Streets of Ravetham

Kaelen stood outside, staring at the Nightwatchers as they moved with a focused precision that made his head spin. The squad looked more military than anything else, suited up in sleek black tactical armor that shimmered slightly in the dim Ravetham light. Their armored vehicle was an intimidating, tank-like behemoth, a beast of engineering that resembled something from a dystopian battlefield. It had been dubbed The Blackfang Marauder—fitting, given its menacing presence, all matte black steel plating with reinforced windows, lined with ballistic panels and armored tires.

The back was open, revealing the squad busy at work. Draven was crouched inside, loading up heavy crates filled with various pieces of equipment. Each was labeled with precision: High-Impact Shock Rifles, Graviton Nets, Tactical EMP Grenades, and even Resonance Disruptors—the kind that could turn the air itself into a weapon. Draven’s movements were sharp, methodical, almost like a surgeon prepping for the most high-stakes operation.

“Draven, you secure the pressure locks on that?” Vanya’s voice cut through the clatter of equipment as she leaned against the side of the vehicle, speaking to Draven while fiddling with her assault knife. She had her cold gaze on Lira, who was running diagnostics on a handheld device, her fingers moving over the holographic controls.

“Locked tight, Vanya,” Draven responded, his voice firm, as he secured another box of supplies. His muscles bulged under the weight, his sleeveless shirt revealing his inked arms, each line of tattoo telling a story of blood and war. The armor vest across his chest gleamed slightly in the light, contrasting with his wild look—a beast dressed in technology.

Meanwhile, Kell was seated on the curb, hunched over a series of vials, tiny wisps of smoke curling from them as she worked with an almost alchemist-like focus. She wore thin gloves, ensuring no contact with the volatile contents inside as she labeled each bottle with precision: Nightshade Serum, Dreamweaver Toxin, and Lycanbane Concentrate. The names alone sent chills down Kaelen’s spine. Kell’s eyes darted between her work and the vehicle, making sure everything was in its place.

Despite the squad’s readiness, Kaelen was a complete mess. His face was smeared with streaks of blood from crying—he could feel the dried streaks running down his cheeks, pulling at his skin every time he moved. The weight of everything was bearing down on him, pressing hard against his chest, and it hurt to breathe. He didn’t care about how he looked right now, though. His mind was locked in chaos.

He got into his car. The leather seats felt cold beneath him, a strange contrast to the heat he felt burning inside. As he pulled away from the curb, the streets of Ravetham stretched out in front of him, dark and winding.

Kaelen drove through the twisting streets, the tires humming against the asphalt. Streetlights flickered overhead, casting intermittent shadows that danced across the hood of his car. He sped through Ravenwood, the wealthy district filled with towering mansions and guarded gates. From there, he weaved through the downtown area, passing towering skyscrapers made of steel and glass. Billboards lit up the sky with holographic ads, their glowing faces trying to sell him something he couldn't even comprehend in his state of mind. What kind of father was he? The thought gnawed at him. His grip tightened on the wheel, the knuckles of his hands turning white.

As Kaelen got closer to the news station, he saw it—his daughters, walking out of the building. Xyra, always poised and in control, was carrying a sleepy-looking Celesse in her arms. Her silver hair was perfectly styled, the same mischievous grin plastered on her face. Beside her, one of their maids, dressed in that unnervingly perfect high-elf style, carried their belongings. They were walking toward a suspicious-looking white van parked a few feet away—completely unmarked, like it belonged to someone who didn’t want to be noticed.

Kaelen slammed the brakes and parked his car haphazardly across two spaces. His heart raced as he jumped out, his blood pumping so hard he could feel it in his ears. He ran toward them, a knot forming in his throat.

“Xyra!” he called, his voice hoarse, ragged from everything he’d been through. She turned, her sharp eyes locking onto him, and for a moment, he saw something behind that sweet smile—something cold, calculating.

As he reached them, Kaelen’s gaze flickered to Celesse, her tired, sleepy face resting against Xyra’s shoulder. His heart ached seeing them like this, so... far from normal.

“Are you punishing me?” he asked, his voice trembling. It wasn’t a question of discipline, but of something much deeper. His daughter was no ordinary child. None of them were.

Xyra’s smile didn’t falter. It was soft, loving, but behind it was something more sinister. “Welcome back, Father,” she cooed, stepping forward to embrace him. The hug felt warm on the surface, but Kaelen could sense the distance—like touching something through a sheet of ice.

Before he could process what was happening, pain shot through his back. His vision blurred as he turned, barely able to register Adrian standing behind him, a tranquilizer gun in his hand, the darts already embedded in his skin. Thump-thump-thump—Adrian fired again, cold and methodical. The needles pierced him over and over, pumping the sedative into his veins.

“Are you still under mind control, Father?” Adrian asked flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. His cold, icy-blue eyes seemed to bore into Kaelen's soul, searching for any sign of weakness.

Kaelen fell to his knees, the world spinning. He wanted to scream, to fight back, but his muscles were giving out. His mind was a fog, drowning in sedatives.

Before he could collapse fully, Selene appeared. She stepped forward, pulling each dart from his back with sharp, deliberate movements. Her white hair shimmered in the fading light, and her face was serene, almost angelic.

"Big brother, please stop shooting our father," Selene pleaded, her voice soft but firm as she spread her arms wide, positioning herself protectively between Kaelen and Adrian. Her words were almost a whisper, but they held a weight, a quiet power that stopped Adrian in his tracks.

Kaelen lay there, his vision blurring, the weight of the scene too much for him to bear. He had wanted so badly for them to be normal, for them to be children he could raise, nurture. But instead, here he was, standing among monsters—his own blood. It was overwhelming.

Slowly, painfully, Kaelen dragged himself to his feet. His legs felt like lead, but he forced himself to move. He turned, heading back to his car, the blood and sedative mixing in his veins. His body was numb, his mind fractured.

He didn’t say a word. He couldn’t. As he sat behind the wheel again, his hands shook as he started the car and drove away, the world outside the windows blurring into a surreal haze of neon lights and shadows.