This chapter marks a turning point.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The room held the soft, clean scent of soap and warm fabric.
I sat on the edge of the bed with Elara curled against my side, damp curls clinging to my neck. Seth stood a pace away, Ethan braced against his chest. One small fist had found its way into Seth's chest hair and tugged with focused determination.
Seth hissed under his breath. "Easy, warrior."
Ethan answered by pulling harder.
I smiled despite myself. I reached for the Rubik's cube and pressed it into Elara's hands. She accepted it at once, fingers turning the colored faces without urgency, without looking.
I lifted my gaze to Seth.
"How did you know," I asked quietly, "that we were in trouble?"
He shifted his weight. Ethan tugged again, as if reinforcing the question.
"She kept fixating," Seth said. "She wouldn't settle."
Elara twisted the cube. Blue slid away from yellow.
"People assumed I was pinching her in secret," Seth added. "Which felt unfair, considering I was the one being assaulted."
A soft breath of laughter escaped me.
"I took them out of the room," he continued. "I needed the accusations to stop."
Elara slid from the bed then, steady on her feet. She crossed the room and stopped near the wall. She did not touch it. She stood very still.
I felt the change before it showed. The space near the corner tightened, as if the room had inhaled and forgotten how to release the breath.
She crouched and placed her palm flat against the carpet.
The floor rippled.
A small distortion opened beneath her hand, shallow and liquid in shape, like a puddle where no water belonged. The surface shimmered, unstable but contained.
Seth and I leaned forward at the same time.
Movement showed beneath the surface.
Demons burrowed through packed earth far below, bodies working in practiced rhythm. One tore forward, claws chewing through soil. Another followed close behind, scooping and clearing with speed and intent. Their tunnel was wide and deliberate. Their progress was relentless.
Then their movement slowed.
Heads lifted. Bodies hesitated.
The rhythm broke.
Ethan twisted in Seth's arms, arm stretching toward the floor. Seth barely had time to react before Ethan slapped his palm down beside the distortion.
The air bucked.
Pressure surged outward, force peeling away from the space as if something had been yanked loose and thrown aside. The puddle shuddered, collapsed inward, and sealed with a sound like breath being forced from lungs.
The room stilled.
Seth stared at the spot where the portal had been.
My heart hammered. Awe rose fast, followed by something colder.
"We can't let this be known," Seth said, voice tight. "Only a few. The fewer who understand what they can do, the safer they are."
I turned toward him. "Everyone here can be trusted."
He shook his head. "I will not gamble with them. We've seen how the twenty-eight were bent. I won't assume safety because we want it to be true."
The words landed hard.
"You don't get to say that," I replied, hurt threading through my voice. "I've fought beside them. I know them."
"And I am their father," Seth said, anger flaring. Silver stirred along his skin, bright and restless. "I will not sacrifice my children so the world can marvel at them."
Gold answered.
The air thickened between us.
The cry came without warning.
Both children screamed at once.
Elara hurled the Rubik's Cube to the floor.
It shattered on impact.
The room lurched left, fast and violent, then snapped right as if seized by unseen hands. Gravity lost its argument. The floor tilted sharply, angles skewing as though the planet itself had slipped on its axis.
I was thrown backward.
My feet left the ground as the tilt took me, breath tearing from my chest as the bedside table rushed up behind me. Seth went with me, weight shifting the same way, already moving.
His arm caught me across the back a heartbeat before impact. His leg slammed up against the wall, bracing hard as the rest of the room slid past us. The jolt rattled through bone and muscle, sharp and real, but he held.
We ended in a breathless knot of limbs and fabric, faces close enough that I could feel his breath against my cheek.
For a fraction of a second, everything else disappeared.
I stared at him, stunned by how fast he had moved.
He smiled gently, as if nothing had ever been wrong.
Then the world pitched again.
The bed slid. Chairs toppled. Objects lifted and flung sideways, colliding with walls and each other in a storm of sound and motion. The room tilted at a sickening angle before snapping back into place.
When the movement finally stilled, Seth was still holding me.
Silence followed.
Understanding hit us at the same time.
We had broken a rule.
We moved together.
I scooped Elara up, fingers closing around the broken cube. Gold traced my hands as the pieces rewrote themselves, snapping back into perfect order. Seth lifted Ethan, pressing him close, murmuring until the tension eased.
Fists pounded at the door.
"Max," Alec's voice came through, strained. "Seth. Open up."
The handle turned.
