Scene 1 – After the Storm
The rain still hammered against the Guild's reinforced glass, streaking the view of the courtyard where bodies — Guild and enemy alike — were being carried away.
Inside the war room, the lights were dimmed, not for secrecy but because too much brightness would have made the room's mood unbearable. Ezra Andrews stood at the central console, scanning through post-battle reports. His posture was rigid, but Katherine noticed the faint tension in his shoulders — a crack in the iron.
Marcus entered first, helmet tucked under one arm, his armor splattered with rain and someone else's blood. "East flank's secured," he reported. "But it wasn't a full assault. They were testing us."
Ezra's eyes didn't lift from the console. "I know."
Lyra followed, dropping a scorched rifle on the table with a clang. "They wanted us to bleed, not break. Caleb and Seraphyne withdrew way too early for a real push."
Katherine stood by the window, staring at the rain. "They weren't after the gates. They were after us."
That made Ezra finally look up. "You saw him?"
Her jaw tightened. "He's… not the Caleb we knew. But he's not just a puppet, either. Every strike he made… it was calculated. He's thinking for himself."
Marcus glanced between them. "Then we have a bigger problem than we thought."
Ezra stepped out from behind the console. "Jeremiah is still critical. The obsidian toxin isn't just slowing his healing — it's locking him in. If Caleb's next move is aimed at finishing what he started…" His gaze shifted to Katherine. "…we won't get a second chance."
The silence after that was heavy. In the distance, the med-wing monitors beeped steadily — too steadily — like a clock counting down.
---
Scene 2 – The Cell
Caleb sat in the Guild's high-security holding cell. His wrists were free — a calculated insult to the security measures surrounding him. The walls were lined with psychic dampeners, but he leaned back like he had all the time in the world.
Ezra entered alone.
"You could have killed her," Ezra said without preamble.
Caleb tilted his head. "Katherine? Please. She's too useful."
Ezra stepped closer, every word measured. "You're playing a dangerous game."
"No," Caleb replied, smiling faintly. "I'm winning it. You just haven't realized you've already lost."
Ezra didn't flinch. "You stabbed your own brother in arms. You think Seraphyne cares about you?"
Caleb's smile sharpened. "Care? She told me the truth. Something you've been keeping from all of us."
Ezra's eyes narrowed, but his voice stayed steady. "If she's feeding you fragments, it's because she wants you doubting. The moment you've served your purpose, she'll discard you."
Caleb stood, closing the distance between them until the dampener field hummed against Ezra's skin. "Then maybe I'll discard her first."
For a moment, they just stared at each other — father of the man in a coma, and the man who put him there.
Ezra finally turned and left without another word.
When the door sealed, Caleb leaned against the wall, his smile gone, eyes clouded. In the farthest corner of the cell's shadows, Seraphyne's voice purred in his mind.
Good. Keep him unsettled. Every fracture helps us.
---
Scene 3 – The Dreamer's Prison
Jeremiah drifted in a black space that wasn't quite empty. The air felt thick, clinging to his skin, heavy with a metallic tang.
He tried to move, but invisible chains bit into his wrists. Shadows curled around him like living smoke, whispering words he couldn't make out.
Then — a figure stepped from the dark. Seraphyne.
"You wear your chains well," she said, her voice echoing unnaturally.
Jeremiah glared at her. "What do you want?"
She smiled, circling him slowly. "You've been keeping them together far too long. Ezra needs you. Katherine needs you. Which means… keeping you here is the perfect move."
"You won't win," he growled.
"Oh, Jeremiah…" She stopped in front of him, her gaze sharp. "I already have. Caleb's mine. Your Guild's splintering. And every minute you're here, their world cracks just a little more."
The shadows surged higher, wrapping around his throat. He strained against them, but they only tightened.
Then — faint, like a voice heard through water — he heard Katherine's voice calling his name.
Seraphyne's smile widened. "Ah… the tether. Strong, but fraying."
Before he could reply, the darkness pulled him under again.
---
Scene 4 – The Line Drawn
The Guild's main hall was filled with low voices and tense faces. Ezra stood on the platform, addressing every squad leader and senior member present.
"We are no longer dealing with isolated strikes. Seraphyne has embedded herself in our ranks through Caleb. Our first priority is securing the Guild and preventing further infiltration."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Lyra spoke up from the floor. "What about Caleb himself?"
Ezra's expression didn't change. "He's to be contained until we can remove Seraphyne's influence — if possible. If not…" He let the rest hang in the air.
Katherine stepped forward, her voice cutting through the murmurs. "We're not giving up on him. He's still one of us."
Ezra met her gaze. "If he forces my hand, Katherine, you won't like the outcome."
The tension between them was a live wire, sparking through the entire hall.
From the shadows near the entrance, Caleb watched silently as guards shifted uneasily. No one had seen him slip in — and no one noticed when he slipped out again, a ghost in his own home.
Outside, the storm clouds gathered again.
Somewhere deep in the med-wing, Jeremiah's pulse monitor skipped a single beat — the first sign in days that he might be fighting his way back.