The Endless Balance of an Ancient Sorrow Volume 1 GC Chapter 5 The Word that broke

 Copyright © 2025 by Ryan Melrose 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the author. 

This is a work of fiction. 
All names, characters, places, organizations, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, real-world locations, corporations, or institutions is entirely coincidental. If you genuinely believe any character in this book is secretly based on you, you might be reading a bit too deep—or just hunting for a payout. Either way, this story isn’t about you. Maybe talk to someone about that. 

This is the first publication, written and illustrated by Ryan Melrose, and published in Australia. 

The Endless Balance of an Ancient Sorrow Gavern Codex (GC) Volume 1 

 

CHAPTER 5 

The Word that Failed 

Silus stalked the blood-slick corridors of Palladium Academy like a storm with a pulse, his shoes echoing over the chaos he’d left in his wake. Security guards who’d tried to stop him now lay sprawled or slumped—each one a victim of his Binding Word, forced to end themselves before they could lift a finger. 

His voice rang through the hallways, calm but laced with venom. 

"Oh Headmaster! Come on out, Mr Hugo Transyn. Don’t be shy! I’ve got all day—and you're the last one standing." 

His eyes flicked up at a security camera. He smiled. 

In the control office above, Hugo Transyn watched in stony silence, fingers steepled as Silus taunted his image. 

“Foolish,” he muttered. “I almost pity him.” 

“Sir,” one of his personal guards said, tension cutting through his voice, “we need to evacuate. Let’s get you out of here—now.” 

Hugo didn’t budge. 

“And miss the chance to make an example of this little anarchist?” 

He stood smoothly, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored jacket. 

“They’ll send FATE. No doubt about it.” 

With one press of a concealed switch, a silent signal was sent. 

A failsafe. 

A summoning. 

If protocol held, Agent-EYE himself would be deployed. 

Meanwhile Silus stood over the guards bodies admiring his handy work a slight noise is heard from behind him, Silus turned sharply, sensing a presence that wasn’t cowering or fleeing. 

A girl stood down the hall, partially cloaked in flickering emergency light. Alone. Composed. Watching him. 

"Who have we here?" he said with a crooked grin. "Don’t be shy."

She stepped forward. 

Millana. 

Lost in the chaos, separated from Frank. She had followed him into the halls of Palladium, but now she stood face-to-face with its nightmare. 

Silus raised a hand. "Come to me now." 

Millana didn’t move. 

His smile slipped. 

"Obey me!" he barked. 

Nothing. 

His eyes twitched. 

"What—why won’t you obey?!" 

In the breath of that confusion, Millana dove toward a fallen guard, reaching for his firearm. 

But Silus was quicker—he snatched another guard’s weapon from the floor and fired. The bullet cracked the wall inches from her shoulder. 

Missed. 

She ran. 

Adrenaline surged through her. A psycho with a machine gun, shouting magic words that made people die—and yet... they hadn’t worked on her. 

“Why not me? What’s different?” she thought, heartbeat drumming in her ears. 

She burst into an empty classroom and dove behind the teacher’s desk. The classroom was silent, eerily so, save for the clicking of boots against tile. Silus had followed. 

"Come on out, girl," he crooned, voice oozing mock kindness. "It’ll be easier for you than most." 

Footsteps crept closer. 

Millana scanned the desk. 

Two chalkboard erasers. 

A snow globe. 

She grabbed the erasers and crouched low, eyeing the snow globe. Through its curved reflection, she could just make out Silus—searching, prowling, eyes scanning above where she hid. 

Closer. 

Almost on top of her. 

He turned, just slightly. 

Millana sprang up. "Hey, psycho!" 

Silus turned right into a blast of chalk dust. Blinded, coughing. 

THWACK. Her fist slammed into his jaw. 

He stumbled backwards onto the ground, stunned. 

Millana ran. 

Behind her, Silus’s howl echoed down the corridor. 

"You clever little sneak! You’ll pay for that!" 

The chase wasn’t over as he followed after her. 

 

2 

The morning sun lit up Fraid City like nothing was wrong. The streets buzzed with routine: uniforms, briefcases, schoolbags. But inside the headquarters of FATE, the air pulsed with urgency. 

