This part of our story takes place in a private mansion in London.
A girl sits at a casino table, draped in a rose-and-black Victorian-era dress, black lace gloves hugging her slender fingers, and a corset cinched perfectly around her graceful figure. Her wide-brimmed hat tilts forward, casting a shadow over her piercing icy-blue eyes.
Poker chips tower around her like monuments. Across the table sits her final opponent—a classic rich asshole. Slicked-back hair, a smug grin, and a suit that probably cost more than most people's yearly salaries. He stares her down, confident. Maybe too confident.
The room is silent. Tension so thick it could suffocate. This is the last hand of the night. Winner takes everything.
Guards stand posted throughout the room, all big, bulky men in black suits. All except one.
He's a teenage boy—sharply dressed, suspiciously clean-cut, and charismatic enough to melt steel. His icy-blue eyes mirror the girl's. In his hand, hidden behind his back, is a massive pair of scissors. Not the safety kind.
He's built athletic, not bulky—but every movement oozes confidence. Charisma seeps from him like perfume, but so does something else.
Bloodlust.
Back at the table, the stare-down intensifies. The smug millionaire smirks at the girl, who returns nothing but a blank, soul-chilling gaze.
"All in," she says flatly.
"...What? You're bluffing. I'm calling. All in."
Cards slap the table. The rich fool reveals his hand with the smugness of a man who's never heard 'no' before.
"Heh. Full House. Beat that, brat."
Without changing expression, the girl places her cards on the table.
"Nick, I'm done," she says.
The cards read: Ace of Hearts, Diamonds, Spades, Clubs... and a Joker.
The man's jaw drops. "Bullshit… That's five of a kind! You cheated! How—?!"
"I don't care about your doubts," she says coldly. "Transfer my money. Nick—begin."
The boy—Nick—casually opens his giant scissors around the neck of a nearby guard.
CRUNCH. THUMP.
The head hits the floor.
"Sure thing, sis."
And just like that, the massacre begins.
Nick erupts in maniacal laughter, tearing through the room like a demon in human skin. The guards fall, one after another, each slice followed by screams and wet splashes.
The rich man tries to run, but the girl flicks her wrist and throws the Joker card like a knife. It slices across his face with deadly precision.
"Transfer the money, Elton," she demands, emotionless.
"I—I'm doing it!" he shouts, fumbling for his phone. "Just don't kill me!"
She waits patiently, watching Nick finish the slaughter like a painter perfecting his masterpiece.
As soon as the transfer finishes and Elton tries to flee, she kicks him to the floor.
"Please, Nika... Lady of the House... Please, let me live..." he begs, trembling.
"Nick. Are you done?"
Nick strolls over, blood-soaked and grinning. "One more."
"Wait—what? No! We had an agreement!"
"No. You had an agreement," Nika says coldly. "With yourself."
She nods to her brother.
Nick opens the scissors around Elton's neck, face beaming.
"ANY LAST WORDS, ELTON?!"
Nika squats beside him, dress elegantly gathered. "Is your wife here? Or your daughter?"
Elton's blood drains from his face. "No—leave them alone! I'll give you everything. Just… please... leave them be."
"A family man, I see. Deal. Send it all, and we'll leave them alone."
Elton transfers every cent he has. Nick returns moments later with Elton's wife and daughter.
They're brought to the dining room and seated. Tension returns, colder than before.
"Anything you'd like to tell your family?" Nika asks.
His wife speaks first. "Honey… don't tell me… did you do something unforgivable with this young girl?"
Nika scoffs. "I'm not in the mood for theatrics. Nick, go ahead."
Without hesitation, Nick dismembers the family and arranges their parts on each other's plates.
"Dinner time!" he chirps gleefully.
Nika's cold eyes cut through him. "Don't play with your food. Let's go."
Nick vanishes for a few minutes, then reappears in a clean suit.
"Ta-da! Ready to go!"
They exit the mansion, call an Uber, and head back to their private suite.
At the London Police Department, damning evidence was piling up against two young suspects.