Seth pulled the door open and stepped back just in time for Alec, Jamey, and Gabriel to stumble inside in a tangled heap, momentum carrying them forward until they collided with the floor in a tangle of limbs and breathless curses.
Behind them, two heads peeked cautiously around the doorframe.
Samuel first. Then Samantha, eyes wide.
The three men were on their feet in seconds.
Seth leaned forward and caught Samuel by the collar, hauling him inside. Samuel immediately reached back, grabbing Samantha's wrist and pulling her with him. Once everyone was across the threshold, Seth kicked the door shut behind them.
The sound echoed louder than it should have.
Gabriel's attention went straight to Elara.
He stepped forward, hands already lifting, instinctive and careful.
I turned Elara toward me before handing her over. Her body was still tense, breath uneven, eyes too sharp for a child her age.
"It's okay," I said softly, brushing her curls back from her face. "Mommy and Daddy are both sorry. We didn't mean to fight."
I crossed the room with her still in my arms and stopped in front of Seth.
I leaned into him.
He wrapped an arm around both of us without hesitation, pressing his forehead briefly to Elara's hair.
"I don't love Mommy any less," he said quietly.
Elara's shoulders loosened.
She reached for Gabriel.
I exhaled and let her go.
Gabriel took her carefully, settling her weight against his shoulder as if he had done it a hundred times before. I sank back onto the edge of the bed, fatigue finally catching up with me.
I held my hand out.
Seth took it.
"I am sorry," I said, meaning more than one thing. "I must be more exhausted than I realized."
He squeezed my fingers once. "These people are where we started," he said. "I don't mind you telling them."
He paused, then added, "Adrian. Marcus. Hannah. Claire. They should know too. That's it."
I nodded.
I told them what happened.
No one interrupted. No one questioned. Samuel's face had gone pale. Samantha's hand stayed locked in his sleeve. Alec stood perfectly still. Jamey's humor never surfaced. Gabriel listened without expression, Elara quiet against him.
When I finished, the room stayed silent.
Gabriel spoke first.
"I agree with Seth," he said.
Every head turned.
"Human will bends easily," he continued, voice low and steady. "Even when intentions are good. Especially then."
He adjusted his hold on Elara and looked at Seth. "Protection comes before truth."
Then he turned and left the room.
The door closed softly behind him.
No one argued.
I looked down at our joined hands.
Fear lingered.
Wonder stayed.
But the room stood straight again.
--------------------------------------------------------
The room had changed its mood.
Steam no longer clung to the air. Towels were gone. The quiet now carried fabric sounds, soft movements, the low rustle of preparation. I stood in front of the mirror while Seth worked the zipper up my back with careful fingers.
"Remember what we discussed," I said, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
"I remember," he replied.
He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my temple. "Of course, my dear fair leader."
I smiled despite myself.
He smoothed the back of my dress, then flicked the tail of the gown out behind me with deliberate care, setting it just right. The fabric settled in a long, elegant line, obedient for now.
The door opened as I stepped into the corridor.
Alec let out a low whistle. Jamey followed it up with enthusiasm.
"Well then," Alec said. "Seth, you better keep an eye on your wife tonight. At this rate she might come home with a boy toy."
I did not break stride.
Seth's voice followed calmly from behind me. "I'm counting on it."
Leah whistled from the opposite side of the hall as Seth and Nathan emerged, both dressed in tuxedos that fit a little too well. Nathan looked uncomfortable. Seth looked entirely at ease.
Jamey leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Careful, Leah. Flirting with the boss man is dangerous business."
He glanced at me. "Medusa here might turn you to stone. Or worse. Paperwork."
Leah laughed. "Worth the risk."
The moment passed, easy and familiar, then dissolved into motion.
The farm stirred as we passed through it. Doors opened. Gravel shifted. Engines came alive, low and waiting. The air held earth and cooling grass, the day's warmth still clinging.
I slid into the car beside Seth as the gate rolled open.
By the time the hall came into view, the sky had darkened further.
Seth parked and stepped out first, already moving around the car. The door opened, and he offered his hand.
I took it.
As I stood, fabric whispering around my legs, I glanced up.
Clouds hovered low over the horizon, dense and uneven, layered like bruises across the sky. The shapes within them shifted slowly. For a heartbeat, it looked as if faces pressed through the gray, watching from somewhere far above, curious and intent.
Then the illusion slipped.
Seth's hand remained steady in mine.
I stepped fully out of the car.
The lights of the hall glowed ahead of us.
We walked toward them together.
We handed over our invitations at the doors.
