Nyra's mind was racing as the rhythmic steps echoed through the dimly lit house. Sarah, Robbie, and several of The Scribes lay unconscious around her, struggling to wake. Nyra's heart pounded as the sound of footsteps grew louder, each one heavy with a sense of dread. A man entered the room—his expression unreadable, but the tension in the air became almost suffocating.

He was impeccably dressed in a dark suit, his white shirt and black tie adding to his unnerving, professional appearance. His hair, spiky and white with dark undertones, seemed to glint in the shadows. He scanned the room with cold, assessing eyes before they locked onto Nyra.

"You failed," he stated, his voice calm but filled with menace. "I expected better, Nyra."

Nyra's throat tightened as she stood her ground, but she couldn't hide the trembling in her hands. "Things... things didn't go as planned. There were unexpected complications." She hated how feeble her voice sounded.

The man's face remained expressionless, but there was a flicker of something darker behind his eyes. "Unexpected? You made a deal, Nyra. You should have accounted for every variable. Now, the deal is off."

Her stomach dropped as his words hit her like a physical blow. "No—wait! You can't—"

"I can," he interrupted, voice still calm, but now laced with finality. "And I will. Everything you promised me is mine now. The Scribes? They belong to me."

Nyra's heart raced, panic surging through her. As the man stepped back, one by one, more people began entering her house—silent, shadowy figures. They started taking The Scribes, carrying the still-unconscious members out one by one.

"No!" Nyra shouted, panic tightening around her chest. She bolted towards Sarah and Robbie. She grabbed Sarah, hoisting her up, but Robbie, now awake and struggling to his feet, held out a hand to stop her.

"Go," Robbie rasped, locking eyes with her. "Take Sarah and run. I'll hold them off."

Nyra hesitated, tears stinging her eyes. "Robbie, I—"

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

"Just go!" he urged, his voice pained but firm. There was no time to argue. Nyra could already hear the footsteps closing in.

With a final, desperate glance, Nyra turned and pulled Sarah with her, sprinting down one of the escape routes she had painstakingly planned for emergencies like this. Her heart ached as she heard Robbie's struggle behind her—his grunts, the sounds of a scuffle. The guilt was suffocating. But she couldn't stop. Not now. She had to keep moving.

Nyra's escape route led them to a hidden garage, where one of her cars was stashed. She shoved Sarah into the passenger seat, then slid into the driver's side, hands trembling as she started the engine. The tires screeched as they peeled away from the house, the sounds of pursuit fading behind them.

As Nyra sped through the streets, her CipherSync buzzed. She frantically made call after call, hoping to find someone—anyone—who would help. But each call ended the same: refusals, silence, excuses. Her allies were abandoning her, their voices tight with fear as they distanced themselves from the chaos she'd caused. With each rejection, her desperation grew.

Finally, Sarah stirred beside her, blood trickling from her nose, her face pale and ghostly under the dim light of the dashboard. "What… what happened?" Sarah croaked, wiping at her face, still disoriented.

Nyra swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Elliot's gone. I lost control. The sigil broke, and…" She paused, the words catching in her throat. "We lost our powers. The Scribes are gone. They… they took Robbie."

Sarah's eyes snapped to Nyra, wide with fury. "You—what did you do?" Her voice was filled with venom as she sat up, the adrenaline from her anger washing away the last remnants of unconsciousness. "You promised us power, protection! And now it's all gone! Elliot is gone, Robbie's probably dead, and it's all because of you!"

Nyra's breath hitched, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Sarah. I didn't mean—"

"Sorry?" Sarah cut her off, her voice breaking. "We're dead, Nyra! Do you get that? Dead. You've ruined everything!"

Nyra sobbed, gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. She had failed them all. She had been so certain, so arrogant, thinking she could control everything. Now it had all crumbled.

For a moment, the car was filled with tense silence, broken only by Nyra's ragged breathing. Sarah, her anger momentarily spent, leaned back in the seat, wiping at her face. They both knew that time was running out.

"I… I know someone," Sarah said finally, her voice low. "He can give us a place for the night. But after that, we're on our own. They're hunting us, Nyra. That man won't stop until he gets what he wants."

Nyra nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "I know."

They drove in silence toward the only refuge they had left, both of them painfully aware that their every move was probably being watched. The Light Cavalry worked for that man, and they never left loose ends.

As they approached their temporary safe haven, Nyra's heart sank further. Tonight, they had a place to stay. Tomorrow, they would be running again. And this time, there was no one left to help them.

At Mad Radio, Vas felt it—the unmistakable sensation of The Archivist sending someone into their world. The icy grip of realization set in. Elliot had been taken back to The Void. He couldn't wait any longer. The air around him grew cold, thick with tension. With a low breath, Vas summoned his Biolux coat. The shimmering neon green light stripes flowed through the fabric, casting an eerie glow. He shaped it to cover his body entirely, pulling a hood over his head to obscure most of his face. The Tenebra blades materialized in his hands, sharp as shadows, and Vas stepped out from the darkness, his appearance now that of a spectral predator.

Across from him stood the man who had lured Zola here, along with his friends. They froze at the sight of Vas, an aura of fear rippling through the room. Despite their numbers, none dared to move.

"What did you do to The Scribes?" Vas's voice cut through the cold air like a blade.