Eiden followed the trail. It was easy. Tom wasn't hiding. He was... playing. A drop of blood here, a footprint there, like a child leaving a trail of breadcrumbs. He was leading Eiden, taunting him. The fog swirled around Eiden's knees, muffling his steps. He felt the cold stones of the path, not just with his feet, but with his senses. He was a hunter, and his prey was enjoying the chase. The trail led back to the chapel.
As Eiden entered the graveyard, a maze of leaning headstones, he kept his head low. He moved like a shadow. Then he heard it, sharp and unnatural in the fog-deadened world: BANG... BANG! The sound came from beneath his feet. Gunshots. Emily. His heart hammered. He was about to sprint for the crypt, the iron gate half-visible in the mist, when a voice came from the chapel doorway. "Looking for your friends, Wolf?" Tom was standing there, silhouetted in the dark archway. His knives dripped, the red on the steel almost black in the gloom. "They're... busy," he sang, his voice a sick singsong. "But their screams will make lovely music for our... dance."
"Tom, NO!" Alistair, the spy, stumbled out of the fog, his face pale and desperate. "Son, stop this! Please!" Tom spun, his face twisting into a mask of pure, childish rage. "FATHER! You... you brought him! You betrayed me! You were always trying to stop me! Just like Mother!" "He's a Wolf, son!" Alistair pleaded, walking slowly into the graveyard, his hands raised in surrender. He put himself between them. "He can help you! This... this fog-sickness... we can...!" "I'M NOT SICK! I'M FREE!" Tom roared. He raised his knife and lunged, a sudden, violent blur. He wasn't aiming for Alistair. He was aiming for Eiden. Alistair did the one thing he could. He threw himself between them. The long, sharp knife, meant for Eiden, slid deep into Alistair's chest with a sick, wet sound that cut through the fog.
Tom froze. His entire body went rigid. He looked at his father. He looked at the knife, buried to the hilt in the chest of the man who had just tried to save him. "Father...?" Alistair looked down at the blade, a look of profound, sad confusion on his face. Then he looked up at his son. "...why...?" In that second of frozen, impossible horror, Eiden moved. The game was over. This was no longer a fight. It was an execution. He hit Tom with a "Mountain" block to the chest. It was a blow designed to shatter stone, and it hit Tom's sternum with the sound of a tree trunk splitting. It was hard enough to crack ribs and stop his heart. As Tom gasped, his eyes wide with a shock that had not yet become pain, Eiden's hands became a blur. A "River" strike to the throat, crushing his windpipe. A final, hard-knuckle blow to the temple. Tom fell near the tree, looking at Eiden," Who… no What are you?" Eiden walking towards Alistair, not even looking at Tom answers,"The Devil you never want to meet again."
Silence. The fog. The dripping of blood. Eiden rushed to Alistair, who had collapsed against a headstone. He gently lowered him to the wet grass. "He... he was my son..." Alistair choked, blood foaming on his lips. "The... the fog... it... it talks to him... ever since his mother... died in it... It promised him... he'd never be alone..." "The information, Alistair," Eiden said, his voice hard but not unkind. "You promised. Evergreen." "Yes... yes..." Alistair gasped, his hand gripping Eiden's arm. "In the... crypt. My... basement. A chest... under the... loose stone... a diary...He... he called me..." Alistair coughed, a wet, rattling sound. "He was... scared... terrified... Said they... were coming..." "Who? The Syndicate?" "Didn't say... I went... to his house... after... the bombing... found... a paper... half-burnt..." "What did it say?!" Eiden demanded, his face inches from the dying man's. "It said..." Alistair gasped, his eyes going wide as he looked at Eiden. Alistair's hand went limp. He died right there.
