is that what you were doing at the orphanage?¡± Nyla asked, her gaze locking onto Alexander now.

    He met her question with a direct look, the intensity in his eyes not softening at all.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said shortly, his answer clipped. There was no need for further details. Whatever had happened at the orphanage, he wasn¡¯t inclined to explain.

    Nyla¡¯s hands twisted nervously in her lap, her thoughts swirling. She had so many questions, but one in particular lingered at the forefront of her mind. What had really happened that night? But she couldn¡¯t bring herself to ask it. Deep down, she feared she already knew the answer.

    "Liam¡­ The orphanage¡­ is there any¡­?" Nyla¡¯s voice trailed off, her words left unspoken. She had learned enough throughout the day to understand that survivors of demon attacks were exceedingly rare.

    "Survivors? There is one!" Liam answered, trying to sound upbeat. Nyla¡¯s eyes flickered with a hint of hope.

    "You. You survived it," Liam added gently, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat.

    "No¡­ It¡¯s my fault! If I had gotten there quicker, then Maryam, Billy, and the others wouldn¡¯t have¡­," she choked on her words, her voice breaking. A sob escaped her mouth, and she covered it with her hand, feeling the wetness of her tears.

    Alexander, watching the exchange, shot Liam a disappointed glare. Liam immediately regretted his attempt to bring light to the situation. He had tried to offer her some comfort, but it had backfired. He stepped closer, wrapping her in a gentle hug, allowing her to cry. He had seen this before¡ªsurvivors of daemon attacks often felt relief at first, but that relief quickly turned to guilt. It was a difficult burden to carry, and the best approach was always to let them work through it at their own pace.

    "THAT¡¯S BULLSHIT!" Alexander¡¯s voice cut through the room, his anger flaring.

    "Alex¡­" Liam began, ready to intervene. He had brought Alexander along, hoping that Nyla might have useful information, but this was turning into a mistake.

    "What could YOU have done?! You would¡¯ve died alongside them when the seed manifested his daemon!" Alexander snapped, cutting Liam off. He couldn¡¯t help but feel the sting of guilt. It was partially his fault that no one had survived. After two months undercover at the orphanage, he had disobeyed Liam¡¯s orders and left his post. He was still in town when the attack happened, but by the time he returned, it was already too late. If only he had stayed, maybe things would¡¯ve turned out differently.

    "ALEXANDER! THAT¡¯S ENOUGH!" Liam¡¯s shout was sharp, as he quickly rose from the bed, leaving Nyla in her stunned silence. She was no longer crying, but now she looked utterly bewildered, caught between the tension in the room.

    Alexander didn¡¯t say another word. He shot them both a cold glare before storming out, slamming the door behind him so forcefully that the entire building seemed to tremble from the impact.

    Liam turned to Nyla, his expression softening. "Please forgive him, Nyla. Believe it or not, he¡¯s angrier with himself than you." He sighed, knowing Alexander¡¯s gruff exterior often masked the turmoil inside. They¡¯d known each other for years, and while Alexander wasn¡¯t one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, Liam knew the truth. Alexander¡¯s anger was never truly about others¡ªit was always about his own failures. Nyla nodded slightly, her gaze distant. The man who had seemed so terrifying just moments ago now seemed more like a storm of regrets trapped in a body too proud to let anyone see.

    The weight of her own guilt still clung to her. There was nothing she could have done. Not against that monster. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the claws¡ªthose impossibly sharp, monstrous claws.

    "What did he mean by seed manifesting his daemon? Is it related to the demon attack at the orphanage?" Nyla''s voice broke through the silence, curiosity flickering in her eyes. The words Alexander spat had gnawed at her, strangely familiar but utterly incomprehensible. Liam''s eyes flickered with hesitation. This was a secret kept hidden from most, even within their own ranks. Only those initiated into the ADA knew the grim truth, and even then, the full story was murky.

    "First, tell me how much you know about demons and their origin, so I can gauge where to begin." Liam leaned forward, his tone a little lighter, though his eyes were serious. According to Alexander, Nyla had a story to tell¡ªa unique understanding of daemons that intrigued him.

    "Demons are manifestations of our sins and are sent to punish us by God?" Nyla¡¯s voice faltered as she spoke, uncertainty creeping into her words. The teachings of the Church of Lux had never fully convinced her, but the story was what everyone had always believed. She could tell from Liam¡¯s raised brow that this answer wasn¡¯t what he was looking for.

    "Let me guess," Liam smirked slightly, "you learned that from the Sunday school teachings of the Church of Lux?" Nyla blushed, nodding sheepishly. She felt a little foolish now¡ªher entire worldview of daemons had been shaped by those old stories. Liam paused, his fingers absently touching his chin¡ªhis thinking habit. He cleared his throat before continuing, his voice turning more serious.

    "First of all, they¡¯re not demons, Nyla. They¡¯re called daemons." The correction hung in the air for a moment, as though he were setting the stage for something far more complicated.

    "Daemons?" Nyla echoed, her brow furrowed in confusion.

    "Yes," Liam continued, his voice steady. "It¡¯s a misconception that was started by the Church of Lux. They made people believe that daemons were creatures of punishment, but the truth is far different." He paused, his eyes locking onto hers, ensuring she understood the gravity of what he was about to say. "Daemons are protectors. They don¡¯t stop until everything¡ªand everyone¡ªwho threatens them is destroyed."

 Chapter 9

    Chapter 9

    Liam hesitated, then crossed the room with measured steps, dragging a chair to Nyla¡¯s bedside. As he sank into it, the door creaked open again. Alexander strode in, his expression unreadable, and leaned casually against the wall as if the last few moments had never happened. Liam acknowledged him with a silent nod.

    Alexander¡¯s gaze flickered toward Nyla, catching her eyes for the briefest moment before looking away.

    ¡°What exactly are these¡­ daemons trying to protect?¡± Nyla asked, deciding to let the past stay in the past. Alexander struck her as the kind of person who could explode in a fit of temper and then forget it just as easily.

    ¡°Well, they protect the Seeds,¡± Liam began, his voice steady but laced with gravity. ¡°The Church preaches that daemons are manifestations of sin. In a way, that¡¯s not far from the truth¡ªthey are manifestations, but ones born from special people we call Seeds. Seeds are humans with a rare genetic condition. Most live their lives without ever realizing their potential, but sometimes, under extreme emotional trauma or dire circumstances, their power awakens¡ªand that¡¯s when all hell breaks loose.¡±

    Liam paused, gauging Nyla¡¯s reaction as she absorbed this revelation.

    ¡°Unable to control this newfound power, it erupts, manifesting as a daemon. Because the Seed has just endured something terrible, its mind is singularly focused on self-preservation by eliminating every threat nearby. And that¡¯s how daemons come into being.¡±

    Liam finished, his words hanging heavily in the air. There was much more to the story, complexities he chose to skip. For now, he watched Nyla¡¯s face¡ªa mix of shock and intrigue¡ªmirroring the expression of every new member who first learns the truth.

    ¡°How is it that no one knows about this?¡± Nyla asked, bewildered. The whole thing was overwhelming¡ªextraordinary people with unimaginable power wreaking havoc, and yet the world remained oblivious? Only the ADA knew the truth?

    ¡°If people knew about this¡­¡± she burst out, anger rising in her voice. ¡°If they knew, maybe they could have protected themselves!¡±

    Liam exhaled sharply, his expression darkening. ¡°It¡¯s not that we wanted to keep it a secret,¡± he said, his tone edged with emotion. ¡°Every ADA operative knows the truth. The governments that work with us know this as well. But together, we made the decision to keep this hidden. Can you even begin to imagine what would happen if this went public? People would turn on innocent civilians. They would start hunting down anyone they suspected of being a Seed.¡±

    His jaw tightened as memories surfaced¡ªones he wished he could forget. ¡°I¡¯ve seen it firsthand,¡± he continued. ¡°My first mission was in a small village in Ewor. I made the mistake of telling the villagers about Seeds. Their fear turned to paranoia, and by the next morning, an entire family¡ªchildren included¡ªwas slaughtered on nothing but baseless suspicion.¡±

    A heavy silence followed. The weight of his words hung between them, undeniable and grim.