A video recording showed Nika and Nick walking into Elton Dontella's mansion alongside him. The footage was grainy but clear—both teens dressed sharply, composed, and smiling. Other hidden cameras throughout the mansion revealed more. An hour later, a different scene: a boy, drenched in blood and holding a disturbingly large pair of scissors, moving through the hallways.
Moments after that, another camera caught a girl in an elegant dress, calmly leading Elton into the dining area. Meanwhile, the boy was seen escorting Elton's wife and daughter in the same direction.
Time skipped forward again. The same teens, no longer bloodied, were seen walking out of the front entrance as if nothing had happened.
"What am I looking at…? Are you seriously telling me two kids… slaughtered everyone in that mansion? Elton, his wife, and his daughter?" a police sergeant asked, staring at the footage in disbelief.
"Whatever this is… find them. Bring them in for questioning. NOW!" he barked, slamming his fist against the table.
Back at their upscale suite, Nick was resting on the couch, laid out like a corpse without a care in the world. Nika, meanwhile, sat poised in front of a massive 4D chess table, dismantling a high-level AI opponent with brutal precision.
Then, without warning—everything cut out. The lights. The hum of electronics. The digital world gone in an instant.
Nick stirred but didn't wake. Nika stood up, peering out through the large window of their high-rise suite. Her eyes scanned the night with eerie calm. But what she saw… was unsettling.
There were no lights—none. Not a single flicker of electricity. No glowing billboards, no flashing traffic signals. Not even the comforting hum of backup generators. The entire city was submerged in absolute darkness.
Her sharp ears picked up the sounds outside. The wind howled against the buildings. People shouted, cursing and panicking. The screech of tires. The crunch of metal. Cries. Sirens trying to start and failing.
"Damn this generator won't start! I swear I put gas in it!" someone screamed outside.
It was chaos. Confusion and fear breeding fast.
"Nick. Wake up. Now." Nika's voice cut through the room like a knife.
Nick stirred, blinking against the complete darkness. "Wha... what happened to the lights?"
As soon as he said it, the world outside lit up—not with manmade electricity, but with something far older and more awe-inspiring. The stars. Millions of them, bright and clear, painting the sky like a celestial ocean.
Nick sat up, rubbing his eyes. He and Nika both stared out the window.
The sky was stunning. Too stunning. As if they were staring directly into the heart of the Milky Way.
But then—Nika noticed something else. "Nick. Look… there's two moons."
Nick's eyes scanned the heavens until they found them—one pale and familiar… the other, smaller, pitch-black, floating beside it like a shadow.
"Do you think this is gonna be a problem?" he asked.
And as if on cue, the city's power came roaring back to life. The return of electricity burst through the window, temporarily blinding him.
Nika squinted and stepped back, already moving to the television. She flipped through channels until she found what she was looking for—news.
The anchor on screen was wide-eyed, her voice barely keeping up with the information pouring in.
"Just moments ago, the entire world experienced a global blackout. Lasting precisely 8 minutes. Every form of electricity ceased to function. Planes, hospitals, satellites, traffic systems—all down. World leaders are scrambling for answers, but citizens aren't buying the 'terrorist attack' excuse. Now, as the power returns, riots are breaking out across the globe. People are demanding answers. Quoting: 'They lied to us about the moon. What else did they lie about?'—referring to the black celestial object discovered during the outage. The question now being asked by millions is… is this the beginning of a new era? Or the end of it all?"
The screen shifted to a new headline.
"In other news, a man under investigation known as 'Ace,' real name Elton Dontella, was found murdered this evening at 8:41 p.m., alongside his wife Anastacia and daughter Audrey. The bodies were discovered brutally dismembered and placed on dinner plates in a grotesque mimicry of a family meal. Every single individual present in the mansion at the time—bodyguards, housekeepers—were also slaughtered."
As the names of the victims were read, Nika's cold eyes glanced toward her brother, who was still rubbing his eyes, recovering from the brightness.
"Well, that's ironic," she said flatly. "The cops finally go to investigate the guy we just happened to kill."
But then the news anchor continued.
"Security footage retrieved from Elton's estate shows two teenagers entering the manor with him around 7:00 p.m. One male, one female. An hour later, they are seen again walking with Elton into the dining room. Minutes later, the male exits—soaked in blood—only to return cleaned up and leave with the female. Police ran biometric data and facial recognition… the duo has been identified."