Eiden stood. The smell of blood and damp earth filled his nose. He heard movement from the crypt. He ran for it. He threw open the iron gate. He found Emily. She was standing over the three groaning, tied-up villagers. Linda was a heap in the corner, sobbing hysterically. Emily was holding a smoking gun, her face a cold, pale mask, her knuckles white. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder. They stared at each other. Eiden looked at the guns, then at the men, all shot in non-lethal, disabling places. Knees, shoulders. Precise. Controlled. Ruthless. Emily looked at the blood—not his own—that covered Eiden's hands and streaked his face. He was a painting of violence. "Complications?" Eiden sasked, his voice flat. "You," Emily said, her voice shaking, not with fear, but with a cold, contained rage, "have no idea."
Eiden made them wait at the inn. He "cleared the chapel." It was a cold, hard task. He carried Alistair's body and laid it on the altar. He dragged Tom's body into the crypt and locked the gate. He did not feel like a hero. He felt like a cleaner. He went back to the crypt. He found the loose stone under the hanging body of the old man. He found the small, metal chest. Inside was a small, leather-bound diary. He hid it deep in his pack. The next morning, on the train ride back, while Emily and Linda slept the sleep of the traumatized, he read it. Alistair's notes were clear.
My friend was terrified. He told me he was running. He knew they'd found him. He said if I didn't hear from him, to look for his report and send it to the Den.I went to his room after the bombing. The place was tossed. They were looking for it, too. But they missed this.I found this. It was all that was left of his report. Hidden. Burnt.
Tucked into the diary was a single, half-burnt piece of paper. Eiden's hands shook as he read the typing.
...can confirm. The asset is here. I have visual confirmation.I saw......evergreen. On the grounds. I saw HER....Mav... Cronus was with her. They...
The rest was ash. Eiden closed the diary. The words burned in his mind. ...evergreen. On the grounds.... Mav… Cronus was with her. He looked out the window at the green fields rushing by. They looked fake. Evergreen and Maverick. He looked at the sleeping Emily, her head on her own coat this time, her face pale. She looked like a princess. She looked like a target. His mission wasn't in an academy. It was right next to him. "The Cronus family must have known something about Evergreen." He needed to know now. He needed to know fast.
The taxi from the train station rattled to a stop at the grand, imposing gates of St. Swithin's. The sun was high. It was a normal Tuesday. Eiden, Emily, and Linda stepped out. They were covered in mud, their hair was a mess, and they looked like they had fought a monster. Which they technically had.
A figure was pacing frantically in front of the gates. He was in a sharp, pressed military uniform. Maverick. He spotted them. His face, which was pale with panic, flooded with relief. "Emily!" he shouted, running over. He didn't walk, he ran. He grabbed his sister and pulled her into a hug so tight her feet left the ground. "Where have you been?! I came to see you and Madam Elizabeth said you'd been 'excused'! Father is in London, he left me in charge, and you vanished! I was about to send the army! My head was on the line! Father was going to kill me!"
"Mav... can't... breathe..." Emily wheezed. He dropped her. "And you!" he said, pointing at Linda. "You were supposed to be the safe one! I told you to stay out of trouble!" "Me?!" Linda shrieked, her terror and exhaustion finally breaking. "I was almost murdered! In a... in a chapel! By a priest! And then Emily shot three men! And there was Tom! And Eiden killed him! And... and... I want to go home!" She burst into tears.
Maverick froze. He stared at Linda. He stared at Emily. He stared at Eiden. His eyes landed on the mud on Emily's coat. He saw the gunpowder residue on her hands. He looked at Eiden, who was splattered with mud and dried blood. The "charming idiot" vanished. His voice dropped. It was cold. It was the voice of an officer. "What. Happened."
Eiden looked at Maverick. He saw the man's quick, intelligent eyes. He saw the way his hand rested on the pistol at his hip. And all Eiden could see was the burnt piece of paper in his pocket. ...Mav......Cronus was with her... This man... this "charming idiot"... was part of his hunt. He was a suspect. Eiden's face, already a mask, became ice. He stared at Maverick, his eyes flat, cold, and full of suspicion.
