Chapter 168: A City Divided

Two nights later, screams tore through the smoky haze rising over the south end of Tenebrous. Flames burned along the gutters, casting devilish shadows on broken pavement. Sirens howled feverishly like banshees, weaving through the growing chorus of panic. Somewhere nearby, a building crumbled, its walls shattering like glass under the weight of some unseen force.

It had finally begun, just after dusk.

The shapeshifters, hidden under the chaos of a supposed gang war, struck in multiple coordinated waves across the lower district of the city. A single howl in the distance was the only warning before they swarmed–half-men, half-beasts, ripping through storefronts, dragging screaming civilians from parked cars, and overturning market stalls with wicked delight. They were not just aimless monsters on a meaningless rampage, they were tactical, and armed with both claws and orders.

News channels scrambled to keep up, and civilian footages leaked onto social media faster than even the police could respond. One clip showed a massive bear-like man smashing through a pharmacy window, and another captured a pair of fanged twins shifting mid-run before leaping onto a rooftop, and disappearing into the dark.

By midnight, the entire city was in a full-scale crisis.

The mayor of Tenebrous, Buzz Hendricks, appeared on a hastily organized broadcast, with a pale face and trembling voice. “We are working closely with law enforcement and federal agencies to understand the nature of these sudden and strange attacks,” he said, avoiding the use of the word “supernatural” like it was cursed. “The situation is under control, and we urge everyone not to panic. Please remain indoors and await further instruction.”

But no one believed him.

The human inhabitants of the city were already gathering outside the city hall, banging on the doors and demanding answers. Protesters clashed with riot police, and conspiracy theorists flooded the airwaves. Supernatural presence, once nothing but whispered rumors and heavily mythologized, was now unmistakably real and tearing through the city.

And detective Marlboro had no choice but to face the truth.

At the Ravenswood estate, protective magic was being set up hastily all over the grounds, glowing like liquid silver above the sky. Jessica stood at the edge of the courtyard, her palms raised, mouth chanting ancient words that rolled through the air like a low thunder. The spell she cast had grown larger than she anticipated–complex and draining her heavily, but it was holding.

“We have got at least three more breaches in the outer wards,” she reported, her voice clearly rough with fatigue as Avery approached with a bottle of water and a worried frown.

“You need to rest,” Avery said firmly. “You have been up for hours- ”

“If I stop now, they will break through,” Jessica muttered, gulping down water but never looking away from the magical shield. “Maverick and Elara are clearly not playing around. They want this city burned, and we are clearly first on their list.”

Avery looked behind her. The staff had mostly been evacuated from the property already–those who were human, anyway. Only the supernatural personnel remained, pack fighters and guards, all on high alert. Simon stood near the back gardens, communicating with security teams over the estate’s encrypted line. Even the gardeners had been replaced by armored guards.

Alex had not slept.

He moved like a ghost through the halls of his estate, constantly deep in thought. He spoke only when necessary, mostly giving quick orders to Simon or checking in with Avery and Rufus. Behind his composed exterior however, something more dangerous was boiling underneath.

Avery had tried talking to him earlier that morning, but he had brushed her off with a quiet, “Not now.” And that “not now” had stretched into hours.

“Is he still in the west wing?” Avery asked as her eyes looked toward the sealed wing of Alex's private home office.

Simon nodded without looking up. “He is on the encrypted line with the High Council. And probably trying his best not to murder someone.”

“I cannot tell if that someone is Maverick or Marlboro at this point,” Rufus muttered, leaning against the wall beside a potted fern. “The man looks like he is ten seconds away from going full beast mode.”

“I would welcome it,” Simon said grimly. “We need a beast at this point, it seems it is the only thing that can stop Maverick and Elara. They have jeopardized the existence of every innocent supernatural creature in this city.”

Down in the inner part of the city, Marlboro was standing in the rubble of what used to be a community shelter. Blood stained the pavement, and a scorched scent hung in the air like burning fur and melting metal.

