The early morning air smelled of citrus and pavement, the scent mingling with the dampness of the rain. Lila leaned against the railing of Rowan's apartment balcony, staring at the street below.
1:07 AM.
The city felt quieter than usual. Too quiet.
Rowan sat on the couch inside, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. "Lila, it's past one in the morning. You need to get some sleep. If not for you, then for the baby."
Lila hummed in response, but her attention was elsewhere.
A chill crawled up her spine, the same unsettling sensation that had plagued her since she got back.
A whisper of something familiar. Something wrong.
Rowan sighed, shaking her head as she flicked on the TV. "If you're gonna stay up, at least sit down and relax. I just made us some garlic nacho fries. Might be your kind of thing."
Lila finally stepped inside, tucking herself into the dining room chair next to Rowan. The flickering screen played an animated Netflix series—one about a goblin king of a labyrinth who retires, hands his kingdom to a human child, and marries her sister before going off to live as a human.
The scene on screen was bathed in warm golden light, a stark contrast to the cold rain outside. The former goblin king, now dressed in a plain sweater and jeans, stood at the edge of a suburban street, watching his old kingdom disappear into mist. His wife—the new kings sister—squeezed his hand, smiling softly.
"Was it worth it?" the queen asked, staring lovingly into the goblin king's eyes.
The goblin king hesitated, then chuckled. "I suppose we'll find out."
Rowan smirked, side-eyeing Lila as she watched lost in the drama. "You and Sylva really do have the same taste in TV shows."
Lila let out a small, tired chuckle. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Rowan shrugged, stretching out on the couch. "Near the end of pur journey, slyva shared some interesting detials. Like snooping on timelines to watch the laybrinth."
"Haha, like it was her personal netflix no way," she let out a snicker for a brief second. Lila watched the screen, her fingers tracing slow circles on the wooden table. "Maybe I like the idea that people can change."
Rowan's smirk softened. "Yeah… maybe."
The show continued, the new king giving a final wave as the goblin king and his bride stepped away, vanishing into a world where no one would know what he used to be.
"You think Sylva's watching it with us?" Lila asked, her voice quiet.
Rowan exhaled through her nose, a wry smile on her lips. "If she is, she's probably yelling at the screen. 'A real ruler wouldn't abandon their throne just for love.'"
Lila laughed under her breath. "You think? he kind of reminds me of Aiden though."
Rowan leaned back, folding her arms behind her head. "You're so right. But maybe she'd say he made the right call."
The rain tapped harder against the windows.
The credits started to roll, music swelling, the names of animators flickering across the screen. But Lila's mind was somewhere else now.
Rowan's phone rang, the sudden vibration cutting through the quiet. She sighed, glancing at the screen. "It's the manager at the arcade. It's probably another broken simulator."
But Lila barely heard her.
She turned toward the window, eyes narrowing at the shadows pooling beyond the glass.
The darkness pulsed, pressing against the walls of reality itself.
A phantom sensation brushed against her skin—the same suffocating weight she remembered from when the Core took over her body all those years ago.
Her throat tightened.
"Rowan," she started, stepping back. For a second, she hesitated.
Maybe she was wrong.
Maybe she was just being paranoid.
She blinked, trying to shake the feeling—
CRASH.
Glass exploded inward, shards catching the light as they scattered across the floor.
Rowan shot up, her phone slipping from her fingers.
The wind howled through the shattered doorway, cold rain seeping in, turning the floor slick. The storm had arrived.
A figure stepped through the shattered door, the night clinging to him like a second skin.
They didn't know this teen, but his friends knew him as Carlos.
His eyes burned red, but not with the chaotic hunger of the Core. No, something steadier, more calculated, lurked behind his expression. His body, though grotesquely twisted, moved with intent, a creature leashed to a master's will.
Then—he stopped.
His grin faltered.
His head tilted slightly, as if something unseen had yanked his attention elsewhere.
Mephisto, through his slave, hesitated.
Lila felt it—a flicker of recognition, of astonishment bleeding through Carlos's corrupted gaze.
You.
The word wasn't spoken aloud, but she felt it, reverberating through the unnatural stillness.
Carlos's posture tensed, as if something within him was receiving new orders. Adjusting. Calculating.
Mephisto hadn't expected her to be here.
And worse—he hadn't expected the lingering stain of the Core to be clinging to her like a forgotten scar.
Carlos's lips curled again, slower this time, almost thoughtful.
Then, with quiet amusement, he spoke.
"…Well, now. This is interesting."
Rowan moved first, stepping in front of Lila, muscles tensed, her body already shifting into a defensive stance.
The man exhaled, stretching his arms above his head as though this entire moment bored him. His smirk was slow, creeping onto his face like it had been waiting there the whole time.
