The night pressed in like a damp cloak, heavy and close, when Nia returned to the safehouse. She didn’t bother removing her gloves; she didn’t even close the door fully before sliding down against it, her breath trembling out of her as though she’d been holding it for hours. Maybe she had.The safehouse was dim, lit only by a small lantern on the table. Its weak glow threw soft gold against the peeling walls and the cracked floorboards. It looked peaceful—too peaceful for the storm roaring inside her chest.Footsteps approached—slow, cautious. Jonah.He didn’t speak at first. He simply lowered himself to her level, his knees bending until he was sitting on the cold floor beside her. They stayed like that for a moment, their shoulders almost touching but not quite, the silence stretching between them like a question neither wanted to ask.“You saw something,” Jonah finally murmured, his voice rough from exhaustion.Nia’s throat tightened. She nodded.“Enzo?” he asked.Another nod.Jona

I write this part as though the ink itself is breathing, as if every line trembles with the weight of what’s coming. Because Chapter 116 is not loud. It is the unsettling kind of quiet that arrives right before a storm that is too large to name.The night settled over the safehouse like a heavy blanket, thick and unmoving. Only the smallest slivers of moonlight slipped through the warped wooden boards covering the windows. Inside, everyone moved with a strange mixture of exhaustion and anticipation—as if their bodies had grown tired but their souls refused to rest.Nia sat at the long table, her fingers tapping lightly against the notebook she had been using to track every clue, every location, every pattern in the Council’s movements. Her handwriting was starting to lean—slanted and tired—but her eyes were far from dull. There was a sharp fire still there, burning with both fear and resolve.She wasn’t alone.Jonah leaned against the wall across from her, arms folded, watching her wi

I didn’t sleep that night.Not even for a second.The room Mara and Jonah secured for me was dark, quiet, and safe enough… yet my mind refused to settle. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that symbol again—burned into the floor like a warning carved into the bones of the world. The Seraph Mark. The one we were never supposed to see up close. The one only whispered about in broken stories.By dawn, my head felt heavy and hollow at the same time.The sky outside was a pale sheet of silver, like the city had forgotten how to produce a sunrise. This part of the underground district didn’t really get daylight anyway. But today, even the artificial lights felt dim, as though the air had tightened.Something was coming.And every instinct in me screamed to prepare.I walked out of the room and found Jonah sitting alone at the far end of the corridor. He hadn’t slept either—that was clear from the tired slump of his shoulders, the faint redness around his eyes, and the way his thoughts seeme

The city seemed quieter than it should have been, but Jonah knew better. The calm was deceptive, a thin veneer over the fractures spreading through his network. Shadows moved differently now, not just in alleyways, but in minds, in hesitations, in the very rhythm of patrols and factions he had built from the ground up.He stood atop a high-rise, looking down at streets bathed in flickering neon. Each light, each puddle reflection, told a story of hesitation, of doubt, of fractured trust. Even minor operatives — the ones he had personally trained — paused longer than necessary, second-guessing commands, whispering to each other in moments that should have been automatic obedience.Nia arrived silently, moving beside him with the precision of a shadow herself. “It’s worse tonight,” she murmured, her eyes scanning the grid-like network map projected across a tablet. “Calder’s former faction isn’t just hesitant anymore; they’re subtly undermining patrols, rerouting resources, testing loya

The morning after the lockup incident carried a strange weight—like the city itself was holding its breath.Jonah felt it the moment he stepped out of the converted warehouse headquarters. The streets weren’t loud enough, the arguments weren’t sharp enough, even the distant sirens sounded muted. A city like theirs didn’t fall silent unless something was crawling underneath the surface, waiting, watching, stretching its claws just before the strike.He pulled his coat tighter and moved through the early gray fog, Nia at his side. Her hand hovered near her concealed blade—not out of fear, but instinct. She felt it too.“Someone’s pushing,” she said quietly. “The tremor started last night. You felt it.”Jonah nodded. “Not a tremor anymore. A shift.”As they neared District Eleven, the air grew colder. Not physically—something else. People stood outside corners they usually walked past. Street hustlers whispered instead of shouted. Minor factions that normally ignored each other kept glan