Mackiah (after a long pause, voice raw): "He's not just Kyrell."
Alric (softly, in disbelief): "No… and Ivan… was never just Ivan."
Mackiah (barely above a whisper): "He knew I'd look for him… he knew I'd come here…"
Alric (quiet, reading from Darian's note): "'I wanted to show you all that I was… all that I could be. But I only brought danger to your world…'" (he trails off, voice catching in his throat)
A heavy pause.
Mackiah (his voice cracking): "I told him I didn't care about the danger. I would've faced it with him. I would've—" (he grits his teeth, eyes welling up)
Alric (gently): "Mackiah…"
Mackiah (suddenly slamming his fist on the counter):"No! This isn't just some farewell letter, Alric. This is a warning."
Alric stiffened.
Mackiah (his voice rising): "They didn't leave us. They were forced to disappear."
Alric (clutching the letter tighter): "He would never leave me without a reason. Not after everything…" (he breathes out, brows furrowed) "Darian doesn't get scared easily."
Mackiah (turns to him, eyes burning): "We need to find them. No matter what."
Alric (a spark reigniting in his eyes):"Then we do it the way they would."
Mackiah:"Calculative. Quiet. Precise."
Alric:"We dismantle everything that's keeping them away from us. Then let's start digging. Whatever this world is—they didn't want to bring us into it. But they forgot one thing..."
Mackiah (soft but fierce):"...We were already in it the moment we fell in love with them."
"I'll start with Sector 17. It's got files even the government doesn't know exist."
Alric (nodding):"And I'll use Avenar. Halovex's old systems still have reach into Virellan-linked networks. If someone covered their trail, I'll uncover it."
A brief silence. The heartbreak doesn't fade—but purpose begins to rise in its place.
Mackiah (quietly):"We're not just lovers to them, are we?"
Alric (softly):"No. We're the reason they're still human."
They looked around the café—once a haven, now a war declaration in broken glass and silence.
Alric (turning to leave):"Let's bring our boys home."
A remote mountain region cloaked in ice and fog. The wind howled through jagged peaks. Towering obsidian walls stretched high into the clouds, camouflaged by ever-shifting security cloaks that shimmer like mirages. Hidden behind them... the world forgot.
A vehicle sped through a tunnel, black-tinted and soundproof. Inside, Zayden and Darian sat, wrists cuffed loosely—not to restrict, but to mask intent. Their expressions remained unreadable.
Darian's fingers twitched on his knee, his jaw tight. Zayden, still as stone, stared at the reflection in the dark glass.
Darian (whispers bitterly): "This place smells the same... like blood and lies."
Zayden (softly):"Smells like unfinished business."
The truck stopped. The reinforced doors opened with a hiss.
They step out.
Ashreign Citadelloomed before them.
Ancient steel gates twisted open with a guttural groan. Security drones hummed above, tracking every heartbeat. Young cadets in stark black-and-crimson uniforms marched past in formation, unaware of who walked among them.
There were places whispered of in shadows — places that existed not on maps, but in the silence between classified files and burned archives.
Ashreign Citadel was one such place.
Nestled beyond the veil of the known world, its exact location was unknown — shrouded in swirling fogs and surrounded by titanic obsidian walls that pierced the sky. No civilian had ever seen it. No satellite had ever captured it. It was a fortress where monsters are forged — not of fang or claw, but of purpose and silence.
Ashreign wasn't just an academy. It's was crucible.
Within its cold, metallic halls, the elite of the underworld — or those chosen by it — were broken, shaped, and remade into perfect weapons. Recruits were stripped of name and past, drilled in strategy, torture resistance, psychological warfare, assassination, and manipulation from the moment they arrived. Emotions were peeled away layer by layer, until obedience was all that remained.
But even among the ruthless systems and impossible expectations, one unit stood above the rest — a legacy that haunted the walls like the echo of ghost fire:
The Blackthorn Bastions
An infamous hyper squad that had no rivals, only fearers. Trainees whispered of its most legendary prodigies — devils with genius-level intellect and lethal precision. Their names were never written down. Their faces barely remembered.
A senior guard approached.
Guard:"New recruits?
Strange. No combat history logged. No recommendations from existing trainers. Yet you've been given direct entry. Curious."
(leans in slightly)
"Don't waste our time. The Citadel has no place for weaklings."
Zayden offered the faintest smile — unreadable, almost bored.
Zayden (coolly):"We're here to learn. That's what cadets do, right?"
Guard:
(eyes them suspiciously)"Name and clearance?"
