Chapter 2: Before the Mask
The dream always starts the same.
Silence.
Then—
BOOM.
Kael Voss wakes up gasping, hand already reaching for a weapon that isn't there. His safehouse is dark, concrete walls humming softly from hidden generators. Rain taps against a narrow window like a slow countdown.
He exhales.
Three breaths in. Three out.
The training never leaves you.
Kael sits up, rubbing the scar along his ribs—old, jagged. A reminder of who he was before the Wraith.
He moves to a metal locker and opens it.
Inside: the mask, weapons… and a photograph taped to the door.
A woman smiling. A child on her shoulders.
Kael's fingers linger on the photo.
And the past drags him under.
FIVE YEARS AGO
Daylight.
Nocturne looks almost normal under the sun.
Kael Voss walks through a crowded street market, his daughter Lina riding on his shoulders, laughing as she points at colorful stalls. His wife Mara walks beside him, pretending not to smile.
"Daddy," Lina says, tugging his hair, "you promised noodles."
Kael laughs. "After we find your mom's coffee."
Mara nudges him. "You said you were done with missions."
"I am," Kael replies without hesitation. "That life's over."
And he believes it.
That night, Kael meets with his former unit in an abandoned warehouse. No uniforms. No insignia. Just ghosts pretending to be men.
"This is the last one," their commander says. "Crowe's supply line. In and out."
Kael hesitates.
"I'm retired."
The commander slides a file across the table.
Inside: photos of armed men. Heavy weapons. Names Kael recognizes.
"If we don't stop this," the commander says quietly, "Nocturne burns."
Kael closes the file.
"I'll do it," he says.
The operation is flawless.
Too flawless.
Kael clears rooms with surgical precision, moving through the dark like muscle memory never left him. The target is neutralized. The weapons seized.
As they exfiltrate, Kael notices something off.
No resistance.
Too clean.
"Command," Kael says into his comm, "this feels staged."
Static.
Then—
A voice cuts in.
"Hello, Kael."
His blood runs cold.
"Darius Crowe," the voice continues calmly. "You really should've stayed retired."
The warehouse explodes.
TWO HOURS LATER
Kael staggers through smoke and fire, bleeding, ears ringing. Emergency sirens scream in the distance.
His phone buzzes.
MARA CALLING.
Relief floods him as he answers.
"Mara—"
Her scream shatters the world.
Gunfire. Glass breaking. Lina crying.
Kael runs.
By the time he reaches his apartment building, it's already surrounded by police tape.
Smoke stains the walls.
A burned car rests on its side.
Kael pushes through officers, ignoring shouts.
He sees them.
Mara lies on the pavement, eyes open but empty.
Lina's small shoe rests a few feet away.
Kael collapses.
The world goes silent.
ONE MONTH LATER
A hospital room.
Elias Thorn stands beside Kael's bed, arm in a sling.
"They said it was a gang crossfire," Elias says quietly. "Wrong place. Wrong time."
Kael stares at the ceiling.
"You believe that?" Kael asks.
Elias hesitates.
"No," he admits.
"But if you go after them," Elias continues, "you won't come back."
Kael finally looks at him.
"I already didn't."
PRESENT DAY
Kael snaps back to reality, knuckles white against the locker door.
Crowe didn't just kill his family.
He sent a message.
Kael puts on the mask.
Not as armor.
As a promise.
On a rooftop nearby, a silhouette watches through a rifle scope.
A calm voice speaks into an earpiece.
"Target confirmed. The Wraith is real."
A finger tightens on the trigger.
END OF CHAPTER 2