"We... went for a walk," Emily said, stepping in. She was a brilliant liar. "It was stupid. We got lost. We... fell in the mud. And we ran into some... tramps. In an old church. They tried to rob us." "They tried to rob you?" Maverick said, his eyes narrowing. "And I... I scared them off," Emily said. "I had my sidearms. I fired a few warning shots. They ran." "And him?" Maverick asked, nodding at Eiden. "What about the blood?" "He fell," Emily said. "Tripped in the dark. Cut his head."
It was a terrible, thin lie. But it was all they had. Maverick looked at all three of them. He knew he was being lied to. But he also knew he couldn't push. Not here. "Fine," he said, his voice tight. "Fine. Go. Clean up. Don't... ever... do this again. I will handle Madam Cullin." He looked at Eiden, his eyes hard. "And you. You're her bodyguard. You're fired." "No," Emily said. Maverick turned. "What?" "No," Emily said, her voice like steel. "He's my bodyguard. Not yours. Not Father's. He stays. He did his job. He protected me. End of discussion." Maverick was stunned. He'd never heard her use that tone on him. She looked at Eiden. "Thank you for the... 'walk,' Eiden. I'll see you at lunch." She grabbed Linda's arm. "Come on." She walked away, pulling a still-sobbing Linda with her.
Eiden and Maverick were left alone. Maverick looked at Eiden. He was confused. And, for the first time, he was wary. "I don't know who you are, boy. But you've got my sister all turned around." Eiden just stared at him. The cold, predator's stare. "...Mav... Cronus..." "What?" Maverick asked. "Did you say something?" "No," Eiden said. He turned and walked back to his dorm. Maverick watched him go, completely baffled. Why did that kid look at me... like he wanted to kill me?
Eiden got back to his room. He locked the door. He was in a trap. He couldn't trust Emily. He couldn't trust Maverick. He couldn't trust Akuma. The entire Cronus family was a nest of vipers. And they were all wrapped around the mystery of Evergreen. He was alone. Oliver was in a coma. Alistair was dead. He needed a new plan. He was a Wolf. A lone Wolf was a dead Wolf. He needed a pack. He pulled out a piece of paper. He would build his own pack. Here. He would recruit his own spies.
He made a list-
Margot. She's invisible. She's a gossip. She hates Emily. Terrified. Desperate for approval.
Harry. The smart, nerdy boy. He understands radios. He can pick locks. He's a "tech" guy.Bullied. He wants to be strong.
Hazel. The quiet girl. The one who sits in the back. She sees everything. She's the one who noticed Eiden's "Ozymandias" analysis. She doesn't have any weakness that Eiden knows of. He would have to talk with her differently.
Maverick drove. He didn't speed. He drove with a cold, precise anger that was far removed from his usual cheerful mask. He left the quiet, misty island of St. Swithin's and drove for two hours, to a London townhouse that was dark and silent.
He was shown into the study.
The room was dark, kept in a state of perpetual twilight. The only light came from a single green-shaded desk lamp, illuminating a perfect circle on the massive oak desk and nothing else. The walls were lined with books, but they were not for reading. They were a barrier, an expensive wallpaper that smelled of leather and old paper. The air was cold, chilled even in the mild autumn.
Akuma Cronus sat behind the desk. He was not reading. He was not writing. He was just... waiting, a shadow in a more expensive shadow.
"Father," Maverick said, standing at perfect military attention.
Akuma looked up. His eyes, even in the dim light, were like black ice. They held no warmth, only a flat, terrifying stillness. "You let her leave the grounds."
It was not a question. It was a statement of fact, a gavel strike.
"Sir, I..." Maverick faltered. The "charming idiot" was gone. This was an officer reporting to his true commander. "The lie they told was... insufficient. I questioned them all. Linda was hysterical. She was rambling, mentioned a 'monster' and that Emily 'shot three men.' She was terrified."
