THE INVITATION

The dim light of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room as Alaric leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The glowing screen of his laptop reflected the intensity of his work—lines of data, maps, and surveillance feeds littered the display. His eyes were bloodshot, exhaustion settling into every fiber of his being. But his focus didn't waver; finding Xavier and the lair of the nightcrawlers was not just a mission—it was a race against time.

A sharp knock at the door disrupted his thoughts, and James stepped in, carrying a hefty file in his hand. Without a word, he strode over and dropped it on the desk with a dull thud, making Alaric look up.

"What is this?" Alaric asked, his voice hoarse from hours of disuse. He gestured to the file.

"Just open it and see," James replied, his tone clipped but serious.