Loss and Resolve:

  Vayne stood motionless, her piercing gaze fixed on the two Ancient Werewolves as they rummaged through the scattered remnants of clothing strewn across the cold, hard ground. The air was thick with the scent of burnt earth and the metallic tang of blood—reminders of the brutal confrontation that had unfolded only minutes earlier. Moonlight filtered through the thin breaks in the clouds, casting a faint glow over the werewolves’ powerful forms as they struggled to find garments that fit.

  The rest of the group had moved away, gathering the lifeless bodies of their fallen comrades. They wrapped them in makeshift sheets salvaged from the wreckage. The Angels’ corpses lay in a grotesque heap, their celestial beauty ruined by violence. Plans were already forming to incinerate the remains once they left this cursed place. Vayne’s heart ached at the sight; every death was another reminder of a conflict that refused to end.

  Selene finally turned back toward the group. She wore a pair of overalls far too large for her, the fabric hanging loosely from her tall frame but offering enough modesty. Beside her stood her younger brother, Leander—broad?shouldered, only slightly more so than Selene. They weren’t twins like Arius and Thalia, but the resemblance was unmistakable. Vayne recalled that Selene was two years older, a fact she never let Leander forget.

  “Didn’t realize Uncle Adam would send a team this far. Especially his favorite child,” Leander said, sarcasm dripping from every word. The tone alone sparked irritation in Vayne; Adam had no favorites.

  “Rekirakiel needed dealing with,” she replied, firm and defensive.

  “What an excellent job you did with that,” he shot back, squaring his shoulders in a display of dominance.

  Selene stepped in smoothly. “Enough. We’re on the same side.”

  Vayne bit back a retort. Leander could kill everyone here if he wished.

  “What are you two doing here anyway?” she asked.

  “Hunting Angels,” Leander said, hostility still simmering.

  “You’re hunting Angels?” Vayne echoed.

  Selene nodded. “Packs have been attacked by Archangels all over the world. We’re trying to find out why. That’s what brought us here—then we caught Rekirakiel’s scent.”

  Vayne nodded, her thoughts flashing back to Freya’s warning about the recent attacks on Werewolf packs—a campaign that felt like part of a larger, more sinister design.

  “We weren’t aware you were doing anything to stop it,” she said, her voice low, edged with skepticism.

  “Why wouldn’t we?” Leander stepped forward, his imposing presence thickening the air. “We care about our own. Unlike the Guardians.” The accusation hung between them, heavy with old resentment.

  “That’s enough, Le,” Selene growled, moving between them in a practiced gesture of diplomacy.

  “What he means is—”

  “I know what he means,” Vayne murmured. Bitterness coated her tongue. Guardians had always sent their children into battle, fully aware of the risks. They were pawns in a war orchestrated by those in power, and every Next-Gen grew up knowing they might one day die at the hands of a supernatural enemy.

  “Regardless,” Selene continued, her expression earnest, “we’ve been searching for months. Looking for any clue as to why the packs are being targeted. The attacks seem random, but the Alphas of every pack had one thing in common—they were turned by either me or Leander.”

  Vayne’s heart sank. The implication was chilling.

  “Anything so far?” she pressed.

  Selene nodded. “We found an old book about Nephilim—the offspring of a divine being and a Human.”

  Recognition rippled through Vayne. The Angels had once tried to use Nephilim in the war, believing hybrids could shift the balance. History had proven them inadequate against the Next?Gen warriors.

  “Nephilim,” Vayne repeated. “What does that have to do with Werewolves going missing?”

  Kathy pushed forward despite her injury, her arm bound in a makeshift sling. “Isn’t it obvious? Werewolves can give birth. A hybrid between a Werewolf and an Angel would be insanely strong.”

  “It would,” Selene admitted, arms crossing thoughtfully.

  “Still not at the level of Vayne here, but powerful nevertheless.” Selene paused, a shadow crossing her face. “The issue is that none of the Werewolves taken are younger than three hundred.”

  “Why is that an issue?” Vayne asked, tension coiling in her stomach.

  Selene pinched the bridge of her nose. “A Werewolf can’t impregnate an Angel. They’d need a fertile female Werewolf. But if the youngest taken is three hundred, she’s no longer fertile.”

  “Are you sure?” Vayne pressed.

  “Positive,” Selene said firmly. “A female body has a finite number of eggs. Werewolves haven’t evolved to carry enough for centuries. Once they reach a certain age, their reproductive capability drops to zero—just like humans.”

  Kathy opened her mouth, then closed it again as the truth settled over them like a heavy fog.