    ¡°You said it¡¯s a genetic condition¡ªdoes that mean whole families inherit it?¡± Nyla asked, her curiosity outweighing her lingering frustration. She was still angry about being kept in the dark, but something in Liam¡¯s voice told her this wasn¡¯t a decision made lightly.

    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± Liam replied, steadying his breath. ¡°Sometimes it skips multiple generations. Other times, it appears several times in the same family.¡± He spoke evenly, but his fingers unconsciously curled into a fist. The image of that burning house, the screams¡ªhis past still haunted him.

    Nyla hesitated before asking her next question. ¡°What happens to a Seed when they¡­ manifest? Do they survive?¡± The words felt foreign in her mouth, the weight of them unnatural.

    Liam exhaled, his voice quieter now. ¡°No¡­ They usually don¡¯t. The power puts an unbearable strain on their body. Most die within hours¡­ a few make it days.¡±

    A heavy silence settled between them.

    ¡°Is there anything you can do to save them?¡± Nyla asked, her voice laced with empathy.

    ¡°Not really¡­¡± Liam¡¯s reply was flat, devoid of hope. He had spent his entire life in the ADA, watching countless researchers attempt to contain Seeds. Every effort had ended in failure. All except one.

    ¡°But¡­ they¡¯re still human,¡± Nyla pressed, sorrow creeping into her words.

    ¡°No, they¡¯re not.¡±

    The unexpected voice made her look up. She had almost forgotten Alexander was still there. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

    ¡°As soon as they manifest their daemon, they become killing machines,¡± he continued, his voice eerily calm. ¡°Within hours, they don¡¯t even look human anymore.¡±

    Something about his last remark made Nyla¡¯s breath hitch. A memory flickered at the edge of her mind¡ªstrange, narrow pupils gleaming, a twisted smile directed at her.

    ¡°Billy¡­¡± She whispered the name, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and sorrow.

    Alexander¡¯s head jerked up. His stomach clenched. He already knew what she was about to ask¡ªand he dreaded answering.

    ¡°Was he¡­ a Seed?¡± Nyla swallowed, her throat dry.

    "Yes." Liam¡¯s voice was quiet but firm. He could already see where this was going. His gaze flicked to Alexander, but the moment their eyes met, Alexander turned away, his jaw tightening.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Nyla¡¯s mind raced.

    ¡°Did you know? Is that why you came to Pendle?¡±, she asked accusingly.

    ¡°Yes and no,¡± Liam admitted. ¡°Billy¡¯s older brother was a Seed, so we kept an eye on him¡­¡±

    He explained how the ADA had spent months tracking Billy down. By the time they found him, he was already in the orphanage¡ªtrapped in bureaucratic red tape that made extraction nearly impossible. With no better option, they chose to watch from a distance.

    But that decision had come at a heavy cost.

    ¡°And then,¡± Liam continued, ¡°we found you.¡±

    Nyla frowned. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Liam smirked. ¡°My friend Alexander here has¡­ special abilities. He can alter his form and slip into any place unnoticed.¡±

    He shot a glance at Alexander, but Alexander stubbornly avoided his eyes.

    Nyla, still reeling from everything she had learned today, struggled to process this new revelation. At this point, she wouldn¡¯t even be surprised if someone told her humans could fly¡ªbut transformation? That felt impossible.

    Liam¡¯s expression turned mischievous. ¡°You remember a cute, black-haired boy named Luke?¡±

    Nyla blinked. ¡°Yeah¡­?¡±

    ¡°That was him.¡± Liam pointed at Alexander.

    Alexander¡¯s face darkened instantly. He looked away, mortified.

    Nyla¡¯s jaw nearly hit the floor. ¡°No way! How is that even possible¡­?¡± She froze as realization struck, her face slowly turning crimson. ¡°I¡ª I took a bath with you! How could you¡ª¡±

    Her voice rose in shock as memories flooded back. She had helped Luke clean up when they first met¡ªonly now did she understand who he really was.

    Alexander, meanwhile, was turning an even deeper shade of red, awkwardly avoiding her gaze.

    Liam, grinning ear to ear, saw his moment and took it. ¡°Wait¡ªso, you saw Lexy¡¯s little¡­ wee-wee?¡±

    He burst into laughter, doubling over at the sheer absurdity of it all.

    ¡°SHUT UP!¡± Alexander snapped, his face practically burning with embarrassment.

    For once, Nyla couldn¡¯t help but agree with him. Their eyes met¡ªbut neither could hold the gaze for long. They both quickly turned away, cheeks ablaze.

    Liam¡¯s laughter only grew louder, and Alexander shot him a murderous glare, silently vowing revenge in the most humiliating way possible.

    Liam wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye. ¡°Anyways¡­¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°During his stay, he overheard you telling an interesting story to the Seed¡ª I mean, Billy.¡± He quickly corrected himself when Nyla shot him a sharp glance.

    Story? What story? Nyla frowned, trying to recall. She had told countless stories to the kids at the orphanage, but none stood out.

    ¡°The one about the young hero who fought demons with his twelve companions.¡± Alexander¡¯s voice cut through, edged with impatience. He was fixated now, the question pressing in his mind. Why did she know this story? How did she know it? It was strangely familiar yet¡­ different from what he had known.

    Nyla looked between them, confusion etched across her face.

    ¡°That¡¯s a story a friend told me¡­ a long time ago,¡± Nyla confessed, a pang of guilt twisting in her chest. Saying it aloud felt like betraying Alvin¡¯s memory, as if speaking his name might make it fade further into the past.

    Alexander stiffened. ¡°What do you mean?!¡± His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. ¡°This isn¡¯t something passed down in your family or¡­?¡±

    He stopped himself, his words unraveling as the last flicker of hope dimmed in his eyes. Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

    Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a force that rattled the walls.

    Nyla flinched. She stared after him, her thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and unease. Slowly, she turned to Liam, who met her wide-eyed expression with a small, apologetic smile.

    ¡°Please¡­ forgive him. Again.¡± Liam exhaled, running a hand through his hair. ¡°We¡¯re searching for someone. Someone special. Someone who can help us fight the daemon.¡±

    He hesitated before adding, ¡°And your story¡­ it had echoes of the history of daemons. So we thought¡­ we thought we might have found our link.¡±

    The weight of his words pressed down on her, heavier than she was prepared for. He paused, letting the words hang between them. It was better if she didn¡¯t know more¡ªnot yet. ¡°Can I ask¡­ who was your friend?¡± His voice softened, searching for any clue hidden in the origins of the story.

    Nyla hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her face. ¡°I only know his name¡­ Alvin. He stayed with us briefly.¡±

    She furrowed her brow, trying to unearth long-buried memories. There wasn¡¯t much she recalled about him¡ªexcept for the day he left. His mother had come for him, a woman whose presence had unsettled her in a way she still couldn¡¯t explain. There was something both sorrowful and terrifying in her eyes. But she kept that part to herself.

    Liam nodded in appreciation, though disappointment lingered in his gaze. A name alone wouldn¡¯t get them far, especially since the orphanage records had gone up in flames when the church burned the building to cover up the daemon attack. Still, it was better than nothing. He exhaled slowly.

    Now came the hard part.

    ¡°We need to talk about your situation as well, Nyla,¡± Liam said carefully, choosing his words like stepping through a minefield.

    Nyla froze for a moment, the weight of Liam¡¯s words sinking in. Among all the confusion and revelations, she hadn¡¯t allowed herself to consider what would happen next. Return to Pendle? The thought once felt like an escape, but now¡­ there was nothing left there for her. The orphanage, the children¡ªeverything had crumbled in the wake of the daemon attacks. She couldn¡¯t go back. And even if she did, would she have the strength to rebuild it? The thought of facing the past again felt unbearable.

    ¡°You can¡¯t return to Pendle.¡± Liam¡¯s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts, as if reading her mind. ¡°The church executives remove anyone with knowledge of the daemon attacks in countries like yours.¡± His tone was flat, matter-of-fact.