Nick sat up straighter. Nika's expression finally shifted—just slightly.
"The suspects are Nick Winchester and Nika Winchester. Twins, born in London. Their parents died under mysterious circumstances when they were twelve. Since then, they've been inseparable. Put themselves through school. Nika Winchester even completed university. The pair seemed like success stories. But now… they are wanted fugitives. If you see them, contact law enforcement immediately."
Nick stared at the TV. "Shit… What now, genius?"
Nika was silent for a moment. Then she moved.
"You—wait. No. I'll handle this. I'll burn everything. You take what bags you can carry. Go to the bank. No—wait. Doesn't matter. We can't use that money anymore. Start burning our stuff, Nick. Now."
She began gathering essentials. In practiced motion, she unhooked the gas line in the kitchen and let it begin a slow leak. She strapped on a full-face gas mask and tossed another to her brother, along with a heavy duffel bag.
Then she dragged a gas canister out to the balcony, setting it in the corner before returning.
"Let's go," she said coldly.
Nick slung the bag over his back and grabbed his scissors. As they entered the elevator, Nika lifted her dress to reveal a Glock holstered to her thigh.
Nick blinked. "What the—? You have a gun?!"
Nika didn't answer. She just dropped another bag in his arms.
"Multiple," she said.
He opened it. Pistols. Rifles. Shotguns. A grenade or two.
The elevator dinged open. Nika walked out calmly, gun raised at anyone nearby.
"Don't scream. Don't move. We're leaving."
No one dared defy her. The twins exited the lobby, walked outside to the balcony-side of the building. Nika turned and took aim at the gas tank.
BOOM.
The explosion rocked the area. Fire bloomed upward. A chunk of the building was obliterated. The hotel creaked, leaning dangerously as people screamed and scattered.
"Move." Nika's command was cold and sharp.
They moved through the chaos until Nika spotted a car.
"There."
Nick moved to smash the window, but Nika stopped him. "Alarms. We'll find one that's open."
They entered a nearby parking garage. Miraculously, a matte black Dodge Charger pulled in. As the driver stepped out, Nika was already there, gun pointed at his head.
"Keys."
He fumbled. Before he could hand them over, she shot him. Point-blank.
The car alarms wailed.
They got in, Nick behind the wheel.
"WHERE ARE WE GOING?!"
"Off the grid. Where else."
Rain started to fall. Light at first, tapping on the windshield. Nick drove fast. Nika sat calmly, watching the GPS programmed to erase its data after one use.
"Left turn," she said.
Nick obeyed.
"You think we'll make it out before the sweep?" he asked.
"Thirteen minutes. We need to be past Zone Six by then."
Nick grinned. "I can work with that."
As sirens rose behind them, the sky above remained cursed by the presence of the second moon—pitch black and pulsing.
Nick checked the rearview mirror. "We've got tails. Black SUV. Tinted."
"Two seconds," Nika replied.
She reached into her bag, pulled out a sleek metallic cylinder, and dropped it out the window.
FLASH.
The EMP exploded in a burst of white. The SUV's systems died instantly. It crashed into a wall behind them.
Nick let out a whistle. "Where'd you get that?"
"I made it."
They reached a hidden road, forested and overgrown. Nika exited, found a panel in the fence, entered a code. The gate opened.
Inside was a decrepit cabin. Below it—an underground safehouse.
"This place hasn't been touched in 4 years." Nika simply states.
Weapons. Food. Beds. Hidden from all systems.
Nick collapsed on a couch. "Remind me to kiss your brain later."
Nika pulled down a board.
"What's next?" Nick asked.
She pinned a photo of a cybernetically-armed old man.
"Dario Keel. He's got Elton's hidden accounts. We get him—we vanish."
Nick smirked. "Any women I get to stab?"
"Possibly."
The radio crackled.
"—black moon is not a moon. It's a vessel. A message. A warning. Stay indoors. Trust nothing…"
Nika narrowed her eyes.
And quietly, beside the board, she sketched the first image of the strange symbol now glowing from the black moon's surface.
Something had begun.
And it wasn't stopping.