Raven's POV
The festival's warmth had seeped into my bones, displacing the cold loneliness that usually defined my existence. Standing beside Riyan while we waited for the others to return, I'd felt something close to contentment—a rare emotion for someone whose childhood had been painted in shades of isolation and fear.
Riyan was talking about something. One of the games we'd played earlier, maybe, or the street performer who'd juggled fire. His voice washed over me like music, familiar and comforting in a way that made my chest feel too small to contain everything I felt.
I wasn't entirely sure what I felt, to be honest. At ten years old, the emotions were too complex to fully articulate. More than friendship, certainly. Something that made my heart race when he smiled at me, that made me acutely aware of the small distance between us as we stood side by side.
The guard assigned to watch us maintained his vigilant posture, eyes scanning the crowd with professional efficiency. Everything felt safe. Normal. Just another perfect moment in what had been a perfect day.
Then the air changed.
It was subtle at first—a shift in pressure that made my demon blood prickle with instinctive warning. The ambient sounds of the festival seemed to grow distant, muffled, as if we'd been suddenly submerged underwater. The crowd's movement around us slowed, became strange, like we existed in a pocket of reality separate from everything else.
The guard's hand moved toward his weapon, his posture shifting from vigilance to combat readiness in the space of a heartbeat.
Too late.
Two figures materialized from the crowd—not walking toward us but simply there, as if they'd stepped through invisible doorways. Both wore dark clothing that seemed to drink in light, their faces obscured by featureless masks that reflected nothing. The air around them distorted slightly, marking them as mana users of considerable power.
One of them gestured, and I felt the snap of a barrier closing around us. The festival sounds cut off completely, leaving only the thudding of my own heart in my ears.
"Nexus," the guard breathed, the word carrying weight I didn't fully understand but recognized as terror.
Everything happened with nightmarish speed.
The guard drew his blade in one smooth motion, positioning himself between us and the attackers. Steel met steel as the second figure engaged him immediately, forcing him away from us while the first maintained the barrier that trapped us like insects in amber.
I tried to move, to run, but my body refused to obey. Fear had locked my muscles in place, turning me into a statue of a terrified child. Beside me, Riyan had gone rigid, his usual confidence stripped away by the sudden violence erupting before us.
The guard was skilled—B-rank, I'd later learn, which meant he'd survived encounters that would have killed lesser fighters. His blade wove patterns in the air, each strike precise and economical. But he was fighting two opponents who moved with synchronized efficiency that spoke of countless joint operations.
The clash was brutal. Blood began to stain the cobblestones—some from the attackers, more from the guard. A dagger found his shoulder. His sword opened a deep gash across one attacker's ribs. Back and forth, give and take, a violent dance with death waiting as the final partner.
The guard managed to kill one of them. I watched the masked figure crumple, life leaving in a wet exhale that sounded too loud in our isolated pocket of reality. But his partner drove a blade into the guard's back in the same moment, the steel punching through armor and flesh with sickening ease.
The guard fell.
And we were alone with a killer.
The surviving attacker moved toward us with deliberate slowness, savoring our terror. Blood dripped from his blade, leaving a trail of crimson drops that seemed impossibly bright against the gray stone. His mask tilted, examining us like specimens under glass.
When he spoke, his voice was conversational, almost friendly—which somehow made it worse.
"Well. This is inconvenient."
He turned toward Riyan, and I felt my blood freeze at the predatory focus in that movement. "You weren't part of the plan, Descartes heir. We came for the demon girl." Those masked eyes shifted to me. "But my partner's dead now, which complicates our extraction. So you, friend, are going to be our insurance policy. A hostage valuable enough that no one will dare interfere with our departure."
The casual way he discussed kidnapping, the matter-of-fact tone as he explained how he'd use Riyan as a shield—it was somehow more terrifying than violence would have been. This was a professional making tactical decisions, not a monster acting on impulse.
This is my fault. The thought crashed through my paralysis like lightning. They came for me. Riyan's in danger because of me. Because I wanted to come to the festival. Because I exist.
The attacker produced a vial from somewhere in his dark clothing. The liquid inside was murky, viscous, wrong in a way that made my demon instincts scream warnings.
"Open your mouths. Don't make me force you."
My body finally obeyed me—but only to tremble uncontrollably. Tears burned my eyes, blurring the figure that approached with that terrible vial extended.
I wanted to tell Riyan to run. Wanted to scream for help that wouldn't come through the barrier. Wanted to do anything except stand there uselessly while my friend was pulled into danger because of me.
The attacker's hand clamped around my jaw with bruising force, fingers digging into pressure points that forced my mouth open despite my best efforts to resist. The vial tilted, and liquid fire poured down my throat.
The taste was indescribable—bitter and sweet and wrong, like drinking corruption given physical form. It burned its way down, and immediately my vision began to swim. The world tilted sideways, vertigo crashing over me in waves that made standing impossible.
Through rapidly dimming vision, I saw the same process repeated with Riyan. Saw him choke and gag as the liquid was forced down his throat. Saw his eyes roll back as consciousness fled.
He crumpled like a puppet with cut strings.
I'm sorry, I thought desperately, reaching toward him even as my own legs gave out. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault.
Then darkness swallowed everything.
