Rain drifted softly across Harbor Street beneath the cold darkness of early morning while police lights flashed endlessly against wet brick walls and abandoned storefront windows, turning the narrow downtown alley into a restless storm of red and blue reflections trembling across puddles stained faintly with blood.
The city no longer slept peacefully tonight.
Fear had already spread too far.
News reports whispered about cult violence.
Social media exploded with blurry photographs and terrified theories.
And somewhere beneath all that human confusion—
The supernatural world had begun quietly panicking too.
Elara stood near the alley entrance beneath a black coat Ryan forced around her shoulders earlier while cold rain gathered silently along loose strands of dark hair framing her pale face now, exhaustion and controlled fury lingering visibly beneath her stillness despite the composed expression she fought desperately to maintain.
She should not have come here.
