SILAS’S CASTLE — EAST

  Silas’s Adviser sits at the round table with two warlords — the hawk-eyed warlord and the armoured warlord. Guards line the walls, silent, armored, watching.

  The doors burst open.

  A guard rushes in and drops to one knee.

  “Boss. The Northern delegates are here.”

  The Adviser’s lips twitch into a thin smile.

  “Let them in.”

  The doors swing wide.

  Fifteen elite figures in white coats stride inside, their names stitched into crimson crests over their chests. They move without hesitation. Without greeting.

  The air thickens.

  They sit.

  They stare.

  The Adviser rises smoothly.

  “Greetings to the elite warriors of the Royal House of Gabriel De Diego. I—”

  A white-haired elite cuts him off.

  “Where is the princess? And where is Silas?”

  The hawk-eyed warlord answers, voice cold and level.

  “Paloma is in Centre City. She is with the Alligator’s crew — the leader she pledged herself to.”

  The white-haired elite’s gaze sharpens.

  “The Alligator? Never heard of him. Why Centre City?”

  The hawk-eyed warlord’s jaw tightens.

  “The Alligator is searching for a girl — Clary Pintosa. Warlord Khalifah sold her in a town within Centre City. The Alligator left suddenly. That means he has a lead.”

  A woman with bright pink hair leans forward.

  “I heard the princess slaughtered Symbian phantoms.”

  A bald elite grunts.

  “We retrieve our princess. Then we leave. That’s the mission.”

  The Adviser’s smile deepens.

  “King Silas wants the Alligator’s crew wiped out.”

  A massive man with a crest burning on his chest:

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  Captain Fury’s Edge.

  He snarls.

  “Silence. We are here under Princess Catalina’s command. The princess comes home alive. We will assist in killing the Alligator. But she answers to us.”

  The doors burst open again.

  Boots echo.

  Twenty figures in black coats march in — the Symbian Fire Crackers.

  Fifteen remain in formation.

  Five step forward.

  Four junior captains.

  Behind them — their Head Captain.

  She walks last.

  Red crests mark their names.

  The man at the front, coat worn and heavy, chuckles.

  “Head Captain Sonia. The elites brought Fury’s Edge. Their leader.”

  The woman steps forward.

  Her crest reads:

  Head Captain Sonia (House of Symbian).

  Her eyes are closed.

  Then—

  She moves.

  A blur.

  Her sword flashes toward Fury’s Edge’s throat.

  The pink-haired elite reacts instantly — she lunges and grabs the blade with her bare hand.

  Steel bites skin.

  Blood drips.“Do not insult my captain,"she warns.

  Sonia’s fist slams into her stomach.

  The impact lifts her.

  She crashes backward.

  Sonia pivots, blade steady.

  The white-haired elite appears mid-air, rifle raised.

  Before he can fire—

  Fury’s Edge steps in front of Sonia.

  “Stand down,” Fury’s Edge says calmly.

  “Do not escalate this.”

  The white-haired elite freezes.

  Sonia’s voice is ice.

  Her eyes remain closed.

  “Your princess slaughtered our phantoms. She captured my student. Rain.”

  A pause.

  "My captains and I will erase the Alligator’s crew. Including Paloma.”

  The Adviser inches forward—

  A knife whistles past his head.

  He ducks.

  An elite man stands behind him now, leaning close. Sharp gaze. Finger to lips.

  Back off.

  Fury’s Edge exhales slowly.

  “Sonia. We cannot undo your loss. We will kill the Alligator together. But the princess lives. She returns with us.”

  Sonia’s eyes snap open.

  Predator meets predator.

  “Whoever finds Paloma’s team first decides her fate. When I reach her, she will already be dead.”

  Fury’s Edge smiles.

  “We hunt together. The princess remains alive. No exceptions.”

  Sonia’s eyes close again.

  “The Royal House of Gabriel is not my enemy… yet. But if Rain is dead, they will become one. And if you stand between me and Paloma—”

  Silence.

  The threat hangs.

  Fury’s Edge chuckles and returns to his seat.

  “I like her.”

  The Adviser claps once, softly.

  “Good. Then we proceed. A prince from Nightshade Keep has offered King Silas half his kingdom in exchange for protection. The territory lies in Centre City.”

  The white-haired elite narrows his eyes.

  “And why should we care?”

  The Adviser leans forward.

  “Because the Alligator is heading there.”

  A Fire Cracker steps forward.

  “Then we all go. Centre City is vast.”

  Fury’s Edge shakes his head.

  “Reckless. Scouts first. They report back.”

  Sonia raises a hand.

  “I agree.”

  The Fire Cracker protests.

  “But Captain—”

  One of Sonia’s eyes opens.

  He goes silent.

  The Adviser straightens. Two guards step behind him.

  “We are scheduled to meet in the Holy Land.”

  Sonia speaks without turning.

  “Ezra. Luke.”

  Two Fire Cracker captains rise.

  Fury’s Edge calls.

  “Paxon. Ayra.”

  Two elites stand.

  Predators selecting fangs.

  They move together — the Adviser’s unit, two Fire Crackers, two elites.

  Bound for the Holy Land.

  To meet Prince Chille of Nightshade Keep.

  The alliance forms.

  Not of loyalty.

  But of hunger.