Third Person POV
The mana barriers dissolved simultaneously—the combat isolation and the sound dampening both collapsing as the Nexus operative's concentration shifted to extraction rather than containment. The festival's ambient noise crashed back into existence like a physical force.
Screams erupted immediately.
The crowd had been flowing around the invisible barrier like water around a stone, subconsciously avoiding the space without understanding why. Now they could see what that space contained: two guards' bodies sprawled in pools of blood, two unconscious children, and a masked figure cradling both young victims with disturbing gentleness.
Panic spread through the festival like wildfire. People stumbled backward, parents grabbing their children and fleeing. Some froze in shock, unable to process the carnage. A few brave souls started forward, perhaps thinking to intervene—
The Nexus operative moved with inhuman speed.
One moment he was surrounded by potential obstacles. The next, he'd cleared the immediate area, both children secured in a carry that suggested extensive practice at abduction. His path through the crowd was a study in brutal efficiency—people fell aside or were knocked down, their interference dismissed as irrelevant.
Festival security responded within seconds, but seconds were lifetimes for someone trained in extraction. By the time armed guards converged on the scene, the operative was already disappearing into the labyrinth of side streets that branched off from the main festival grounds.
Behind him, he left chaos.
The festival's celebration had transformed into pandemonium. Families fled toward exits. Security tried to establish perimeters while simultaneously calling for backup. Medical personnel rushed to the fallen guards—one clearly dead, the other clinging to life by threads.
And in the washroom area where they'd gone seemingly ages ago, Livia Descartes and Fera Starlight emerged with their guard escort, confusion on their faces at the sudden disruption.
That confusion transformed to horror when they reached the location where they'd left their friends.
Livia's scream cut through the chaos like a blade. High and sustained and broken in a way that spoke of world-ending grief. The guard with them went pale, immediately understanding the tactical nightmare unfolding.
The heirs of two great families—the Descartes and the Zeus bloodlines—had been taken.
Word would reach their families within the hour. By morning, the entire continent would know that Nexus had succeeded in a brazen daylight kidnapping of highly valuable targets.
The organization that haunted the nightmares of hunter associations and government agencies across the world had struck again. And this time, they'd captured prizes beyond mere monetary value.
A demon-blooded child—potential vessel for their twisted experiments in creating artificial devils.
And the Asura Prince—heir to a family whose resources and reach made them near-untouchable, now leverage against interference.
The Nexus operative disappeared into shadows, his cargo unconscious and helpless, while behind him the festival grounds transformed into a crime scene that would dominate headlines for months to come.
Somewhere in that chaos, someone found the presence of mind to activate emergency communication arrays. Messages began to race toward the Descartes Estate and Reyas Academy, bearing news that would shatter families and ignite a manhunt of unprecedented scale.
But none of that mattered to the children being carried into darkness.
For Riyan and Raven, lost to drug-induced unconsciousness, a nightmare was only beginning.
And when they finally woke, nothing would ever be the same again.
[Not Important]
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading this intense chapter. I know it's darker than previous installments, but this event is crucial for understanding Raven's character development and her later obsession with Riyan.
IMPORTANT CONTENT WARNING: The next chapter will deal with the aftermath of kidnapping and likely contain descriptions of trauma and violence. I'll handle it as tastefully as possible while still conveying the serious psychological impact such events would have on young children. If you have concerns about triggering content, please feel free to skip ahead or let me know if you'd prefer I handle certain elements differently.
Critical Question for Engaged Readers: How should I balance showing the trauma's impact (which is necessary for character development) with not being gratuitously dark? Should I:
A) Show more of what happens during captivity (with appropriate content warnings)
B) Skip ahead to the rescue and show trauma through aftermath
C) Use Raven's later perspective looking back, allowing distance
D) Show some events but keep the worst elements implied rather than explicit
Your input will directly shape how I write the next chapter, so please vote in the comments!
This Week's Discussion Question: Why do you think childhood trauma creates such intense attachments? We're building toward Raven's obsession with Riyan, but I want to portray it as psychologically realistic rather than just "she went crazy because bad thing happened." What elements should I emphasize to make her emotional development believable?
Engagement Challenge:
50 Power Stones = Extra chapter this week
100 Power Stones = Bonus content: "The Nexus Organization - Origins and Goals" (world-building document)
10 Golden Tickets = I'll write a special side story from a character of your choice (vote in comments)
Review/Rating = Every genuine review helps this story reach more readers who might enjoy it!
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Next Chapter Preview: "Nexus [Part ll]" - What happens in captivity, the rescue operation, and the moment that forges Raven's obsessive attachment to Riyan. This will be emotionally intense, so prepare yourselves.
Weekly Q&A Corner:
Q: "Why is Nexus so focused on creating artificial devils?"
A: Great question! The full answer contains spoilers, but the short version: They believe controllable demonic power is the key to empowering Four Orginal Devils to their real forms. More details coming in future chapters!
Q: "How common are kidnappings in this world?"
A: Rare, especially of high-profile targets. This attack represents a huge escalation in Nexus's operations and will have massive consequences.
Thank you all for your continued support! Your comments, power stones, and engagement are what make writing this story worthwhile. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter and how you want the story to develop!
See you in the next chapter—where everything changes.
- Your Author
P.S. - Hit that power stone button if this chapter had you on the edge of your seat! And if you're enjoying the story, please consider leaving a review to help others discover it!