Alaric stormed into his mansion, his coat trailing behind him like a shadow of his growing frustration. The grandeur of the Knight mansion felt suffocating, its towering walls and ornate furnishings offering little solace against the storm raging in his mind. He headed straight to his study, where a collection of documents, reports, and maps lay scattered across the large mahogany desk—a chaotic reflection of his racing thoughts.
Slamming the door shut behind him, Alaric moved to the desk and began sifting through the pile of information he had gathered over the last few weeks. Each report was a grim reminder of the mounting crisis. The nightcrawler attacks had been escalating at an alarming rate, spreading like wildfire across the outskirts of the city. No pattern seemed consistent, no singular motive discernible, and it maddened him. He needed answers, and he needed them fast.
