The city of Silverwood was a lie.
Kael stood on a rooftop overlooking the bustling commercial district, the wind tugging at his newly acquired clothes. From up here, the world looked peaceful. Hover-cars glided between skyscrapers draped in vines and neon lights. People walked the streets without fear, laughing, shopping, living.
It was disgusting.
He adjusted the collar of his black jacket. It was a simple outfit—dark jeans, combat boots, and a fitted shirt he'd "liberated" from a high-end store two hours prior. He'd also liberated a wallet from a drunken businessman in an alley, leaving the man unconscious but alive.
He had washed the blood off his skin in a public park fountain, scrubbing until the water ran clear. Looking into a broken piece of mirror he'd found, he studied his reflection.
He looked... normal. Handsome, even. He had inherited Elena Hayes's striking features—the sharp jawline, the contrasting black-and-white hair that fell over his forehead. His eyes were still a bit too intense, a bit too dead, but that could be fixed with a smile.
Or a lie.
"Target location confirmed," Kael murmured, his eyes scanning the crowd below.
His Keen Hearing, upgraded from the rats and the rabbits, was a constant hum in the back of his mind. He could filter out the noise of the city—the traffic, the music, the chatter—and focus on specific frequencies.
He was waiting for a specific voice.
He pulled up the mental image of Lyra Vance. Level 28. E-Rank. Talent: Spirit Affinity.
A high-tier talent in a low-tier body. She was likely coddled. Protected. The daughter of a B-Rank Warlock and a civilian father. She probably wanted for nothing.
I hate her already.
SYSTEM ALERTTARGET DETECTED: LYRA LOCKWOOD DISTANCE: 150 METERSDIRECTION: NORTH-WEST, APPROACHING THE 'STARLIGHT CAFE'
Kael's head snapped toward the location. He didn't move immediately. He watched.
He saw her before he heard her clearly. A girl with soft brown hair, walking down the sidewalk. She wasn't dressed like the daughter of a monster. She wore a modest cream-colored dress and a cardigan, carrying a stack of books against her chest. She looked... fragile.
Walking beside her was a man. Tall, thin, with glasses and a receding hairline. Arthur Lockwood. The husband.
Kill them? a dark part of Kael's mind whispered. It would hurt Silas.
He dismissed the thought instantly. No. Death was an end. Suffering was a process. If he killed them now, Silas would mourn, and then she would hunt him. But if he took them... if he twisted them...
He would break Silas's mind before he ever touched her body.
Kael pulled his hood up, shadowing his face, and leaped from the rooftop.
WHOOSH.
He landed silently in a dark alley between two buildings, using Strength Enhancement to absorb the impact. He straightened his jacket and walked out onto the street, merging with the flow of pedestrians.
He followed them at a distance. Arthur was talking, his voice a low, boring drone.
"…your mother is very busy, Lyra. She might not make it to the Parents' Day ceremony."
"It's okay, Dad," Lyra replied. Her voice was melodic, soft. "I know she's doing important work. Saving lives, right?"
Kael almost laughed out loud. Saving lives?
Silas had convinced her daughter that the screams in the basement were for the greater good. That the 'research' was humanitarian.
Delightful.
They entered the Starlight Cafe. Kael waited thirty seconds, then entered behind them. The smell of roasted coffee and pastries hit him—a scent so foreign it felt like it belonged to another planet.
The cafe was upscale. Glass walls, plush chairs, quiet jazz music. Kael walked to the counter, ordered a black coffee—he didn't know what he liked, but it seemed fitting—and turned to find a seat.
The place was crowded.
The only empty table was right next to Arthur and Lyra Lockwood.
Fate, Kael thought coldly, is on my side.
He walked over and sat down, placing his coffee on the table. He didn't look at them. He stared out the window, projecting an aura of isolation. Brooding. Mysterious.
Teenage girls loved that. At least, according to the internet history he'd skimmed on the AFO tablet.
Lyra glanced at him. He felt her gaze prickle his skin.
She looked away quickly, whispering to her father. "Dad, look at him. He looks... sad."
"Hmm? Who?" Arthur looked up from his newspaper.
"The boy next to us. He's all alone."
"Focus on your studies, Lyra. Don't bother strangers."
Kael took a sip of the scalding coffee. It tasted like ash, but he didn't flinch. He kept his face carefully blank, but under the table, his free hand clenched into a fist.
She thinks I'm sad. She doesn't know I'm planning her mother's funeral.
He waited. He needed an opening. He couldn't just start talking—that was too aggressive. He needed them to come to him.
