Two days till fullmoon.

As soon as the red alert sirens thundered through the city's, Carvo jumped in his coat and decided that he would no longer wait. "It must be done." he said, fixing his grey hair in front the mirror. "But I must find her first." He remembered, forging a plan to act upon in this time of chaos. The legions were swarming the streets and residents were forced into a lockdown, but Carvo had his own pass. After all, he was the main key in solving the Mooncallers mystery.

As Carvo went on his way, Andrew was preparing himself for this dangerous situation. In his office, he didn't check the tapes as they had already gotten the identity of the mooncaller on the run. Maria's corpse, or whatever was left of her, was retrieved. Clyde was admitted to the hospital but hadn't regained consciousness yet, only two days were left till fullmoon, and so, the city's forces were split into two. One to find the fugitive, and the other to prepare for battle.

I. A thousand path to defeat.

When speaking of the half century old battles, evolution of techniques must be discussed. On one side, progress was achieved under the pressure of the need for survival, and on the other side, progress was sought to advance forward. The city was eaten battle by battle, and the humans retreated further to the point they were almost stuck to the cracked walls of their perished city. Those who dared to walk into the barren white fields of ice never made it back, and so, battling these monsters was their only hope.

On the other hand, the victorious beasts believed to reach triumph very soon. The mooncallers waited for the day they'd have enough stock food to carry on towards the world they have never seen. Their technology dominated the battlefield, and some of them had intelligence that could create an entire new civilization outside this rotten dome. The leaders had always possessed some sort of sentience that the humans had always failed to comprehend, but Carvo knew that these beings never left their humanity behind.

In the north of the city, the most fortified spot, a woman ran across the legions march, ignoring the lockdown and proceeding to cause chaos among the unified troops. "Help me! My machine has been stolen!" She cried, running around the soldiers that pushed her aside, screaming at her to go back, but she didn't care.

"You must find Nelly, she did this!" The woman pleaded as the legion's commander stopped her angrily.

"What do you think you are doing!" He shouted, "There's a god damn mooncaller on the run, hide somewhere!" He commanded her, and she ignored his wishes. "My machine, the front-line's defense, is stolen! There won't be a battle if the twilight reverie isn't there!" She explained, frantically holding the commander's arm as the marching stopped and her words were all that could be heard among the hundreds of dazzled and disheartened soldiers.

"Oh my lord, are you Ivanka Volkov?" The commander asked, she nodded. "My apologies!" He gasped in disbelief. "There's no time to waste." She stated, the commander asked his second-in-command to take his position as he encouraged his soldiers to stay calm and composed. The commander and Ivanka ran to the north station, both of them were as pale as the snow underneath them, knowing what the twilight reverie was, they understood the trouble the city faced.

The North station.

"We are in big trouble, sir." The commander spoke in a terrified tone. The man he addressed was no one other than Dunken who was taken by the sight of Ivanka.

Ivanka was in her early fifties. She was a genius that was recently recognized by the military, her weapon named the twilight reverie was the card that flipped the tables in the upcoming battle. She worked in her own hangar, guard-less as she refused the company of military personnel and believed to be at the safest spot in the city, but she was wrong.

Ivanka was of Russian descent. Having lived her childhood in the beginning of the battle, she was raised to be a fierce woman. She was fairly beautiful with long blonde and white hair naturally entwining together in a ponytail with captivating hazel eyes that sparked intelligence and confidence.

"What happened?" Dunken jumped off his chair, knowing that something was definitely wrong.

"Nelly, she stole the twilight reverie! I am sure of it!" Ivanka panted. "Calm down, tell me, when did you last see her? How come she stole something this big?" Dunken asked. "That bitch stole the chip." Ivanka cursed, Dunken instinctively moved to calm Ivanka by touching her shoulder to which she quickly threw his hand off her, "Get your hands off, idiot." Ivanka shunned Dunken down as the commander shied away from the tension between the two of them. Ivanka was Dunken's former wife which he had abandoned for another woman, and Ivanka had never accepted his empty apologies.

"I'll issue a search warrant for Nelly, anyone else you have got in mind?" Dunken asked with his face showing slight embarrassment. Ivanka eyed the commander to leave then looked back at Dunken, ready to speak her mind.