  “Then we should join forces,” Vayne said, her voice steady with conviction. “You’ve been investigating for months. We need to pool our knowledge. The Guardians may be failing their duties, but we can’t afford to wait.”

  Selene’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You’re suggesting an alliance?”

  “Exactly. We’re stronger together. United, we might stand a chance against the Archangels and whatever they’re planning.”

  Leander snorted. “You think teaming up gives you a chance at winning this war? The Archangels may be weakened, but they’re still a force to be reckoned with. I’m not eager to go up against them.”

  “I’m not saying it’ll be easy,” Vayne replied. “But every moment we hesitate is another chance for them to strike. We owe our fallen more than inaction.”

  “I’m going to stop you right there.” Selene raised a hand. “Going to the Guardians won’t help. We’re better off out here, doing the work ourselves.”

  “But—”

  “Vayne, we’re not going. You’ve got the Vamp twins backing you. Tell Arius we’re glad he’s back.”

  “If you’re sure,” Vayne said, extending her hand. Selene brushed it aside and pulled her into a careful embrace.

  “We’re doing what we can,” she whispered. “But finding out why the Werewolves were taken—that’s our top priority.”

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  “Well then,” Vayne said as they pulled apart, determination settling in her chest, “I’ll mention it to Adam and see if he has any thoughts. How can we contact you if we find something useful?”

  The two women held each other’s gaze. Selene placed her hands on Vayne’s shoulders. “Your dad will know how. And… about before—we know the Guardians aren’t bad. It’s just hard to think kindly of people who send their kids to die. If we hadn’t shown up, you’d be under a blanket right now.”

  “And I’ll be forever grateful that you did,” Vayne replied, sincerity warming her voice.

  “Go,” Selene urged, firm but gentle. “We’ll deal with the Angels.” She stepped back, leaving Vayne to feel the weight of responsibility settle over her again. Their group offered quiet thanks before turning away, leaving the Ancients to the grim task of burning the bodies they had fought so fiercely against.

  As Vayne walked, a glint of silver caught her eye—a white blade lying half-buried in the dirt, dropped from Rekirakiel’s grasp during the chaos. She bent to pick it up, the cool metal light in her hand, elegant yet deadly.

  Selene noticed. “Take it,” she said quickly. “You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

  “I didn’t know any more of these existed besides Uriel’s,” Vayne murmured, studying the intricate engravings as dawn’s first light brushed the blade.

  “Neither did we,” Selene admitted. “Angelite is incredibly rare. The fact there was enough for two swords is surprising—or maybe not, considering there are two Demornium blades. Either way, that one’s in safe hands now.”

  Vayne nodded her thanks and continued toward the Helijet, her companions close behind. The rising sun painted the sky in gold and orange, a surreal contrast to the grief weighing them down.

  Marcus carried Simon’s limp body, a stark reminder of the cost of the battle. Sevika bore Mika in her arms, her gaze hollow with the pain of losing a twin—an agony Vayne never wanted to imagine. When they reached the Helijet, the somber mood deepened. They laid the two bodies in the back, where coffins waited—grim vessels prepared for moments just like this. The sight of them sent a fresh wave of sorrow crashing through Vayne.

  As the Helijet’s engines roared to life, Vayne stared out at the horizon, her mind racing with thoughts of what came next. The landscape blurred beneath them as they lifted into the sky, the familiar sensation of flight offering a brief, fragile respite from the weight pressing on her chest. They were heading home, yet Vayne couldn’t shake the certainty that their fight was far from over.

  In the quiet cabin, surrounded by her comrades, determination slowly solidified within her. They had uncovered a sliver of truth amid the chaos—a thread connecting the missing Werewolves, the whispers of Nephilim, and the Archangels’ growing aggression. Everything felt woven into a larger, darker tapestry demanding their attention.

  “Vayne?” Marcus’s voice cut through her thoughts.

  “Yeah?” she replied, turning to him. His gaze was intense, searching.

  “Are you alright? You’ve been quiet.”

  “I’m just thinking,” she admitted softly. “There’s so much at stake. It feels like we’re standing on the edge of something monumental.”

  Sevika nodded, her expression mirroring that resolve. “We can’t let our friends die for nothing. We need answers—and we need to stop whatever’s happening.”

  “Agreed,” Vayne said, her voice firming. “We’ll regroup, tell Adam everything, and figure out how to turn this around. We owe that to Simon and Mika… and everyone else who’s fallen.”

  The rest of the flight passed in a subdued calm. The rhythmic thrum of the engines vibrated through Vayne as she watched the world drift by, her thoughts a storm of grief and adrenaline. When the Helijet descended into the mansion’s hangar, her heart tightened with a mix of dread and anticipation. The familiar architecture offered a small comfort, but the weight of loss clung to them all.