Dozens of armored operatives stormed through the launch bay, strapping on exo-suits, loading advanced rifles, clipping riot gear to their backs. They moved like a hyper-trained swarm—an elite SWAT division with tech so polished it hardly looked human anymore. 

Amid the storm, two figures cut straight through the chaos. 

One, unmistakable—white helmet with red visor lenses, green battle armor trimmed with a darker cape, twin advanced blasters secured at his hips. The city called him Agent-EYE. 

Beside him, Director Valerie Salesta walked with a different kind of power. Athletic, composed, carrying a cold, methodical smirk that could make grown agents blink twice. Her red hair fell in a straight, gleaming curtain behind her. And yes—her figure turned heads. She knew it. Used it. And never once let it define her.  

Agent-EYE glanced sideways. “Valerie, you're really sending a strike team over some kid?” 

“Yes, I am, EYE, and if you'd actually reviewed the footage, you'd know this isn’t just some kid,” she said, handing him a tablet. 

On it, the security feed played. Guards collapsing. Hands turning on themselves. Silus walking through the halls like death in sneakers. 

“Why are our operatives killing themselves?” Agent-EYE asked, eyes tracking the footage. 

“It’s not them,” she said flatly. “It’s him. Every time he speaks, they drop. Like some kind of supernatural mind-control. That’s why we’re deploying the strike team.” 

She looked at him dead-on. 

“And I want you to handle it personally.” 

Agent-EYE nodded. “Yes, Director.” 

“And after that, I want you back on that mystical vigilante case. Is that in any way unclear to you?” 

He raised a brow behind the visor. “No problem.”   

Agent-EYE walked the gleaming corridors of FATE Headquarters, the clamor of mobilization fading behind him. Past the command deck. Down a side wing rarely used during emergencies. One door slid open with a near-silent hiss. 

The restroom—at least, that’s what it looked like. Hard to tell anymore. Technology in this place made everything feel clinical and alien. Could’ve been a cryochamber just as easily as a lavatory. 

He stepped toward the mirror. 

With a soft click, he removed the white helmet. 

And there he was. Vincent Crade. 

What was left of him. 

His face, once sharp and full of youth, now twisted by seared flesh and tissue warped by flame. Both eyes replaced with cybernetic implants that pulsed faint red light, even without the helmet—glowing remnants of the man the fire had tried to erase. 

He stared at himself. Silent. 

Every mission, he came here. A ritual. Not for nostalgia. 

For clarity. 

He saw the reflection—not to remember who he was... 

…but to remind himself who he couldn’t be anymore. 

The green leather jacket. The cocky smile. Brown spiked hair and top-of-the-class precision. Back then, he was just Vincent—one of the best operatives Palladium Academy ever produced. FATE recruited him early. Trusted him fast. 

Then came the building. The explosion. 

And Agent-EYE was born. 

He locked the helmet back in place with a hiss. 

Compassion off. 

Mercy sealed. 

Duty on. 

He turned—and paused. 

Someone stood just inside the door. Wide-eyed, awkward. Clutching a rifle like it might vibrate out of his hands. 

Jace Williams. Rookie. Probationary FATE operative. 

Fanboy. 

“Sorry, sir,” Jace said quickly. “Didn’t mean to... just... they said you’d be mobilizing, and I—” he trailed off. 

Agent-EYE didn’t move. 

Didn’t blink. 

Didn’t speak. 

Just walked past the kid like smoke through a wall. 

The rookie watched him go, breath catching. 

He’d seen the red lights inside the helmet. 

And now he understood why no one ever called Agent-EYE by his real name. Not that anyone but Valerie knew the name Vincent Crade. 

Agent-EYE stood at the threshold of the corridor, helmet locked back in place, red optics glowing steady. Behind him, the young rookie still lingered like a puppy waiting for permission. 

"Coming along, Rookie?" 

Jace Williams stepped forward, half-salute, half-nervous reflex. “Actually, sir… we were just called back. Director Valerie didn’t want to risk probational agents in the assault on Palladium.” 

Eye paused. 

“Reassigned, then?” 

“Yes, sir. Suicides. A whole string of them. Happened overnight.” 

EYE turned slightly. “Then why is FATE involved?” 

