The transmission bled across the dark network like a streak of oil. In the cold heart of the Revenant headquarters, screens flickered to life one by one, each showing fragments of a place no scout had ever breached before: the old mansion hidden under wards of light. A girl with a staff. A boy whose thoughts rippled like storms. A shifting beast. Blue wards burning like fireflies.
In a chamber deep below the main hall, the council gathered. Twelve figures sat in a circle of black stone, their faces veiled by flickering holograms. In the centre, a pulsing column of light displayed the scout's last recording. The images quivered, frozen at the moment of its defeat.
"They've grown stronger," one of the veils whispered. "The mansion itself fought back."
Another leaned forward. "It is no ordinary house. The wards are ancient. Someone inside knows how to wake them."
A taller shadow raised a gloved hand, silencing them all. He was not veiled; his face was pale as ash, his eyes two rings of silver light. This was the Architect — builder of the Hive, master of the Revenant network. His voice rolled like thunder through the chamber.
"Focus on the boy," he said. The hologram rewound to Prince's face, caught mid-attack, mind-ripple distorting the walls around him. "That power is rare. His thoughts cut through reality. If we take him, the rest will follow."
A lower-ranking lieutenant, armour etched with living runes, knelt at the edge of the circle. His voice was low but shaking with fury. "Two years ago, in the chaos at the western facility, the boy tore through my guards and burned the mind-cage. He cost me my left hand that night and took my prize subjects with him. My scout was my finest creation — and they destroyed it as easily as they slipped through my grasp then. Give me the order and I will break their wards. This time the mind-walker will not escape."
The Architect's silver eyes never blinked. "Then you will not go alone. The sleeper engines are ready. We will send phantoms first, to weaken the wards. Then you will go, and bring me the boy alive."
Around the circle, the veiled council hummed their assent. The column of light shifted into a massive map, a black star marking Praise's mansion. Energy pulsed outward in rings, counting down to the strike.
The lieutenant stood, a cruel smile tugging at his mouth as he flexed the fingers of his remaining hand. "It will be done."
Far above the chamber, inside a cathedral-like hangar, huge shapes stirred — spectral creatures bred for infiltration, claws glinting like glass. Technicians carved runes into their hides, fitting them with resonators tuned to the mansion's wards. One by one, the creatures howled and vanished into the ether, already on their way.
The Architect watched until the hangar emptied, then turned back to the flickering image of Prince. For a heartbeat his silver eyes softened, almost curious. "Let us see what you are, mind-walker," he murmured. "Let us see what you hide."
As the chamber lights dimmed, the transmission ended. In the mansion miles away, Prince stirred from uneasy sleep, heart racing without knowing why. The faintest echo of a whisper brushed his mind — a shadow's promise, carried across the dark network of the Hive.
The hunt was no longer coming.
It had already begun.