The Report!
The office was windowless by design. No insignia on the door. No department name on the frosted glass. Just a small brass plaque engraved with a number that meant nothing to anyone who did not already know what it signified.
Inside, a lieutenant stood at attention before a wide steel desk.
His uniform was immaculate. His eyes were not.
"You've rechecked the data?" the captain asked without looking up from the folder in his hands.
"Yes, sir."
"Cross-referenced?"
"Yes, sir. Seismic anomalies. Atmospheric pressure distortion. Psychic interference grids. Satellite irregularities."
The captain closed the folder slowly.
"And?"
The lieutenant inhaled. "It aligns with a divine selection event."
The words not too loud. They did not need to.
The captain, Marc, leaned back in his chair. Mid-fifties. Square jaw. Eyes that had seen enough classified briefings to know when something belonged to myth and when myth had crossed into operations.
"Explain."
"The aura was not random," the lieutenant said. "It propagated with pattern recognition. It bypassed certain protected sites. It triggered dormant seals in three separate regions. That level of selective interaction implies consciousness."
He tapped a tablet, projecting a map of the city.
Red circles layered over districts.
"We believe a god has chosen an agent." The captain's expression did not change.
"And you've narrowed it?"
"Yes, sir. Twelve-kilometer radius centered around the Meridian Exchange incident. With probability spikes around Green Lake and the upper district."
The captain stood. "Bring James."
James entered the office without ceremony.
He wore civilian clothes. Simple jacket. Neutral expression. No visible weaponry though that meant little.
He closed the door behind him. "You needed me, sir?"
The captain gestured to the map. "You're going hunting."
James stepped closer, eyes scanning the projected data.
"A god agent?" he asked calmly.
"Possibly."
"Confirmed hostile?"
"Unknown."
James nodded once.
"Rules of engagement?"
"Observe. Confirm. Contain if necessary. Do not engage lethally unless containment fails."
James absorbed that in silence. "If this is divine selection," he said quietly, "other factions will move."
"They already are," the lieutenant replied.
As if summoned by the statement, a knock came at the outer door.
The captain's jaw tightened. "They're here."
The door opened.
Three sharply dressed individuals entered. Dark suits tailored precisely. Expressions measured. Diplomatic pins visible but understated.
The French intelligence service.
No smiles were exchanged.
The captain nodded once. "Gentlemen."
The lead delegate inclined his head slightly. "Captain."
The atmosphere shifted.
The lieutenant glanced at James. "Excuse us," he said.
James followed him out, door closing behind them with a soft click.
Inside, voices lowered.
Outside, James leaned against the hallway wall, expression unreadable.
"What do you think they want?" the lieutenant asked quietly.
James didn't answer. He didn't need to.
If the French were here personally, it wasn't for courtesy.
Whatever happened behind that closed door ....
.....would not be recorded in official minutes.
Morning light spread across Green Lake in fractured silver patterns.
The world felt deceptively normal.
Juno walked slowly along the edge of the water, hands in his coat pockets, mind steady but alert. The dream from the night before lingered at the edge of his thoughts.
A presence had touched his mind. And withdrawn.
That alone was unprecedented.
He stopped walking. The air shifted.
It wasn't wind.
It wasn't sound.
It was attention.
His gaze moved to the lake.
Still.
Peaceful.
Then....
Something beneath the surface moved.
Mass.
"Drac…" he murmured under his breath.
The water bulged outward.
Then parted.
A figure rose from the depths. A teenage girl.
Blue hair flowing around her shoulders like liquid silk. Eyes golden and unnervingly bright. Bare feet touched the water's surface without sinking.
Droplets slid off her skin but evaporated before reaching the grass.
She stared directly at him. Unblinking.
Juno's posture changed almost imperceptibly. The girl tilted her head.
"You," she said softly, voice carrying a strange resonance. "You are loud."
"I wasn't aware," Juno replied calmly.
"You carry sky-fire," she continued. "It burns wrong."
Draconic aura confirmed.
Not human.
Her presence coiled beneath her skin like something scaled and vast.
Juno didn't move closer. "Are you here to challenge me?" he asked evenly.
She blinked. Then her eyes widened slightly. "No," she said.
And then...
She vanished.
Juno pivoted instantly, senses flaring...
She appeared directly behind him.
He struck backward with precision...
....and stopped mid-motion.
Because something else entered the field.
The lake surface darkened. The air thinned.
Birdsong cut off abruptly.
The temperature dropped as though sunlight itself had retreated.
Juno's spine stiffened.
"Ah," he said quietly.
From the tree line across the lake, a shape detached from shadow. Tall. Unnaturally thin.
Limbs elongated past proportion. Skin pale and stretched like dried parchment.
Eyes black and depthless.
A mouth that curved too wide across its face.
The blue-haired girl immediately stepped behind Juno.
Not attacking. Retreating.
Her fingers clutched lightly at the back of his coat.
"That one," she whispered, voice barely audible. "Is not dragon prey."
The Mâchecroute's head tilted unnaturally. It studied Juno.
Hunger radiated from it—not physical hunger, but metaphysical.
Juno exhaled slowly.
"So," he said, almost conversationally, "the scavengers arrive."
The creature's mouth opened wider.
"You should leave," she said urgently.
Juno didn't step back.
"I've never been good at that."
The Mâchecroute moved.
Not a run. Not a leap.
It simply ceased being distant.
And appeared halfway between them.
The pressure intensified.
Juno's heartbeat slowed instead of quickening.
His voice dropped lower.
"You're drawn to divine disturbance," he said. "You think I'm weakened."
The creature's gaze sharpened.
Juno stepped forward.
The ground cracked beneath his foot thin lines of pale light spidering outward.
The dragon girl gasped softly.
The Mâchecroute hesitated.
That hesitation saved it from immediate destruction.
Because Juno's aura did not explode.
It pressed.
He was not fully recovered. Not yet.
He was not prey.
The creature screeched without sound.
The dragon girl leapt aside, golden eyes wide.
Juno lifted one hand.
And the water froze mid-air.
The Mâchecroute recoiled.
For the first time it felt uncertainty.
Juno's gaze hardened. "You chose poorly."
Juno clenched his fist.
The Mâchecroute shrieked as a fracture of white light tore across its form.
It did not die. Creatures like that rarely did.
But it retreated. Folding into shadow, disappearing as abruptly as it arrived.
The dragon girl stepped slowly from behind Juno.
She studied him now with something very different in her eyes.
Neither curiosity,Nor fear. Just Recognition.
"You are not agent," she said quietly.
Juno turned to face her.
"No," he replied.
Her golden gaze flicked to the sky briefly.
"Then why do gods look at you?"
Juno did not answer immediately.
Because that was the question.
Gods existed.
They were movin' and watching.
He looked back at the lake, now settling into deceptive calm once more.
"Because," he said at last, voice low, "something old is waking."
The dragon girl tilted her head.
"And you are part of it."
Juno's expression did not change.
But his silence confirmed enough.
.
.
.
.
Far across the city, intelligence officers finalized deployment routes.
Behind a closed office door.