Chapter 2
836 Words
Chapter Two
Sage
I was still standing there, surrounded by glowing projections and cold silence, when his voice broke through.
“You coming or what?” Kade didn’t turn around. Just tossed the words over his shoulder as he disappeared through the door.
He asked. That was enough. I don’t need an invitation—I need orders. And I follow them better than most.
They walked like a unit—precise, efficient, in sync. I trailed a few steps behind. Three left turns, one rune-sealed door, and we entered the war room.
No wasted space. No warmth. Just reinforced steel, defensive wards embedded in the walls, and a round obsidian table pulsing with tactical light. The room didn’t just scream military—it whispered magic under its breath, the kind that hummed through your bones if you stood still long enough.
The moment Kade stepped in, the table activated. Blue light arched outward, forming a rotating 3D projection of a weathered building—four stories, with visible structural damage, partially redacted security layers, and a heavy signature of locked magic.
“Eastside industrial sector,” Kade began. “Abandoned medical research facility. Shut down five years ago after a raid uncovered evidence of magical augmentation and experimental grafting.”
Ash tapped the projection, bringing up images—three bodies, each marked with a rune branded into the skin near the spine. “Victims were dumped in separate alleys, all within three blocks of the site,” he said. “Internal systems collapsed. No signs of physical trauma. All magically drained, like something fed on them slowly, from the inside out.”
Draven’s voice was low, but final. “Someone marked them for extraction. Not random. Not rushed.”
He didn’t say more. He didn’t need to.
Kade zoomed in on the building’s schematics. “No working alarms. No official power grid. But shielding is active—enough to block standard surveillance, drones, and magical scans. Whoever’s in there knows how to stay hidden.”
I stepped in closer, scanning the field. “It’s layered,” I said. “I can feel it from here. Something’s feeding the wards constantly. Not static.”
Kade glanced at me once. “Then we move fast.”
He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to. The weight behind every word was enough to pull the room into formation.
That kind of control wasn’t taught. It was earned. Usually through fire.
I’d seen men like him before—dangerous, closed off, with just enough restraint to stop them from burning the world down.
He pointed to a side entrance on the blueprint. “Sublevel two. We breach from below. Ash disrupts tech systems, Draven handles locks. I take point.”
His gaze flicked to me. “You’ll sweep the first floor. Aura tracking. Any shifts in magic, any hidden threads—you call it. Don’t engage unless I say.”
“Copy that,” I said.
He didn’t acknowledge it.
Ash turned to a wall-mounted case and popped it open, revealing four slim black containers. “Comms.”
He handed one to me. I opened it to find a lightweight, rune-etched earpiece.
“Built them myself,” he said, slipping his own into place. “Encrypted on a closed loop. Direct-link to each of us, neural-sensitive, adjustable bandwidth depending on environment. Won’t fry if you get hit with a pulse ward, which you probably will.”
“Comforting,” I muttered, fitting it to my ear.
“Team line,” Ash said into his mic. “Check.”
“Check,” Kade answered, low and clear.
“Check,” came Draven’s voice.
I spoke last. “Comms active.”
Kade nodded once. “Gear up. We leave in twenty.”
My fingers twitched. Something in the projection didn’t sit right—like static behind my eyes. Not a vision. Not yet. But close.
Whatever was inside that building… it wasn’t just hiding.
It was waiting.
The armory was two floors down—silent, cold, humming with restrained violence. Everything was locked, catalogued, glowing faintly with protective sigils.
I keyed my badge and stepped into a vault of weaponry that could outfit a private war.
I didn’t need heavy gear. I needed mobility.
Twin blades charmed for stealth. A Glock loaded with silvercore ammo. Slim combat vest reinforced with light magical weave. I strapped my weapons into place with practiced ease, the muscle memory settling into my skin like second nature.
The blades felt good in my hands. Familiar. I’d trained with steel long before I trained with guns. Magic was what they wanted from me—but steel was what kept me alive when it failed.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the black-polished metal wall as I clipped my holster into place.
Steady eyes. Controlled breath. Mouth set just enough to promise someone pain if they tried me.
Let them test me. Let them doubt.
By the time this mission ended, they’d know exactly who they were working with.
- Writer
