Evening crept in quietly.The Blackwell estate slept lighter than it looked, but tonight it was distracted. Corvin and Scott were gone. Hunters were scattered across the country. The wards hummed low and lazy, stretched thin by distance and urgency.For the first time in a long while, the mansion felt… hollow.Lumi dressed carefully.Dark clothes. Soft boots. Nothing that would catch light or sound. His movements were smoother now, surer. A week of training had done that. Fire no longer felt like a stranger under his skin. The Calder sigil on his chest pulsed faintly, warm, obedient.Ashen said nothing.Not a taunt.Not a warning.Not even mockery.The silence felt heavier than words.Lumi slipped out through a side passage, eased past sleeping servants, and crossed the estate grounds without resistance. The gates parted easily. No one noticed him leave.Outside, the world stretched wide and quiet.He walked.At first, slowly. Casually. As if daring the night to notice him.The road b

Ashen laughed.It slipped out of him easily, light and unrestrained, echoing through the street like it belonged there.Fire bloomed where he walked.Not a single grand explosion. No dramatic inferno. Just flames blooming in patches—windows catching first, curtains igniting, wooden doorframes blackening and curling inward. Sparks leapt from his presence alone, licking at rooftops, crawling along gutters, dropping into alleyways like curious fingers.People screamed.At first, they didn’t understand.Someone shouted about a gas leak. Another yelled that the bakery on the corner was on fire again. A woman clutched her shopping bag tighter and pulled her child closer, eyes darting wildly as smoke began to roll through the street.Then the heat hit.A man stumbled out of a burning building, coughing violently, skin blistered and raw along his arms. He collapsed to his knees, retching, palms scraping uselessly against the stone.Ashen walked past him.Didn’t look down.Didn’t slow.Fire fl

The iron gates of the Blackwell estate parted without a sound.Ancient mechanisms slid aside beneath the ivy and stone, welcoming them back like a beast opening its jaws. The mansion loomed ahead, all sharp angles and shadowed windows, its lights burning low despite the late hour.Corvin stepped out of the car first.The gravel crunched beneath his boots, the sound oddly loud in the stillness. The air here felt heavier than the city—thicker with sigils, wards, and generations of blood-soaked authority.Scott shut the door and straightened.The front doors were already open.Someone was waiting.A man stood just inside the threshold, leaning casually against the carved doorway as if he owned the place. He was tall—taller than Scott, broader than Corvin—with dark hair pulled loosely back and eyes that gleamed with sharp amusement.He smiled when he saw them.“Scott. Corvin.” His gaze flicked between them, slow and deliberate. “Nice to see you again.”Scott stopped short.The air around

The weapons vault breathed like a living thing.Ancient sigils glowed faintly along the walls, etched deep into black stone, humming with restrained violence. Racks upon racks of weapons lined the chamber—blades wrapped in runic cloth, spears suspended mid-air by binding circles, firearms fused with sigil-cores that pulsed softly like hearts.Lumi stood just inside the threshold, suddenly very aware of how small he was in a room built for war.Scott leaned against one of the pillars, arms crossed, watching him with an expression that was unreadable.“Go ahead,” Scott said. “Pick one.”Lumi hesitated.He walked slowly along the racks, fingers hovering but never touching. Every weapon felt… loud. Heavy with intent. Like they were all whispering the same thing.*Choose me.*He stopped at a simple rack near the back.No glow. No elaborate engravings.Just a short sword.Clean steel. Balanced. Honest.He lifted it, testing the weight.It fit.As he slid it back into its sheath, a thought s

The first thing Lumi smelled was antiseptic.Sharp. Clean. Too clean.It stung the back of his throat as consciousness seeped back into him, dragging him up from a heavy, dreamless void. His eyelids fluttered open, vision blurring before slowly settling into focus.White ceilings.Soft lights.Curtains drawn halfway across tall windows.He turned his head slightly and winced.Bandages wrapped his torso. His arms. One leg was propped up, thickly covered, faint warmth pulsing beneath the layers.Lumi stared at it all, confused.“…Where am I?”His gaze drifted to a familiar crest etched into the wall opposite the bed.Blackwell.Realisation settled in with a dull thud.“The family hospital,” he murmured.He lifted a hand to his temple and rubbed slowly, head aching as fragments tried—and failed—to resurface. Stone. Steel. Pain.The door creaked open.Scott stepped inside.He looked tired. His jacket was gone, sleeves rolled up, sigil faint and dormant at his wrist. He paused when he saw