The Hunter Association's council chamber was built like a fortress—walls of blackstone, banners hanging heavy with the weight of authority. Tonight, however, the fortress felt fragile. The air was sharp with tension, every breath caught between fear and strategy.
On the long table in front of them, reports lay scattered. Blood-soaked parchment, fragmented witness accounts, sketches of hollow strings carving through flesh. At the head sat Lucien Kaelstrom, the Association's leader, his expression colder than ice.
"Three of them," he said, voice low but biting. "Three Forsaken now drinking together, plotting. Rayon Veynar. Severin Dros. Cairo Vale."
A silence followed, then one of the elders muttered, "Each one alone is a problem. Together, they're an apocalypse."
Why They Are Dangerous:
Another Hunter, younger but with scars across his face, leaned forward. "Rayon is the most dangerous manipulator we've seen. His Hollow Strings are not just weapons—they're tools of control. He doesn't fight wars, he rewrites them. Every defeat we hand him is just another piece in his game."
"Severin," another chimed in, voice grim, "is a cancer. His organization, The Black Maw, has tendrils in every black market, every war front. He doesn't need brute force; he turns chaos into profit. Aligning with Rayon makes him… untouchable."
"And Cairo Vale," Lucien finished, eyes narrowing. "The most unpredictable. He doesn't build empires like Rayon or Severin. He tears down whatever he touches and walks away laughing. A man with no attachments, no boundaries… he's a wildfire."
The council shifted uneasily. Together, the three were like a trinity of ruin: the planner, the profiteer, the destroyer.
"We can't fight them as we are," one council member admitted. "Rayon already proved what he can do against our Hunters. If the Association stands alone, we'll bleed out."
Lucien stood, his presence filling the room. "Then we won't stand alone."
Murmurs erupted, but he raised a hand. "I've reached out already. The Sanctum of Veils will answer."
The name hit like thunder. The Sanctum was no myth—it was an organization older than kingdoms, cloaked in secrecy, devoted to erasing threats to humanity. They were said to move like ghosts, their methods as ruthless as the very Forsaken they hunted.
One elder's face drained of color. "You'd ally with them?"
Lucien's gaze hardened. "If it means cutting down those three before they carve this world apart, yes. Rayon Veynar thinks he can play ten steps ahead. Severin thinks profit shields him. Cairo thinks the world is a playground. The Sanctum will remind them they bleed like anyone else."
The decision was made. For the first time in history, the Association would bend knee to another force. And it wasn't out of strategy. It was out of fear.