Zayden:"Kyrell Winslow. My companion, Ivan Hart. Assigned under Level 2 clearance. Transfer orders from external unit."
The guard checked a digital slate. Paused. Nodded slowly.
Guard: "You'll be entered as fresh cadets. Bunkhouse Theta. Training begins at dawn. Weapons assessments this evening. Don't fall behind."
He gestured them through.
As they walked past the main yard, they spotted dozens of young cadets practicing combat in open grounds. Blunt steel, snarled orders, gritted determination. Eyes glanced their way—some mocking, some dismissive.
Trainee (mocking): "Hey newbies! Better not wet yourselves before your first spar!"
Snickers followed. Another cadet shouted:
Another Trainee:
"Try not to choke on a wooden dagger, princesses!"
Darian flinched—just barely.
Zayden gently bumped his shoulder.
Zayden (murmuring):"Let them talk. They'll learn soon enough who they're mocking."
Darian (gritting teeth):"I could drop them all with one arm."
Zayden (smirking faintly):"But ghosts don't rise from graves to settle schoolyard scuffles."
They reached their bunk—barebones metal beds, concrete walls, no cameras… but they both knew better. Everything was being watched.
Darian slumped on the bed, tossing down his bag. He finally spoke, voice low and sharp.
Darian:"We're walking back into hell, Zay. Shouldn't we at least get a homecoming party? Joker thinks he can puppet us like tools. He thinks threatening them will work forever."
Zayden (softly, pacing):"He only thinks he knows who we are."
Darian (pauses):"We should've never left them. Mackiah… Alric…"
Zayden stopped. Shadows fell across his face. For a moment, his voice sounded colder than ever.
Zayden (quietly):"If we stay away… they can live."(then, darker)"But if Joker lays one hand on them… he'll wish Virellan swallowed him whole."
Darian (glaring at the ceiling):"Why are we playing pretend again? Why not just burn this place to the ground and go back to them?"
Zayden stood at the narrow window slit, watching storm clouds roll over distant cliffs.
Zayden (quietly):"Because if we do... they'll burn too."
Darian (voice breaking):"I didn't even say goodbye..."
Zayden didn't turn around, but his voice dropped to a whisper that sent a chill down even Darian's spine.
Zayden:"This place tried to bury us once. Joker wants to use it to tear down Aetherion. So we'll rise again. Not as cadets..."(turns, eyes glinting)"But as nightmares they forgot they created."
Training Grounds-
The bitter wind whipped through the vast training grounds, flanked by cold steel towers and surveillance drones hovering like vultures.
Trainees gathered in concentric circles, some stretching, others brandishing polished weapons. At the center stood Sergeant Calvin, a battle-hardened instructor with an eye implant and a scar across his jaw.
Sergeant Calvin (barking):"Form pairs! Time to see if the new blood bleeds easy."
Zayden and Darian stepped into the circle — heads low, shoulders slightly hunched, deliberately timid.
Kyrell (Zayden) glanced at the weapons rack, hesitating like he doesn't know how to hold a staff. He picked it up clumsily, holding it backwards.
Ivan (Darian) fumbled with the holster of his practice blade, pretending not to know how to activate the basic energy pulse.
The other cadets were already chuckling.
Cadet Tylor(mocking):"Did your mama teach you how to hold that, Winslow?"
Cadet Rhyne:"These two are gonna die on day one. I give them five minutes before they cry."
Sergeant Calvin (growling):"Less talking. More bruising. Winslow — you're up. Hart, you too. Show us if your names are worth remembering."
Zayden and Darian stepped into the center, facing their opponents — Tylor and Rhyne, two of the most aggressive cadets.
The whistle blew.
Zayden (Kyrell) ducked awkwardly, letting the staff slip from his grip and fall with a loud clank. He stumbled back like a rookie, and Tylor landed a clean blow to his ribs, sending him to the ground.
Gasps echo. Laughter followed.
Darian (Ivan) let Rhyne twist his arm and pin him down with barely a struggle, breathing hard like he's out of stamina.
Cadet Rhyne (scoffing):"You're not cadets — you're court jesters."
Cadet Arlen (sneering):"Bet they got in because of a glitch in the system."
Sergeant Calvin(shaking his head):"Pathetic. I've seen injured dogs fight better. You'll clean blood off every mat in this facility until I say otherwise."
As the crowd dispersed, Zayden lied still for a beat, letting the sting fade — not from the hit, but from the humiliation he's letting himself endure.
