The Eye of the Storm

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Red and blue lights smeared across the rain-slick streets. The flashing lights closed in, threatening to blind her. Voices rose above the crackle of camera shutters, overlapping and relentless, hammering the same question:

“Sir, can you tell us your side of the story?”

Their tones were polite yet demanding. But the real question was louder than the voices, louder than the rain.

Why did you do it?

Astra doubted Theo even heard it.

She stood just beyond the mob of reporters and police, her crimson eyes shadowed as she watched him. He didn’t look back as they guided him into the car. His face was hollow, drained. It was the look of someone who had taken a life. And couldn’t escape what it cost.

She knew that look.

She knew that cost.

Hers no longer sat so heavily, though. It became lighter with time.

With repetition.

But Theo… Theo still bore the full brunt of it. She could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his hands shook as they were cuffed.

Athena had vanished somewhere in the chaos, no doubt escorted away by her plus one. A calculated retreat to avoid the prying eyes of cameras and microphones.

But none of that mattered.

They had lost.

Why?

Astra wanted to ask the same question, but not the one everyone else was asking. Not why Theo killed Thomas; she already knew that. But why would the smoke monster discard its pawn? Unless…

Unless there was a more valuable piece to manipulate. A pawn who had stayed out of the spotlight. It had been so easy before—the monster’s appearance around Thomas, as if taunting them on purpose. It had been too easy because it was a trap, one they’d walked right into.

But worse than that, they hadn’t just stumbled into it. They had made it happen. They had played their part.

Clever. It was a twisted kind of brilliance.

Pride. The name filled her lungs, her veins, her thoughts.

They’d been outplayed. The deception hadn’t started in the middle of the masquerade. It had started the moment they’d stepped into City Hall. The signs were there, clear in hindsight: every move, every step, choreographed like a dance.

For Theo.

For Athena.

Had Thomas Blackwood been marked for death from the beginning? Was that why he exposed his link to the smoke monster after the fight with Noah? Had it been staged?

For her?

Astra blinked, raindrops catching on her lashes as the storm momentarily stilled. But she knew this wasn’t the end. It was the eye of the storm. Something didn’t sit right.

Was Noah Blackwood’s presence truly an accident? Or had he deliberately crossed into her path?

The sharp slam of the police car door jolted her back to the present. Theo was gone, disappearing behind tinted glass as the vehicle pulled away. She didn’t flinch, though the shifting crowd reminded her she wasn’t alone.

Their stares bore into her now, murmurs rippling through the onlookers, their attention drifting from the scene to the witnesses; then landing squarely on her.

Her time was up.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Slowly, she uncurled her fingers, one by one. Without a backward glance, she disappeared from the gathering, her movements so swift and fluid that few even noticed. Her heels skimmed the cobblestones in near silence. Beyond the grand doors of City Hall, the bustling street swallowed her whole, her presence fading into the flow of countless strangers.

Astra headed for the underground parking garage where her motorbike waited, exactly as she’d left it that morning. A precautionary measure. For once, something had gone according to plan.

Tapping her earpiece, she made the call. After three rings, a familiar voice answered.

“Can you track a car?” she asked.

“Of course!” There was a sigh, followed by rapid typing. “I assume the mission did not proceed as planned?”

Astra stopped beneath a surveillance camera, glancing up at the blinking red dot. Her lips twitched.

“Cut the act,” she said. “I know you’re watching. You’ve seen the news.”

A low chuckle came through the earpiece, followed by the clink of porcelain. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

Her eyebrow arched. Slowly, deliberately, Astra raised her middle finger to the camera.

There was a sputtering noise on the other end, followed by an indignant, “I beg your pardon!”

This time, her smirk broke free. “Don’t be so sensitive. Now, where’s Noah Blackwood’s car?”

Another pause, then the sound of a tea cup being set down. The keyboard clicked again, faster this time.

“It’s relatively simple to track a public figure’s license plate. Allow me to just…” His voice trailed off, clearly contemplating. “Ah, there we are. Fascinating… he’s quite the collector of antique petrol cars. Luxurious, even. Collectible. Curious how he acquired some of these—”

“Fascinating,” Astra cut in dryly.