    Nyla nodded slowly, her chest tightening with the weight of the truth. It made sense. That was probably why they had brought her here. The sense of loss she¡¯d been carrying for so long deepened, but with it came something else¡ªappreciation.

    A new thought flickered in her mind. ¡°Can I stay here? I can help take care of things¡­ I have experience with children.¡± She began, but the words caught in her throat. She couldn¡¯t finish. Why would there be children in a facility that fought daemons?

    Liam shook his head before she could finish, his gaze unwavering. ¡°Under normal circumstances, you could. But not this one. You see, taking you out of Pendle required special permission, a request only one team in ADA has¡ªand that team is the one directly fighting daemons. You have to train, Nyla. You have to learn how to fight them.¡± His voice remained emotionless, but there was an underlying truth she couldn¡¯t escape.

    Nyla¡¯s breath caught in her throat. Train? Fight daemons? The very idea made her heart race with panic. She had already seen enough horror to last a lifetime. The thought of facing it head-on? It was too much. She didn¡¯t want to see another daemon ever again. The cold grip of fear settled over her chest, and her hands instinctively clenched into fists.

    ¡°What if I say no?¡± The words were out before she could stop them.

    Liam¡¯s expression shifted, darkening, but it wasn¡¯t anger¡ªit was pity. A pity that cut deeper than any sharp word. ¡°Then you¡¯ll have to leave ADA and its protection. The church already knows of your existence, and they will never stop hunting you.¡±

    Nyla felt her stomach drop. Leave? Without the ADA¡¯s protection? The realization sank in with a cold dread. The church would hunt her down. They would never stop.

    The air in the room felt heavier now, thick with the weight of unspoken consequences. The path ahead was already set in motion, whether she wanted it or not. The forces beyond her control were closing in, and all she could do was choose how she would face them.

    Liam¡¯s voice softened, though the edge of urgency remained. ¡°Rest while you can, Nyla.¡±

    But there was something more beneath his words¡ªa warning, sharp and clear.

    Because once she stepped onto this path, there would be no turning back.

 Chapter 10

    Nyla¡¯s eyes snapped open as her body jolted from the sudden lurch of the truck, its tires grinding over a jagged rock. The rhythmic rattling of metal and the distant howl of the wind filled the night. Blinking the haze of sleep away, she turned her gaze toward the vast horizon. The full moon hung low in the sky, unnervingly large, as if it were watching them. Something about it felt¡­ off. Maybe it was just the endless, shifting sands of the Sahara playing tricks on her mind.

    She inhaled deeply, the air sharp and dry, stinging her lungs as a chill crawled over her skin. Hours ago, the heat had been unbearable¡ªthe kind of scorching that made you want to peel your own flesh just to feel relief. Now, the desert night had turned cruel in a different way, the cold biting through the fabric of her uniform. She glanced around at her comrades, all clad in the Army-green of the ADA, their faces softened by sleep, blankets draped over them like fragile shields against the night.

    The truck was military-grade, stripped of any comforts¡ªno air conditioning, no padding, just cold metal and exhaustion. But at least they had a truck, Alexander had reminded them. The place they were heading toward hadn¡¯t even had an accessible road until a few years ago.

    Her gaze shifted to the front, locking onto the unit¡¯s commander¡ªa woman in her forties with piercing eyes and long black hair pulled into a mercilessly tight bun. She was still as stone, scanning the desert with the unwavering focus of someone who had seen too much. When their eyes met, she gave the smallest nod¡ªacknowledgment, nothing more. No smile, no reassurance. Just the quiet understanding of those who knew what lay ahead.

    Nyla swallowed hard and turned back to the moon. It still felt wrong.

    And for the hundredth time since she¡¯d joined the ADA, she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake.

    ¡°You should get more sleep while you still can,¡± a low voice murmured beside her. Nyla turned to find Alexander wide awake, his fingers methodically running a cloth over the blade of his sword. Over the past few months Nyla had learned the importance and strength of that sword first hand. Moonlight caught the sharpened edge, making it glint like a predator¡¯s eye. The sight sent a chill through her. The truck jostled over the uneven terrain, but his hands remained steady¡ªtoo steady. It wasn¡¯t just focus. It was something colder. The burning emotions he once wore so openly during their training¡ªhis anger, his frustration and passion¡ªwere gone, buried beneath a quiet, controlled anticipation. The look in his eyes mirrored the commander¡¯s.

    They weren¡¯t just preparing for battle.

    They were already at war.

    ******************

    After her conversation with Liam about joining ADA¡¯s special unit, Nyla didn¡¯t see either him or Alexander for nearly four months. Her days were filled with the steady, quiet company of Dr. Anwar and her nurses, June and Pamela. The medical center, located in the west wing, was the only part of the base she was permitted to visit.

    In the rare moments when junior officers came in for minor injuries¡ªmost of them, she suspected, were more interested in the nurses than their wounds¡ªNyla overheard fragments of conversation. From these snippets, she learned that ADA had been recruiting new soldiers, ramping up training as the existing units were already sent to the front lines.

    It was when Dr. Anwar removed her cast and began her physiotherapy that Nyla felt the weight of time and isolation begin to break. It was the same day Liam returned with the dreaded news¡ªthe updates about her enrollment in the special unit.

    ¡°How are you doing, Nyla?¡± He asked with a genuine but tired smile.

    The past few months had been relentless, moving from one location to another, tracking and monitoring possible daemon activity. In the last month alone, they had lost twenty soldiers¡ªtwenty trained fighters, gone. It was a brutal reminder of the war they were waging, one that never seemed to end.

    One of the reasons Liam had returned to base was to oversee the next wave of training and give the current units time to recover. His gaze drifted to Nyla¡ªshe looked much healthier than before, but doubt lingered in his mind. Surviving basic training would be brutal enough. Surviving training under Alexander? That was another battle entirely.

    ¡°Hi, Liam. I¡¯m doing much better¡ªI can even walk without my cast now, right, June?¡± Nyla said with a weak smile, turning to June, who nodded in agreement.

    ¡°That¡¯s great news!¡± Liam replied. ¡°By the way, this is Sergeant Emily Kirby. I believe you two met briefly before?¡± He gestured toward a young woman standing slightly behind him. Emily¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, as if shocked that anyone would address the commander so casually.

    Nyla studied her, puzzled. There was something familiar about her, but she couldn¡¯t quite place it.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you up and about,¡± Emily said with a shy smile. ¡°Last time we met, you were teetering on the edge of the River of Hades.¡±

    And just like that, Nyla remembered.

    ¡°You¡¯re the soldier who helped me in the woods!¡± Her smile widened. ¡°Thank you¡ªfor back then!¡±

    Emily gave a small nod, returning the smile before quickly straightening into attention.

    ¡°Sergeant Kirby is going to help you train,¡± Liam said solemnly. ¡°We need to get you ready to join the new recruits.¡± ADA followed strict protocols when inducting new recruits. Most already had prior military experience; it was rare for civilians to willingly enlist in combat roles. Instead, they typically chose to serve in support positions, aiding operations from behind the scenes.

    For those who did join the ranks, the training was grueling. They underwent intense physical conditioning, studied daemonology, and mastered the most effective ways to attack and defend against the creatures. Only after this brutal preparation were they sent on real missions. The entire process took anywhere from one to two years¡ªunless you were an exceptional soldier, like Lieutenant Kain Lyons, who had completed it in just six months.

    There were no final tests, no official exams. The decision was left to the instructing officers, who would only recommend soldiers they believed were truly ready for battle. And even then, survival was never guaranteed.

    But Nyla¡¯s case was different. She had no combat experience. Physically, she was recovering well despite the injuries she had sustained, but she was still far behind the standard recruits. The newest batch of recruits was set to join their units in about six months, and each unit leader was given a selection quota based on test scores. The second unit was permitted to take up to 100 recruits¡ª99, if Nyla was included.

    To bridge the gap and prepare her for the brutal training ahead, Alexander had suggested¡ªmuch to Liam¡¯s surprise¡ªthat she undergo pretraining. More shocking was his recommendation: Sergeant Emily Kirby. A newly appointed officer in his unit, Emily was sharp and relentless with experience as an instructor and a keen eye for potential. She had a reputation for turning even the most unlikely candidates into competent soldiers.