Williams didn’t miss a beat. “Because every victim had direct ties to The McGullen Corporation. That’s not random. We’re trained to spot patterns—one or two, sure, could be coincidence. But this many?” 

EYE said nothing. 

Williams went on. “One guy drove his car into a wall. Gas tank ruptured—boom. One of the main shareholders jumped from her high-rise apartment. The corporation CEO or was he the chairman? Anyway that guy… got crushed in a garbage truck. Whole board’s been wiped. Suicide, officially.” 

A low hum crackled behind Agent-EYE’s visor. “Interesting.” 

He looked up. “Williams—doesn’t the Headmaster of Palladium sit on that board?” 

Jace blinked. “Uh… yes, sir. Hugo Transyn. Last surviving member.” 

EYE nodded, barely. “Alright. Get on it. You report to me directly. I want eyes on everything. This connects to the academy siege. I want to know how.” 

Jace straightened. “Yes, sir! Thank you for the opportunity!” 

He rushed off like a bullet with a badge. 

Agent-EYE turned and moved with purpose toward the air pad. 

Within seconds he was aboard the FATE chopper, sliding into the seat like a loaded weapon waiting to be fired. 

“Get us to the academy—pronto.” 

The chopper roared to life, engines howling against the bright morning sky as it peeled into the air. 

Fraid City’s mask of calm was about to crack wide open. 

 

3 

Hugo Transyn sat comfortably in his panic room, unbothered by the carnage above. He sipped tea with one hand, flipping between camera feeds with the other, his expression locked in that trademark smug detachment. 

Guards were dying. Silus’s Binding Word continued to turn men into marionettes—snapping triggers, slashing throats, falling like dominoes. 

And now, the boy was chasing a student—Millana. Smart girl. Resourceful. More importantly: immune. Somehow, unbelievably, she resisted the Word. That alone made her valuable. 

“Oh yes,” Hugo mused aloud, swirling the tea. “FATE will watch her career with great interest… if she lives.” 

Another monitor blinked. Another student on the move. 

Hugo leaned closer. 

Carol. Of course it was Carol. The academy’s queen bee. Smug, adored, always holding court in the quad like it was her royal dominion. 

And now? Ignoring every protocol. Wandering out of lockdown like it was a fashion show. 

“Oh, Carol,” Hugo smirked. “Let’s see how well that popularity holds up under pressure.” 

His gaze returned to Silus just as a new camera caught a clearer angle of the boy’s face. Recognition flared. 

The name, the files, the parents. 

Crushed by scaffolding held by a faulty McGullen Krane. 

The very accident Hugo signed off on. 

“I see,” he said softly, setting his tea down with a faint clink. “So that’s what this is about.” 

He tapped his earpiece. 

“Hamlet.” 

“Yes, Headmaster?” 

“Send everyone in. Controlled spread. Keep your distance and shoot to kill if you must—but none of the students die. A PR disaster is the last thing I need right now.” 

“Yes, sir.” Hamlet peeled away, barking orders into the comms as guards mobilized. 

Hugo leaned back, flicking between feeds. Methodical. Cold. 

Then… movement. 

Not Silus. Not a student. 

Something else. 

A figure with grey-blue skin. A pointed hat. A high, collared maroon cape. Twin ancient looking books attached to each shoulder like arcane armor. 

Hugo’s eyes narrowed. 

The vigilante. 

The one who'd been interfering with FATE operations. Elusive. Untraceable. Dangerous. 

Hugo’s smirk deepened. 

“Oh my… he’s here too the so-called vigilante everyone is so nervous about.” 

He stood, tea forgotten, arms extended slightly as if the theater of it all demanded applause. 

“What a delicious little exercise. the foolish boy will fall, and I’ll take credit for catching the vigilante.” 

He laughed. 

And laughed. 

“If we lose a student or two in the process... well—that’s show business I’d be known as a hero having caught the vigilante.” 

 

4 

Frank Gavern—known now across Fraid City only as Sorrow—moved through the shattered halls of Palladium Academy like a shadow with purpose. The grey blue of his skin shimmered faintly in the morning light leaking through broken windows. The twin spellbooks affixed to each shoulder pulsed with runic flickers, alive with ancient energy. 

He knew exactly where Silus was. 

But that wasn’t his priority. 

Not yet. 

The students came first. 

