CHAPTER 1 – BLOOD MOON OVER JOHANNESBURG
The moon hung low over Johannesburg, swollen and red, like a wound in the sky. Its light cut through the skeletal frame of the Telkom Tower, turning steel and glass into black spikes that jabbed at the clouds. The wind carried the city's usual stink—exhaust, sweat, and dust—but tonight it felt charged, alive, like the air itself had teeth.
John shifted the strap of his laptop bag over his shoulder, grimacing as the weight dug into his collarbone. Beside him, Meiko dragged his suitcase-like backpack, wheels grinding against cracked asphalt. Ben lagged a few steps behind, headphones in, oblivious to everything but the beat pounding in his ears.
They laughed, stupid jokes about homework and teachers. Normal things.
John wanted to laugh too, but the city felt off tonight. He couldn't explain why, only that every instinct in his body screamed, look up.
He did.
And froze.
High above, in the blackened shadow of the Telkom Tower, something moved. Nine glimmering eyes, arranged like a pyramid, reflected the moonlight. Not blinking. Not breathing. Just watching.
A figure appeared behind them, its silhouette almost human—but wrong. Crimson eyes pierced the night. They weren't alive. They hungry.
"Johannesburg," it rasped, voice like rusted chains dragging across stone. "Your ignorance is… delicious."
John's chest tightened. Behind the figure, eight more moved—shapes like nightmares sculpted from smoke and steel. Blades glinted, arrows dripped with poison, guns carved with runes John didn't understand. A lieutenant stepped forward, his face scarred, burnt with some power that wasn't fire.
"Let's burn this hive," he hissed.
The crimson-eyed leader lifted a hand. Calm. Still. "Patience. Let them feast on false peace first."
Below, the city laughed, unaware.
Meiko stopped. John bumped into him.
"What's wrong?" John asked.
Meiko's eyes were locked on the tower. For a heartbeat, John thought the shadow itself smiled. Then it dissolved into smoke.
"You okay?" John asked again.
"…Just a shadow," Meiko said, voice flat.
John snorted. "You're seeing things."
Meiko didn't answer.
"Are you still coming over?" he asked finally, breaking his gaze.
"Yeah, bra," John replied.
"Then don't look at my sister," Meiko said, a warning in his tone.
John smirked. "Have you seen your sister lately?"
Bad idea.
Meiko's fist shot up. Fast. Pain hit before John could even think. The uppercut snapped his head back, stars exploding behind his eyes. Pavement rushed toward him like a tide of rock and grit.
Darkness.
"See you tomorrow," Meiko said, walking away. "Never mind on coming."
John groaned, lifting his right hand weakly in a thumbs-up. "What a friend you are…"
Meiko disappeared. The echo of his laughter lingered like a shadow on John's chest.
John rolled onto his side, coughing, tasting dust and iron. When he finally pushed himself upright, a new shadow fell over him.
A man stood there. Young. Handsome. Hair cropped short on the sides, silky on top. Smile perfect but eyes sharp, measuring, almost predatory.
"Hi, kid," he said.
"Hi… old man," John muttered, brushing dirt from his sleeve.
"I'm looking for a liquor store. Know any?"
John pointed. "Straight ahead. First right. Red house."
The man's smile flickered. "See you around, kid. Thanks."
He disappeared into the night, leaving John with the smell of his cologne lingering. Something about him was… wrong. Wrong in a way that pressed against the back of John's skull.
He shook it off. "I'm so late. My dad's gonna kill me."
Above the city, the moon reached its peak.
A wave rolled over Johannesburg. Silent. Invisible. A pulse in the air. A whisper in John's veins.
That night, John dreamed of war.
Beasts with wings like torn sails tore through the clouds. Soldiers in golden armor fought with impossible precision, their blades slicing air and flesh alike. The streets burned. Fire didn't just consume—it devoured.
A voice boomed, echoing through bone and blood:
"THE RANKORGE AWAKEN. YOU WILL BE THEIR VESSELS."
John woke, soaked in sweat. His body hummed like it had been wired to the storm. Every nerve, every heartbeat, alive.
Morning came too fast.
The alarm screamed. Joseph groaned from the top bunk. "Can you please stop that bell?"
John didn't answer.
"Yoh, Melusi! Wake up!"
"What name did you use?" John mumbled.
"John. Wake up. Test!"
John swung his legs over the bed, muscles light, weirdly strong. He hadn't exercised in months. Why did his body feel… awake? Alert?
Outside, Kelvin tossed a soccer ball. It bounced off John's shoulder.
"You look like a zombie," Kelvin laughed.
"Says the guy who sees monsters," John shot back.
Kelvin froze. "…I saw one in the exam hall. It had… my mom's face."
A chill ran through the courtyard.
John's pulse raced. Something in the city had shifted. Something had awakened.