Raven Skitchatory
16:17 EST
November 4, 2030
The Chaos Reckoning
45,000 Feet over Russell Springs, KY
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I stepped into the armory, instantly regretting my decision. The sound of raised voices hit me like a slap to the face, with Case—one of my most impassioned Night Stalkers—squaring off against a wolf from the 254th Infantry Pack. The tension between vampires and werewolves could often simmer under the surface, but Case, it seemed, had decided today was the day to let it boil over.
My sigh came out louder than I intended as I caught sight of Ray, my Nacturna Regent, casually leaning against the shadowed corner of the room. His expression could only be described as “I’m too old for this nonsense,” though his amused smirk betrayed his lack of intent to intervene. Of course, Ray wasn’t going to step in—that would ruin his whole mysterious-and-unruffled vibe. That left me, Nacturna Prime and resident enforcer of discipline, to wade into this mess.
Case’s mistake wasn’t just arguing with a wolf; it was doing it while I was anywhere within earshot. Ray, as always, enjoyed watching these moments unfold, leaving me to play bad cop. Fantastic.
The wolf was the first to notice me approaching, his sharp instincts cutting through the tension like a blade. To his credit, he froze immediately, his bristling hostility deflating like a popped balloon. His eyes darted to mine, and I could see the exact moment he decided it wasn’t worth the fight. Smart wolf. I gave him a sly grin—part intimidation, part bemusement—and waited for Case to realize he’d lost his audience.
It didn’t take long. Case’s spine stiffened like he’d just been zapped by lightning, and his shoulders squared as he realized something—or someone—was behind him. I watched as he hesitated, audibly swallowing before glancing sideways at Ray.
“Raven is behind me, isn’t she?” he asked, his voice a mix of resignation and dread.
Ray gave a small nod, his grin widening ever so slightly. He looked like a teacher whose star pupil was about to learn a very important lesson the hard way. My Night Stalkers knew better than to push me. I ruled over them as a storm commands the sea—unyielding, constant, and devastating when crossed. Master Sergeant Helsing had drilled discipline into me, and I’d done the same with my core unit. They respected me for it, but that didn’t mean I let them off the hook.
Case turned around slowly, his expression morphing into one of sheepish worry as he met my gaze. I arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak. Out of all the 152nd STS, my Night Stalkers were held to the highest standard. They made up only a small fraction of the unit, but they were my core officers, and they knew my orders weren’t just suggestions—they were law.
“Why,” I began, my voice dangerously calm, “are you in a confrontation with one of Alpha Balfour’s wolves?”
Case swallowed again, clearly scrambling to come up with an answer that wouldn’t dig him into an even deeper hole. “Nacturna Prime,” he started, his voice faltering, “this wolf keeps putting his gear in one of our lockers on our side of the armory. He’s claiming it was assigned to him.”
I shifted my gaze to the wolf, who straightened under my scrutiny. “Can you point out the locker in question?” I asked, my tone neutral but firm.
The wolf nodded stiffly, gesturing toward a dented metal locker near the center of the armory. “That one, ma’am,” he said, his voice steady but respectful. “It was assigned to me when I boarded.”
It was Charles’ old locker, unused for years, and seeing it repurposed twisted something in my chest. I closed my eyes briefly, the sting of memory sharper than I expected. Charles. We had lost him during the events leading up to the Twilight Battle, a loss that had left scars on all of us. Case and Charles had been particularly close, and suddenly, I understood the source of Case’s anger.
“Soldier,” I said, turning back to the wolf, my voice steady but tinged with finality. “You can continue using that locker.”
Then I turned to Case. “Office. Now.”
Without waiting for a reply, I spun on my heel and strode toward my office. Case trailed behind, his frustration written all over his face, and Ray, ever the silent observer, followed close behind, closing the door softly behind us. I stood behind my desk, letting my gaze linger on the old schematics of the Chaos Reckoning pinned to the wall. The diagrams still bore its old name: The Death Reckoning. A relic of its darker days.
“Case,” I began quietly, keeping my back to him for a moment longer. “I understand why you’re upset about the wolf using that locker.”
“Nacturna Prime…” he started, his tone sharp with protest. “He’s on our side of the armory—”
I spun around, cutting him off mid-sentence with a glare that could have stopped a charging bull. “Don’t lie to me, Case,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “It’s been five years. It’s time to let him rest.”