"I cannot believe you still haven't understood what this is about." Ivanka sighed, Dunken seemed to understand where this is going. "They're real, and they're infiltrating us as we speak." Ivanka explained, "Its not just the moonfuckers we are dealing with, its the white sect too, and Nelly is one of them." Ivanka continued with a look of grieve over the betrayal of her own assistant, Nelly.

"It seems like we can't ignore them anymore." Dunken sighed, walking back to his desk. He asked Ivanka to sit down but she refused, "I will not rest until this chip is found, there's no way we could survive the next attack without it." Ivanka spoke. "Is there is any other backup chip? Can't you create a new one?" Dunken asked, "Are you serious?" Ivanka scoffed. "Do you have any idea how long did it take just to set up the logistics? Let alone creating the chip!" she continued angrily, and Dunken felt all hope being sucked out of him.

Dunken quickly dialed the central city force issuing an extensive search for Nelly, marking her as a terrorist. Ivanka stormed out of the office in hope of finding her herself, but the odds were not in her favor. Dunken was hesitant to declare the white sect as a terrorist organization as they had hardly done anything but hang posters and hide for an eternity after doing so, but now, all he had to do was a council meeting to share this new information and finally catch whoever they suspect. With Brando on the run, Abigail hiding, and humans' main power being stolen by a terrorist, everyone in this situation was at loss.

II. Abigail's resolve.

Snowbound and powerless, hiding in a coat twice her size as she laid in an alley where the sunrise would never hurt her, that was how Abigail spent her last few hours. Reminiscing the past, and agonizing over the shattered pieces of memory she had. The marching of the legions was approaching her, and she played the scenario of surrendering over and over again, but she knew she would die the moment they saw that horrendous face of hers and then, Brando would get away with it leaving her brother at danger.

Was it the time to give up yet? She would wonder. That number would echo in her head, and the scene of her firing at Brando wouldn't seize to amaze and terrify her. The guilt of involving Clyde ached her, and the fear of what would happen to her in two days was nagging her already-anxious mind.

"There's no going back." Abigail talked to herself. "I am never getting my old life back." She sobbed, "But this isn't a life either." She watched the skin grafts fall off her prosthetic arm. Abigail held her head between her palms and cried deeply. She knew who she was, and whatever powers this body had, it didn't belong to Abigail.

Her tears blurred her vision and her weeping muffled the sound of the footsteps approaching her. Suddenly, her sensitive ears twitched at the sound of the boots. She instinctively jumped up, anticipating whoever was there to hurt her.

From the corner of the alley, a man in a white coat and hood appeared. He didn't come closer, but Abigail was terrified. She was entirely exposed this man, and strangely enough, he was untouched by the sight of her.

"Relax!" He gently said, "I am an ally" He took off his hood, revealing a middle aged man with brown hair and white streaks in it. Abigail gulped and kept walking back. "Who are you?" She asked fearfully, "You are Abigail, am I right?' The man dodged her question. "How did you know my name?" Abigail inquired. "I know everything about you, but we are running out of time." He approached her slowly, reaching his hand encased in a white glove with a silver star on it. "Get away from me!" She retreated. "I understand your fear." He said. "I am Miles Kinley from the white sect." He introduced himself, "And I am here to take you to our church where you will be kept safe among those who which to protect you." He assured her, and all Abigail could do was just stare.

The marching was very close, irritating Abigail to an agonizing extent. There was a strange ease in that man's voice that lured Abigail to him. Between the wrath of legions or the attractive offer of whoever were those white sects, Abigail took a step closer to him.

"Have courage, be faithful." He gently told her, "They will rip you apart if you stay here." He persuaded her as she looked back and forth. "Why would you want to protect me? How do I know that you won't hurt me?" She asked. "We have to pay for our sins." He justified, "And we are inferior to you. We could never hurt you." He reasoned with her. Abigail's childish mind was convinced, and at the moment where she felt her death was imminent, she grabbed this man's hand and went ahead with him to a destiny darker than black.

The White Sects lit up the city from the inside, a dangerous conspiracy with Abigail on the front-line, oblivious to the intentions of all those around her. Abigail only wanted to live.