"And the boy?" Akuma's voice was a low, soft rumble that seemed to be absorbed by the books on the walls.
"Eiden Killian. He was... cold. He was covered in blood that was not his. He said nothing. He just watched. His eyes, sir... they were like yours."
Akuma's hands, which were resting flat on the desk, did not move. Not a single finger twitched.
"Blood," Akuma repeated. "And Emily...?"
"She was in command, sir," Maverick said, his own respect clear in his voice. "She was lying. Badly, but... she was in command. She told me the boy... Eiden... was her bodyguard, and that he would not be fired. She has never spoken like that. Not in her entire life."
Akuma was silent for a long, heavy minute. He stared at the dark wall, past his son, past the room, into his memories.
A single, impossible thought flickered in his mind.
Could it be... them? He crushed the thought. It was absurd. How could it be them. And even if they were, they would never be so foolish as to send a child. "No," Akuma said to himself, his voice a whisper. "It cannot be."
"Sir?" Maverick asked, not having heard. Akuma focused on his son, his eyes snapping back to the present. "The boy. Eiden Killian. The 'Devil,' as the students call him. The one who 'saved' her from the Syndicate men." "Yes, sir." "He is not a boy. He is a tool. He is a sharp, unknown object that has been dropped into my house." Akuma's voice was final. "And he is... a complication. He has seen my daughter's... strength. This changes the dynamic. You will keep an eye on him. A very, very close eye. Watch where he goes. Who he speaks to. I want to know when he sleeps, when he eats, when he breathes. He is either a threat to our family... or he is the leash we will use to control my daughter. Find out which." "Yes, sir," Maverick said. He saluted, a sharp, clean motion. He turned, and left the cold, dark room.
Eiden was not idle. He knew the Cronus family was watching him. He could feel it. The way a Wolf can feel the shift in the wind before the blizzard. He knew when he was being hunted.
So, he decided to hunt back.
His first target was Margot. He found her "accidentally" in the hall by the kitchens, where he knew she went to get scraps. He knew she was still reporting to Emily. He pulled her into an empty classroom, his hand on her arm just tight enough to be a warning. "Stop," he said. "I wasn't doing anything!" Margot squeaked, her eyes wide with panic. "You're a terrible spy," Eiden said. He was not teasing her this time. His voice was cold, flat, and sharp as a shard of ice. "You're clumsy. You're obvious. And Emily knows it." "She... she does not!" "Oh, she does." He stepped closer. "She's just using you. She's laughing at you. She sends you to do her dirty work. And you're not even good at it." Margot's eyes filled with tears. "That's not true! " "Is it not? Or are you just her errand girl?" Eiden said. "It is true. But... I think you're good. You're just... unfocused. You have a terrible master." Margot stopped, the tears hanging on her lashes. "What?" "I'm a better master than Emily," Eiden said, his voice dropping, becoming almost confidential. "Emily wants to know more about me, right?" She's curious. I want to know... everything. I'll pay you. Real money." He pulled a few worn bills from his pocket. It was more than Margot's allowance for a year.
"You... you want me to spy on... Emily?"
"No," Eiden said. "I want you to spy on everyone. I want you to spy on Linda. I want you to spy on the teachers. I want you to tell me everything you hear. Every rumor. Every whisper." He tapped the money. "And in exchange... I'll pay you. And... I'll keep your secret." He leaned in, his voice a bare whisper. "Your secret... that you were spying on me. Because if I told this to the school community... it would ruin you. But I won't. We're... friends, right?" Margot was trapped. She was terrified of losing her school position. She was terrified of Eiden. But the money... the money was a way out. It was a lifeline. She looked at the money, then at his cold, waiting eyes. "What do you want to know?" she whispered. "Everything," Eiden said.
His next target was Harry.
He found Harry in the workshop. Bullies were there. Balthazar's old "friends," now leaderless and mean.
