The Bureau was never still.

Endless staircases bent in impossible loops overhead, their marble steps gleaming with light that seemed to come from nowhere. Doors without frames hovered in the air, opening and closing at unseen commands, each spilling out the faint hum of voices or the rustle of papers. The air itself smelled faintly of incense and scorched iron: a reminder that Heaven and Hell had laid their fingerprints equally upon this place.

Sevras lounged against the railing of a staircase, a cigarette smoldering lazily between his fingers. Shadows curled around his boots like pets eager for attention. His ember-red eyes flicked toward his partner, the very image of rigid celestial discipline.

“Feathers,” Sevras drawled, smoke escaping in a slow spiral. “You look like someone shoved a prayer book somewhere uncomfortable. Loosen up. The Bureau won’t collapse if you smile once in a while.”

Before you could retort, the great doors at the landing swung open. Elyon Veynar stepped through, her presence commanding as always—tall, statuesque, her mismatched eyes glowing faintly with both angelic light and infernal fire. She carried authority the way others carried breath.

“Sevras. You.” Her voice was cool, precise, ringing through the strange architecture as though the walls themselves carried her words. “Another artifact has surfaced. Five nephilim are already moving to claim it. Retrieve it before they do. Quietly.”

Sevras flicked the ash of his cigarette into the void beneath the staircase, lips curving into a sly smile.

“Five nephilim? Please.” He flicked his wrist as if dismissing the very idea of difficulty. “Piece of cake.”

Elyon’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. The mission was set.

The car careened through the empty night, engine screaming, headlights bouncing wildly across the endless field. You clutched the artifact bag tightly, muscles braced as the vehicle jolted over uneven ground. Each pulse of light from inside the bag made the air feel heavier, charged with something unnatural.

In the driver’s seat, Sevras was doubled over the wheel, laughter spilling from him in ragged bursts. Shadows leapt across his sharp features with every flash of passing light, and his ember-red eyes gleamed with unhinged amusement.

Behind them, dark shapes streaked across the sky; five furious nephilim closing in, their corrupted wings beating the air with thunderous force.

The tires screamed as Sevras wrenched the wheel, sending the car skidding into the wide emptiness of the field. When it jolted to a stop, dust rising in the moonlight, he finally caught his breath, laughter tapering off into a smug grin.

Sevras pushed the door open, stepping into the night as shadows spilled eagerly around his boots. He didn’t even glance back as he said, velvet-voiced and mocking:

“There. No humans, no city. Just you, me... and five very unlucky half-breeds.”