  Vayne disembarked first. Adam, Arius, Freya, and Thalia waited for her, their faces solemn. Her heart sank as two teams moved to unload the coffins containing Simon and Mika—grim reminders of the price they had paid.

  Without hesitation, Vayne walked straight to Adam. She set the wrapped sword at her feet and stepped into his arms, clinging to him as his warmth steadied her fraying composure. He held her tightly.

  “We’ll get through this,” he whispered, a quiet promise.

  The others lingered nearby, giving her space. When she finally pulled back, steadier now, she retrieved the sword, its pale blade catching the dim hangar light.

  “I’ve got a lot to tell you,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

  Adam nodded, studying her face. “Firstly, are you okay? I know how difficult—”

  “Not now, Dad.” Vayne cut him off gently but firmly. “Let me explain everything first. My head’s all over the place, and I need to get this out before I lose track of anything.”

  He nodded in understanding, concern still lingering in his gaze as the elevator doors slid open, welcoming them into the cool, metallic interior. The five of them stepped inside, the air thick with unspoken thoughts and shared burdens. The ride to the office floors passed in silence; everyone respected Vayne’s need to gather her thoughts.

  When they reached Adam’s office, the atmosphere shifted. Staff members glanced up as the group entered, their worry barely concealed. The room was dim, shadows stretching across the polished surfaces until Adam flicked a switch and light washed over the space.

  Vayne paused, drawing a steadying breath as everyone took their seats. The mahogany table gleamed beneath the soft lighting, the Angelite sword resting in the center like a silent witness to everything they had endured.

  “I need to tell you everything,” she began, her voice steady. “From the moment we arrived in Gabwe to the moment we left.”

  As she recounted the mission, the room remained utterly still. She described the tension in the air, the Angels closing in around them, the dread that clawed at her as they fought to survive. She spoke of Rekirakiel, the blood and chaos, and finally the arrival of the Ancient Werewolves—an intervention that had saved their lives.

  When she finished, silence settled over the room like a heavy shroud.

  It was Arius who finally broke it. “Leander and Selene were there?” he asked, disbelief widening his eyes.

  “Yes,” Vayne confirmed. “They’ve been hunting Angels across the world, trying to figure out why Werewolves have been going missing. Luckily for us, they were close when Rekirakiel appeared.”

  “Very lucky,” Thalia murmured, glancing toward Adam. He sat behind his desk, expression unreadable, fingers interlaced before his mouth as he stared at the sword.

  “Did they find anything?” Arius pressed.

  “Not really,” Vayne said, frustration creeping in. “They found a book—something about Nephilim. But none of the Werewolves taken were younger than three hundred, so they couldn’t give birth.”

  “Weren’t some of them male anyway?” Freya asked, frowning.

  “Exactly,” Vayne replied. “The Nephilim theory doesn’t hold up.”

  “Do you know the name of the book?” Adam asked, leaning forward.

  Vayne shook her head. “She didn’t say.”

  Adam rose with sudden purpose and crossed to one of the towering bookshelves. His fingers skimmed the spines until he pulled out a red?bound volume. Opening it, he flipped through the pages with practiced precision until he found what he was looking for.

  “Nephilim: the unholy offspring of a Human and either Angel or Demon,” Adam read aloud, his voice carrying a quiet authority. “These abominations are not meant to exist and should be destroyed with extreme prejudice.”

  “That book’s thousands of years old. It really says ‘prejudice’?” Vayne asked, curiosity flickering through her exhaustion.

  “Not an exact translation,” Adam clarified, flipping through several pages. “But it says something like: being half Angel or Demon, a Nephilim can heal from all mortal wounds, so Divine materials must be used. They’re strong—though not as strong as their Divine parent—so extreme caution is advised. Again, not word?for?word.”

  Arius reached out and took the book, scanning the text with growing intensity. “Something’s missing.”

  Adam frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “A page is missing,” Arius said, tapping the open section. “It jumps from how to create a Nephilim straight to how to kill one. The sentence doesn’t flow. Something was definitely removed.”

  Adam took the book back, rereading the lines. “Well, fuck—you’re right. The middle of this sentence doesn’t match the start of the next.” He ran a finger along the binding, his brow tightening. “No torn edges. Whoever took that page did it perfectly.”

  “How long have you had that book?” Thalia asked, arms crossed, her tone sharpening with suspicion.

  “This one came in about six, seven months ago,” Adam replied, mind racing.

  “Right around when the Werewolves started going missing,” Freya whispered, dread creeping into her voice.

  Vayne felt a chill crawl up her spine. “So someone took that page intentionally. They wanted to hide something about the Nephilim.”

