The campaign headquarters of Senator Patrick Stones pulsed with energy—banners fluttering in the warm wind, LED screens lighting up the entrance, and staffers hustling through the hallways with clipboards and comm devices.Bella adjusted the strap of her designer leather bag as she walked through the main doors, nodding at familiar faces. It felt both surreal and oddly familiar to be part of Senator Patrick’s campaign team, especially now—as the national spotlight was finally turning toward Stones as the true contender.“Bella! Welcome,” said Martina Fields, the campaign's chief communications officer, rushing to greet her with a bright smile. “It’s so nice to have the campus beauty queen in our midst.”Bella smiled politely and returned the hug. “Just here to help, like always. Senator Patrick Stones has got a momentum now—and we all want to make sure he doesn’t lose it.”Martina gestured for her to follow. “Come on. Senator Stones is upstairs. He heard you were coming.”As they clim

The room was darkened, save for the soft amber glow from a chandelier hanging above the long, mahogany table. The private lounge on the 33rd floor of the Halberd Tower—reserved only for political aristocracy and generational kingmakers—was shrouded in quiet.Evans stepped in with a calm expression, but every step forward was matched by the internal pounding of suspicion in his gut. This was no ordinary meeting. This was him meeting with the two most powerful men in the city after the Harts.After the invite from Samantha, he had gone back to do his homework and had found out that Don Lewis had one time being part of the Hart’s under the umbrella of Red Echo from which the Red Tails had broken out from to have now become an independent mafia organization.But that wasn’t what had really caught his attention during his private investigation. Instead, what had caught his attention was in the simple discovery that Don Lewis and Philip Hart had once been very good friends starting from th

Evans and Samantha turned at the same time, startled by the raspy voice that had cut through the thick, quiet air of the ruin. Standing by the half-collapsed doorway was an elderly man in a long brown robe tied with frayed cord.Samantha took an instinctive step back. “Who the hell is that?”Evans stood up fully, his fingers brushing off the dust. “I’m not sure.”He knew where they were was one of the monasteries where according to his investigation, the monks once protected, and if he should judge by the man’s appearance, he wouldn’t be wrong to identify him as one of the monks.The old man took a step forward, his sandals silent on the dusty floor. “You should not be here,” he said again, voice stronger this time.Evans met his gaze. “Why not?”The man said nothing at first, and was just walking around as if trying to make sure that nothing that had been stolen from the place.“I don’t owe you an answer, young man. So, if I were you, I’d be leaving right away,” the man replied, this

The storm began just after midnight.The skies above the capital cracked open with unnatural thunder—no lightning, no rain at first. Just wind. Furious, howling wind that swept through the streets like a predator. Flags tore from buildings, traffic lights bent under pressure, and rooftops groaned as the air pressure shifted violently.Then came the surge—blinding flashes of white-silver light pulsed through the clouds, illuminating the skyline with a ghostly radiance. And in the center of it all—hovering above the heart of the storm—was a figure.Clad in an aura of pale silver flames that shimmered and hissed like liquid lightning, his body levitated effortlessly. His veins glowed beneath his skin, pulsing with raw power. His eyes, once a gentle brown, now mirrored the storm—pure silver, unblinking, infinite.The Silver Phoenix had awakened fully and it was hungry.Below, chaos reigned.A city bus lost control and swerved into a crowded sidewalk. Power lines sparked and exploded. A co

The wind whispered through the ruins of the old monastery as the trio, Jackson, Mr. Copper and Evans, stood in the middle of the scorched sanctum.Jackson stepped forward toward the blackened altar that Evans had talked about, wondering what would be next, as he wasn’t so sure if he should actually do this or not. But they had come all the way to Montgomery for this, and there was no way he could turn back now.He could feel the heat rising beneath his skin, as though the Flame within him recognized this place. It tugged at his soul with urgency—like it was reaching home.“This is it,” Mr. Copper said softly, placing a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “The place where the legacy began. Where your father’s life changed forever.”Evans stood off to the side, eyes fixed on the burnt sigils etched into the altar stone. He knew this moment could bring answers—about Philip Hart, about Flameborn, and perhaps… his own father.Jackson placed his palm on the cold surface of the altar.And then—every