    Yet Liam couldn¡¯t shake the suspicion that Alexander had an ulterior motive. Emily had been itching to join the front lines, restless and impatient for real action. Assigning her to Nyla¡¯s training might have been less about setting Nyla up for success and more about getting Emily out of his way¡ªat least for now.

    Either way, she was the best choice, and since the order had come directly from Alexander, refusal wasn¡¯t an option.

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna leave you two to get acquainted,¡± Liam said, his tone unusually nervous as he made a quick exit.

    Both women exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to start.

    ¡°Would you like some coffee?¡± Nyla offered.

    Emily nodded, appreciating the gesture. Breaking the ice was always the hardest part.

    As they sipped their drinks, the conversation flowed more easily¡ªfrom Nyla¡¯s recovery journey to basic knowledge about ADA and life on base. Emily was relieved to learn that Nyla had been on the track and field team in high school. Speed and endurance would serve her well.

    By the time their conversation ended, Emily had a clearer idea of how to help Nyla regain her strength and prepare for training. Despite her initial doubts, she could see it now¡ªNyla wasn¡¯t as inexperienced as she had assumed. There was potential in her, raw but undeniable. Emily¡¯s instincts as an instructor rarely failed her, and this time was no different. Given the right guidance, Nyla could become a formidable fighter.

    **********************

    Back in the truck, Nyla tried to sleep, but the tension coiling in her chest refused to loosen. She shifted, glancing around at her sleeping comrades, and for the first time that night, a wave of relief washed over her.

    The past year and a half had been grueling¡ªtraining first under Sergeant Kirby, who was now asleep, leaning against Lieutenant Kain Lyons. Nyla had been surprised to learn they were dating. After months of intense one-on-one training, she eventually joined the rest of the unit, officially undergoing the rigorous initiation into ADA.

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    The training with the unit had been even more grueling than anything Nyla had endured before. Every day began before dawn, with hours of brutal close-combat drills. Their instructors taught them a refined fighting style designed specifically to counter Seeds¡ªone that relied on powerful strikes, rapid counters, and devastating elbow and knee attacks. The technique prioritized efficiency over elegance; every movement was meant to break, disable, or kill. They practiced clinching, using their bodies to control their opponents, and delivering sharp knee strikes to the ribs or face. Footwork was essential¡ªstaying light, shifting weight effortlessly, and using quick pivots to dodge incoming blows.

    After hand-to-hand combat, they moved to endurance training. Long-distance runs under the scorching sun, obstacle courses designed to push them to their limits, and grueling strength exercises that left their bodies aching. There was no room for weakness. Their instructors didn¡¯t just expect them to fight; they expected them to survive.

    Weapons training was no easier. Firearms were drilled into them relentlessly, but with the grim understanding that not all Daemons could be killed by bullets. Guns were tools¡ªsometimes effective, often just distractions. Nyla quickly learned that adaptability was key. They trained with a variety of weapons¡ªknives, machetes, even spears¡ªanything that could serve as a last line of defense when ammunition ran out.

    Despite everything, Nyla had discovered an unexpected talent. As the weeks passed, she realized she had a natural gift for sniping. Unlike the chaos of close combat, the precision and patience required to line up a perfect shot came to her with ease. She learned to control her breathing, to slow her heart rate, to tune out the world until all that remained was her target and the steady pull of the trigger. It was the one place where she felt entirely in control.

    Nyla had learned a great deal about daemons and their origins during her training. The existence of seeds¡ªhumans with rare genetic mutations¡ªhad been studied for centuries by ADA scientists, yet much about them remained shrouded in mystery. According to ADA¡¯s research, seeds were classified into two distinct types: Pario and Copia. Each possessed an organ that the other lacked, and this distinction dictated their fates.

    Pario seeds carried an organ called the Pario, which granted them the ability to generate a powerful energy known as Vis. However, because they lacked the Copia organ¡ªa crucial stabilizer and container for Vis¡ªtheir power manifested uncontrollably, giving rise to daemons that formed as extensions of their own unstable energy. These daemons, bound to their hosts, were driven by an instinct to protect, but as time passed, the sheer volatility of uncontained Vis overwhelmed the Pario seed¡¯s mind. Their aggression escalated into madness, their bodies deteriorated, and within weeks of their Pario organ activating, they inevitably perished.

    On the other hand, Copia seeds were fundamentally different. Unlike Pario seeds, they could not generate Vis on their own, but their Copia organ allowed them to absorb and store it. Without Vis, a Copia seed was indistinguishable from an ordinary human. However, with Vis, they could wield it with precision and control¡ªsome rumors even suggested that a skilled Copia seed could extend their lifespan indefinitely. This made them uniquely suited for combat against daemons. Theoretically, a Copia seed could grow more powerful by consuming the Pario organ of others, though whether this was an established practice or mere speculation was unclear.

    ADA¡¯s research into these genetic anomalies had taken centuries, and the discovery of the Pario and Copia organs was among its greatest breakthroughs. Early records described individuals exhibiting supernatural abilities, often succumbing to violent madness¡ªa phenomenon that historical texts had once attributed to possessions or curses. It wasn¡¯t until scientific advancements in genetics and neurobiology that researchers identified the physical organs responsible for these phenomena. Despite this progress, Copia seeds remained extraordinarily rare.

    In fact, within ADA¡¯s recorded history, only one confirmed Copia seed had ever been found¡ªAlexander. No one knew exactly how long he had been part of ADA. His age, origin, and the extent of his abilities were closely guarded secrets. Some speculated that he had lived far longer than any normal human, sustained by the Vis he absorbed over the years. His presence alone reinforced the belief that Copia seeds were not just rare but possibly near extinction.

    While ADA¡¯s scientists sought to understand these genetic anomalies, its military divisions had a more immediate concern¡ªcontrolling and, when necessary, eliminating Pario seeds before their unchecked Vis wreaked havoc. Any Pario seed discovered was closely monitored. If their Pario organ activated, ADA had two choices: contain them until they perish or terminate them before they transformed into a full-fledged daemon. There was no known way to stabilize a Pario seed.

    As Nyla reflected on everything she had learned, she couldn¡¯t help but wonder¡ªwhy was ADA¡¯s only Copia leading the special unit? What was his true role in the war against daemons? And more importantly, why had he taken a particular interest in her story when they met?

    After completing general training, Alexander handpicked five recruits¡ªincluding Nyla¡ªto join the special unit, a team of 25 elite soldiers trained directly under his command. That was when the real hell began.

    Alexander¡¯s methods pushed them beyond human limits. They climbed treacherous mountain paths for hours with weighted packs, only to be ordered to descend at breakneck speeds, testing their endurance and footwork. They swam across frigid lakes in the Radisal Mountain range, dragging boats filled with their comrades, their muscles screaming for relief. Each day felt like a slow death¡ªlungs burning, limbs trembling, every fiber of their being screaming to stop. But stopping wasn¡¯t an option. Alexander never accepted failure.

    Nyla had thought she knew exhaustion, but this training rewrote her definition of it. There were moments she wasn¡¯t sure she would make it. Her body ached in places she hadn¡¯t known could ache. The others were suffering just as much, but no one quit. They endured together, forged into something stronger through pain and perseverance.

    And yet, she couldn¡¯t help but notice¡ªAlexander treated Thomas differently. Where the rest of them were met with relentless demands, Thomas received some level of restraint. Alexander would call him aside for private sessions, ones no one else was allowed to witness. There was no explanation, no acknowledgment, just an unspoken understanding that Thomas was different. It gnawed at Nyla¡¯s curiosity, but she was too drained to dwell on it for long. Besides they all had some private sessions with Alexander and top officers of the special unit where he examined their specialized talents.

    By the time the training sessions ended, Nyla had come to realize something: this wasn¡¯t just about physical endurance. It was about breaking them down to their very core and rebuilding them into something else¡ªsomething unshakable, something ruthless. She wasn¡¯t sure who she was becoming, but one thing was certain.

    She would survive.