The sealed auditorium doors loomed ahead. Two guards turned as he approached, snapping into position. 

“Freeze, Vigilante. Not another step!” 

They opened fire. 

The spellbooks blazed golden. A barrier glyph unfolded mid-air, absorbing every bullet like mist hitting glass. With a flick of his hand, Sorrow summoned another incantation—the books flashed again, and a fine yellow dust burst toward the guards. They dropped to the floor, fast asleep. 

He stepped through the sealed doors, teleporting inside. 

Gasps broke out among the gathered students. Some shrank back. Others leaned forward in awe. 

“That’s him…” one whispered. 

“Let’s get him!” another student blurted. “We’ll be rewarded for catching the him!” 

“Are you nuts?” someone hissed. “Stay quiet!” 

Frank raised a calming hand. 

“Don’t be afraid. This will all be over soon. I’m going to teleport you to safety.” 

“Wait!” a voice called. 

Tellai. 

“Millana’s still out there. I think she followed that detective—Frank Gavern—they’re both out there!” 

Another student chimed in, panicked. “And Carol! Carol’s still out there too!” 

Frank’s voice stayed steady. “Alright. No one panic. I’ll find them. I promise.” 

He looked to the books. 

They pulsed in unison. 

A yellow glow shimmered around every student in the auditorium—and in a blink, they were gone. Teleported safely to the school's evacuation zone, right outside on the oval. 

Silence fell. 

Only Sorrow remained, the weight of the moment settling across his shoulders. 

And now—the real work begins. 

Sorrow reappeared in a flash of gold-tinted light. Another hallway. Another stretch of battle-scarred campus. Silus was near. He could feel the tension in the air like static, pressing behind the walls. 

But before he could move again— 

“Ohh, I just knew you’d be here, Mr. Vigilante,” came a silky voice from around the corner. 

Carol. 

She strut into view like the chaos didn’t exist, voice dripping with triumph. “Right in Millana’s face, too. I knew I’d find you first. Won’t you come with me as proof? We can take a selfie later.” 

Frank stared, blank. “Young lady… this school is under siege. Do you even know how dangerous it is in here?” 

“Oh, pish-posh,” Carol waved, twirling a lock of her perfect hair. “The guards can handle some lowlife freak. Come on, be a sweet vigilante. Just come with me—I really want to rub this in Millana’s face.” 

Frank’s jaw twitched beneath the grey blue skin concealing his Identity. “I suggest you leave. The energy here is thick with death. There’s a killer loose. The others have been evacuated. Go—before things get heated.” 

Carol smirked, striking a pose that leaned just far enough to demand attention. 

“Things get heated, sir? I am the fire around here.” 

She winked. “Come on… you know you’d rather come with me. Pretty please? Hunky vigilante?” 

Frank blinked. Once. Twice. 

"Are you kidding me right now?" he said flatly. “This is not the time for whatever this is. There’s a supernatural killer roaming the halls and you’re—flirting?” 

Carol pouted. “So you don’t want to accompany little ol’ me?” 

Frank exhaled sharply through his nose. 

“That’s it.” 

With a snap of his fingers, the books on his shoulders flickered. In an instant, Carol vanished from the hallway—in mid-pose. 

She reappeared on the evacuation oval, still draped in the exact same seductive lean… only now surrounded by dozens of students and teachers. 

Every teenage boy within sight turned. 

Carol blinked. 

Her face turned beet red as the ogling silence set in. 

“DON’T look at me like that! This wasn’t for you!” 

She stormed off toward the crowd, arms flailing. 

Back inside, Sorrow moved on—still not sure whether she was more of a hazard than the actual threat. 

5

Across Fraid City, probational FATE agents were everywhere—one per site, moving in silence, gloves on, no detail left unchecked. Every “suicide” scene marked. All bodies tagged. Forensics scanned. Photos taken. Analysis relayed.

