CHAPTER 1: THE DIVINE HEART
940 Words
Underground, beneath a forgotten bookshop in Intramuros, six shadows leaned over blueprints illuminated by low amber light and the flicker of computer screens. The room smelled of soldered metal, old coffee, and the kind of secrecy that pulsed just beneath the law.
Amethyst Deltore crossed her arms, staring at the center of the table—the red, crystalline image hovering in hologram.
The Divine Heart.
A diamond so massive and blood-red it looked like it had been cut from the heart of a god. Valued at over five hundred million pesos, stored inside a high-security private vault beneath a faux research lab, guarded by military-grade AI and biometrics with five rotating encrypted codes that changed every four hours.
To anyone else, it was impossible.
To her crew, it was thrilling.
"We're talking about twelve-inch thick titanium walls, facial-recognition entry, and a vertical laser grid that'll dice you into sashimi if you breathe wrong," said Vince Vergara, their tech strategist, his fingers dancing across a digital keyboard. "This isn't your usual museum snatch-and-grab. This is Fort Knox in stilettos."
"So we steal the stilettos too," Keisha Santos replied coolly, flipping her long braids over one shoulder. "We've done harder. Or did we all forget the Osaka Gold Exchange last year?"
"You almost lost your arm in that one," Lexter Santiago, their muscle and former stunt coordinator, muttered while polishing a small throwing blade.
Keisha grinned. "Almost. Key word."
Kira Fernandez, their logistics expert and hacker, zoomed in on a 3D rendering of the vault room. "This is the part that worries me. The diamond's stored inside a rotating sensor-locked cube. Even if you get in, you only have twenty seconds between cycles to retrieve it. And it only opens with a voiceprint—belonging to Dr. Ignacio Ferrer."
Sky Amore, the illusionist and social infiltrator, twirled a pen in her fingers. "So we get the voiceprint."
Amethyst finally spoke, her voice low and focused. "And the codes."
The room quieted.
Vince looked up. "The codes are stored inside three different servers. One in Quezon City, one mobile and untraceable, and one... off-grid."
"Which means..." Amethyst began.
"We hunt all three," Kira finished.
Sky leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "So what's the plan, boss?"
Amethyst gave a slow, calculated smile. "We build a three-pronged approach. Vince and Keisha handle the Quezon server. Lexter and Sky tail Ferrer's assistant to extract the voiceprint and location of the mobile key. Kira and I will track the off-grid server—whatever that means."
Keisha arched a brow. "You sure you don't want Lex with you? He's more bulletproof."
"I'm more invisible," Amethyst replied, her voice hard as cut stone.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
She frowned, pulling it from her coat pocket. The caller ID made her stomach sink.
Sister Analyn.
She picked up immediately. "Sister?"
The voice on the other end was strained. "Amethyst... it's Steven. He's not well. He collapsed after lunch. I think you should come."
Her pulse skipped. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."
She ended the call.
Everyone had gone quiet.
"Trouble?" Sky asked softly.
Amethyst slid on her coat. "Steven's sick. I need to check on him."
Lexter gave a small nod. "You want backup?"
She shook her head. "This is personal."
-----
The orphanage hadn't changed.
Same rusted gate, same washed-out walls, same faint smell of rice and old books. The only difference was the silence. That eerie, suffocating kind that clung to grief like a second skin.
Inside, Steven lay curled on one of the beds, his skin pale and clammy, eyes dull with fever.
"Sissy Ame..." he whispered, managing a tired smile when he saw her.
She dropped beside him, brushing the sweat from his forehead. "Hey, buddy. What happened?"
Sister Analyn stood by the doorway, rosary clenched in her hands. "He just... started fading. He was fine last week. Running, playing. And then... like something drained him."
"Did you take him to the clinic?"
She nodded, tears glassing over. "They say it's some kind of blood condition. But we can't afford further tests. We can barely afford bread."
Amethyst's throat tightened.
Steven reached for her hand. "Will I be okay?"
She kissed his knuckles. "Of course you will. I'm going to fix this. I swear."
Outside, the wind was thick with the scent of rain and exhaust. Amethyst walked slowly, each step weighted with helplessness.
That was when she saw someone—across the street, tucked into an alley lit only by a dying neon sign.
A man and a woman locked in a kiss so fevered it looked more like consumption. The man grunted, then gasped as the woman lifted him—lifted—and threw him against the wall like he was made of feathers.
Amethyst froze.
The man slumped to the ground, unconscious—or dead. The woman turned.
Her face was wrong. Twisted. Sharp in all the places a human face shouldn't be. Eyes glowing like crimson flames. A black forked tongue licking her lips.
Amethyst took a step back.
The woman tilted her head and smiled.
That was enough.
She ran.
Didn't look back. Didn't breathe.
She stopped two blocks away, heart hammering, lungs on fire.
No.
It wasn't real. I'm just tired. Too much pressure. Too many plans.
And yet, as she leaned against the wall and tried to slow her breathing, she couldn't shake the image.
Those red eyes. That smile.
That face.
Not human.
Not possible.
Just a dream.
Just her mind playing tricks.
Just—
"The last of the hunters."
The whisper came again, this time colder. Familiar.
And this time, it wasn't just in her head.
- Writer