"The last thing I expected to find in this world?" He dragged a hand through his hair, his red eyes flicking lazily between them, grin widening. "You two—the heroes of the Otherworld."
Lila's breath caught in her throat. The feeling crawling up her spine was wrong—not the chaotic, insatiable hunger of the Core, but something controlled. Calculated.
"That's not possible," Rowan muttered, her tone sharper than steel. "No enforcers should be here."
The man's smirk widened.
"Oh, finally! She speaks."
Lila's shoulders tensed. The way he said that... Like he knew her.
"He doesn't feel like an enforcer," she murmured.
He spread his arms in an exaggerated gesture.
"You're right, Lila. I'm not an enforcer. We are the enforcers."
Her name rolled off his tongue too easily—as if he'd known her for years.
"But then again… you two shouldn't be here either."
The air thickened, pressing down around them.
His next words were almost gentle, but they landed like a gunshot.
"You're supposed to be dead."
Rowan didn't flinch, but Lila could feel the tension radiating off her.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
The man exhaled, shaking his head like they were disappointing him.
"Come on, its not that hard, is it?"
His red eyes flickered with amusement, something dark and knowing resting behind them.
"Storys tell of The valiant Lila. The steadfast Rowan. The heroes who fight beside slyva, amara, and Keiran. Two of the three heroes who sacrificed themselves to stop the Core."
His smirk grew.
"A tragedy, really."
Lila's heart slammed against her ribs. He wasn't just messing with them. He believed what he was saying.
"You're the real tragedy here," Rowan stated, her stance unwavering, spoke before Lila could process the weight of his words.
"Which clothes like that you're definitely from this timeline somehow. so tell me how could you know that?"
The man tapped his temple, head tilting slightly.
"Heh, you got me. It's Because I remember it clear as day."
Then he let the words settle, savoring the moment before finishing his thought.
"Or rather—Mephisto remembers."
Lila and Rowan moved slowly, cautiously, toward the exit.
"Who the hell is Mephisto?" Lila asked, voice tight.
The man's grin twitched.
"Wow. You really don't know?"
He sighed, shaking his head, like a teacher with particularly dull students.
"Mephisto is the original enforcer. The first. The one who came before all others."
Another step. He was cutting off their escape.
"Our master, and our savior."
His tone shifted—lower, more deliberate.
"The most powerful." His smirk turned razor-sharp. "And the one who breathed new purpose in this broken soul."
Rowan's voice didn't waver. "Then why the hell are you here?"
The man spread his arms, a showman before his audience.
"Oh, that's easy. I'm just trying to make friends. You know—strong foundations. Good people. The right kind for my new family."
His grin widened.
"You do get that, right, Lila?"
Then he lunged.
Carlos moved too fast—a blur of motion as he closed the gap between them in an instant.
Lila barely stumbled back, breath catching as she felt the heat of his presence, too close, too wrong.
Rowan was already moving.
Her fingers gripped the broom by the kitchen counter, instinct taking over.
The weight felt natural in her hands, like it was meant for more than sweeping dust from a floor.
Carlos's fingers grazed the air where Lila had stood—
Rowan intercepted.
The broom slammed into his ribs, the force cracking through the air like a gunshot.
Carlos staggered. His smirk flickered—just for a second.
Then he recovered, rolling his shoulders like it was nothing.
"Ouch."
Rowan didn't give him time to breathe.
She shifted, spinning the broom with practiced ease, driving the bristles across his jaw.
Carlos's head jerked sideways, but his smirk returned.
"There it is."
Rowan's pulse thundered in her ears.
She twisted—broom snapping upward, catching him beneath the chin.
His body lifted slightly off the ground, feet skidding back.
Rowan twirled the broom and drove it straight into his chest—
And the broom exploded in a display of light.
The force shattered the wooden rod, sending splinters flying across the floor.
Rowan gasped, staring at the splintered remains in her hands. The air smelled of burnt wood, the energy still buzzing through her fingers. Across from her, Carlos stumbled back, rubbing his chin—then, as if savoring the moment, he grinned.
"Damn."
He flexed his fingers, rolling his neck.
"That almost hurt."
A slow, creaking sound filled the apartment.
Lila turned toward the hallway.
The doors were opening.
Figures stepped into the dim light—their bodies stiff, movements wrong.
Red eyes flickered.
Carlos clicked his tongue.
"New brothers and sister, welcome to the party."
Lila bolted, shoving past a woman poised for attack. Her fingers cracked with every finder that extended.
Rowan grabbed Lila's wrist, yanking her forward as the red-eyed residents lurched toward them.
The stairs blurred beneath them, each step too slow.
Something was behind them.
Rowan slammed against the driver's side door, fumbling for the keys.