    **************************

    Nyla gave up on sleeping and stared at the desert scene passing by the back of the truck as the moon slowly faded, making room for the rising sun. The golden light bathed the endless stretches of sand, casting long shadows over the dunes. Her comrades began to stir one by one, quietly glancing around before their gazes fixed on the vast, barren landscape outside. Tension hung thick in the air, but no one spoke of it. They all knew the gravity of what was coming.

    There were fifty of them¡ªfifteen from the special unit, including Alexander, and thirty-five under the command of Commander Idris Khamal. Ten days ago, Liam had requested the special unit¡¯s assistance with a daemon attack in the desert country of Cindros on the continent of Etora. The reports indicated that a seed they had been observing had shown signs of awakening. Based on the family history of the seed in question, they hadn¡¯t expected the daemon to be highly destructive¡ªa rating given to daemons capable of killing over a hundred civilians.

    Alexander, despite his deep disdain for the desert heat and dryness, had decided to accept the request. The opportunity to test his new unit members was too valuable to pass up. The harsh environment would be a trial by fire, and the real-life battle would be the ultimate test. The training had gone better than expected¡ªespecially Nyla¡¯s performance. She¡¯d been a difficult case at first, but Alexander had pushed her hard, hoping she would break under the pressure. She hadn¡¯t. She had surprised him at every turn. Still, he knew that nothing could truly prepare them for the chaos of battle.

    As the sun climbed higher, the silence in the truck was thick, each soldier lost in their own thoughts. Nyla¡¯s mind raced, her body still sore from the brutal training sessions. She wondered if she was truly ready for what awaited them in Cindros. The weight of her role in this unit¡ªthis mission¡ªfelt heavier than ever.

    ¡°We are here!¡± the soldier driving the truck called out, his voice carrying through the divider between the driver¡¯s section and the rest of the vehicle. After a brief moment, the truck slowed and came to a stop. Commander Khamal, her expression unreadable, signaled for them to disembark. One by one, they stood up, grabbing their military bags as they exited the truck with a quiet efficiency.

    As Nyla stepped out, she found herself wedged behind a soldier who was far too distracted, his gaze wandering elsewhere. Irritated, she glanced up at him, ready to deliver a reprimand, but her words died in her throat as her eyes landed on what lay before them.

    The scene took her breath away.

    Before them stretched a colossal mesa, its jagged surface adorned with patches of moss and vibrant lichen, as though nature itself had painted this ancient stone. A massive rock formation jutted from the side of the mesa adorning the mesa, The strange, almost ethereal beauty of the place contrasted so starkly with the barren desert surrounding it that it seemed to shimmer like a mirage, a dream woven from the landscape itself.

    ¡°Welcome to the City of Cindros,¡± Commander Khamal said, her voice rich with pride, as if the land before them held not only historical significance but something far more personal. The soldiers, Alexander excluded, exchanged puzzled glances, their confusion palpable. They could see no sign of a city in the surrounding desert landscape. The heat from the sun shimmered off the barren ground, and the emptiness stretched far and wide, leaving only the mesa as the singular landmark.

    A silent understanding passed through them, and in unison, they all looked up, craning their necks to catch sight of the city¡ªif it even existed¡ªat the top of the mesa. Their eyes scanned the jagged cliffs, the moss-covered walls, but there was nothing to indicate any man-made structures perched above them.

    ¡°How are we to climb up the mesa, Ma¡¯am?¡± Kian asked, his brow furrowed in curiosity. They hadn¡¯t packed climbing gear, and his suggestion had been quickly dismissed by Alexander during their departure preparation back in the base.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need for climbing,¡± Alexander answered, his voice sharp, as though it was obvious.

    Commander Khamal smiled slightly, nodding in agreement. ¡°We¡¯re walking in,¡± she continued, her tone almost playful, as though this was a casual stroll through the desert.

    At her signal, the massive stone by the mesa shifted with an eerie creak, revealing an archway¡ªits edges worn and weathered by centuries of time¡ªleading into the heart of the city. The entrance, half hidden by the stone, seemed to materialize out of the very rock itself, a passage that time had nearly forgotten.

    As the shadows of the stone walls stretched long over the desert floor, Nyla felt a strange shiver run down her spine. The air was thick with ancient secrets, and as she stepped forward, the atmosphere seemed to hold its breath, as though the city was waiting for them, welcoming them into its long-lost embrace. There was something alive about the place, something older than anything she had ever encountered. She couldn¡¯t help but wonder what lay ahead in darkness toward the heart of Cindros, and if they were prepared to uncover the truths buried within its depths.

 Chapter 11

    Arte crouched behind a stack of barrels, his breath steady but his pulse thrumming in his ears. The alley beyond was crawling with soldiers, their numbers multiplying like storm clouds before a downpour. No one knew why they were here¡ªnot for the usual gangs, the smugglers, or pickpockets like him. The peacekeepers handled that. City soldiers made their rounds a few times a year, just enough to remind the slums who was really in control. But this? This was different.

    But these weren¡¯t the regular soldiers. Some of them were¡ªthe familiar ones, the ones the back-alley dwellers of Cindros had learned to avoid. But the others? The others were different. Their posture, their demeanor, even the way they carried their weapons¡ªsharp, controlled, coiled like vipers waiting to strike. They moved with a precision that sent a chill down Arte¡¯s spine, their eyes sharp, scanning every shadow like hunters searching for prey. They weren¡¯t just here to intimidate; they were here for something specific.

    They fanned out, questioning residents with rehearsed indifference. The same empty words repeated over and over¡ªHave you seen anything unusual? Any trouble in the area? But Arte wasn¡¯t fooled. They weren¡¯t here for the petty crimes that kept the underbelly of Cindros churning. They were watching the deeper alleys¡ªthe places where the city¡¯s forgotten lived. The places like his own makeshift shelter of cardboard and tarp.

    Something had changed. The city was shifting, and whatever these soldiers were searching for, Arte had a sinking feeling it would swallow people like him whole.

    ¡°You there! Halt!¡±

    Arte froze. One of the soldiers had spotted him. He tried to duck behind the barrels, but it was too late. The soldier¡ªa tall girl with brown hair and sharp eyes¡ªwas already striding toward him. She wasn¡¯t exactly pretty, but she had a look about her¡ªstrong, steady. Not someone you could shake easily.

    Running crossed his mind, but her hand rested too easy on her taser. Not worth the risk. Instead, he stepped out from behind the barrels, hands loose, keeping his face blank.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± she asked, voice firm but not rough.

    ¡°Arte, ma¡¯am,¡± he answered quickly. Being polite kept trouble away¡ªmost times.

    ¡°I¡¯m Nyla.¡± She tilted her head, looking him up and down. ¡°How old are you, Arte?¡±

    ¡°Turnin¡¯ sixteen this year,¡± he said, shifting on his feet. Soldiers didn¡¯t talk soft to kids like him. They usually talked with kicks and threats.

    ¡°You¡¯re so young¡­¡± Nyla murmured, something sad in her voice.

    Arte scoffed. ¡°I ain¡¯t no kid. Almost grown.¡± He jutted his chin up. ¡°Few more years, I¡¯ll be joinin¡¯ the caravans. Make real money. Just gotta survive a couple desert runs, then get my little bro and my gramps outta this hellhole.¡±

    Nyla nodded like she understood. Then, to his surprise, she reached into her pocket.

    Arte tensed, ready to bolt¡ªuntil she pulled out some small, bright-wrapped candies.

    ¡°They¡¯re my favorite,¡± she said, holding them out. ¡°Taste like real fruit¡ªsomething you won¡¯t find around here. Try some.¡±

    Arte blinked at her, unsure what to make of it. Soldiers don¡¯t give out sweets. Not to kids like him.

    Before he could ask what her game was, she dropped the candies in his palm and walked off, heading back to the other soldier who was watching the whole thing with bored disinterest.

    Arte glanced down at the candies, then curled his fingers tight around them. Part of him felt insulted like she was handing¡¯ him charity. But another part¡ªa part buried real deep¡ªfelt something else. Deep in his stomach, a strange warmth stirred¡ªone he hadn¡¯t felt in a long time.

