The final notes of Zephany Draven's piano performance still lingered in the grand hall as she stepped outside. The crisp night air was a stark contrast to the warmth of the venue, sending a slight shiver down her spine.
She was a striking young girl with long, dark wavy hair and emerald-green eyes. Dressed in an elegant navy-blue gown, she carried herself with grace—the poise expected of someone born into wealth and refinement. By thirteen, she was already a celebrated musical prodigy, admired for her talent and discipline.
She stood near the entrance, her polished shoes tapping lightly against the marble steps as she waited for her car. The soft glow of the streetlights illuminated the pavement, while the distant hum of traffic filled the otherwise quiet night.
Her phone buzzed in her small purse. She quickly pulled it out and answered.
"Zeph," her brother's voice came through, calm but urgent. "Something came up. We'll be a few minutes late. Stay at the entrance and don't go anywhere."
"Alright," she replied, hiding her disappointment. She had been looking forward to returning home for a quiet evening with her family.
As soon as she ended the call, a firm hand suddenly grabbed her wrist.
Before she could react, a man dressed in dark clothing yanked her forcefully to the side. Her breath hitched, and instinct screamed at her to fight back, but his grip was unyielding.
---
A few steps away, Kendrick Montclair exited the same venue, a gold medal hanging from a chain around his neck.
At just thirteen, he had already captured the admiration of many. With his dark hair, blue eyes, and natural charm, girls at his school often swooned over him. But it wasn't just his looks—he was a child prodigy in both academics and sports, a title he carried with pride.
Tonight, he had secured another martial arts championship victory, and his chest swelled with satisfaction.
Grinning, he pulled out his phone and called home.
"Mom! I won again. Heading to Dad's workshop now."
His mother's warm laughter filled his ears. "Congratulations, sweetheart! You can't wait to show off, huh? Can't you at least go home first and let your dad come to you?"
Kendrick flushed. "M-Mom!"
She chuckled at his reaction. "Fine, fine, I won't nag. Just tell your father to come home with you. I'll cook a feast to celebrate."
"Got it!" Kendrick ended the call, still smiling—until his eyes caught something alarming.
A man was dragging a girl away from the entrance. She looked about his age, her elegant dress now crumpled from struggling.
Without hesitation, Kendrick ran forward. "Hey! Let her go!"
The man spun around, his face darkening at the sight of him.
Kendrick braced himself. He had just won a martial arts competition—he could handle this. But before he could make a move, a shadow loomed behind him.
A sharp, precise blow struck the back of his neck.
His vision blurred.
The world tilted.
Then—darkness.
---
The stench of blood and chemicals hung thick in the air.
Kendrick stirred, his head pounding, his limbs heavy as lead. He blinked against the dim lighting, his eyes adjusting to metal walls, flickering bulbs, and the unmistakable smell of rot.
Beside him, Zephany stirred, her breathing uneven. She winced as she tried to move, but her hands were bound.
A voice broke through the eerie silence.
"What do you think of them?" one of their captors asked.
Another man, dressed in a stained lab coat, stepped forward, eyes gleaming with twisted excitement. "Perfect. I just finished two experiments today. Right on time to test this batch."
Zephany's stomach twisted in fear. She tugged against her restraints, but they wouldn't budge.
Kendrick struggled beside her, but it was useless.
A cold chill stung her skin. The needle plunged in.
Kendrick gasped as something sharp pierced his arm. An unbearable pain seared through his veins like fire, his body convulsing as the substance coursed through him.
Their screams filled the air.
Their vision blurred.
Then—nothing.
---
A familiar voice yanked Zephany out of the abyss.
She gasped awake, her body trembling, her vision swimming.
"Zeph!"
Her father, Soren Draven, knelt beside her, his face pale and drawn with worry.
A few feet away, another voice—strong, desperate.
"Ken, can you hear me?"
Patrick Montclair, Kendrick's father, shook him gently, trying to rouse him.
Kendrick groaned, his entire body wracked with pain. "Dad...?"
Their fathers exchanged a look of relief—relief tainted with urgency.
Patrick turned to the two men nearby. "Get them out of here. Make sure they're safe."
Zephany and Kendrick were too weak to protest as the men lifted them and guided them toward the exit.
And that's when they saw it.
Flames engulfed parts of the building, their eerie glow casting long, flickering shadows on the walls. Bodies littered the floor—adults, children. Shattered glass, overturned equipment, and the acrid scent of burnt flesh filled the air.
Zephany's stomach churned. Her vision blurred.
Kendrick clenched his fists, his breathing uneven as the gruesome reality sank in.
Then—darkness once more.
---
The two men carried them out into the cold night.
Just as they reached a safe distance—
BOOM.
A deafening explosion erupted behind them.
Flames consumed the building, roaring like a beast finally unleashed.
---
The next morning.
The news anchor spoke with a detached, practiced tone.
"A gas leak explosion at a restaurant last night resulted in eight fatalities."
Images of the destroyed building flashed across the screen.
"Among the victims were two well-known figures—Soren Draven and Patrick Montclair."
The broadcast continued, treating the event like just another tragic accident.
But the truth—the horror of what had really happened that night—was buried beneath the ashes.