Nocturnia's ever-present fog clung to the cracked streets like a living shroud, muffling footsteps and swallowing sound. The city's steampunk skeleton groaned beneath layers of soot and rust, while distant bells tolled, marking the slow passage of time through endless nights of decay.
Eden stumbled through a forgotten alley, clutching a brittle letter that burned cold in her pocket. Her mind raced with half-formed memories—shadows of chanting figures, blood-stained stones, and whispered promises she could not grasp. Her chest ached, as if something inside her fought for release, a fire smoldering beneath ice.
Ahead, a ruined chapel loomed—its shattered stained glass and twisted ironwork clawing skyward like desperate hands. The air thickened; energy pulsed beneath the stone floor, and Eden fell to her knees, gasping as a torrent of images crashed over her. A mother without eyes, a child set aflame, voices chanting in a language older than the city.
From the shadows, a quiet voice stirred the night. "You don't have to bear this alone."
Claire Holloway stepped forward, her frame worn and lined with years of hardship, yet her eyes burned with a fierce light. She knelt beside Eden, touching the girl's trembling hands. "You're marked," Claire said, voice low but steady. "By forces that have haunted Nocturnia for decades."
Eden blinked, confused and overwhelmed. "Who are you? What is this?"
Before Claire could answer, a faint hum and distant footsteps echoed down the alley. Cam and E emerged, faces tense, eyes scanning the shadows. Their arrival was sudden, unexpected — to Eden and Claire as much as to themselves.
Cam's gaze locked onto Eden's pale face, filled with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "We've been tracking a pulse—something… unnatural." His voice was clipped, carrying the weight of sleepless nights spent piecing together fragmented data.
E shifted uneasily, his stabilizer flickering faintly. "We didn't expect to find anyone else." His eyes narrowed slightly, wary. "Especially not someone like you."
Claire rose, her gaze steady. "You don't know what you're up against. The Black Parade has returned—using ancient rites to twist the city's fate."
Eden's fingers trembled on the letter's seal. "I don't understand. I don't know who I am."
Cam stepped closer, voice softening. "No one does, yet. But we can help."
From the deeper shadows, John watched silently, clutching a worn pendant engraved with the same strange sigil that haunted Eden and Claire. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes flickered with something darker—uncertainty, fear, perhaps complicity.
"They weren't supposed to wake so soon," John murmured to himself, the pendant burning cold in his palm.
Inside a nearby safehouse, the group gathered around a battered table strewn with maps, faded documents, and arcane symbols scrawled hastily on torn parchment. On the wall, charcoal words whispered: The Daughters Will Rise Again.
Claire produced a rusted blade, its edge dulled but still sharp enough to remind of battles past. "The Cleaners once tried to remake the world in blood and fire. Their legacy is alive again—if we don't stop it, Nocturnia dies."
Eden swallowed hard, the weight of a legacy she never asked for pressing down. "How do I fight something I don't understand?"
Cam's jaw clenched as he studied his malfunctioning gadgets. "We're building stabilizers for E—trying to keep his powers in check. But this—this is bigger. We'll need more than tech and grit."
E looked away, the flicker of his stabilizer reflecting the growing storm in his chest. "My strength is fading. If I'm not careful, I'll lose control."
Claire's voice softened, fierce with resolve. "You don't have to carry it alone."
Eden looked from one face to another—strangers united by fate and fire. "Why me? Why now?"
Claire's eyes darkened. "Because the blood remembers. And the Black Parade believes the Daughters hold the key to a power older than this city."
John stepped forward, voice barely audible but heavy with meaning. "This is only the beginning. If they've awakened you early, it means their plans are unfolding faster than we thought."
Outside, cloaked figures watched from the darkness, eyes gleaming with cruel anticipation.
The city whispers its secrets, Cam said grimly. "And we have to listen."
Hours passed as tensions eased into tentative trust. Cam worked feverishly on his devices, desperate to improve the stabilizers and devise a way to counter the rising darkness. E paced near the broken window, the city's neon glow casting flickering shadows across his troubled face.
Claire sat beside Eden, offering quiet comfort amid the chaos. "What do your powers feel like?"
Eden hesitated. "Like fire, sometimes—warm and fierce. Other times, like ice, cold and tearing at my insides."
Claire nodded, eyes distant. "The Cleaners' magic feeds on sacrifice. You'll need strength beyond blood."
Eden swallowed hard. "And if I don't have it?"
Claire gripped her hand. "Then we stand together. No one faces this alone."
John lingered apart, staring at his pendant. "Why awaken them now?" he whispered, haunted.
A cold voice echoed in his mind: Because the time is right.
Nocturnia's fog thickened, wrapping the city in shadow and steel. The battle lines were drawn—not just for power, but for the soul of the city itself.