The stench of ozone and scorched concrete choked the air in downtown Los Angeles. It was a warzone, but one invisible to most human eyes. The only signs were the occasional shatter of a seemingly random window, the violent ripple in a pool of rainwater, or the way streetlights would flicker and die over a full city block, plunging the area into an unnatural darkness that even the full moon struggled to penetrate.
On the roof of what was left of a parking garage, Kael stood beside Alexander and Scarlett. The Awakened entity's form was rigid, the usual soft golden glow beneath his carapace flickering erratically with distress.
"They are hunting us," Kael said, his synthesized voice stripped of its usual calm, edged with a static of fear. He pointed a clawed hand toward the street below, where nothing moved. "Not to convert. Not to reclaim. To consume."