And behind it all: Peter 9000, FATE’s interactive supercomputer,crunching data from all angles. This wasn’t just crime-scene protocol. This was a city-wide extraction of truth, all happening in real time. Jace Williams was glued to his datapad, pacing inside a mobile command van parked near Fraid’s East Bank. He was pulling every feed he could, eager to be the first to break something big for Agent-EYE. He leaned toward the terminal. “Excuse me, Peter?” “Acknowledged, Jace.” “The victims—every single one was a board member of McGullen Corporation. What do we know about them?” The AI replied in its calm, neutral cadence. “McGullen Corporation is one of Australia’s largest private empires. Founded and expanded within Fraid City. Assets include: construction, real estate, insurance, entertainment, software development, and public infrastructure.” Jace blinked. “Whoa. That’s a lot of pies.” “Correct. It is a fully vertically integrated enterprise. A real corporate monster.” “Alright... Peter, cross-reference the victims. What do they all have in common? Any overlapping scandals, bad press—something someone might want silenced?” “Working...” The screen shifted. Names. Dossiers. Digital paper trails. “All victims show links to—intentional regulatory negligence, denied insurance claims, falsified safety reports, and off-record corporate lobbying.” Jace frowned. “Corner-cutters. Greedy executives sweeping bodies under ledgers... figures.” “Would you like me to identify the attacker at Palladium Academy?” “Can you do that?” “Running facial recognition... cross-referencing city surveillance...” The screen pulsed once more. “Match found: Silus Mikana. Born Fraid City. Parents—Harmon and Arlia Mikana. Both deceased. Killed in a scaffolding collapse during a McGullen construction project. Incident occurred when Silus was four years old.” Jace’s throat tightened. “He watched it happen, didn’t he?” “Confirmed. He was present. Survivors reported him screaming for hours before responders arrived.” Jace ran a hand through his hair. “What else?” “Between the ages of 12 and 15, Silus was recorded trespassing on McGullen HQ property twenty-seven times. He reportedly made verbal threats against board members, accusing the company of breaching their promise to support victim families.” “...And the killings?” “Confirmed. Silus is visible on city surveillance in multiple crime zones. All footage shows him at the scenes within minutes of death. Two feeds show him verbally speaking before victims commit acts of self-harm.” “Binding Word,” Jace whispered. Then he snapped. “But Hugo Transyn is one of us! A FATE Director like Valerie! He runs recruitment—he trained me at Palladium!” Peter’s voice didn’t flinch. “Acknowledged. Connecting further data...” A pause. Then the blow. “Hugo Transyn is also listed as current Chairman of the McGullen Corporation Board.” Jace froze. Everything dropped out of focus. Memory hit—Hugo at the podium. Hugo teaching leadership strategy. Hugo shaking his hand at graduation. Hugo approving his transfer to investigative clearance. A FATE agent. A business mogul. A mass-murderer by negligence. The man who signed off on the insurance policies that left families in ruin. The man who decided behind closed doors who lived and who was swept under ledger entries. The man who made Silus. The man still protected. Jace’s knuckles whitened on the desk. Peter’s voice returned, calm and clinical. “Additionally, Jace. Public speculation has long assumed that Nathaniel Hoddinger was the head of McGullen Corporation.” Jace frowned. “He wasn’t?” “Incorrect. Nathaniel Hoddinger served solely as the public face of McGullen. He attended press events, delivered scripted statements, and handled media relations. However, all policy decisions, financial directives, and executive signatures originated from Hugo Transyn.” Jace’s eyes narrowed. “So Hugo spoke through Nathaniel.” “Precisely. Hugo Transyn has been the true owner and acting chairman of McGullen Corporation ever since he purchased majority control from Alfred McGullen nearly two decades ago—at a time when the company was failing to launch. He renamed departments, reshaped policy, and constructed its current multi-industry empire.” Jace felt something twist in his stomach. “So everything—every scandal, every denied claim, every death—it all leads back to him.” “Confirmed.” He swallowed. The weight of it hit like concrete. “Peter, patch me through to Agent-EYE immediately.” 6 Millana had lost him—for now. The chalk dust had bought her a breath of space, just enough to vanish into the wreckage-stained halls. She'd found a fallen guard, sprawled beside the door to the Science Department. The M249 SAW at his side—lightweight, belt-fed, standard issue for Palladium's trained personnel—still had a full magazine. She didn’t want to touch it. Didn’t want to even look at it. But her hands moved anyway, fingers curling around the grip like the instructors at Palladium Academy had drilled into her. It wasn’t just math and language here. It was strategy. Tactics. Killing as a core subject. Still, Millana wasn’t a killer. She knew how to use the weapon. Could clean it blindfolded. Could fire it from a kneeling stance, standing, prone. Could clear a malfunction and reload under pressure. But firing it at a person? Even a psycho like Silus? Her stomach churned. She ducked into one of the labs, dragging a cabinet just