"Come on, come on—"
Lila threw herself into the passenger seat, heart hammering.
Above them, Carlos stepped onto the balcony, watching.
Unbothered.
Still smiling.
The moment the car roared to life, the residents lunged forward, hands clawing—
The tires screeched, the car fishtailing as Rowan slammed the gas.
Lila's pulse thundered as she glanced in the side mirror.
Carlos was still standing there, watching them go.
He lifted his fingers in a mocking wave.
His lips moved—just enough for her to understand.
"See you soon, beautiful."
The Apartment - 3:45 AM
The rain drummed softly against the shattered window, filling the apartment with the scent of damp concrete. The night's reckless energy—the thrill of stolen speed and victories—had rotted into an eerie stillness.
Outside, the city still slept.
Inside, monsters answered their doors.
The two cops approached the apartment complex, their radios crackling with static. Officer Chang, a veteran with a tired face, took a sip of stale coffee before shoving the cup into his patrol car's holder.
His partner, Officer Reeves, frowned as he scanned the upper floors. "Do we really have to do this. It's literally pouring outside and besides the calls from a few hours ago"
Chang sighed. "Yeah, probably just some kids partying. But we still gotta check it out."
They walked toward the building, their boots splashing against rain-soaked pavement. The hallways were quiet. This early it would of been more odd to see signs of the usual tenants, or the usual bustling behind closed doors.
And then, as they knocked on the first door, it opened almost immediately.
A man with slicked-back hair and dark sunglasses stood there. His voice was too calm.
"Is there a problem, officers?"
Chang frowned. "Bit late for sunglasses, don't you think?"
A small chuckle. "Yeah so, the lights killing my hangover."
Other doors creaked open along the hallway. More tenants—all of them wearing sunglasses.
Reeves shifted uncomfortably. "We got a call about a disturbance here. Someone reported Screaming."
"Didn't hear anything."
Chang's gut told him something was off, but legally? No probable cause. He exchanged a look with Reeves.
The younger officer sighed, muttering under his breath, "Whole city's full of weirdos, did they all party together or something?"
They were about to turn away—until Chang stopped, noticing something.
A trail of Blood. Drying. Leading to a door at the end of the hall.
Martinez knocked. "Police open up!"
Silence.
He knocked again.
A soft creak echoed from inside.
Chang motioned for his gun, but before they could draw, the door swung open.
A girl stood there, her arm hastily bandaged, blood staining the gauze. She looked shaken, but not scared.
"Is… everything okay in here?" Chang asked, voice steady. His eyes flicked past her, catching sight of a broken doorframe and a room that didn't look right.
Natalie sniffled—too soft, too unnatural. "I dont know. Please help I don't know what's going on."
Chang's grip on his flashlight tightened. "Mind if we take a look inside?"
A pause.
Then—she stepped aside.
The officers stepped in.
Rain seeped through a shattered window in the back room, the wind whispering through the broken glass. The apartment smelled of metal—of something almost like rust, but sharper.
Reeves scanned the space, his jaw tightening. He nudged chang. "Sir. Look."
His eyes followed the motion.
Isaac's bedroom door was broken inward.
Chang's instincts screamed at him.
"Miss, who else is here?"
Natalie didn't answer.
Then, from the shadows of the room, Isaac stepped forward.
His shirt was soaked in blood. His eyes—those red, burning eyes—locked onto them with inhuman hunger.
"Nice catch sis, carlos is going to love these two."
Reeves barely had time to shout before Isaac lunged.
The impact slammed the officer into the wall, his body cam catching the blur of movement, the flash of teeth—
Then the scream.
Chang drew his gun, but Natalie was already behind him.
He fired—point-blank into Isaac's chest.
The red light in his eyes flickered.
Another shot.
Isaac staggered back.
A third.
Isaac collapsed to his knees, his breathing ragged—then, he began to dissolved ever so slowly into shadows. The body hit the floor, turning to black dust and crumbling off like ash. Before finally, vanishing as if he had never existed.
Chang stared, his hands trembling.
"What the fu—"
Teeth sank into his ankle.
Reeves—his eyes red, his mouth dripping blood—had already turned.
Chang screamed.
The body cam flickered—And the feed cut out.
Sophie ran.
Her bare feet slapped against the wet pavement, rain drenching her as she stumbled through the streets. The oversized T-shirt she'd stolen from Isaac's closet clinging to her skin.
Sophie's mind wandered as the memory clawed its way back— the frantic pounding on the locked door, the splintering wood, Isaac's laughter echoing through the thin walls. Natalie's voice, sickly sweet, coaxing her to 'just open up.' The way the hinges groaned, seconds from giving way.
She'd had no choice.
