They hid underground, in tunnels older than the Council itself.

  That was where Arel met the resistance.

  Not an army. Not heroes. Just survivors bound by loss and anger. Their leader, Malik, spoke with certainty carved from hatred.

  “We do not trust hybrids,” Malik said, eyes fixed on Nyra and Kairo. “They helped build this world.”

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Kairo said nothing. His presence alone was unsettling—broad, silent, watchful. Loyal in a way that felt dangerous.

  Nyra met Malik’s gaze without flinching. “We didn’t choose this either.”

  Plans were made despite the tension. A rescue operation. A chance to free the captured humans before they disappeared forever.

  But trust was thin. Every word carried suspicion. Every silence felt like betrayal waiting to happen.

  Arel stood between both sides, torn.

  If this alliance failed, humanity’s last chance would die with it.

  And somewhere deep inside him, a terrible question began to form:

  What if the enemy was not hybrids?

  What if it was the ones pulling the strings?