Morning broke without mercy.
Grey light seeped through the torn clouds above Nottingham, washing the city in the color of old bones. Smoke drifted from distant fires left burning overnight, and the streets—silent at first glance—still breathed with unseen movement.
Raven and Nutaila had not stopped running until dawn bled into the sky.
They hid where the city forgot itself—beneath collapsed rail tunnels, inside gutted factories, among roofs that no longer belonged to anyone. Every step was measured. Every sound was tested. The cult had eyes everywhere, and both women knew it.
The Vigil of the Hollow was awake. From the moment the sun rose, the cult scattered through the city like a living infection.
They searched abandoned churches, storm drains, burned-out flats. They split into smaller groups, communicating without words, following signs only they understood—scratches on brick, blood smeared thin enough to look accidental, the smell of fear carried by the wind. But Raven and Nutaila were ghosts.
Nutaila moved with a precision born of long survival, masking their trail, breaking patterns, doubling back only to vanish again. Raven followed without question, her instincts sharp, her anger sharper.
"They won't stop," Raven said quietly as they crouched inside the shell of an old textile mill.
"No, They can't. Not after last night."Nutaila answered.
Hours passed. By late morning, the cult grew restless. They had lost their prey.
The leader of the Vigil stood atop a ruined parking structure, mask removed, pale scars crawling across his face like old writing. His followers gathered below him in a broken circle.
"They are hidden," one whispered.
"They are protected," said another.
The leader closed his eyes.
"No,They are gone" He spoke
The city fell quiet as he listened—not with ears, but with something deeper. Then he felt A new presence. Fresh blood. Untouched by the night before. Strong. Familiar. Connected.He smiled.
"Leave them,The darkness has offered us something better."he said.
The hunt shifted
Raven hadn't noticed Nutaila slipping away.
She was sharpening one of her blades when footsteps approached—slow, deliberate, unthreatening.
"I told you not to wander off," Raven said without looking up.
"I didn't," Nutaila replied. Raven turned.
Nutaila stood in the doorway of the abandoned flat they had claimed for the afternoon. The light caught her differently now. Tired. Focused. Watching Raven as if weighing something unspoken.
"You came back," Raven said.
"I said I would."
Silence settled between them, heavy but not hostile. Finally, Nutaila spoke.
"You said my eyes reminded you of someone. Milan."
Raven exhaled.
"Yeah," she said.
She leaned back against the wall, the past rising whether she wanted it to or not.
"I met Milan three months ago. Not like this. They saved me when I was about to become someone's dinner."
Nutaila listened closely, her attention sharp.
"You're speaking in the plural. Who was with him?" Nutaila asked.
"Scarlet was with him. Always watching his back. Fierce. Loyal. Dangerous in a quiet way. She carried the same wolf-marked swords you do. That necklace—she never took it off. She said it was a promise." Raven continued.
Nutaila was shocked. For the first time, Raven noticed tears falling from Nutaila's face.
"Wait a minute… are you crying?"
"You said the woman's name is Scarlet. She is my long-lost sister." Raven stared at her.
"I could tell the moment I saw you. You walk like her, sound like her, and most of all, fight like her. She was fast—like a shadow, like a ninja. She had super speed. She saved my life."
Nutaila smiled faintly as she heard that.
"Where did you last leave them?" Nutaila asked.
"Three months ago. I left them heading toward St. Thomas Hospital. Something about Milan looking for his sister, and Scarlet searching for the one with pure blood to protect."
"It's our destiny," Nutaila said quietly.
"Does she know about you?" Raven asked.
"No. We have never met. Since the day we were born, we were separated."
"Then how do you know she would believe you are her sister?" Raven asked.
"She will," Nutaila said. "Because I will fight her."
"Tell me more about this Milan."
"Yes. He's just a normal human being—until he gets angry. Then darkness takes over his eyes. He becomes stronger. Unstoppable. He killed the strongest cannibal family in a minute."
Nutaila froze.
"What is it?" Raven asked.
"Milan… the way you describe him—he is possessed by the power of the Five Loyal Servants of Victor Valois."
"Does that make him stronger?" Raven asked.
Nutaila stood up.
"Stronger than any of us. Even with my abilities, I wouldn't be able to fight him. But it depends. If the darkness has fully awakened within him, then it's too late. Too strong to be stopped. But if it is still trapped inside him—and he learns to overcome it—then he will be stronger in another way. He will fight for justice. He will fight for the right cause. Just like me."
"So you're saying he's stronger than you?" Raven asked.
"It's complicated. I have the power to move through darkness, to kill, to strike faster than sight. And to heal people,But Milan is three times my power. He can manipulate people's dreams, walk inside their visions, and kill them there. He is stronger than anything."
"So what exactly is your job?"
"Find my sister Scarlet. Help her—and the one with the pure blood. Our destinies are one."
"And Milan? Do you think you'll be able to fight him once the darkness takes over him?"
"As I said, he is stronger. It depends on the darkness he's fighting within himself. If it hasn't fully awakened, then even if he uses it now, I could still put him on his knees."
She paused.
"I have a favor to ask."
"What is it?"
"Can you take me to the place where you last saw them?" Nutaila asked.
"It's far from here. If you want, we can leave now."
"No. We leave tomorrow morning. The cults are hunting us now." Raven agreed.
Early the next morning, Nutaila suddenly felt something. Her head throbbed lightly. Raven opened her eyes and saw her standing tense.
"Hey… are you okay?"
"People," Nutaila said. "I sense people."
She stood up and walked into the street. They moved carefully until they found a van. Raven approached it, noticing the open bonnet. Inside were weapons and bags.
She opened one of the bags—and froze A teddy bear.
She searched further and found Scarlet's swords. A smile spread across her face.
"Hey, Nutaila. Get over here."
Nutaila stepped closer. Raven handed her one of Scarlet's swords.
Nutaila froze. Two long samurai blades. Real steel. Marked with the silver wolf—just like hers. She searched through the gear and found the wooden knife. Her smile trembled.
"It's her," she whispered. "My sister."
"Looks like we found her," Raven said. "The bad news is—they've been taken by those bastards."
Nutaila's eyes darkened, filling with the same shadow that once lived in Milan's gaze.
She gripped her sister's swords tightly.
"Then we go back for them," she said, her voice burning with fury.