The Serpent commander sat bound in reinforced restraints, his black-scaled armor stripped away. His eyes burned with fury but there was no escape—not in the steel belly of the government jet roaring toward Berlin.
Helena sat across from him, arms folded, her uniform scorched from the battle. The sisters flanked her: Liesel watchful and tense, Mara glaring like a coiled spring, Klara restless, her sparks humming faintly against the restraints holding his weapon.
Orchid sat further back, bandaged but alive, her gaze sharp as ever.
"You can glare all you want," Helena said to the commander, her voice firm, "but you're going to answer. Whether here, or in Berlin."
The man smirked, blood crusted on his lips. "You don't know what you've tangled with. Cut off one Serpent, and ten more rise. Your fire, their daggers, your little sisterhood… all of it will drown when the Black Serpents shed their skin."
Helena didn't flinch. She only leaned closer, eyes burning. "Then we'll burn the skin. And the bones. Until nothing's left."
The commander's smirk faltered, just slightly.
---
Greta's Home
In a quiet fishing village along the North Sea, Greta sat at her small wooden table, her squid companions nestled in tanks that lined the walls. The house smelled of salt and old wood, her books stacked high in corners.
For a moment, it was almost normal. She boiled water for tea, the sound of the kettle steady. Her tentacles twitched faintly beneath her sleeves, restless.
The radio crackled with news—reports of chaos in Thailand, whispers of a new German hero, and three young girls wielding daggers like something out of myth. Greta paused, listening. Her eyes narrowed.
Germany has more pieces in play than I thought.
Her squid rippled in their tanks, uneasy. Greta stroked the glass. "Don't worry. If the Serpents come here, they'll find more than they bargained for."
Yet as she sipped her tea, she felt the storm gathering. The sea outside her window churned louder than usual, as though warning her: peace would not last.
---
Mausgrau and Delilah
Far from Germany's coasts, in a ruined chapel cloaked by jungle, Mausgrau sat polishing his battered rifle. His gray mask glowed faintly in the firelight. Delilah stood nearby, her movements calm but her eyes too sharp, too inhuman. The nameless man inside her body had settled in, for now.
"The Serpents are tightening their net," Mausgrau said, voice rough. "Small villages, orphanages, even foreign soil. They're not hiding anymore."
Delilah's gaze turned to the horizon, where the lights of a distant city flickered faintly. "Then neither should we."
Mausgrau tilted his head. "You mean… leave the shadows?"
She nodded. "I've tried living quietly. The Serpents don't allow it. The city is where the threads are pulling us. That's where their roots are deepest."
Mausgrau slung his rifle across his back. "Then we go together."
Delilah's lips curved in a faint smile. "Together."
The fire burned low, casting their silhouettes across the broken chapel wall. Two shadows, once fractured, now moving toward the storm.
The city awaited.