He caught the hint, and a brief pause followed before he cleared his throat. “Not that it matters, of course. But considering his political background, he must have opted for the only electric vehicle in his possession. Let me just patch into the City Hall cameras…”

“Or you could brainstorm in silence,” she muttered, pulling her leather jacket from the Ducati’s boot and shrugging it on.

“I could…” he mumbled distractedly, still typing furiously. He rambled on, narrating every unnecessary detail of his process before his voice abruptly shifted. “Interesting…”

“I’m listening,” she sighed.

“Last camera ping puts him up north, just outside the M51 Northern Ring Road." His voice lowered, all business now. "Far from his residence. Sending coordinates.”

Astra sliced the helmet’s visor down, swinging a leg over her bike. “He should be home right now, delivering a soapy, dramatic eulogy for his brother.”

“Ah, and yet he’s not,” came the pointed reply, “which m—” The line cut off as Astra ended the call mid-sentence.

She twisted the throttle, the electric Ducati surging forward with a quiet hum. She launched into the crowded streets, weaving through the traffic. Car horns screamed around her, but she paid them no mind. Red and blue lights streaked past her as she accelerated.

She felt as though she was running out of time. A hunch. And it was never wrong.

Her tires screeched against the wet pavement as she came to a sharp halt. Astra ripped off her helmet, shaking out her damp silver hair. With frustrated movements, she shoved the helmet into the bike’s boot.

Sighing, she fished out a cigarette, rolling it between her fingers. A bad habit. One she only indulged when the world seemed intent on opposing her.

And tonight, nothing was going her way.

Drip.

On cue, a raindrop struck her forehead. She glanced up, resisting the urge to curse. Again? It felt like she’d been circling this rough neighbourhood for hours, scanning every alley, every shadow. Still, no sign of Noah Blackwood’s car.

Her partner had said the electric car had left City Hall earlier, only to vanish into the night. So where the hell was it?

Exhaling a plume of smoke, Astra let her irritation simmering, the ember of her cigarette reflected in her crimson eyes. Then, out of the silence, a sound pierced the air, a distant scream.

Astra whipped her head around, senses on high alert. A heartbeat later, thunder rumbled across the sky. But it wasn’t the thunder that captured her attention.

It was the faint, flickering green light on the horizon.

The cigarette slipped from her fingers, forgotten, as she swung onto the Ducati. She thought the day couldn’t get any worse.

But it did. She had faced worse. Or so she thought. But she was wrong.

Again.

As she arrived at the source, her eyes immediately locked on the black car that matched Noah’s. She parked silently behind it, the rain now pouring in torrents, but Astra didn’t notice. Her focus was consumed by the scene ahead.

Violet light blazed like smoke, distorting the air. The faint scent of lavender was barely enough to mask the stench of charred flesh. And there, suspended in the sky, hung Noah Blackwood. His face was lifeless, ink-black fluid dripping from his eyes.

Below him… Eydis. Astra’s heart skipped a beat as her gaze darted to the large, dark blotch of blood on Eydis’s abdomen.

Noah’s anguished cries broke the trance. “What manner of torment is this? You vile, wretched creature!”

His voice—unnatural, otherworldly—sounded strangely like Thomas’s during his possession, but it carried two distinct tones.

“Don’t we all love winning?” Eydis replied smoothly, an edge of madness in her… golden eyes.

Astra blinked.

“You will win. And you will lose. Over and over. Forever. Isn’t it fitting?” her roommate continued.

Astra blinked again. And again. Each time, the familiar features of her roommate's face seemed to shift and slide. Where warm amber eyes should have glinted with mischief, molten gold now blazed with cruel amusement.

She knew that face. Eydis, yes, but not Eydis. The golden eyes? Those weren’t hers. They belonged to something that lived in the spaces between memory and nightmare.

And that wicked smile. That silken, tender voice that had whispered: remember.

“Remember me, for I am Pride.”

Astra had known fear before, but this—this feeling—was something different. Noah’s body hit the ground with a thud, but she barely heard it over the pounding of her own heartbeat.

Her eyes burnt as she stepped forward. Twin diamond blades flared to life in her hands, blazing with a searing white brilliance.

Drip.