The sliding doors of the police station whooshed open as Vanessa Monroe stepped inside, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. The early morning sun poured in behind her, casting a golden glow on her shoulder-length blonde hair, now tied in a messy bun that hinted at sleepless nights. Her sunglasses remained on for a beat longer than necessary before she tugged them off and walked lazily toward the front desk.
The receptionist looked up — the same woman who had attended to Melissa and Liam just a day ago — and gave her a professional nod.
"Morning," Vanessa said, her tone casual but her eyes carrying a shadow of worry. "I know it might sound like overkill this early, but... my brother's missing. He hasn't returned my calls in two days, which is very unlike him."
The receptionist leaned forward slightly. "I understand. Do you have a recent picture?"
Vanessa reached into her purse and pulled out a printed photograph. "That's him," she said, sliding it over. "Liam Monroe."
The woman squinted, then blinked in recognition. "He... he was here yesterday. With a woman. They filed a report."
Vanessa's expression tightened. "A woman?"
"Yes, um..." The receptionist paused, trying to recall. "Dark hair. Quiet. Looked a little—" she searched for the word "—strained."
Vanessa's jaw clenched slightly. "Melissa."
At that moment, Detective Carter Reyes strolled over, having overheard part of the conversation. "Something about a missing person?" he asked, looking between them.
Vanessa offered a tight smile, then leaned closer to the desk. Beneath her breath, barely audible:
"He just couldn't stay away from that damn whore. All she ever knew how to do was smoke and drink like the world owed her peace."
Her words faltered for a moment, confusion flickering in her eyes. Something about Melissa's name tugged at her brain, like a puzzle piece she couldn't find. There was a gap—something missing in her memory, something important—but it slipped away before she could grasp it.
She shook it off and returned to her composed mask. "Anyway," she added with a breathy sigh, "I'd really appreciate it if someone looked into it."
Detective Reyes nodded reassuringly. "We'll initiate a search immediately. You did the right thing coming in."
"Thanks," Vanessa muttered, her gaze distant as she turned back toward the station doors.
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Back at the Council Hall — a towering, dimly lit chamber carved from obsidian stone — the members of the Order sat in their designated crescent-shaped arrangement, their faces half-hidden under heavy hoods. At the center of the room, elevated above the others on a wide black throne, sat The Arbiter — the figure whose voice carried the weight of life and death.
The air was thick with tension as a low hum vibrated through the ground beneath them.
"Update," the Arbiter's voice rang out, sharp and cold.
An elder — the same who had spoken in the last gathering — stood up hesitantly. He bowed with reverence before he began.
"We... conducted the assessment," he said, his voice measured. "It appears the ability she manifested is weather-related. Reactive, not destructive. It is not the one we seek."
Silence.
"Then?" the Arbiter pressed, the single word echoing through the hall like a verdict.
The elder's voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "We attempted... elimination. But the operation failed. We lost two Gainers in the process."
A crack split the silence.
The building groaned as if alive — the obsidian walls trembled. The torches flickered violently, casting twisted shadows across the faces of the council.
The Arbiter rose slightly, and with a gesture so small it seemed almost accidental, the room reacted violently.
The elder staggered backward. Blood began to drip from his eyes. Then his ears. Then his nose. He gasped, reaching for his throat as veins bulged across his face and neck.
The Arbiter spoke again, this time calmly, almost with pity. "Failure… is an infection. And infections must be burned out."
The elder's body convulsed once, then twice—until with a sickening pop, it burst into a cloud of bone, blood, and ash.
Not a single member flinched.
The Arbiter sat back down slowly.
"Dismissed."