  Adam nodded slowly. “And it ties directly to the missing Werewolves. We need to find out who has that page.”

  “Where was the book found?” Arius asked.

  “An archaeological dig site in Egypt,” Adam said. “That’s where it was uncovered.”

  “Then that’s where we need to go,” Arius insisted. “We have to find out why someone would plant this there.”

  “Plant?” Adam echoed. “That site was buried for thousands of years. No way someone planted it.”

  “Want to bet?” Arius countered. “Michael can literally control the ground it was buried under.”

  Adam opened his mouth, then closed it again, a grim realization settling over him. “Fuck. I suppose we’re going to Egypt.”

  “Let’s go,” Arius said, a spark of purpose igniting in his eyes.

  “Hang on—aren’t you guys going to hunt down Dalareyes?” Thalia interjected, unfolding her arms.

  “We’ve still got no leads on where he is. He’s literally vanished off the face of the planet,” Adam said, voice steady.

  “Well, duh. He’s underground,” Thalia shot back, half?teasing, half?serious.

  Adam blinked, then tilted his head in dawning realization. “Shit. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “You’ve been off your game, old man,” Arius joked, tapping his father’s shoulder.

  “It’s more than that. I’m better than this,” Adam muttered, frustration tightening his jaw.

  “It’s okay. You’ve got people around you to help. It’s not all on you,” Arius reassured him, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze.

  “So who’s going to Egypt?” Vayne asked, ready to take charge.

  “I’ll go. You two can hunt down Dalareyes,” Thalia volunteered, her expression resolute.

  “You sure?” Arius asked, turning to her. “It’s dangerous. Granted, not for you, but still.”

  “Well, I’m not going underground. I’ll never get the dirt out of my hair,” Thalia said with a dramatic eye roll.

  “Might improve it,” Arius teased. Thalia shot him a look sharp enough to make him laugh.

  “What about me?” Vayne asked, glancing between them.

  Freya finally spoke. “You can help me. It’s been years since I’ve had a decent sparring partner, and I want to be ready for whatever’s coming.”

  Vayne nodded—enthusiastically at first—until the memory of Mika and Simon hit her like a weight. Freya caught Adam’s grateful look and dipped her head in acknowledgment.

  “Excellent,” Adam said, a small smile breaking through. “Thalia, you’ll head to Egypt as soon as Eve returns. I’m glad you’re ready to jump back into the fight.”

  “Yeah, I got excited listening to all this. I want to hit something,” Thalia replied, eyes gleaming.

  “Good. Arius and I will head underground when we can. I’ll check if we can use the hole we found in the warehouse. If not, we’ll find another.”

  “What about the Demornium?” Arius asked, suddenly serious.

  “What about it?” Adam replied.

  “We can look for it. If Brunhilda was right, it should be close to Dalareyes.”

  “We’ll look,” Adam agreed, picking up the Angelite sword. Its white glow filled the room—except around Arius, where his Demornium blade seemed to drink in the light. “This is mine.”

  He turned to Vayne, fatherly concern softening his features. “Alejandra, go get some sleep. The rest of you—do whatever Vampyres do for rest. Eve will be back by the end of the week; she’s finishing up the Eastern European facilities.”

  They nodded and began to leave.

  “Alejandra, a quick word before you go?” Adam asked.

  Freya gave Vayne a reassuring glance before exiting with the others. Adam sat behind his desk, and Vayne sank back into the chair she’d just vacated.

  “How are you?” Adam asked, concern flickering in his eyes as they drifted to her bandaged arm.

  “I’m—”

  “Don’t say ‘good’ if you’re not,” he interrupted gently.

  “—managing, I think. I don’t know if the reality of what happened has fully settled yet. Who knows what’ll happen when it does. It brought back memories of Hong Kong… memories I thought I’d buried.” Vayne finished, her gaze steady.

  Adam nodded, understanding etched deep. “It’s never easy losing people. Especially family.”

  “Is that why Selene and Leander don’t want to help? They’ve lost too much?” Vayne asked.

  Adam considered. “What did they say?”

  “Just that it’s terrible parenting to send your kids off to die.”

  “They’re not wrong. You know that if I had any—”

  “I know,” Vayne cut in softly. “And they know too. Deep down.”

  Adam exhaled. “They watched so many of their brothers and sisters die. Countless family members buried. That kind of loss… it changes you in ways you can’t fix.”

  “Is that why you and Uncle Joseph stopped having children?” she pressed.

  Adam nodded. “No parent should have to bury their child. I’ve buried thousands. I couldn’t do it anymore, no matter the cost to our numbers.”

  “I know. No one