They had Harry's new radio project. They were about to smash it.
"Look at this! The little rat-built a... thing!" one of them sneered.
"Give it back!" Harry cried, his voice cracking.
Eiden didn't say a word. He just walked into the room.
The bullies froze. The air in the room changed. "It's... it's the Devil."
Eiden looked at the bully holding the radio. His eyes were flat. "Put it down."
"Or what? You'll fight us all?" the bully tried to sound brave.
Eiden sighed. "No. I don't have time for that. I'll just fight you." He moved. It was fast. Faster than they could see. He grabbed the bully's arm. He twisted it. Not to break it. Just... to make it hurt. A lot. A "Wolf's Bite" lock, designed to use the joint against itself. The bully screamed, a high, thin sound. The radio fell. Eiden caught it with his other hand. He pushed the bully away. "Get out. All of you. If I see you touch him again... I'll break more than your arm. I'll break something you can't fix." They ran, scrambling over each other. Eiden placed the radio on the table. "You... you saved me," Harry stammered, his hands shaking. "No," Eiden said, his voice hard. "I'm... collecting. I saw this in your dorm. It's a short-wave set. Very illegal. You could... talk to the Germans on this. Treason." Harry's face went white. "I don't! I swear! I just... I listen to the codes! It's... it's a puzzle! I like hearing the numbers..." "I know," Eiden said. "And that is exactly what i need. A man who can listen. You help me... I protect you. And... I teach you." "Teach... teach me what?" "How to break his arm," Eiden said. "The right way. So he never uses it again." Harry looked at Eiden. He looked at his radio. He looked at his own, shaking hands. He wanted to be a victim. But Eiden was offering him the one thing he wanted more. He smiled. "When do we start?"
His last target was Hazel.
She was the hardest. She was smart. Blackmail wouldn't work. Protection was a joke.
He found her in the library, in a small alcove, bathed in the light of a reading lamp. She was reading "Ozymandias."
Eiden sat down across from her.
She didn't look up. "He's telling them to despair because power is the illusion, Eiden. Not because it's a warning." Eiden was shocked. Not just that she knew he was there, but that she'd continued the classroom debate. "You... you heard me in class," Eiden said. "Everyone heard you," Hazel said, still not looking up, turning a page. "You're loud. You're a fighter who thinks he's a philosopher." Eiden smiled. "You're smart, Hazel. You see things. You saw me watching you. You knew I'd come here." She finally looked up. Her eyes were sharp, intelligent, and completely unimpressed. "I did. You're not a student. You're... something else. You're a stone dropped in a very still pond. And you're in trouble. And you need something." Eiden's smile faded. She was just as good as he was. Maybe better. "I need a partner," Eiden said. He was honest. It was the only weapon he had. "Not a... a 'pawn.' Not like the others." "You mean Margot and Harry," she said, as if stating the weather. Eiden froze. "How...?" "I see things, Eiden. Remember?" she said. "I see you. You're a predator. And you're building a pack. What do you want?" "I'm looking for someone. A ghost. A... a person named Evergreen." Hazel's eyes went wide. Just for a second. The first crack in her armor. "I... I can't find a name," Eiden said. "I've looked. But... I'm not... smart. Not like you. I don't know how to look. You... you're an analyst." Hazel was silent. She closed her book, her finger holding the page. She was thinking. "This is dangerous," she said. "Yes," Eiden said. "You're using me." "Yes." Hazel smiled. A tiny, real, dangerous smile. "Good. Because I'm bored. I am so tired of being bored. And you... you're not boring." "So you'll help?" "I'll... look," she said. "I'll be your analyst. But I'm not your pawn, Eiden. I'm your partner. And partners get the truth."
"We'll start with this," Eiden said.
"Fine," she said. "Now go. You're distracting me."
Eiden left the library. He had a new pack. Margot, his eyes and ears. Harry, his listening post. And Hazel, his mind. Now he was ready to play.