In the dimly lit room, shadows flickered as a man sat back on an opulent leather couch, the glowing ember of his cigar illuminating his hardened features. He exhaled a plume of smoke, watching it swirl in the darkness as if his patience was drifting away with it.
"Did you find her?" he asked, his tone as cold as the steel glinting at his side.
The two men before him exchanged uneasy glances, their faces pale. One of them cleared his throat. "No, boss… she escaped."
Silence thickened. The man's eyes narrowed, a predatory gleam hidden within. "And the two I sent to retrieve her?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying an unmistakable threat.
"They… they were found dead," one of the men stammered, shifting nervously.
His jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, a hand slipping to the holster beneath his coat. "I give you one task," he said, voice rising as his fingers gripped the handle of his gun. "Just one… and you fail."
Before he could draw the weapon, a firm voice cut through the tension.
"Stop," came the command from the doorway.
A tall, shadowed figure stepped into the room, his mere presence halting the anger in the air. "We can take Stella whenever we want," he said, a hint of dark satisfaction in his voice.
The two men instantly bowed to him, relief evident as they slipped away, leaving the two alone in the smoky, silent room.
The man on the couch leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he studied the figure now seated across from him. "What do you mean?" he asked, a trace of impatience in his voice.
The man tossed his bag onto the couch, settling in casually. "I've been observing Stella these past few days, and she hasn't shown any signs of activation."
A flicker of disbelief crossed the other's face. "Her powers aren't activated yet? That's impossible," he muttered, crushing his cigar with a frustrated twist and lighting another.
"Actually, it is possible," the man replied coolly. "A mermaid's powers can activate at intervals—usually at 18, or at 22, 28, and so on. If the timing isn't right, her powers lie dormant until the next interval."
The man on the couch leaned back, exhaling a cloud of smoke thoughtfully. "So, we missed her at 18… which means the next chance is when she's 22. Is there a pattern to it?"
The other man nodded, a calculating glint in his eye. "There's a gradual progression—four years from 18 to 22, then a six-year gap to 28. If I'm right, it'll jump to 36 after that."
A dark smile spread across the first man's face as he considered the new timeline. "Fine. We'll stay hidden for now, but we keep her under close surveillance. When she turns 22, we'll make our move."
The other man nodded, and they settled into a chilling, mutual understanding, their plans falling into place in the shadowed quiet of the room.
As they exchanged a look of mutual understanding, a third figure slipped into the room, bowing low with the respect of someone well-acquainted with the consequences of failure. "Boss," he began cautiously, "we've just learned that the principal from that college... she's moved into the same house as the girl."
The man seated on the couch narrowed his eyes, irritation flashing through his gaze before he masked it behind an icy calm. "The principal?" he repeated, his voice a smooth blade that cut through the silence. "Agatha Evarhart? The old woman actually thinks she can meddle in this?"
The second man's sinister smile faded, replaced by a shadow of curiosity. "Why would a principal come to their house?" he asked, his tone dripping with suspicion.
The other man shrugged, leaning forward and bowing to them. "Their grandmother and the principal were… old friends."
"Old friends, huh?" The first man's eyes narrowed, and a dangerous glint replaced the brief curiosity. He crushed his cigar in a nearby ashtray, embers smoldering as if mirroring his darkened thoughts. "Look into the principal. I want to know everything—connections, secrets, her weaknesses. If she's putting herself between us and the girl, she might need a reminder of where her loyalty belongs."
The other man nodded, understanding that the slightest interference would not go unpunished. "Consider it done."
They sat in silence for a moment, the tension thick and electric, an unspoken pact that any obstacle in their path would be swiftly and ruthlessly removed. This principal, whoever she thought she was, would soon find herself ensnared in their web.
They would bide their time, their gaze fixed firmly on Stella, while Agatha's presence became yet another weakness in the plan, one they would be all too ready to exploit when the time was right.
The two men left the room, cloaked in the quiet certainty of predators preparing for their hunt. But as the door closed behind them, they remained oblivious to the greater storm they were about to unleash. In their minds, this was a simple matter of patience, of careful observation and a quick strike at the opportune moment. But in their blind confidence, they couldn't see the full consequences of their plans unfolding.
What they didn't realize was that they weren't just planning an abduction or a power play—they were lighting the fuse for a war far greater than anything they could imagine. By targeting Stella, they were intruding upon something sacred and ancient, bound by forces and bloodlines beyond their understanding. Agatha, Elizabeth, and Stella herself were no ordinary players in their game; each carried power, history, and loyalty that would not surrender so easily.
This wasn't just about taking a mermaid for her powers; they were inviting a storm of magic, blood, and vengeance that would sweep through their lives like wildfire. Their actions would provoke allies, awaken enemies, and ignite rivalries buried deep within the annals of magic and bloodlines. And in their arrogance, they would realize too late that by meddling with forces they couldn't control, they were sparking a chain of events that would tear through every carefully laid plan they had made.
In the shadows, they were already the architects of their own downfall. And soon enough, they would find themselves not as hunters but as prey in a war that would test the very limits of loyalty, power, and the bonds of ancient magic. A war that would shake the foundations of everything they believed, and one they were hopelessly unprepared to win.