“A registered Bright is being held captive by the Inferni,” one of the rookie agents informed Kandomere, his voice tight with unease.

Kandomere stood in silence, eyes fixed on the abandoned warehouse across the cracked asphalt lot. The building loomed, its shattered windows and rusted exterior doing little to mask the chaos festering inside. The faint glimmer of magical residue still clung to the air—he could feel it prickling beneath his skin.

SWAT officers were stationed at every angle, weapons drawn, waiting anxiously for the green light. None had moved—not without Kandomere’s word.

He didn’t speak immediately. He never rushed.

“The Inferni have been desperate lately,” the rookie added, voice more hesitant now. “They caught a human Bright… That’s—well, that’s unheard of.”

Kandomere finally turned his head, the ghost of a smirk flickering on his face. “Desperation breeds recklessness,” he muttered, brushing invisible dust from the cuff of his coat. “They’re getting bold—sloppy.”

He took a step forward, scanning the layout, mentally calculating every entry point, every angle of approach. A human Bright in Inferni hands was a volatile situation. Dangerous. Political. Potentially catastrophic.

He glanced back at the SWAT commander. “No one moves until I say so. One wrong move and this becomes a massacre—or a message.”

Then to the rookie, cool and measured: “Get me a list of all known Inferni movements in the last seventy-two hours. I want names. Cross-check them with any recent Bright registries. If this is what it looks like, we’re not just dealing with a hostage crisis—we’re dealing with the next step in their war.”

Kandomere turned back toward the building, his expression unreadable. But behind his eyes, the fire was already burning.