    ¡°Tch. Whatever.¡± He Shoved the candies into his pocket and turned on his heel. He could give them to Ari and his grandfather.

    *************

    "Nice work," Kain said, flashing a grin as he leaned against the alley wall. His voice carried an easy confidence, as if this were just another routine mission. "Smooth as ever. With some luck, the whole family will be out by tonight, and we¡¯ll be done without a fight."

    Nyla didn¡¯t respond. Her fingers curled into a fist at her side, nails pressing into her palm. She had perfected the art of keeping a steady face, of slipping into whatever role the mission required. A friendly smile, a soft voice¡ªit was always easier for her to get close than a tall bulky soldier like the lieutenant. And yet, the weight in her chest refused to settle.

    Tricking a child with poisoned candy.

    It should have felt necessary. It should have felt justified. But it didn¡¯t.

    Kain, sensing her hesitation, exhaled sharply. "Don¡¯t start, Nyla." His voice had lost its lightness. "We do what we have to. You know that."

    She forced herself to nod. Of course, she knew. She had known the moment she put on the uniform.

    Her gaze flickered back to where the boy had been. He was gone, swallowed by the winding alleys, the laced candies clutched in his small hands. In the shadows, two soldiers¡ªdressed in tattered rags to blend in¡ªmoved after him, making sure the sweets reached their intended targets.

    The job was almost done. With some luck, they would leave the city with zero casualties.

    So why did it feel so wrong?

    **************

    Alexander peered into the alley¡¯s abyss from atop one of the city''s ancient storage towers. Shadows swallowed the narrow passage below, broken only by scattered heaps of garbage and the barely visible outlines of makeshift shelters. Even from this vantage point, the slum¡¯s depths remained elusive, its secrets buried beneath layers of filth and decay.

    With a quiet sigh, he reached for the chain around his neck, slipping the worn ring onto his finger. For a fleeting second, it gleamed¡ªan unnatural shimmer in the dim light¡ªbefore a small pillbox materialized in his palm. He flicked it open, revealing six dark red pills nestled inside.

    He had been conserving his energy for the past few missions, but tonight was too risky to go in at low reserves. Not with the new recruits tagging along.

    Plucking one of the pills between his fingers, he placed it on his tongue and swallowed dry. Then, he began counting the seconds.

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    Across the gap, on the rooftop of the next building, he spotted Nyla crouched low, sniper rifle steady as she surveyed the alley. She was motionless, eyes locked on her scope, barely breathing. Always precise. Always patient.

    Alexander had never been fond of firearms. He was proficient¡ªan expert, even¡ªbut guns lacked the intimacy of steel. The weight of the sword against his back was reassuring, familiar. Guns were cold, distant. A blade, however, demanded presence.

    And for what lay ahead, he preferred to be close.

    "Eagle One to Black Cat, target is en route to the nest." The radio crackled softly against Alexander¡¯s shoulder.  The voice was barely above a whisper, blending into the shadows of the alley.

    "Copy that, Eagle One. Maintain visual." he responded back, crisp and steady.

    Kain adjusted his position, keeping his eyes locked on the boy they had met earlier. They had been tailing him for hours, tracking his every move. First, he had made stops at various temples and churches, looking for a meal¡ªno luck. When the temples had nothing to offer, he had turned to the back alleys of the city, loitering near markets and restaurants, hoping to scavenge scraps or find work. Came up empty there too.

    Now, he was finally heading home, shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

    Kain pressed his radio again. "Target is in the final approach. No deviations."

    "Roger. Stay on him until he''s inside."

    Kain exhaled slowly, watching as Arte disappeared into the tangle of makeshift tents. It wouldn¡¯t be long now. They just needed to wait for the signal from the soldiers taking cover in the nearby tents.

    *****************

    "Time to switch," Emily whispered as she approached Nyla, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city below.

    Nyla gave a slight nod and eased back from her position, careful not to make a sound as she let Emily take over. She had been stationed there for hours, her hands stiff from gripping the rifle, her body tense from holding the same crouched position. As she stretched her legs, she tilted her head back, letting her gaze settle on the moon¡ªa pale, distant eye watching over the hidden city.

    Cindron still felt unreal to her, even after days inside its walls. She had expected something entirely different when they arrived. When they entered the cave in the great wall of Messa, she had braced herself for a dark, damp dungeon¡ªa hidden fortress of stone and shadows. But instead, as they stepped through, they were met with something breathtaking.

    A city unfolded before them, vibrant and alive. Colorful buildings with domed roofs sprawled across the valley, their surfaces catching the golden sunlight that filtered through unseen openings above. It was not just a cave, nor a mere hollow in the mountains. It was an entire valley¡ªmaybe even the remains of a dormant volcano¡ªhidden away from the outside world. The realization had struck all of them at once, leaving them standing there, frozen in awe.

    It wasn¡¯t until Alexander nudged them forward that they remembered why they were there.

    Commander Khamal had given them a brief history as they moved deeper into the city. ¡°The mechanism that moves the rock is ancient. No one truly understands who built it, but we have enough knowledge to keep it running. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±

    Their unit had been given a secure base within the city, an abandoned warehouse near the outer districts. They had changed into the uniforms of city soldiers there, blending in with the local forces. It wasn¡¯t a full-scale invasion¡ªat least, not yet. This was a cohort mission, as Alexander had put it.

    "The target is already under surveillance. We extract with minimal resistance," he had said, his voice calm, confident. "No unnecessary fights. No mess."

    But missions rarely went that smoothly.

    As Nyla stepped away from her post, she exhaled slowly, rubbing the stiffness from her fingers. She cast one last glance at the darkened alley below. Somewhere down there, pieces were moving¡ªtoo many unknowns, too many risks.

    Minimal resistance. She wasn¡¯t sure she believed in that anymore.

    **************

    Arte slipped into the tent he shared with Ari and their grandfather, careful not to make too much noise. Still, the faint rustle of fabric was enough to make them stir. Both of them lifted their heads from where they were lying, their senses always sharp.

    People in the alley had nothing worth stealing, but that didn¡¯t mean there wasn¡¯t danger¡ªespecially for children and the elderly.

    When they recognized him, their wary expressions melted into relief.

    ¡°Arte! You¡¯re finally back!¡± Ari¡¯s voice rang with excitement as he shot up from his spot and threw himself into Arte¡¯s arms. The force of the hug nearly knocked him off balance, and for a moment, Arte was surprised by how strong his little brother was getting.

    He¡¯s growing fast. Too fast.

    Arte hugged him back, resting his chin on Ari¡¯s head before pulling away. ¡°How you holdin¡¯ up, Gramps?¡± he asked, turning to the old man sitting in the corner.

    Their grandfather just smiled, nodding absently like a child. His mind had started slipping years ago¡ªArte barely remembered a time when he had been different. There were days when he would mutter about things from long ago, names Arte didn¡¯t know, places he had never seen. Other days, he barely reacted at all.

    Arte exhaled, shaking off the weight in his chest. He made his way to the back of the tent, where a battered old lantern sat on a crate. He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a matchbox¡ªone he¡¯d swiped from near the temple earlier that day.

    Striking a match, he lit the half-burnt candle inside. The tiny flicker of light danced against the tent walls, casting long shadows.

    It wasn¡¯t much. But at least, for tonight, they weren¡¯t in complete darkness.

    "We''re almost out of those," Ari said, his voice tinged with sadness as he stared at the flickering lantern. He hated the dark, but they couldn¡¯t afford to light it too often.

    Arte didn¡¯t respond. Instead, he turned over the small plastic bag he had brought with him, letting a handful of candles tumble onto the floor. Ari¡¯s eyes widened in delight, and he immediately began gathering them up.

    "You stole these from the temple, didn¡¯t you?" he asked, not accusing, just knowing.

    Arte shrugged. "They didn¡¯t need to be rude when I asked for leftovers."

    Ari smiled, unbothered by the morality of it. He was just happy to have more light. Their grandfather, seeing Ari handling something, shuffled over to help. But the moment he realized it wasn¡¯t food, his hands stilled. Disappointment flickered across his face, and he pulled away.

    Arte¡¯s stomach twisted with guilt. "Sorry, Gramps¡­ no food tonight."