The window—her only way out—had been slick with rain, the glass already fractured from some past storm. She'd barely squeezed through before the door exploded inward—Carlos's snarl ripping through the air. A flash of red eyes, a flicker of shifting shadows—then the rush of cold wind as she plunged onto the fire escape. The jagged glass tore into her palms, warm blood mixing with the rain as she scrambled down, heart hammering. Above her, Carlos hesitated—his gaze snapping toward something inside the apartment. Something else had caught his attention."
She didn't look back.
That had been several hours ago and now she didn't know where she was going. She didn't care. She just had to tell someone. Anyone.
Headlights washed over her, tires screeching to a stop.
Two cops stepped out, weapons raised. "Whoa! Hey—what's going on?"
Sophie collapsed against the car. "They're MONSTERS!" she sobbed. "In the apartment—they killed them!"
The officers exchanged looks.
One of them, Officer Davis, exhaled sharply. "Alright, miss, slow down. Tell me your name first
"Sophie. Sophie Miller," she choked out. "I was brought here by another victim, then he turned too. You have to do something!"
Davis frowned, turning away to pull out his radio. "Dispatch, checking ID for a Sophie Miller—"
The radio crackled.
"Confirmed. Missing person. Transferring her back to Whittier PD."
Davis looked back at his partner, then back at Sophie as they talked.
"Alright, kid. Lets get you out of here."
Sophie's eyes went blank.
"No—NO! You don't understand! Please just listen too me!"
Davis sighed. "Calm down, miss. You'll be safe soon."
She wanted to scream. To fight. To make them listen. But she already knew how this would go. They never listened.
Back inside the Apartment, Natalie stood over the fallen officer.
Her fingers twitched.
She licked the blood from her lips.
Isaac was gone, but she still had two more to join Carlos.
But why was Reeves taking so long? He should be up by now.
She knelt down, tilting her head at the officer's twitching form.
His body convulsed.
His pupils burned red.
Natalie grinned.
"Welcome back."
Some ways away, eri had finally found her destination.
Cold rain dripped through the skeletal remains of what used to be a restaurant, pooling in the cracks of charred tile. The scent of soot, rusted metal, and old grease still clung to the ruined walls, the fire having erased all but fragments of what once stood here.
Mimi's Café.
Or what was left of it at least.
The neon sign had melted into warped plastic, half its letters unreadable. The roof had caved in at the center, leaving blackened beams jutting toward the sky like broken ribs.
Across the street, the 24-hour vr arcade still pulsed with artificial light, its glow flickering against the wet pavement. A few guests drifted in and out, oblivious to the ghosts across the street.
Mephisto stopped just outside the ruined doorway, trailing behind Eri and Marisol. His presence loomed, a heavy shadow against the rain.
His expression darkened. His hands rubbing his chest as if someone had shot him.
Eri caught it.
For the first time since they arrived—the smirks, the amusement, the casual cruelty—none of it was there.
Just something cold.
A sense of disbelief in his eyes.
It sent a tremor down her spine.
Eri paused in the doorway. "What is it?"
Mephisto's lips twitched. Then—gone. The look disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced with his usual lazy grin.
"Nothing," he murmured, but his hand still rested against his chest. "Let's keep moving. Wouldn't want our little savior catching cold."
Marisol shivered, from the cool morning air.
Inside the Restaurant
The kitchen was gutted.
Eri stared with a look of grand nostalgia. She could still make out the remnants of a countertop, half-burnt booths, and what was once a pastry display case, now just shards of melted glass and rusted metal.
Mephesto led her to the least-damaged corner—a booth with half its frame still intact. The cushions were singed, but at least it was something.
She layed Marisol down upon the cushions.
Her body lay there asleep, too exhausted to process anything beyond the lids of her eyes.
The shadow cat, which had been perched on Eri's shoulder the entire time, jumped down, stretching its inky limbs before curling around marisol.
She stiffened.
It pressed against her, its form flickering like living ink, shielding her from the cold air and damp surroundings.
For a moment, she stirred. Before returning to her slumber. lost in dreams, it was more than comforting … it was warm.
Mephisto exhaled, rubbing his neck. "I'll take first watch. You should relax. Maybe even get some sleep."
Eri scoffed. "Otherworlders don't need sleep."
Mephisto's grin twisted, amused. "Sure. And yet, I doubt that'll be a problem for you."
Eri glanced at Marisol, whose breathing had already begun to slow. A quiet, exhausted rhythm.
Without a word, she sat beside her.
Marisol shifted, unconsciously moving toward the warmth. Her head found a place against Eri's legs, curling into the space as if it had always been meant to be there.
Eri didn't move.
Didn't push her away.
Instead, she sighed, brushing a strand of wet hair from the girl's face.
Mephisto watched them both.
Then, with a knowing smirk, turned toward the entrance, staring into the night.