Sonar's Notes in Nick's Pocket

The explosions were not finished with Stormcall.

As Silver Helix Square tried to find its breath after the Stormstack Burgers disaster, more blasts rang out across the city. People ran. Wisdom Division and My Alchemical Romance looked for the next place they were needed. The public crisis had become too wide for any one group to hold cleanly.

Then Nick felt his cloak move.

Not a grab. Not a hand he could catch. Just a shift of cold air, quick enough to feel impossible, and a slip of parchment appearing where nothing had been.

The handwriting was sharp and slanted.

Why didn't she warn you why didn't I kill you.

Nick looked. The party looked. Maine tried to make sense of the space around him, but there was no attacker standing there, no obvious shape in the crowd, no simple target to burn.

Then a second note appeared.

Her mother was worse than me.

That was enough for the party to name the shape of the threat.

Sonar.

Fast, invisible, taunting, and personal in a way that did not belong to the Flesh attack around them. Maine tried to improvise a countermeasure, even putting caltrops in Nick's pocket in case Sonar reached in again. Nothing came of it. Sonar did not need to keep proving he was close.

He already had.

The city was exploding. Flesh was moving. And inside that noise, someone had chosen Nick specifically.