Cain stood at the station, the low hum of the maglev trains fading into the distance. The air here was crisp and sterile, heavy with the faint tang of charged particles. Above him, neon-blue lights flickered rhythmically, casting sharp shadows on the polished black floor. He adjusted the collar of his coat, his bionic eye scanning the immediate area for threats—an old habit he couldn’t shake, even in a controlled environment.

  Cain blinked twice, dismissing the feed for a moment as the sound of approaching engines reached his ears.

  A sleek, obsidian-colored vehicle emerged from the air traffic lanes above, descending smoothly onto the platform. Its design was distinct—curves and sharp angles melding together, a reflection of the opulence and creativity Synara was known for. The doors opened with a soft hiss, revealing a driver in a fitted uniform, their expression professionally neutral.

  ?Sir Cain,? the driver greeted with a slight bow. ?Lady Synara sends her regards. Please, step inside.?

  Cain hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. He didn’t like being summoned like a mere courier, but the circumstances left him no choice. He stepped into the vehicle, the interior even more lavish than the exterior—a blend of dark leather, polished wood, and ambient lighting that seemed designed to relax and intimidate in equal measure.

  As the door closed behind him, the hum of the station faded into silence. Cain leaned back into the seat, his posture stiff despite the comfort.

  ?Expected arrival in twenty minutes,? the driver announced from the front, though they didn’t turn around.

  Cain stared out the window as the vehicle ascended into the sky lanes, weaving effortlessly through the organized chaos of Eden’s aerial traffic. His mind churned, replaying Elohan’s words. Synara had her own agenda. She was dangerous. And Cain couldn’t afford to trust her.

  Yet, a small part of him was curious. Synara was unlike the other Ascended he had encountered—her methods and motivations shrouded in mystery. If anyone could match Elohan in cunning, it was her. The thought made his jaw tighten. He would need to be careful.

  His bionic eye flickered with an incoming notification. A call from Elohan’s secretary, Lyra.

  He tapped a control on his wrist. ?What is it, Lyra??

  Her voice came through crisp and efficient, tinged with a hint of tension. ?Cain, I thought you should know. There have been… irregularities in Synara’s domain. Reports of Godhunter activity. Unusually well-coordinated, especially for that area.?

  Cain’s brow furrowed. ?Her district is supposed to be peaceful. They’ve never had a strong presence there.?

  ?Exactly. Which is why this is strange,? Lyra continued. ?We’ve intercepted some chatter suggesting they’re targeting specific supply lines—routes that aren’t publicly known. Someone’s feeding them information from inside her domain.?

  Cain’s jaw tightened. ?Are you implying Synara’s compromised??

  ?Not necessarily,? Lyra replied, her tone cautious. ?But it’s worth noting that she hasn’t reported these incidents herself. The intel came from our own sources. Synara’s silence is... concerning.?

  The vehicle’s interior lights dimmed slightly as they passed through an underground tunnel. Cain’s bionic eye scanned the data Lyra transmitted, displaying maps of Synara’s region with several red markers indicating recent attacks.

  ?These aren’t random strikes,? he muttered, mostly to himself. ?They’re systematic.?

  ?Precisely,? Lyra confirmed. ?Elohan wanted you to be aware of this before you meet her. Be careful. If she’s hiding something, she won’t make it easy for you to find out.?

  Cain let out a slow breath, his mind racing with possibilities. Synara’s district was known for its lush beauty and free-spirited governance, but that kind of openness could easily mask deeper secrets.

  ?Noted,? Cain said curtly. ?Anything else??

  There was a brief pause. ?Yes. Cain… Synara’s been pulling resources from her surrounding districts. Quietly. Large quantities of materials—things that don’t align with her usual projects. Elohan doesn’t like it.?

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  ?Let me guess,? Cain said dryly. ?He expects me to figure out what she’s doing while I’m there.?

  Lyra’s voice softened slightly, almost apologetic. ?You know how he operates.?

  Cain huffed a humorless laugh. ?Oh, I know.?

  The call ended, leaving Cain alone with his thoughts as the vehicle emerged from the tunnel, the towering greenery of Synara’s district visible in the distance. His bionic eye flickered again, running predictive analyses on the data Lyra had sent.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The private vehicle glided to a halt in front of Synara’s tower, its sleek curves reflecting the ethereal glow of bioluminescent vines that draped the structure. Cain stepped out, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path leading to the entrance. The air was different here—warmer, fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers and damp earth. It was a stark contrast to Elohan’s cold, metallic domain, and for a moment, Cain felt a strange sense of unease at the natural beauty surrounding him.

  The door slid open, revealing a man waiting for him—a tall, lanky figure with a warm smile and bright eyes that immediately set Cain on edge.

  ?Welcome to Synara’s Tower!? the man greeted, his tone entirely too chipper for Cain’s taste. He wore a loose, flowing uniform in greens and silvers — embroidered with the crest of Synara’s house; a twisting vine encircling a crescent moon—, the colors blending seamlessly with the verdant aesthetic of the tower. ?You must be Cain. Synara’s been expecting you. Name’s Ilian,? the man said, falling into step beside Cain as they moved Inside the tower. ?I’m one of Synara’s advisors. I’ll be showing you to your quarters.?

  Cain gave a curt nod, his gaze fixed ahead. ?Efficient.?