far enough from the wall to slip behind it. The floor was cold. Her breathing shallow. M249 pointed toward the door, safety off. Please don’t come in. Please don’t come in. Please... don’t make me do it. The gun felt heavier than it should have. She had the training. The instincts. But not the heart for killing. At least, not yet. (I know what you're thinking—assault weapons in an Australian school? Never happen, right? But this is Fraid City. An Independent state hidden in plain sight within Brisbane. Fraid city the city that doesn’t answer to Canberra. Not to tradition, Fraid City answers only to FATE.) Millana whispered the same prayer again. Not for her life—but for her soul. Not to be tested like that. Somewhere down the corridor... “Where are you?!” Silus roared. His voice echoed like a demon looking for blood. “Forget it—you’re not who I want. Just stay out of my way!” She heard him. The rage. The disinterest. He could have found her... and didn’t. Millana stayed frozen in place, ears straining, every breath a gamble. Elsewhere in the academy, Silus gripped his weapon tight, his emotions crashing into one another. He refocused, closing his eyes, tapping into the dark awareness that guided him now. There. The spark behind the steel. “Ahh... Hugo. There you are.” He followed the pull like a hound on a scent trail, turning a corner until— A vault. Industrial steel. Air-tight. Secured by biometric access. Silus scowled. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” he bellowed. “What kind of school is this? Armed guards? Panic bunkers? What’s lesson one—Nazi Warfare 101?!” He slammed a fist into the wall. Still shouting—still fuming—but under it all, a hint of awe. Because somewhere, beneath all that fury, a part of him was almost impressed. Then, realization. Military code of conduct. Military chain of command. If this place really was structured like an army... Then some of the guards might know the code. And the students. Like that girl. The one who resisted. The one who ran. She’d been trained here. Probably scored high. Probably knew the protocols. Silus grinned. “Alright, Hugo... sit tight.” His voice slithered through the hallway like venom. “I’m going to go find that girl—and with her, the code. I’ll be right back, okay?” He walked away with purpose. And suddenly... Millana sneezed. “Nows not the time for me to sneeze I’m hiding here Millana thought to herself weapon ready. 7 Silus stalked the corridors, darkness curling off him like smoke. His presence rolled through the halls like thunder searching for lightning. He was close now. Millana was hiding—he could feel her. "Sorry, girl. Change of plans." His voice bounced off the tile and brick, sounding far too casual. "I wasn’t hoping to involve students, but then again, you had to pick a military-grade academy to enroll in." Millana grimaced, weapon clutched tight, the M249 trembling just slightly in her grip. "I’m betting your little bio-scan works on that vault door. Emergency protocols, right? Designed for kids like you to in an emergency like this one. So come on out... bring your cute little ass over here. I won’t hurt you—I just need the door open so I can kill an asshole who actually deserves it. You can understand that... right?" His voice was getting louder. Closer. She crouched lower. Lips parted. Breath shallow. “You're probably scared. Hell, I scare myself,” he called out mockingly. “Watching me make grown men kill themselves with a word? Yeah... I’d be scared too. But they got in my way. Tried to kill me. I'm just a 15-year-old boy, after all..." Mock sympathy dripped from his every syllable. “Come on. Let me in, I’ll handle Hugo, then I’m gone. You walk away. No blood on your hands.” Millana didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Her finger hovered near the trigger. Then the room flooded with golden light. A figure materialized in front of her. Instinct fired before thought—she squeezed the trigger. Rounds pinged harmlessly off a glowing barrier. “Hey!” the figure barked. “Do you mind not shooting the guy trying to save your life?” Millana lowered the weapon. Recognition hit. “Ugh—it’s you again...” Sorrow. “I didn’t ask for saving, so serves you right!” she snapped, standing quickly, cheeks flushed with adrenaline. “Why aren’t you with the others?” he asked. She hesitated. “Frank. The young detective. I followed him—I thought he needed help. But I lost him. I haven’t seen him since. You... don’t think that kid—” Frank moved fast, voice calm, reassuring without drawing suspicion. “Frank’s safe. I found him. He’s with the rest. All faculty and students are all teleported to safety. Now let’s get you out of here too.” Then came the laughter. Low. Broken. Echoing off every surface. “Aha… ahahahaHA! So you’re the vigilante the one on the news and the papers,” Silus called out from just outside the room. His shadow rippled beneath the door. “Where were you, huh? Where were you when my parents died? Where was justice when they got crushed by those pigs at McGullen? Where were you while I screamed alone in the rubble?” Frank didn’t move. “Now hand her over,” Silus snapped. “Better yet—help me. Help me put that monster Hugo down. Do the world a favor.” Silus stepped into view—eyes blazing, the aura around him crackling with corrupted power. “In fact, I insist... I command you to help me.” Frank squared his shoulders. The golden barrier pulsed