    His grandfather didn¡¯t react. He simply sat back down, staring blankly at the ground.

    "It¡¯s okay, brother!" Ari chirped, trying to lift the mood. "The old lady at the tea shop gave me some tea today! We can drink that¡ªI¡¯ll just make some hot water!"

    Arte exhaled, watching as Ari eagerly started preparing their makeshift dinner. People loved Ari. They found him adorable, always slipping him small gifts¡ªtea, a scrap of bread, sometimes even a piece of fruit. Heck, Arte did the same.

    But deep down, a tinge of jealousy gnawed at him. No one had ever given him a handout. No one had ever helped him. He was just grateful to not be beaten.

    No one ever gave him anything.

    No one but her.

    His fingers twitched as a memory surfaced¡ªthe soldier woman from this morning. The candies.

    Arte reached into his pocket, pulling them out. "Tea sounds good, Ari. We can have it with these."

    Ari¡¯s face lit up in pure joy. He loved sweets.

    As he set about making tea, Arte divided the candies between the three of them. Their grandfather took his, then instinctively turned his back to them as he ate¡ªjust like he always did. As if afraid someone would take it from him.

    Even here, in the safety of their own tent, the fear of losing what little they had never left them.

    Ari and Arte unwrapped their candies one by one, savoring the different flavors as they sipped their cheap, watery tea. It wasn¡¯t much, but in that moment, it felt like a feast.

    Arte entertained Ari with stories of the city¡ªthe strange people he had seen, the places he had wandered through. They spoke of the future, of dreams that seemed so far away yet so close in their minds.

    "One day, I¡¯ll join a caravan," Arte promised, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I¡¯ll earn enough to get us a real home."

    Ari listened with wide-eyed enthusiasm, hanging onto every word, his excitement carrying them both away from their harsh reality¡ªif only for a little while.

    Their grandfather lay still in his usual spot, breathing softly, unaware or simply uninterested in their whispered hopes.

    Then, suddenly, Arte¡¯s eyelids grew unbearably heavy. A deep exhaustion washed over him, thick and unnatural. He glanced at Ari, who was already struggling to sit up, his small frame sinking into the makeshift bedding.

    Something was wrong.

    Arte fought to stay awake, but his body refused to listen. His vision blurred. His limbs felt like lead. He forced himself up¡ªjust for a moment¡ªhis gaze locking onto the flickering lantern. It was still on.

    The tent could catch fire.

    He had to put it out. He had to¡ª

    With the last shred of his strength, he reached for the lantern, but before he could grasp it, his body gave in. He collapsed, his breath slowing, his consciousness slipping away.

    Outside, unseen in the dim alley, dark figures moved.

    The shadows crept closer.

 Chapter 12

    Kain lifted the tent flap and stepped inside. On the filthy ground before him, three bodies lay on stretchers¡ªtwo young boys and an elderly man. A flicker of guilt stirred in his gut, but he forced it down, repeating the same words he had told Nyla: We do what we must.

    His gaze swept over the scene, noting that the soldiers hadn''t bothered to restrain their captives. A reckless oversight. He opened his mouth to correct them but hesitated. The tranquillizers they had administered were already pushing the limits of what could be considered safe for human consumption. There was no need for further precaution. No need for more harm.

    Without another word, the soldiers hoisted the stretchers and carried the unconscious bodies outside. Kain watched them disappear into the night, a shadow of doubt settling over him.

    He gestured for one of the new recruits to gather the belongings of the tent¡¯s residents. Where they were going, they would probably have better lives, he told himself. But they¡¯d be living as prisoners. Any small personal item might make the transition easier, a fragile tether to the life they were being torn from.

    Kain sighed and stepped outside, trailing after the soldiers. That¡¯s when he noticed the disturbance.

    A commotion had broken out near the edge of the alley. As he moved closer, his eyes locked onto the source of the chaos¡ªthe elderly man had regained consciousness. Despite his frail form, he had managed to twist his stretcher onto its side, using it as a makeshift barrier between his grandsons and the advancing soldiers. His arms trembled, his breath came in ragged gasps, but his stance was firm, protective.

    Kain cursed under his breath. Damn it. He wasn¡¯t supposed to wake up yet.

    "REPORT!" Kain barked, pointing to the nearest soldier.

    "One of the targets suddenly regained consciousness and caught us off guard, sir!" Paul responded¡ª a man in his thirties with sharp black eyes and unkempt brown hair.

    Kain''s jaw tightened. "How is that possible?"

    "Maybe he didn¡¯t eat the candies," a voice crackled through the radio on his shoulder.

    Damn. Now Alexander was involved.

    "Units! Switch to tranq guns! Do not approach!" Kain ordered.

    The soldiers followed his command without hesitation. No one wanted to get too close to an identified Seed¡ª not when a sudden manifestation could turn the entire mission into chaos.

    "On my mark!" Kain¡¯s voice was cold, unwavering.

    The old man still stood his ground, trembling but unyielding, the stretcher a feeble shield between him and the inevitable.

    "FIRE!"

    A dozen tranquillizer darts shot through the air, their sharp hiss cutting through the night and they all stuck to their target with success.

    The old man dropped to his knees, his frail hands still clutching the stretcher as if sheer willpower alone could keep him standing. His breath was ragged, his body trembling under the weight of exhaustion and chemicals flooding his system.

    Kain didn¡¯t move. He raised a hand, signaling the soldiers to hold their positions.

    "Wait," he ordered, his voice steady.

    They needed to be sure. The tranquilizers had been measured to the brink of what was safe, but an old man¡¯s body was unpredictable. If they approached too soon and he had even a sliver of strength left, things could turn ugly.

    The seconds stretched, tense and silent, as they watched him waver. Finally, his grip on the stretcher loosened. His fingers slid away, his body slumping forward.

    Only then did Kain give the signal.

    "Move in."

    *****************

    "The shots were successful," Emily reported, watching the scene through her binoculars from atop a nearby building. She and Nyla were stationed there with sniper rifles, their vantage point giving them a clear view of the operation. Alexander had joined them as soon as the mission was set in motion.

    Nyla adjusted her own scope, tracking the target. The old man had fallen to his knees, his trembling hands still clutching the stretcher. Her stomach twisted in knots of guilt.

    "Something''s not right¡­" Alexander murmured, suspicion lacing his voice.

    Nyla frowned. The old man had definitely eaten the candies. The tranquilizers should have kept him under for hours. How was he awake?

    "What do you mean, sir? The target is neutralized," Emily responded, her tone steady.

    Alexander exhaled sharply, lowering his binoculars. "Maybe I¡¯m just imagining things."

    Nyla let out a breath, beginning to relax¡ªuntil she noticed something. Through her scope, the old man¡¯s body looked¡­ bigger. She adjusted the focus, a creeping sense of unease settling in her bones.

    Then, an ominous feeling started to cloud her mind.

    Her fingers tensed around the trigger.

    Before she could voice her concern, Alexander''s voice cut through the radio like a blade.

    "HALT ALL UNITS! DO NOT APPROACH THE TARGET!"

    Then, without hesitation, he jumped from the building.

    "Nyla! Shoot him! NOW!" he barked as he sprinted toward the soldiers surrounding the old man.

    Nyla turned her attention back to the scope, her heart hammering. Now she understood why Alexander was reacting this way. From the soldiers¡¯ perspective, the old man was still hunched over, weakened. But from her position, she could see it clearly.

    He was changing.

    Thick hair sprouted from his skin, consuming his body like wildfire. His limbs twisted and swelled, his frail frame expanding into something monstrous.

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    He was manifesting.

    Nyla swallowed hard and shifted her aim. A headshot. Quick, clean. The best way to end a manifestation before it fully took hold¡ªjust like they had drilled into her.

    Her finger hovered over the trigger.

    Then¡ªnothing.

    Her body refused to move.

    A cold wave of fear gripped her, locking her muscles in place. She knew what she had to do, but an invisible force kept her frozen.

    "NYLA, SHOOT!" Alexander¡¯s voice rang through her earpiece, urgent, commanding.

