The station hummed with quiet activity as Mukul's team tended to wounds and reassessed their positions. Every creak of metal, every flicker of light seemed magnified in the aftermath of the battle. Relief clung to them, but it was fragile, like a thin veil barely keeping the darkness at bay.
Unseen, far above the floor where they rested, something moved. A shape darker than shadow, fluid and silent, glided along the rafters. Its presence was like a void, sucking warmth and sound from the air, leaving a cold hush in its wake.
The new lieutenant, forged from the Puppeteer's darkest design, moved with a predator's patience. Its body was enormous, limbs long and impossibly agile, skin flickering like smoke, eyes burning with a pale, unyielding fire. Every step it took was calculated, every movement precise—no misstep, no wasted motion.
It paused briefly, tilting its head toward the faint hum of life below. Mukul's team. Every heartbeat, every whispered word, every faint laugh and groan reached it as clearly as if the team were shouting.
A smile seemed to stretch across the lieutenant's featureless face, a curve more felt than seen. The hunt had begun.
Meanwhile, Mukul crouched beside Priya, brushing a lock of hair from her face and checking the minor burns from her last exertion. "Rest now," he urged softly. "We'll need strength."
Priya nodded, leaning against him, unaware that just a few levels above, the lieutenant watched. It traced their patterns, noting routines, predicting their movements. Nothing escaped its perception—not the shift of a boot, not the murmur of voices.
Ansh and Kavya were inspecting the perimeters, discussing potential threats with hushed urgency. They felt safe in the aftermath of the Warden's defeat, but something nagged at the edges of their instincts. A shiver, a flicker of unease—unplaced, but persistent.
The lieutenant's form blended into the shadows of the upper structure, moving along beams, climbing walls with impossible ease. Its gaze never wavered. It paused only to sense the patterns of the team below, cataloguing their strengths and weaknesses, storing them for the moment of strike.
A gust of wind whispered through the station, carrying the faintest sound of metal scraping against metal. Ansh froze mid-step, eyes narrowing. "Did… did anyone else hear that?"
Kavya tensed, scanning the dimly lit corners. "Probably just the structure settling," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
Mukul looked up instinctively, a frown creasing his forehead. Something was off. He couldn't see it, not yet—but his gut tightened, a warning fire sparking deep in his chest. The calm after battle was rarely true calm.
The lieutenant paused, hovering near the edge of the platform above them, unperceived but perfectly positioned. Its senses locked onto Mukul first, then Priya, noting vulnerabilities, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Every second brought it closer, every silent step tightening the unseen noose.
The team continued to recover, unaware of the storm forming above, unaware that every movement they made was being observed, measured, and recorded. The Puppeteer's hand had extended once more, and this new agent of chaos was already dancing on the edge of their world.
And soon, the shadows would descend again.