As the grand doors closed behind the elf, a palpable tension lingered in the air. The usual chatter of the ball slowly resumed, but it was clear that the unexpected interruption had left its mark on the evening's proceedings.

The crowd watched in mute fascination.  Petro couldn’t believe it.  He didn’t think this was right, but he couldn’t understand why no one else did anything. The duke wasn’t a bad man.  People often talked about him, and how good he was to his people. Yet no one spoke up. No one said this was wrong.

The days that followed in Millbrook were a welcome respite for Aria and her small band of loyalists. The modest inn on the outskirts of town became their temporary sanctuary, a place where they could finally catch their breath after years of constant flight.

The morning's surprise combat session set the tone for the rest of the day. Haatim and Frieda put Petrillo and Emma through their paces, drilling them on everything from hand-to-hand combat to demon lore. By the time the sun reached its zenith, both young Hunters were exhausted but exhilarated.

As Thomas approached, bowing deeply before Adeline and her friends, the grand doors at the far end of the ballroom suddenly swung open with a resounding creak. A hush fell over the crowd, conversations dying mid-sentence as all eyes turned towards the unexpected interruption.

Six guards walked to the right group.  The first guard grabbed the duke and pulled him away.  The second grabbed his wife.  The third grabbed the Captain of the Guard, and the forth and fifth grabbed the thirteen year old son of the Duke and a nobleman in expensive clothing. All ...

As night enveloped Millbrook, Aria and Kelvin made their way through the narrow, cobblestone streets. The moon cast long shadows, and every rustle of leaves or distant footstep set their nerves on edge. They arrived at the designated meeting place – a dilapidated barn on the outskirts of town.

Petrillo jolted awake, his heart racing. The digital clock on his nightstand read 5:37 AM, its red numbers glowing accusingly in the darkness. He'd been having that dream again – the one where he was running from something he couldn't see, his legs moving in slow motion as if trapped in molasses.

The crowd hushed as an enormous platform was wheeled into the square.  On it stood a tall man in white robes with a thick black mustache and jet black hair.  He stood calm as the platform was wheeled to a stop in front of the crowd.  Behind him on the platform stood a large devic...