    But she couldn''t. He cursed under his breath and sped up pulling out his sword.

    She could only watch in horror as the soldiers below finally saw what she did. The old man¡ªno, the thing that had once been an old man¡ªlifted its head.

    And then, he opened his mouth and screamed.

    It was too late.

    ********************

    Kain pressed his palms against his ears, trying to block out the deafening shrieks that tore through the air. He crouched low, using the jagged remnants of a half-collapsed wall as cover. His mind raced, but his body remained tense and focused, eyes flickering back and forth between the chaos and his units. They needed to keep their heads down¡ªthey had to.

    The seed¡¯s screams were now guttural, raw. Each shriek seemed to pulse with power, his body distorting unnaturally. The flesh was swelling¡ªpushing, stretching¡ªand it wasn¡¯t just the seed anymore. It was as though his body was shedding itself, layers of skin and sinew ripping away, leaving behind something new. The excess flesh didn¡¯t fall to the ground. No, it grew. Like some twisted mockery of life, it began to shift, to move¡ªand with terrifying precision, it coalesced into a new form.

    Kain¡¯s breath caught in his throat. The first thing he saw was the hulking silhouette of a bipedal creature, its outline looming against the dim, blood-streaked sky. A daemon¡ªits monstrous limbs twitching as they took shape. Damn, he thought bitterly. This one¡¯s gonna be a tough one to take down.

    The creature¡¯s skin was mottled and writhing, as though it was constantly shifting between forms, a grotesque amalgamation of flesh and fury. Each step it took sent tremors through the earth, its presence suffocating, its screeching far worse than the seed¡¯s cries. It was like a living nightmare, breathing death into everything around it.

    His eyes darted to the ground, where two young boys lay, still unconscious, just behind the chaos. His heart clenched. They were vulnerable, caught in the wake of this abomination¡¯s birth. They didn¡¯t deserve this, he thought. We failed them.

    It was their fault¡ªtheir mission¡ªthat had led to this. He couldn¡¯t let those boys become casualties of their mistake. They needed to be saved. No matter the cost. The thought spurred him into motion, a deep sense of urgency flooding his veins.

    He gripped his weapon tighter, forced himself to focus despite the overwhelming dread that threatened to drown him. He had to act¡ªthey had to act.

    But how?

    The seed¡¯s screams abruptly cut off, and a chilling silence descended over the battlefield. Kain¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the chaos. The daemon, still writhing and struggling to take its true form, twisted in on itself, its massive limbs thrashing like a grotesque marionette. It was a disgusting, shapeless thing¡ªa creature caught between life and death, searching for its final form.

    Kain¡¯s eyes snapped back to the seed. It had collapsed to the ground, its body now a limp, lifeless heap. The once-violent screams had died with it.

    His breath caught. This was it. The seed was vulnerable, but the daemon was still very much alive. And as it continued to twist and pulse, Kain knew that if it managed to fully manifest, nothing would be able to stop it.

    A sharp, garbled voice screeched through the crackling radio on his shoulder, snapping him from his thoughts. "Ka..! ..in! Can y... he... me? H... ing!"

    Kain gritted his teeth, trying to make sense of the distorted transmission. His ears still rang from the seed¡¯s horrific screams, making everything sound distant and muffled. ¡°What did you say?¡± he barked into the radio, voice rising with frustration.

    "I said hang in there!" Emily¡¯s voice screamed back, clearer now, though still strained. "Alexander is coming!"

    A sudden surge of hope flooded through him. Alexander. The one man with the power to turn this around. Kain¡¯s mind shifted into overdrive as a plan began to form. They needed to keep the daemon distracted. They needed to buy time¡ªtime for Alexander to arrive, time to save the boys, time to neutralize this nightmare before it fully came to life.

    Kain¡¯s gaze locked onto the writhing creature once more. His hand tightened around his weapon, a grim resolve settling in. He wasn¡¯t going to let this monstrosity finish what it had started. Not while those boys were still alive.

    "Get ready," he muttered to himself and gestured to his unit, his voice cold and steady. "This isn¡¯t over."

    The unit moved swiftly and silently into formation, weapons raised in a show of defiance, though Kain knew¡ªdeep down¡ªthat their guns were nothing more than toys in the face of a daemon¡¯s might. But it was the only weapon they had, and sometimes, sheer willpower had to be enough.

    They crouched low behind whatever cover they could find¡ªbroken walls, rusted debris, anything that might offer a moment of safety. Every man and woman in the unit knew the drill by now. Stay low. Stay quiet. Wait for the signal.

    Kain¡¯s heart thudded heavily in his chest as he surveyed the battlefield. The daemon was still struggling, its grotesque limbs spasming and stretching like the twisted growth of some malignant plant. It hadn¡¯t fully formed yet, still struggling to find its shape. This was their window.

    His eyes flicked over the soldiers, gauging their readiness. No one was trembling¡ªfear was something they¡¯d learned to suppress in the line of duty. But Kain could see the tension in their movements, the slight quiver of muscle as they waited for his command.

    The lieutenant had to pick the right moment. He knew that if they rushed too early, they¡¯d be slaughtered before Alexander could arrive. If they waited too long, the daemon might fully manifest, and that would be the end for everyone.

    Kain gripped his weapon tighter, his fingers going white with pressure. His pulse raced, but his gaze remained sharp, calculating. Every second felt like an eternity. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was the anticipation of the battle or the gnawing guilt at the two unconscious boys just a few meters away, but Kain couldn¡¯t afford to hesitate.

    He looked once more at the writhing creature, its size growing, its form nearing completion. His mind raced with possibilities, every one of them worse than the last.

    Finally, Kain raised his hand¡ªslowly, deliberately. The signal.

    And then he froze. A soft groan reached his ears, barely audible over the cacophony of the daemon¡¯s thrashing. His eyes darted to the two boys, still lying unconscious a few meters away. One of them was stirring.

    Ari¡¯s eyes fluttered open, his face pale, his gaze confused as he took in the scene before him. The chaos. The daemon still struggling to form. His expression shifted from dazed to alarmed as he became aware of his surroundings.

    Kain¡¯s heart clenched. The boy couldn¡¯t be more than twelve, and yet he had just woken up to this nightmare. The last thing they needed was for him to panic and draw attention to them¡ªespecially now.

    ¡°Stay down,¡± Kain muttered to himself, not daring to voice the command aloud. His mind raced. If the boy made a sound, if he even moved too quickly, their position could be compromised. The daemon could sense them. It could kill them all before Alexander even had a chance to arrive.

    The boy shifted again, his gaze now focused on the writhing daemon. He looked terrified, his small body trembling. Kain cursed under his breath. There was no time for this.

    ¡°Stay down. Don¡¯t move. Don¡¯t make a sound,¡± Kain silently willed him, willing his voice to reach the boy through the chaos. The boy¡¯s chest heaved with shallow breaths, his eyes wide, locked on the daemon, but he remained still.

    Kain¡¯s hand hovered over his weapon. His instinct was to act, to give the order. But now, everything had changed. They couldn¡¯t attack yet. They couldn¡¯t risk the boy¡¯s life or the mission for a single second.

    But they were running out of time. The daemon was growing stronger. Kain had no choice. He needed to make a decision.

    He lowered his hand just slightly, signalling for the soldiers to wait. The tension hung thick in the air as Kain¡¯s mind worked furiously.

    Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement. Alexander. He was running toward them, his figure cutting through the chaos with purpose.

    ¡°Get ready,¡± Kain murmured to himself, his muscles coiled, ready to spring into action. He only had moments. The boy couldn¡¯t last much longer, and neither could they. The confusion and shock of seeing a daemon for the first time had frozen the boy in place, but that would not last.

    Ari¡¯s eyes flickered from the monstrous creature towering in front of him, its limbs still twisting and contorting into something barely recognizable, to the figure lying unconscious at its feet. His breath hitched, and without thinking, his legs propelled him forward.

    "Grandpa!" he shouted, his voice raw with panic. Before anyone could stop him, he sprang to his feet, stumbling and scrambling towards the old man. His heart was pounding in his chest as he raced across the dirt, blind to the danger.

    And that was when all hell broke loose.