“Seven confirmed dead,” Officer Dana Park said beside him, flipping through her notes. “Three of them did not register any supernatural DNA, but the other four- ,”

“Werewolves,” Marlboro finished for her, rubbing his face and feeling ten years older than he was yesterday. “Of course.”

Park hesitated, then lowered her voice. “Detective, we managed to trace a few of the attackers–at least the ones that did not vanish before we could ID them. Their bank accounts, and their aliases, there is a common thread.”

Marlboro turned slowly toward her. “Let me guess.”

“Maverick Stormbringer.”

He did not curse, but it clearly took everything in him not to. Instead, he looked toward the open squad car where an analyst was hunched over a laptop, combing through the same network of connections. His instincts had never failed him, and they were screaming at him again now. Something was wrong with the narrative. Alex Ravenswood, for all his suspicious behavior and supernatural mystery, had been strangely cooperative since his return. Helpful, even.

But Maverick?

Maverick had always been out of sight, out of reach, and always moving quietly like a shadow worming under the city’s skin for the past few years.

And now the skin was breaking open.

At the Ravenswood Industries headquarters, the chaos in the city had taken on a completely different form for those who were on the night shift.

Executives were packing up their desks under the supervision of security, and entire departments of human workers were being quietly ushered into armored cars and relocated to safe houses set up across the city. Alex’s evacuation orders had come swiftly and without debate.

Melora, who was overseeing the night operation, stood near the elevator banks, holding a clipboard and patiently double-checking the names of everyone being evacuated.

“Room for two more in van three,” she called out. “Don’t forget your access badges. Once you are in safe house protocol, you are offline until further notice.”

A human receptionist blinked at her nervously. “Are we in danger, ma'am?”

Melora hesitated, then smiled softly at the young lady. “Not while you are under our protection.”

She watched them go, her own pulse racing behind the calm look on her face. This was the first full scale threat she had ever witnessed, as the most action she ever saw in Serynthia was nothing more than a few intruders and shadow beasts. It was as if the city itself was fracturing.

Simon appeared beside her, eyes scanning the corridor.

“You are holding up well.”

Melora gave him a dry chuckle. “I don’t think I have been able to actually breathe well in two hours.”

“We will get through this.” He said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, then added with a mischievous grin, “Assuming Rufus does not get us all killed first.”

Melora actually smiled at that.

Across the room, Rufus who had arrived with Simon was helping an elderly janitor with her suitcase, managing to crack a joke even as the woman swatted him with a rolled-up newspaper.

“Hey! Easy, grandma, that is a lethal weapon!”

“Then move faster, pretty boy!”

Back at the estate, Alex had finally come out from the private wing office and was standing before the massive windows overlooking the city. Smoke still rose thickly in the distance. The skyline that was usually sleek and luminous now looked like a battlefield, and he felt he could have done more to put an end to the chaos.

He did not move when Avery entered.

“You should sit down,” she said softly.

“I can’t,” Alex replied, in a cold and bitter voice. “Maverick’s message is very loud and clear. He wants the entire city destabilized. He has finally chosen to resort to complete chaos to achieve his selfish purposes.”

Avery stepped beside him. “And what about Marlboro? Will he pin this on us too and come after you?”

Alex sighed sadly. “He does not trust me. And after this week, he might actually have a very good reason not to, not with what is happening now.”

“You did not cause this.” Avery said, trying to cheer him up.

“No,” Alex replied with a distant look in his eyes. “But I knew it was coming. And I thought I had more time to put an end to it.”

Avery reached for his hand. “What can I do to ease this burden you carry?”

He looked at her softly, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Just stay alive for me, princess.” Avery enveloped him in a warm hug.

Detective Marlboro sat alone in his office later in the early hours of the next morning when the heat had died down a little. Files lay open before him–attack reports, victim lists, bank ledgers with red circles around Maverick’s offshore accounts.

His phone vibrated with a message.

He looked at it. Anonymous tip:

“Check the Arcadia Club, third floor vault. Evidence hidden there connects Stormbringer to the shapeshifter attacks. Burn this message after reading.”

He stared at it for a moment, then stood and grabbed his coat. The city was no longer

a playground of myths.

It was a war zone.

And he had just picked a side.