The Apostle sat on the couch, his black coat shimmering like liquid shadow under the living room's dim light. His presence filled the space, not just physically but in a way that pressed against my senses, like a storm cloud hovering too close.
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, trying to match his intensity. My mom lingered by the kitchen doorway, her glass of water untouched and her gaze darting between us like she was piecing together a puzzle. She wasn't supposed to be part of this, but good luck telling her that.
"So, Mr. Renly," The Apostle said, his voice low and deliberate, "I noticed your Tactical Swarm Drones have been scouring the train site. What do you know about Bakuzan?"
I shrugged, frustration crept behind me.
"Urghhh! Nothing. He's a ghost. No tracks, no leads. My drones have swept every inch of that wreckage, nothing but rubble, its almost as if he disappeared into thin air."