THINK, KAEL. WHAT DO VULNERABLE PEOPLE DO?
They help.
Lyra shifted in her chair. She was looking at him again. Kael could sense her Spirit Affinity—it was a soft, pulsing light in his mana vision. She was sensitive to emotions.
Shit.
If she was an empath, she would sense the rot inside him. She would sense the bloodlust.
Calm down, he ordered himself. Think of something pure.
He thought of Dalia. His little sister. Playing in the garden. Laughing.
It was a shard of glass in his heart, but it worked. His killing intent receded, replaced by a profound, hollow grief.
Lyra gasped softly.
Kael didn't look, but he heard her heart rate spike. She felt it. She felt his pain.
She stood up.
"Lyra, where are you going?" Arthur asked, annoyed.
"Just... to the restroom. I'll be right back."
But she didn't go to the restroom. She walked toward Kael's table.
She stopped beside him, clutching her books tighter.
"Um... excuse me?"
Kael didn't jump. He turned his head slowly, his blue eyes meeting hers. He let the pain show in his eyes—controlled, directed, a weaponized vulnerability.
"Yes?"
Lyra faltered. "I... I'm sorry to interrupt. But you looked... my spirit sense, it's a bit strong... I just felt..." She stammered, blushing. "Are you okay?"
Perfect.
Kael looked away, scoffing softly. "I'm fine. Thanks for the concern."
"You're not," she insisted softly. "I can feel it. It's like... a hole."
Kael looked back at her. He dropped his voice. "Sometimes holes can't be filled."
Lyra's eyes softened. She was trapped. The hero complex. The need to fix things. She was exactly like her mother, but twisted in the opposite direction. Where Silas broke things, Lyra tried to glue them back together.
"I'm Lyra," she said, extending her hand awkwardly. "Lyra Lockwood."
Kael stared at her hand. The hand of the daughter of his torturer.
He reached out and shook it.
"Kael," he lied smoothly. "Just Kael."
Her hand was warm. Soft. Untouched by callouses or blood.
"Nice to meet you, Kael," she smiled. It was a genuine smile. A pure smile.
Kael felt a sick twisting in his gut. He wanted to crush her hand. He wanted to scream at her—Your mother peeled the skin off my back!—but he forced the urge down into the dark pit of his stomach.
He smiled back. It was a small, hesitant smile. The smile of a boy who didn't know how to trust.
"Likewise."
"What school do you go to?" she asked, eager to keep the conversation going. "I don't think I've seen you around. I go to Silverwood Academy."
Kael hesitated, looking down. "I... don't go to school. Anymore."
"Why not?"
"Financial issues," he said, the lie slipping easily from his tongue. "It's just me. My family... well. Let's just say I don't have one."
Lyra's expression turned to pure, unadulterated pity. "Oh no. That's terrible."
"Lyra!" Arthur called from the other table. "Stop bothering the young man!"
Lyra winced. "Coming, Dad!" She turned back to Kael. "I have to go. But... listen. Silverwood Academy has a scholarship program. For orphans and independent awakened. If you're interested..."
She dug into her bag and pulled out a glossy pamphlet. It had a picture of the academy gates—tall, golden, majestic.
"Here," she said, sliding it onto the table. "If you need help... or a place to stay... the Academy has dorms. You should apply."
Kael looked at the pamphlet. Then up at her.
"You think I have a chance?"
She nodded vigorously. "With your eyes? You have the eyes of someone who has survived a lot. The Academy values resilience."
Resilience. If only you knew.
"Thank you, Lyra," he said softly. "I'll... think about it."
She smiled one last time—a bright, blinding thing—and ran back to her father.
"Sorry, Dad. Just giving him directions."
Kael watched them leave. He watched Arthur ruffle her hair. He watched her laugh.
He picked up the pamphlet.
SILVERWOOD ACADEMY: FORGING THE HEROES OF TOMORROW.ENTRANCE EXAMS: TOMORROW.REQUIREMENTS: AWAKENED STATUS (PROVEN OR LATENT).
He crumpled the edge of the paper in his fist.
"Heroes of tomorrow," he whispered.
He stood up, draining the last of his bitter coffee. He walked out of the cafe, the pamphlet tucked into his jacket pocket.
He had his ticket inside.
Now, he just needed to pass the exam.
And he knew exactly how to do it.
He walked down the street, pulling his hood back up. The shadows seemed to cling to him, welcoming him home.
See you tomorrow, Lyra, he thought darkly. I hope you're ready to meet your new best friend.
He's going to tear your world apart.