He blinked up at the Citadel's towering walls, expression unreadable.
Ivan (softly, walking by with bruised pride):"...We really have to do this?"
Kyrell (quiet, cold):"Let them think we're prey. It makes the bite deeper when we finally snap back."
A week passed by. The cadets often kept making fun of them. Whispers of "weaklings" and "dead weight" followed them like shadows.
Zayden sat at the edge of his bunk, calmly rotating a small tracking chip between his fingers — one that was secretly deactivated the moment he entered.
Darian paced the room, jaw clenched.
Darian: "They're laughing at us."
Zayden: "They're supposed to."
Darian (stops):"We could've snapped their wrists. Left them on the floor choking on their pride."
Zayden (without looking up):" And Joker would've known we're not playing the game."
Darian (gritting his teeth):"...Sometimes I hate how calm you are."
Zayden (finally looks at him, voice razor-sharp): "Calm is the only thing that kept us alive this long."
The lights flickered once, signaling curfew. Outside, the storms growled beyond the cliffs.
The two former monsters curled into silence, wearing masks of weakness — wolves pretending to be lambs — while the Citadel hummed with secrets... and eyes that never slept.
Halovex HQ-
The soft hum of Alric's computer was the only sound in the grand yet eerily quiet office. Alric's mind was anything but still.
Stacks of digital files lined the holographic screen before him. Most were corporate records from Halovex's earlier years. Innocuous. Sterile. But then—
A folder appeared.
"INT. CONFIDENTIAL: EXTERNAL LIAISONS"
He opened it, half out of exhaustion, half out of instinct.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
EXTERNAL PARTNERSHIP LOG – REDACTED
Year: [unknown]
Entity: Dracoryn Vanta
Entity: Dreadfin Fang
Status: "Active exchange" Project involvement: "Trade, bio-enhancement trial phases, Subject relocation"
Notes: Data corruption detected. File cannot be restored.
Alric (reading aloud):"Dracoryn Vanta… Dreadfin Fang...wait!"
He paused. The names sounded like myth, like fragments of some dystopian novel. He typed them into every database he had access to — government registries, black market logs, old Halovex exports.
Nothing.
Not a single hit. No trace. It's like they never existed.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands cold.
Alric (muttering):"None of this makes sense. These aren't companies. They're not even organizations. They're... ghosts."
A few seconds of quietness. Then he glanced to the edge of his desk — a photo of Darian smiling gently while holding a coffee mug, taken on a lazy Sunday morning at the café.
Alric stared at it. The smile. The warmth. The gentle eyes that used to feel like home.
Alric (quietly, voice trembling):"...Who are you?"
He stood, walking to the floor-length window.
His reflection stared back at him — a man who believed he knew the one person that made him feel safe, loved, whole. But now...?
He pressed a hand to the cold glass.
Alric (whispers):"I don't even know the real you... do I, Darian?"
The city hummed with sterile silence, neon veins flickering beneath the steel-and-glass architecture of Sector 17 — the most classified information sector of the Virellan network. It's where secrets were buried in layers of encryption, and those who dig too deep often disappear.
Mackiah moved through the cold corridors of the Bureau, a badge pinned to his uniform, his face gaunt from sleepless nights. Ever since Zayden vanished, his once-sharp professionalism had been clouded by desperation — and guilt.
He's already broken more protocols in the past week than in his entire career. He sat alone at a console in a dim room deep within Sector 17's archives. Files lay strewn across the table, names like Zayden Drevarin and Darian Drestmore scrawled across the search bar.
Nothing.
No matches. No civilian records. No digital footprint.
Frustrated, Mackiah slammed his fist against the desk. A quiet voice spoke behind him.
"Still chasing ghosts?" asked a voice.
He turned. It was Eron, his friend and fellow officer — a record keeper with clearance higher than most.
"You're wasting your time," Eron said, eyes scanning the screen.
"Those names don't exist here."
"They must," Mackiah whispered.
"I know they're real."
Eron hesitated before lowering his voice. "Look… there's a place. In Sector 17. Hidden. It's called The Dome."
Mackiah frowned. "What?"
"No one knows where it is, not even me. It holds classified intel on… things not meant for us. Underworld factions. Names that never existed. Virellan."
The word dropped like a bomb.
Mackiah's breath caught.
He dialed his father immediately. "Dad… that story you used to tell me… about Virellan. The secret empire underground. Was it—was it real?"
A long silence.
Then his father's voice, soft and hollow:"…Yes. I never wanted you involved in any of that."