once. “Power that weak doesn’t work on me, kid.” His voice dropped like a blade. “You’re done here. Surrender.” “Surrender?” Silus scoffed. “The fun’s just begun.” His voice echoed down the scorched hallway. Then, darker: "Girl—I command you! Shoot the vigilante. You will obey me!” Silence. Nothing. Millana didn’t move an inch. Frank glanced at her. Of course. That’s why the Binding Word had no hold. She'd seen my power before. In the alleyway—when those thugs chased her. She witnessed my spells firsthand. The teleportation. The radiant force of Repent. my magic wasn’t just light—it was living light. And like the sun, it left a trace. That’s the thing with light... it lingers. It sinks into the skin. Just as the body absorbs warmth and vitamin D, her soul had absorbed a glimpse of something pure. Now it shielded her. Temporarily? Maybe. But it was enough for now Frank thought to himself in relief. Silus snarled. “I said... shoot!” Still nothing. “Erghhh—why isn’t this working?! FINE. You, vigilante—kill yourself! Choke on your cape!” Frank didn’t even blink. “Your power’s too weak for that.” His tone didn’t rise. It landed like a sentence. Silus roared and opened fire—his machine gun barking through the lab, bullets tearing across desks, shattering glass, splitting beakers and burners. But not a single shot touched Frank or Millana who quivered behind him. His magical barrier didn’t even waver. His maroon cloak didn’t so much as flutter. Millana flinched. Silus screamed. Then—Frank moved. A single wave of his hand. A storm-front of force exploded outward. Silus was lifted off his feet, slammed against the wall, then dropped like a rag doll. Blood flew from his mouth, caught in the gust, splattering high against the nearby wall in a streak of crimson mist. He couldn’t move. Millana stepped forward, M249 leveled. “Don’t make me shoot you.” Frank said nothing. He stepped toward the blood. Kneeled. Touched it. And the vision hit. Not the future— The past. A flood of memories not his own. Laughter. Warmth. Harmon and Arlia Mikana—Silus’s parents. Loving. Bright. Human. Then screaming. Crushing steel. A four to five-year-old boy alone. Foster homes, misfortunes, colder eyes. The system looking the other way. McGullen executives signing death behind doors. Bullies at school. Promises denied. Threats ignored. And then… a cemetery. A man stood over the grave. Shoulder-length dark hair. Goatee. Sunglasses over cruel eyes. The Entity. Frank’s blood ran cold. “I should’ve known…” This reeked of his work. Always lurking. Always whispering. Always twisting the shattered into weapons. Silus wasn’t born for chaos. He was recruited for it. The vision ended. Millana still stood behind, weapon raised. Frank stood. Calm. Measured. “Stand down, Millana.” His voice was quieter now. Wounded. “He’s no longer a threat.” She hesitated. Then slowly, she lowered the barrel. Frank approached the boy on the ground—Silus barely clinging to consciousness. “I know what happened to you,” he said. “I know what this city did to you.” “I know you’re not entirely to blame.” Silus’s eyes fluttered. Defiant. Exhausted. Frank’s spellbooks flickered. The Repent spell activated. Millana recognized it instantly—the same divine magic that once made street thugs weep into the pavement. Golden light surged over Silus like water under moonlight. “Understand this, Silus.” Frank’s voice carried weight now. “The evil power within you will always be part of you. It’ll whisper. It’ll beg. But it’s not who you are.” “You still have a choice.” He knelt beside him. “The people you killed... some of them, yes, would have been judged. Sooner or later. But they were still people. You ended their lives. That is yours to carry now.” Frank's eyes narrowed beneath the shadows of his hood. “How you carry the Binding Word from here on out... is up to you.” The light faded. Silus’s body went limp. Sleep overtook him—not by spell, but by release. 8 Frank looked to Millana. “I’m off. You can handle it from here.” She blinked. “Wait—what? You can’t just leave me with this! What if he wakes up?!” But it was too late. Sorrow stepped back—and with that same golden shimmer of arcane light, he vanished, cloaked in radiance, gone before she could utter a single swear word. Millana was left alone with the unconscious boy, still gripping her weapon, eyes darting. Then— Footsteps. Dozens. Boots thundered down the corridor. A squad of FATE agents spilled into the lab, armor glinting under flickering fluorescent lights. And at their head—Vincent Crade, known in the shadows as Agent-EYE. Millana recognized him instantly. The sharp posture. The piercing stare. The man who questioned her after the alleyway incident. “Well,” Vincent said, half-grinning under his visor. “Looks like we’re making a habit of meeting like this.” His eyes dropped to Silus—bloodied, bruised, breathing but out cold. “Secure him. He’s not to be harmed.” Agents moved quickly, flanking Silus. But the boy stirred. Groaned. “Erghh… get off me, whatever the hell you guys are—" Then his eyes flashed. He rasped the Words. “Kill yourselves.” Silence. Nothing happened. The agents didn’t even flinch. Vincent crouched, amused. “It’s not you, kid. It’s us.” Silus blinked, confused. “We’re cybernetically enhanced. Whatever that little voice-of-god trick is—it doesn’t work on augmented minds. You might command men, Silus…” Vincent stood slowly, eyes narrowing.