The weight of my words hit like a hammer, and I watched Case deflate. The fight drained from his posture, leaving only the raw pain beneath. We had all felt the loss of Charles, all struggled to pick up the pieces in the aftermath of those dark days. Manipulated, used, and nearly destroyed by that damned colonel’s schemes, we had come perilously close to annihilation. The memory of it still haunted us, even as we tried to heal.
“Raven…” Case’s voice cracked as he spoke, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor. “He was the closest thing I had to a brother. Letting that wolf take his locker—it’s like shitting on Charles’ memory.”
My expression softened, just slightly. “Case,” I said, my tone steady but firm, “was he one of the wolves we fought during that battle? Was that wolf there when they tried to kill us?”
He hesitated, his lips pressed into a tight line. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. I pressed on.
“That wolf serves under an honorable commander, the very same who stood by us and helped save what was left of us when we needed it most. You need to let go of this prejudice. It’s beneath you.”
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Case opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Ray stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, his calm presence a counterpoint to my fiery resolve.
“Do you appreciate,” Ray said, his voice measured, “the fact that we are seen as outcasts? To humans, we’re monsters—creatures that shouldn’t exist. And to vampires? We’re abominations. Half-breeds. Hybrids.” He let that hang in the air for a moment, his words sinking into the silence. “With all of that against us, do you really think we have the luxury to be prejudiced against anyone?”
Case let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging further as the weight of Ray’s words settled over him. “No, Nacturna Regent,” he murmured, barely audible.
I stepped forward, seizing the moment to drive the point home. “We are dhampirs, Case. To the rest of the world, that’s all we’ll ever be. But here, on the Chaos Reckoning, we’ve carved out a home—a place to belong. And it’s not just a home; it’s a purpose. We have a commander and an NCO who fight for us, who protect us. That’s more than most hybrids will ever have. Don’t squander it.”
Ray gave Case’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back, letting the silence stretch between us. I watched as Case wrestled with his emotions, his gaze flicking between the floor and the schematics on the wall.
“General Zaraki has ensured our protection and made damn sure we stayed together as a coven,” I said, my voice firm yet laced with a note of empathy. “We’ve become part of the backbone of the nation’s new military while still serving as the monsters we were made to be. And for the first time, we’re surrounded by people who understand what and who we are. So, instead of making enemies with the 254th because of what happened to Charles, why not make amends? Try to be friends with them—especially since they’re now permanently assigned to the Chaos Reckoning.”
I let the weight of my words hang in the air for a moment before glancing out the office window. My gaze landed on the lone wolf, now sitting on the bench in front of the lockers. He looked barely nineteen, if that, his expression vacant and lost as though he wasn’t entirely sure why he was even here.
Case followed my gaze, his jaw tightening. After a moment of hesitation, he turned silently and left the office. I watched as he crossed the room to where the wolf sat, his steps measured and deliberate. Without a word, he extended his hand to the younger soldier. For a moment, the wolf simply stared at it, but then he reached out, shaking it. A tentative conversation followed.
Letting out a slow breath, I turned back to face Ray. He stood by the door, arms crossed, his lips tugged into that faint smirk he wore when he knew something was going to end exactly the way he predicted.
“Why didn’t you stop him?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I tried,” he replied with a half-hearted shrug. “But he wasn’t in the mindset to listen. Besides, you and Master Sergeant Helsing have set the standard for respect in this coven. I might be the Nacturna Regent, but in their eyes, your word is law.”
I sighed, the weight of leadership pressing on me once more. He wasn’t wrong. Even though Ray was my second-in-command within the coven, the military chain of command complicated things. He was a captain, just like the other coven officers, while I outranked them all as a major. The dual structure created constant friction, especially when it came to separating coven matters from military operations.
“I’ll talk to them again,” I said, rubbing my temples. “I need to make it crystal clear that you’re the Nacturna Regent, no matter what your military rank is.”
Ray chuckled softly, shaking his head as he stepped closer. “Raven, it’s not a big deal. We’ll get the coven sorted out in time. No need to push them to juggle two hierarchies right now. For now, we’re military. We’ve got each other and a place in this world. That’s enough.”
