The Coin of Fate

Prologue

The rain poured relentlessly, drumming against the concrete rooftops and the dark alleys of a city that seemed asleep, unaware of the evil lurking just around the corner. Raindrops slid down grimy windows, mingling with dust and mud, as if trying to wash away the secrets the night held. But some things couldn’t be erased, not that easily.

A solitary figure walked with purpose through the empty streets, wrapped in a long dark coat that blended with the shadows. No one noticed him; no one would remember him. A ghost among the ghosts of the city. His hands, buried deep in his pockets, gripped a small object, cold to the touch. He could feel it pulse beneath his fingers, as if it had a life of its own, but the man ignored it, focused solely on his destination.

In the distance, the neon lights of an old poker club flickered, a distorted reflection in the river of rain flowing towards the drains. The club was there, as always, a beacon for those seeking despair or an escape. And it was here that the first act of a plan that would bring the city to its knees was about to unfold.

The man reached the side door and calmly pushed it open. No one would stop him. No one could imagine what was about to happen.

A barely audible hiss filled the air. The knife he now held in his right hand reflected the faint light of the club, a fleeting gleam before everything plunged into chaos. The victim didn’t even have time to comprehend what was happening. A swift movement, a precise strike, and life drained from the man’s eyes.

“It’s only the beginning,” the killer whispered, looking down at the lifeless body before him. Then, as if nothing had happened, he calmly walked away.

That night, the city had changed forever. But no one knew it yet.