FRACTURED NIGHT

—>SETH'S POV<—

I stood before the lifeless body of the blonde woman, brutally slain moments ago. The puncture wounds on her neck baffled my subordinates, but I knew the truth; the gruesome signature of a vampire's kiss.

Though I may have served as a Captain in the esteemed Ten Divisions of Kenner's Police Department, my true distinction lay in the revered realm of the Syntax. As one of two sons born to the indomitable Silas Sherman; the world's most powerful Seraphling and reigning Kral of the Syntax; I held a position of utmost authority. I, Seth, was born with the rare distinction of nine runes, a trait shared only by my brother, Sinclair.

Unlike our peers, who possessed fewer runes and were groomed for traditional roles leading Birliks or Tadurs, our fate was different. Secretly trained by our father, we were dispatched to serve in distinct realms: I joined the police organization, while Sinclair enlisted in the army.

Within the Syntax, only five individuals were entrusted with frequent interactions with the mundane world: the Kral, the revered Babaskan, the two sons of the Kral; my brother and I, and the singular son of the Babaskan. In reality, we served as intermediaries, between the mundane world and the Syntax, facilitating a delicate balance between the two realms.

The stone building was now a sealed crime scene, my subordinates meticulously collecting evidence. Their brown uniforms fluttered in the gentle breeze as they patrolled the perimeter, leaving me to focus on the individual who had alerted the station just minutes prior.

Despite my intuition about the incident's cause, protocol demanded I proceed with caution. "Can you describe exactly what happened, sir?" I asked, my eyes locked intently on his, awaiting his response.

"I was attending to some tasks at home when I heard the screams. Initially, I tried to ignore them, but as they grew more frantic, I couldn't help but investigate. I rushed out of my house and followed the cries to their source. That's when I found her like this." The old man's expression turned somber, his eyes clouding with a mix of pity and unease.

"Why did you initially ignore her cries for help?" I pressed, my tone laced with concern, as I studied the old man's reaction.

"It wasn't the first time she'd screamed like that in the dead of night." He replied smoothly, his response, as if he had anticipated it.

"What could have driven her to such terrified screams in the dead of night?" I asked, a hint of suspicion creeping into my voice. The possibility that she was a "toy"— a human plaything for a Vampire's dark desires, sent a shiver down my spine. If she was screaming every night, it was a chilling likelihood.

"I don't know," the old man replied bluntly, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. "I couldn't just barge into her house in the middle of the night, especially when it sounded like she was enjoying herself."

"That's the difference," I said, my eyes narrowing as I posed my final question. "What made you decide to intervene today, then?"

"She wasn't enjoying it this time." He said calmly, his words hanging in the air. With that, I nodded curtly, dismissing him from further questioning.

I surveyed the room, my gaze drawn to the resplendent chandelier as it cast a kaleidoscope of lights across the walls. My eyes then drifted to the glass window, where the moon hung like a silver pendant in the dark sky.

After a moment, I turned to one of my subordinates. "Matthias, take charge of the team and handle the necessary procedures. I need to attend to something; I'll meet you at the station."

As soon as I'd given the order, I exited the building and unclipped the torch from my belt. I switched it on, casting a beam of light down the street. I walked swiftly, rounding the corner before extinguishing the light and springing upward, my hands finding holds in the stone façade of a nearby building.

With a swift, fluid motion, I propelled myself upward, my hands grasping for the stone ledge above. My fingers closed around the rough edge, and I pulled myself up, my legs coiling beneath me like springs. I released a burst of power, extending my legs and shooting upward, my body arcing through the air.

Time seemed to slow as I crested the parapet, my abdomen brushing against the stone. I twisted, landing lightly on the balls of my feet, my knees bending to absorb the impact. For an instant, I crouched there, balanced on the rooftop's edge, before rising to stand tall, gazing out over the moonlit cityscape.

I plunged my hand into my pocket and retrieved my phone, swiftly dialing a familiar sequence of numbers. The call was answered in mere seconds, and a deep, resonant voice spoke on the other end.

"Paul here." He said, his tone firm and authoritative. As the Head Peder of the Syntax, his voice typically commanded respect, but I was the Kral's son, and the weight of my potential future title— the future Kral of the Syntax, lent me an air of quiet confidence.

"Paul, dispatch a Tadur to Williams Boulevard immediately," I ordered, my voice firm and commanding. "I want the entire street monitored secretly for the next three days."

My words carried an air of authority, a trait instilled in me from childhood by my father, the Kral. It was a pride that ran deep, ingrained in my very being.

"Provide specific details, Seth." Paul replied, his tone neutral and unyielding, his familiarity with me breaching the formalities of our stations.

Paul's lack of deference wasn't surprising, given his allegiance to my younger brother, the true powerhouse in our family. In the Syntax, strength was the ultimate currency, and my brother had it in spades. 

Possessing nine runes, like I did, was no guarantee of victory against a seasoned Peder. The number of runes was just one factor influencing a Seraphling's strength; the true key to dominance lay in "Synchronization"; the harmonious balance between a Seraphling's runes and their spiritual essence.

Most Peders were battle-hardened hunters, their years of experience forging them into formidable opponents with finely tuned synchronization. While I boasted an impressive array of runes, they had the edge of experience. 

"Your superior spiritual essence doesn't guarantee your safety from a sound beating," I retorted, before concluding our conversation. "I've made my position clear. If more lives are lost, the blame will fall squarely on your shoulders." With that, I ended the call, dismissing the matter from my mind. I then leapt down from the high stone building, landing gracefully on the ground below.