I opened my mouth to counter, but Ray cut me off, his voice gentle. “And I get it—Ashley’s advice was important. But this isn’t the time to force the issue.”
He leaned down and kissed me softly, his calm energy grounding my spiraling thoughts. Breaking the kiss, he looked into my eyes, his black pupils pulling me into their depths like a calming tide. “I know what Ashley said,” he murmured. “And we’ll get there. But not today.”
Sighing again, I leaned back in my chair, studying his face. The tension in my shoulders eased slightly, though it never disappeared completely. I trusted him, but I also knew the precarious balance we walked every day as a coven, a unit, and something in between.
The moment was interrupted by a knock at the office door. Both of us turned, and standing on the other side was Alpha Balfour. He waited patiently, his hands clasped behind his back, his imposing frame barely fitting in the narrow corridor.
Shaking my head at the timing, I waved him in. He stepped inside with his usual air of quiet authority, giving Ray a brief nod before turning his attention to me.
“Captain Edwards wanted me to inform you that we’re almost to Knoxville,” Alpha Balfour said, stepping into the office with his usual air of military precision. “As soon as we land, he wants all hands in the hangar bay to get these ‘damned potatoes off his ship.’” He made exaggerated air quotes around “damned potatoes,” his tone unusually sharp for the stoic Alpha.
I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Over the years, Master Sergeant Helsing had been rubbing off on our once-professional, ever-composed captain. He was still efficient, but his bluntness had become… refreshing. Or at least, entertaining.
“Of course, he would say that,” I replied dryly. “Do you know if he wants us to airlift the offending spuds to the drop-off location, or does he expect us to hand-offload them like we’re farmhands?”
Alpha Balfour shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “My understanding is we’ll be landing right next to the facility handling the cooking. No aerial support needed.”
“Understood. I’ll inform the 152nd,” I said with a nod.
With a crisp acknowledgment, Balfour left the office and strode across the armory. I watched as he paused to exchange a few words with Case and the wolf. Whatever he said seemed to put the young wolf at ease, his posture softening as the Alpha walked away. Case, too, seemed more relaxed—a rare sight that made me silently thank Balfour for his natural diplomacy.
“Well,” I said, turning back to Ray, “time to get everyone rounded up and ready to work.”
Ray pushed off the edge of my desk, stretching lazily. “I’ll handle it,” he said, slipping out of the office before I could protest. Typical. He always knew when to leave me alone with my thoughts.
An hour later, the hangar bay was packed to the brim with personnel, gear, and, of course, the ever-present potatoes. Between the 152nd STS, the 254th Infantry Pack, and the aircrew scrambling to prepare for landing, the space felt more like a sardine can than the cavernous bay it usually was.
The plan was simple: the moment the Chaos Reckoning touched down, both units would rush out to form a human chain, passing crates of potatoes as quickly as possible. It wasn’t glamorous, but it would get the job done. Alpha Balfour and I had gone over it meticulously, determined to clear the hangar before anyone lost their mind—or got buried under a collapsing pile of spuds.
The moment the ship touched down, I gave the order. “Open the hangar bay doors!”
With a loud whir, the massive doors slid open, revealing not the empty tarmac I’d expected but five medium-sized forklifts waiting to board. Their drivers, clad in high-visibility vests and looking none too patient, gestured for us to move.
“Clear the hangar bay!” I barked, my voice cutting through the sudden flurry of confusion.
Within seconds, the 152nd and 254th were sprinting out of the hangar, dodging forklifts as the vehicles rumbled inside. We regrouped outside in one massive formation, the members of both units grumbling quietly as they waited for further instructions.
Standing beside me, Cameron folded his arms, surveying the chaotic scene with a bemused expression. “So much for the human chain.”
“Don’t start,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. “This whole operation is turning into one giant logistical nightmare.”
“Well, at least we’re finally home,” Cameron said, gesturing to the bustling scene around us. McGhee Tyson Airport, the designated home port for the 102nd Airborne Division, was alive with activity. Soldiers, aircrew, and civilian workers swarmed like ants, their movements orchestrated chaos as they prepared for the massive Thanksgiving celebration.
“I guess that’s something,” I muttered, watching as the forklifts began unloading the potatoes with ruthless efficiency. At least someone had a plan.