  Ilian chuckled. ?That’s one way to put it. Synara runs a tight ship, but we like to keep things… comfortable around here.? He gestured vaguely at the walls.

  Cain’s gaze flicked to the walls, where faint bioluminescent patterns shimmered beneath the climbing plants. It was a stark contrast to the cold, mechanical precision of Elohan’s tower. ?Different,? he said flatly.

  Ilian grinned, undeterred by Cain’s terse responses. ?You could say that. We like a little life around here—literally. Synara believes in balance: technology and nature, order and freedom. It keeps things… interesting.?

  Cain said nothing, his gaze straight ahead. The faint sound of water trickling somewhere nearby underscored their footsteps. As they walked, a pair of guards passed them, their uniforms more relaxed than those under Elohan’s command. They nodded to Ilian but gave Cain a curious glance.

  ?You’re already turning heads,? Ilian remarked lightly.

  Cain ignored him. ?Does Synara’s belief in balance extend to letting insurgents roam her lands unchecked??

  Ilian’s smile faltered for a split second before returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. ?We’ve heard the rumors about Godhunter activity,? he admitted. ?But you’d have to ask her about that. I’m just the welcoming committee.?

  They reached the lift, its polished doors etched with intricate floral designs. Ilian pressed his palm to a glowing panel, and the doors slid open.

  As they stepped inside, the lift’s interior was as opulent as the rest of the tower—smooth, dark wood panels accented with soft, golden light. The faint hum of machinery was the only sound as they began their ascent.

  ?First time here?? Ilian asked, leaning casually against the wall.

  Cain shot him a sidelong glance. ?Does it matter??

  Ilian grinned. ?Not particularly, but it’s good to know. Helps me figure out how much of the usual tour I need to skip.?

  Cain didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the glowing numbers ticking upward.

  Undeterred, Ilian continued. ?You’re here for business, obviously. But if you get a moment, you should check out the hanging gardens on the seventh terrace. They’re—?

  ?I didn’t come here to sightsee,? Cain interrupted, his tone clipped.

  Ilian held up his hands in mock surrender. ?Alright, alright. Just trying to be hospitable.?

  The lift chimed softly as it reached its destination. The doors slid open, revealing a corridor bathed in warm, golden light. Cain followed Ilian down the hallway, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the lush carpeting.

  ?Here we are,? Ilian said, stopping in front of a set of doors. He pressed his palm against a glowing panel, and the doors slid open to reveal a spacious suite.

  The room was a study in understated luxury, with walls of polished wood and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sprawling greenery of Synara’s domain. A seating area was arranged around a low table, and a door on the far side led to what Cain assumed was the bedroom.

  Ilian stepped inside, gesturing expansively. ?Everything you’ll need is here. Synara’s schedule is packed today, but she’ll see you tomorrow morning. If you need anything in the meantime, just call for me.?

  Cain nodded, stepping past him into the room. He scanned the space, his bionic eye cataloging details out of habit and to detect possible threats.

  Cain turned, his gaze cold and unreadable. ?Anything else??

  Ilian hesitated, then smiled. ?Just one thing. Synara doesn’t usually go out of her way to accommodate guests to that extent. You must’ve made quite the impression.?

  Cain said nothing as the doors slid shut, leaving him alone in the quiet suite. He moved to the windows, staring out at the endless greenery. Despite the tranquil exterior, his mind churned. Synara’s hospitality felt like a game. And Cain didn’t like being a pawn.

  Cain noticed it only a few Moments later—a thin slip of parchment sticking out from beneath the corner of the desk Close to His new bed. The edges were frayed, as though it had been hastily torn from a larger page, and the ink on its surface was smudged in places. He frowned, pulling it free.

  It was a letter, written in a hurried, uneven hand. His bionetic eye scanned the text, highlighting the most legible portions as he read.

  ?...spreading quickly through the ranks... whispers that ‘The Red Hood’ is now with the Godhunters. Some claim she’s dangerous, others dismiss her as a myth. Either way, her presence stirs unrest. We must tread carefully…?

  Cain’s jaw tightened. The Red Hood.

  His fingers curled around the edge of the paper, the faint sound of crinkling breaking the room's stillness. He felt a sharp, stabbing pain in the fresh scar across his throat, as if the wound were mocking him, a reminder of his failure. His breath hitched, and his hand instinctively went to the base of his neck.

  Frustration surged like a wave, hot and suffocating. He clenched his teeth, willing himself to stay composed, but the memory of that night came rushing back. That fleeting moment of vulnerability. That accursed blade. And her—the woman in the red hood—managing to scar him in a way few ever did.

  It wasn’t just his throat that burned now. It was his pride, his ego, his very sense of control. How had she survived? And worse—if she had joined the Godhunters, what did that mean for Elohan’s war?

  Cain exhaled sharply, crumpling the letter in his fist. It was bad enough she had humiliated him once. If the rumors were true, she’d chosen to align herself with the very people he despised.

  This isn’t over.

  Cain set the crumpled letter on the desk, his mind racing. Every instinct screamed at him to act, to hunt her down before the Godhunters gained a valuable weapon. But he needed to tread carefully. Synara’s domain was a puzzle yet to be solved, and the last thing he could afford was to lose focus.

  Still, as he looked out the window, the cityscape sprawling beneath him, one thought lingered:

  ?Oh little red…I’ll finish what we started.?