There's a moment after every fight — when the blood dries, the screams fade, and the silence hits harder than the violence ever did. That's when the city feels most alive. Or maybe that's when it's just pretending to breathe.
Ashfall had bled tonight.
And I was the reason why.
The explosion that gutted The Aviary had turned half of Old District into a burning grave. I watched the fire spread from a rooftop two blocks away, the badge in my hand slick with soot. My father's badge.
It still smelled of oil and death.
Micah's voice cut through the static of my earpiece.
> "You're on every feed, Raven. They're calling it terrorism."
"Good," I said flatly.
"Good? They'll hunt you harder now."
"Let them. I'm done hiding."
I looked down at the streets — armored trucks, police drones, and riot patrols combing through the ruins. They didn't care about the dead. Just the headlines.
My father tried to expose the truth, and they burned him for it.
I was done whispering justice. Now, I'd scream it.
---
I needed leverage.
Commissioner Darius Holt wasn't just a dirty cop — he was a pillar of corruption wrapped in uniform. Taking him down would shake the whole system.
Micah fed me the target's movements from his surveillance hub in the Underline — a buried data maze beneath the old subway lines.
> "Holt's meeting the council tonight," Micah said. "The Four Pillars. Private gathering. No cameras, no press. Veylor Tower."
"What's the guest list?"
"The families: Lucian Veylor, Mariah Cindraline, Jasper Marcane, and Rolan Dravencourt. Every monster that keeps this city breathing poison."
I loaded my grappling gear and knives, sealed the black armor, and looked at my reflection in a cracked window.
The mask stared back — cold, unreadable, a weapon shaped like a person.
> "You're not going in to kill," Micah warned. "You just need proof."
"Proof's useless in a city that feeds on lies," I said. "Sometimes fire's the only language left."
---
Veylor Tower rose like a blade through the mist — all glass and steel, reflecting a sky that had long forgotten stars.
I scaled the service side, silent as smoke, bypassing thermal sensors one by one. Through the windows, I could see the council room — a table of giants pretending to be human.
Holt was there, his face red and glistening with sweat, eyes darting like a rat's. Around him sat the Four Pillars — the richest blood in Ashfall.
Lucian Veylor looked carved from granite, the kind of man who smiled only when someone else was bleeding. Mariah Cindraline, draped in blue silk, her jewelry worth more than the district she exploited. Jasper Marcane — frail, twitching, yet his every word could collapse an empire. And Rolan Dravencourt, the art dealer turned black-market broker, his voice honey and venom in equal measure.
They weren't criminals. They were gods with bank accounts.
I placed the charge on the glass and detonated. The explosion shattered silence into chaos. I dropped through the smoke, boots slamming onto the table, blade flashing.
> "Evening, gentlemen," I said.
Holt reached for his gun — I pinned his wrist to the desk with a throwing knife. He screamed, the others froze.
> "You don't know what you're doing," Veylor growled.
"I know exactly what I'm doing," I said. "I'm cleaning the nest."
I dragged Holt up by his collar.
> "You worked with The Flock. You helped them kill my father."
His lips trembled.
> "You don't understand — Project Crowborn wasn't murder, it was—"
I slammed him against the glass.
> "—it was desecration."
He whimpered. Behind me, Cindraline whispered to Marcane, her voice cold.
> "She's more than a problem now. She's a myth."
I turned on them.
> "You think you're untouchable because you hide behind money and glass. But myths don't knock. They break in."
The alarms screamed. Security poured in. I dropped smoke, kicked Holt through the desk, and vanished through the vent before the bullets hit.
Micah's voice came through, choked with static.
> "Selene—what the hell did you just do?"
"Sent a message."
"You just declared war."
"Then let them answer it."
---
Hours later, I was back at the clock tower — my only sanctuary above a city that wanted me dead.
The rain returned, washing ash from the rooftops.
Micah appeared in the hologram feed beside me, his eyes hollow.
> "Every network's broadcasting your image. You're the city's new monster."
"Good. Maybe they'll start to fear something worth fearing."
He stared at me.
> "You're not sleeping. You're barely human anymore."
"Humanity's a luxury this city can't afford."
He sighed.
> "Liora's worried about you."
"She shouldn't be."
"She said you looked like your father before he broke."
That one hit harder than a bullet. I turned away.
> "Get me everything on Holt," I said. "Home, family, movements, accounts. If he built Project Crowborn, he's got more to hide."
"Selene—"
"Do it."
The feed cut.
I stood alone, staring at the skyline. Neon lights shimmered through the fog like dying stars. Somewhere out there, King Crow was watching it all unfold.
And I wanted him to see me burn his world down.
---
Meanwhile — Below Ashfall.
The council chamber beneath The Crows' Nest was carved from black stone, lined with cables pulsing faintly red. Screens hovered above a throne-like chair where King Crow sat, his face masked in chrome, his voice smooth as oil.
> "She's escalating," said Rolan Dravencourt, his voice trembling through the feed. "She attacked the tower—nearly killed the Commissioner!"
"Good," King Crow replied. "Fear sharpens the flock."
He stood, the sound of his boots echoing like a heartbeat.
> "You mistake chaos for weakness. But chaos… is evolution. The Black Raven is the test. And if she survives long enough, she'll join us."
> "Join?" Veylor barked through the hologram. "She's dismantling your empire!"
"Empires are built on blood," King Crow said softly. "Sometimes you need a little more to keep them alive."
He turned toward the shadows — where a figure waited silently.
A tall shape in armor. The enforcer who'd fought Selene in the warehouse. His mask cracked, voice filtered through pain.
> "You called for me, my King?"
"Find her," King Crow said. "But don't kill her yet."
"Then what?"
"Let her see what she's fighting for."
---
Back in the clock tower, the lights flickered.
Every screen in Ashfall — every phone, every billboard, every police monitor — blinked to static.
Then came the voice. Smooth. Confident. Mocking.
> "Ashfall… your savior has finally arrived."
The feed shifted — King Crow's mask filled every display, chrome feathers glinting in artificial light.
> "Black Raven. I've watched you crawl through the city's veins, pecking at its heart, thinking you could change what it is. But you can't fix rot. You can only spread it."
I clenched my fists.
> "Show your face, Crow."
He laughed.
> "All in due time. But first, I want to thank you. You've done what I couldn't — united every gang, every cop, every politician under one purpose."
The screen glitched.
> "Hunting you."
Then the feed cut to black.
I stood there in the dark, rain beating against the glass, heartbeat echoing in my ears.
For the first time, I realized King Crow wasn't running from me.
He was preparing me.
And I intended to show him what his creation could do when it turned on its maker.
> "Micah," I whispered into the comms, "find where that broadcast came from."
"Already on it."
"Good. Because the hunt just changed."
I tightened my gloves, checked my blades, and stepped out into the storm.
Ashfall roared beneath me — alive, angry, waiting.
And so was I.