“…but we’re FATE.” 

Clap. Clap. Clap. The sound cut through the tension like a blade. Hugo Transyn stepped out of his panic room flanked by two armed guards, smug as ever. His long blond hair flowed in perfect waves, and that ridiculous purple-and-gold robe didn’t just scream self-importance—it howled it. “Excellent, excellent,” he purred, still clapping. “Well done, Agent-EYE. Well done. Now take this boy away and execute him. That’s a good man.” Vincent didn’t hesitate. “Shut your mouth.” The words hit like a gunshot. The FATE agents froze mid-step. “You’re lucky I don’t let Silus have you.” Vincent stepped forward, voice sharp as steel. “I should end you where you stand. But Director Valerie has other plans.” Hugo’s smirk twitched. “As of now—you’re relieved of your position at Palladium Academy. Your assets are frozen, pending a full investigation into the McGullen Corporation. And you are hereby charged with negligent homicide—among other things.” He turned to his squad. “Men. Arrest this son of a bitch.” Hugo’s smile finally faltered as cuffs clicked around his wrists. Behind the chaos, Silus watched—bruised and silent, a small smirk curling on his bloodied lips. Justice, at last. Vincent gave Millana a glance on his way out. “Stay out of trouble.” That was it. Short, clipped. But there was something in the tone. Respect? Maybe. And then they were gone—Silus and Hugo, both under FATE custody. The danger had passed. But for Millana... the questions had only multiplied. She joined the others at the evacuation site on the school oval. Faculty, students, and FATE operatives moved in tight formation. Orders were being relayed. The academy would be shut down—temporarily—by official FATE decree. Cleanup. Repairs. And eventually, a new headmaster. And there—at the center of it all—stood Frank. Short blond hair. Calm, commanding presence. The youngest graduate in Palladium history. The youngest licensed detective in all of Fraid City. He didn’t look much older than her. He moved through the crowd, giving orders with quiet precision. Reassuring the staff. Guiding the wounded. Focused. And then, just like that—he was gone. Swallowed by the crowd. Later that very night Millana stood alone under the wide-open sky, the moonlight pouring across her room later that night as she lay staring up at it, eyes wide, mind louder than the silence. FATE. Agent-EYE. Sorrow. Frank Gavern. There was something she couldn’t shake. Some familiarity about him. The rooftop. The cadence of his voice. Something just beneath the surface. She didn’t have the answers. But she had something stronger: Determination.