The report didn't make sense.
And that was exactly why Evelyn Cross read it again.
She stood in a quiet corner of Authority headquarters, one hand holding the tablet while the other rested lightly against her side, her posture relaxed but her focus absolute. Around her, agents moved in controlled urgency, voices low, footsteps measured, the usual rhythm of an organization that dealt with Gates every single day.
None of it mattered.
Because this—
was wrong.
"Unstable Gate event inside a black market structure," she read quietly, her eyes moving across the screen again. "Multiple casualties. Gate collapse confirmed. No residual activity detected."
Evelyn paused.
Then scrolled back up.
"No residual activity detected."
Her expression didn't change, but something in her gaze sharpened slightly.
"…That's not possible."
A voice answered from behind her.
"It is if the report is correct."
Evelyn didn't turn immediately.
"I didn't say it wasn't correct."
Now she did.
"…I said it doesn't make sense."
Jon Mercer stood a few steps away, arms crossed, his expression carrying the same tired skepticism he always had when dealing with anything that didn't fit into a clean report.
"You're overthinking it," he said. "Unstable Gate. It happens. Things go wrong. People die. Then it closes."
Evelyn tilted her head slightly.
"…And leaves nothing behind?"
Mercer didn't answer immediately.
Because that part bothered him too.
Before he could respond, another voice cut in.
"Not nothing."
Both of them turned.
Rafi Quinn stepped forward, holding a scanner tablet in one hand, his usual irritation replaced by something closer to focus.
"There was a residual spike," he said. "Brief. Localized. Not strong enough to register as a second Gate, but definitely not normal decay either."
Evelyn's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…When?"
"Right after collapse. Less than three seconds."
That was enough.
"…So something remained active," Evelyn said quietly.
Quinn nodded.
"Or something reactivated."
Mercer exhaled.
"Or the system glitched."
Quinn looked at him flatly.
"It didn't."
Silence settled briefly between them.
Evelyn turned her attention back to the report, her mind already moving past the surface-level details.
"Casualties," she said, scrolling. "Frontline hunters. Barrier failure. Breach from below."
Her eyes paused on a specific section.
Then she spoke again.
"…And then everything stabilizes instantly."
Quinn nodded.
"Yeah. That part's… strange."
Mercer frowned.
"Strange how?"
Quinn glanced at him.
"Too clean."
Evelyn lowered the tablet slightly.
"…Something ended it."
Neither of them argued with that.
"What about witnesses?" she asked.
Quinn hesitated for half a second.
Then answered.
"…There's something else."
That got her attention.
"Several hunters reported the same thing," Quinn continued. "Movement that didn't match the rest of the fight. Not part of the formation. Not part of Authority."
Mercer's expression hardened slightly.
"…You're saying there was someone else inside."
Quinn nodded.
"Yeah."
Evelyn's gaze sharpened.
"…Description?"
Quinn scrolled through his data.
Then read.
"Fast. Controlled. Didn't engage like a normal hunter. No hesitation. No communication."
He paused briefly, then added—
"…and gone before the Gate fully stabilized."
Evelyn didn't speak.
But she didn't need to.
Mercer exhaled slowly.
"…Rumors."
Quinn didn't deny it.
"…Yeah."
Evelyn's voice was calm when she spoke again.
"…Say it."
Quinn looked at her.
Then said it anyway.
"…Gate Ghost."
Silence followed.
Not disbelief.
Not dismissal.
Consideration.
Mercer shook his head slightly.
"That's just something hunters say when they don't understand what happened."
Evelyn didn't look at him.
"…No."
Her gaze shifted back to the report.
"…It's something they say when they're trying to explain something real."
Quinn didn't say anything.
Because he agreed.
Evelyn turned the tablet off.
"…Location."
Quinn blinked.
"What?"
"The exact location of the collapse."
Mercer frowned.
"It's already sealed. Cleanup team—"
"I'm not going for cleanup."
Now she turned fully toward them.
"I'm going because something doesn't disappear that cleanly without a reason."
Mercer watched her for a moment.
Then exhaled.
"…You're serious."
Evelyn's expression didn't change.
"I usually am."
Quinn hesitated.
Then handed her the coordinates.
"…If this turns out to be nothing…"
Evelyn took the data without looking at him.
"…Then I'll waste twenty minutes."
She paused slightly.
"…If it isn't…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
She didn't need to.
⸻
The auction site looked worse in person.
The structure had been partially reinforced, temporary barriers set up around the collapsed section, Authority personnel moving through the area in controlled patterns as they scanned, recorded, and removed anything of value.
Evelyn stepped past the perimeter without slowing.
No one stopped her.
They didn't need to.
Her presence alone was enough.
She moved through the wreckage silently, her eyes scanning the environment not for what was visible—but for what wasn't.
Too clean.
That was the problem.
The damage was consistent with a Gate breach.
The casualties matched the initial chaos.
The structural collapse made sense.
But the ending didn't.
She stopped near the center of the collapse.
Looked down.
The floor.
The impact point.
"…Something hit here," she said quietly.
Not a question.
She crouched slightly, running her fingers just above the fractured surface without touching it, as if reading something that wasn't visible anymore.
"…No."
Her eyes narrowed.
"…Something was forced down."
That was different.
That wasn't collapse.
That was pressure.
Evelyn stood slowly.
"…Gravity."
The word barely left her lips.
Behind her, one of the Authority technicians spoke up.
"Agent Cross?"
She didn't turn.
"Did you find something?"
Evelyn's gaze remained fixed on the ground.
"…Someone."
The technician frowned.
"There's no one here."
Evelyn straightened.
"I know."
Her hand moved slightly toward her back.
Where the long black scabbard rested diagonally beneath her coat, secured in place with deliberate precision, the weapon inside clearly not standard Authority equipment but something chosen, maintained, and carried with intent.
"…But they were."
She turned.
"…And they'll be back."
⸻
Somewhere in the city—
Arin stopped walking.
The core in his coat pulsed once.
Echo Sense reacted faintly.
Not danger.
Not yet.
Attention.
Arin glanced slightly to the side, as if looking at something just beyond the visible.
"…So now you're watching."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"…Good."
Because that meant—
"…you're worth chasing."