Cal followed the operative down the hall without a word. Inside the command center, Selene stood near a large screen, arms crossed, her coat hanging off her shoulders like a dark mantle. The room was dim except for the bluish light of several monitors where a few agents tapped quietly at keyboards.
Selene caught him from the corner of her eye. "Everene," she said. "Come take a look at this."
Cal stepped forward, his expression tight.
The screen replayed a muted video. The footage was grainy but clear enough to make out the shapes; military men, all in armored vests, raising weapons as alarms screamed in the background. They backed away from something offscreen, shouting into radios for reinforcements.
Then it came into view. The monster. It looked eerily like the one Cal had fought, only bigger. Uglier. Its body rippled with wrongness, wet and steaming, bolts and wires still clinging to its back. The thing roared, a sound that shook the camera's audio, and charged the soldiers. Bullets peppered its hide, but it only seemed to piss it off more.
In the corner of the shot, Cal caught sight of a shattered cylindrical water tank; like the thing had been contained before. The soldiers tried to hold the line, but it was useless. The monster tore through them like paper. Blood splattered across the walls and the camera lens. A soldier screamed then the footage cut to static as the creature lunged toward the device.
Silence filled the room. Selene's eyes were fixed on the dead screen. Her voice was low. "The military isn't telling us everything. This footage was pulled out of their classified archives. One of our people cracked it open."
Cal's fists clenched. "Of course they're not telling the truth," he muttered. His eyes didn't leave the blank monitor. "This proves it. Malvek's alive. Somewhere out there."
Selene gave a small nod. "It's a start. But just this isn't enough. If we want real answers…" She trailed off, glancing toward the door. A small, wry smile tugged at her lips. "It's time I paid an old friend a visit."
The way she said it sent a chill crawling up Cal's spine.
___
Later that night, Cal sat across from his mother at their small kitchen table, both of them picking at a simple dinner. It was rare to have her home on most days. Extra shifts, double shifts, whatever it took to keep the bills paid.
But tonight, she was here. The only problem was—Cal wasn't.
He barely touched his food, barely looked up. When his mother tried to ask about school, or how Nate was doing, he only gave small, clipped answers.
"Fine."
"Okay."
"Nothing much."
She put her fork down gently. "Cal… what's wrong?"
He forced a smile. Not fake, but not full either. "I'm fine. Just school stuff. Been a long week."
She studied him for a moment. His face, his eyes, older somehow than they should have been for a seventeen-year-old. But she didn't push. She only smiled back, softer this time. "Alright. But you know you can talk to me, right?"
"Yeah, Mom," he said. "I know."
Dinner finished in quiet. Cal helped clear the dishes, then retreated to his room.
The door clicked shut behind him. His room was a mess, no surprise there. Scattered magazines lay across the floor: glossy covers of half-naked women with dangerous curves and perfect smiles. His personal treasure trove. Always had been.
But tonight… they felt a little out of place.
Sighing, Cal gathered the magazines, stacking them neatly and shoving the bundle into a specific drawer under his desk. His 'collection' wasn't going anywhere. But for the first time, he didn't feel like thumbing through it.
Instead, he dropped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Flashes of that night came unbidden—the monster crashing through glass, Mr. Mason's last breath, the shuddering gasp when Lily came back to life.
Slowly, he lifted his right hand into the air, studying his palm under the pale ceiling light.
For just a second, a smirk played at the corner of his lips.
_____
Meanwhile, somewhere else in Halcroft, Selene Virelle sat in the back seat of a black SUV, tapping her fingers lightly against her crossed knee.
Ahead of her, a massive wrought-iron gate loomed, sealing off a huge stretch of private land. On the stone wall beside the gate was a security panel. The driver rolled down her window and leaned toward the gate intercom system. It crackled to life.
"Identify yourself."
Selene didn't move. Instead, the tinted back window of the SUV lowered just enough to reveal her sharp face and cutting smile.
The voice on the intercom fell silent for a moment. Then there was a loud beep and then the iron gates rumbled open.
The SUV rolled inside, gliding over the long, winding driveway. The mansion ahead was large, old, and heavily fortified, built more like a fortress than a home. Porch lights flickered on automatically as they approached.
A woman stepped out onto the front steps. She was tall, with gray hair neatly tied back and the rigid posture of a career soldier. Selene stepped out of the car, her coat sweeping around her ankles. She moved toward the woman with casual confidence.
The older woman smirked faintly. "What brings The Nightwarden to my doorstep?"
Selene gave a low, dangerous chuckle. "Good to see you too, Martha."
Martha—former Chief of Defense Staff, now deep in retirement, folded her arms across her chest.