"Your husband told me to say this to you, ma'am. March 4th, 2023."
The words immediately caught Mrs. Chester's attention. Linzy had just used the emergency code she and her husband had reserved for the direst situations.
"The only reason he would tell you to use that code is if he knew he wouldn't survive. Is he... gone?" Her voice wavered as she turned back, dreading the answer.
"I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but your husband died yesterday. One of the monsters got to him," Linzy said, taking her phone back from the soldier who had finished searching the watchman's corpse.
After witnessing so much death in such a short time, recovering belongings from the dead no longer fazed her.
Cynthia, on the other hand, stood frozen, shock clouding her expression despite her effort to maintain composure.
"Timothy and I have been apart for months. His death doesn't hurt as much as you'd think," Mrs. Chester said, her tone tightening. "What I'm more concerned about are your words. You need to come with me."
She signaled her soldiers, who moved to escort the girls.
"Are we under arrest?" Cynthia's voice cracked in alarm.
"Yes," Mrs. Chester confirmed, already stepping outside, her words echoing back to them.
They were led to the main administration block , the building that housed all major offices in the facility.
Because of the ongoing crisis , most of these offices were packed with countless board meetings trying to find solutions for the nation's future. They were so busy they hardly noticed what the doctor was up to.
When Mrs Chester got to her office , she dismissed the soldiers , finally being left alone with the two girls.
" What I am about to show you , must not part your lips under any circumstance, got it ?" she sternly warned them.
At this point , Linzy and Cynthia were just going with the flow of things.
If they had their way , they'd probably choose to be back at the company working the deadlines that Timothy kept dishing out. But since this was not the case , whatever guaranteed survival was pretty much good for them.
" Yes ma'am ," Linzy had turned into the spokesman.
"When you get in , shut up and don't even try to greet anyone. Once the meeting is done , you will be coming with me for further discussions ," Mrs Chester finalised and opened the door.
The office was spacious, its polished wooden floors gleaming beneath the soft glow of the overhead lights.
A thick, woolen carpet in muted earth tones lay at the center, adding warmth to the room. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along one wall, allowing the silvery light of the night to filter in, casting a gentle glow over the pristine white cupboards and the two-tiered bookshelf stacked with leather-bound tomes and ancient texts.
A crowd of figures, all clad in the matching white jackets that exuded an unsettling, cult-like uniformity, moved with careful precision.
They shifted the large office desk to the far corner, making way for the spectacle that was about to unfold at the room's heart.
Potted plants hugged the walls, their leaves brushing against the gathering like silent witnesses.
Naaman, a familiar figure amidst the crowd, raised a hand in greeting when Linzy and Cynthia entered, flanked by Mrs. Chester.
"Do you know him?" Mrs. Chester asked Linzy under her breath, eyes narrowed.
"We met at the gate. He helped us push past the mob."
"Good. Stay close to him and don't move until I'm done," Mrs. Chester ordered, her voice steady as steel.
Linzy nodded, gripping Cynthia's hand as they made their way to Naaman.
"Won't we miss the pilot?" Cynthia's voice quivered with unease.
"Maybe, but it's safer here. We'll ask Mrs. Chester to help find Jack afterward," Linzy whispered, already formulating a backup plan.
Cynthia's lips thinned with frustration.
She'd hoped Linzy's reckless mission was over and they could now start think of going back. Turns out Linzy still had other ideas. The sight of Naaman, however, brought a flicker of relief, an anchor in the storm.
"Good to see you both again. Did the crowd outside give you any trouble after we parted?" Naaman's smile was directed at Linzy, though Cynthia's face brightened at the distraction.
"We owe you for that," Linzy replied, her smile tight but sincere.
"The jackets were supposed to help keep you unnoticed but also help keep warm in this chill," Naaman said, smiling.
"Thank you," Cynthia chimed in, her voice measured. "What is this organization? I've never heard of you. Do you do overseas charity or something?"
Naaman hesitated. "It's... complicated. Mrs. Chester will explain everything. Listen closely to what she says."
A sharp double clap from Mrs. Chester silenced the room, drawing every eye to the wooden box now resting at the center.
"Friends," Mrs. Chester began, her voice clear and resonant, "or as the world has branded us—Heretics—I thank you for coming. Your presence here, despite the chaos outside, proves your dedication to humanity's true cause."
A wave of applause swept through the room. She allowed it, then raised her hands. "But let's not alert the floors below; my funds didn't extend to bribing them," she quipped, a fleeting smile breaking the tension before she continued.
"Some of you know what this box contains. For those who don't, let me reveal the truth. They tell us that mages are born gifted, blessed with elemental power. But this"—she gestured to the box—"this will challenge that lie."
Anticipation crackled through the crowd.
Two figures, Lucas and Linda, stepped forward and carefully lifted the lid. Inside, a blue crystalline shard hovered, suspended mid-air, fractured by fault lines that crisscrossed its glowing surface.
Despite floating, it seemed to exert its weight heavily on the box, straining those who had carried it.
"This shard," Mrs. Chester continued, "is an artifact of a war older than history, lost in a fight between giants from another world. Legend holds that when these beings fell, their shattered bodies birthed the powers of the first mages. The government denies this, but we have the proof. The same elemental properties found in the genetic markers present in bloodlines of mages trace back to this very shard. In fact, the shard holds the potential of an entire nation's worth of mages."
The room buzzed, stunned murmurs weaving through the crowd.
Cynthia's pulse quickened as the word Heretics echoed in her mind. These were the very people the government sought to crush, hunted relentlessly since the crisis began. To be among them was tantamount to breaking the law.
Mrs. Chester pressed on. "The monsters that besiege us seek this shard. If we can harness it, study it, we can forge a new generation of mages, stronger than ever, to end this war. Let this moment bind us as one. Let us show the world their folly in dismissing us, and prove that it's us—Heretics—who have always had humanity's best interest at heart."
Suddenly, a slow, deliberate clap cut through the applause.
The crowd parted as Naaman stepped forward, eyes unreadable.
"Naaman, what are you doing?" Mrs. Chester's voice tightened with apprehension.
He approached the shard, its glow intensifying as if reacting to his presence.
His gaze locked onto it, and with a calm that chilled the room, he spoke. "When Heretics claim this is stolen power, they are so right."