The staff barely glanced at the lettering before stepping aside. Polite smiles. Quiet nods. Everything moved with practiced ease. Seth's hand rested lightly at my back as we entered, guiding without steering.
Behind us, Nathan and Leah arrived a breath later from a different entrance, their timing close but deliberate. No acknowledgment passed between us. To anyone watching, we were strangers sharing the same evening.
The hall was already alive.
Voices layered over one another in careful tones. Robes brushed polished floors. Rings flashed beneath warm light. Priests and religious heads stood in small constellations, some familiar, some newly arrived. The air carried incense and wine and the faint weight of expectation.
At the far end, round tables marked the inner circle. The most influential sectors had already taken their seats, arranged with precision and purpose. Closer to the center, more tables waited, dressed in white, set with glass and silver, ready for the rest of us.
We were guided forward.
Our table sat near the center, close enough to observe without being on display. Nathan and Leah were led to another table several paces away, positioned just far enough to sell the illusion.
As we sat, I leaned toward Seth, my voice barely moving the air.
"I forgot to ask Samuel what the purpose of this dinner is."
His mouth curved. Just slightly.
"I did," he murmured back. "One of us remembered to ask the important questions."
I shot him a look.
"They want calm," he continued, tone dry. "After the last incident with the possessed men, they decided panic was inefficient."
I stilled.
"They intend to address supernatural events peacefully," he said. "Introduce the teams who will lead investigations. Explain their structure. Discuss unity. Shared responsibility. Public reassurance."
"So," I whispered, "damage control."
"Dressed as cooperation," he replied.
More guests filtered in.
My attention drifted across the room, cataloging movement, posture, influence. That was when I saw him.
Marcus's High Priest entered through the side doors, flanked by two attendants. His presence shifted the room in small ways. Conversations adjusted. Heads turned. Space opened without being asked for.
They were about to pass our table.
The priest slowed.
His gaze caught.
Seth leaned closer to me, voice soft and sharp at once. "Move on."
The High Priest hesitated, then inclined his head and continued walking as if nothing had happened.
I kept my expression composed until they were gone.
Then I exhaled.
The evening had officially begun.
Conversation gathered the way it always did at events like this. Slowly at first. Then all at once.
I listened with half an ear.
Reports moved around the table in careful language. Missing people. Bodies found days later. Damage inconsistent with human violence. Words like dismembered softened into trauma. Half eaten became animal interference.
Someone mentioned folklore.
Werewolves came up. Old stories. Rural myths. A polite dismissal followed, wrapped in academic amusement.
Seth leaned closer, voice low. "They're hunting shadows."
I kept my smile polite. "They don't know the shadow hunts back."
Across the room, a speaker launched into logistics. Jurisdiction. Shared databases. Oversight committees. A proposal to centralize reports under a single investigative body.
A bottleneck, dressed as efficiency.
I watched the nods ripple outward. Agreement followed quickly. Relief even.
Entertainment flickered through me, sharp and brief. Not joy. Something colder. They were arranging furniture while something chewed through the foundations.
A murmur rose near the windows.
I followed the sound and saw the clouds.
They had drawn closer. Low and dense, pressing toward the hall as if pulled by something beneath it. Wind dragged along the glass, testing seams, whispering through old stone.
A man near the dais cleared his throat. "This building has stood for over a century," he said, reassuring. "Reinforced stone. Deep foundations. Whatever is happening outside, we are safe here."
Several people exhaled.
Another voice cut in, uneasy. "After the last incident, we cannot afford another failure. We all remember how badly that was handled."
Fear rippled. Subtle, but present.
A senior figure waved a hand. "That situation escalated due to poor coordination. Tonight is about unity. Calm heads. Rational action."
Seth shifted.
His foot pressed flat against the floor.
He went still.
I felt it too. A low tension beneath us, distant but deliberate, like pressure building behind a sealed door. Seth tapped his glass twice, precise, controlled.
I turned and caught his eye.
I winked.
I feel it. Do nothing.
I reached for my phone as someone near the center scoffed. "You're exaggerating. Clouds do this. Weather shifts."
My fingers moved quickly. A short message. No explanation. No emotion. Just placement and timing.
I set the phone back on the table and lifted my gaze.
Marcus's High Priest stood.
He did not raise his voice. He did not wait for permission.
"There are truths in this world," he said, "that humanity fears to hold for too long."
A ripple moved through the hall. Chairs shifted. A few heads turned.
"Every person gathered here serves a Mighty God," he continued. "Yet we behave as though that power exists in isolation. As though opposition is a myth."
A scoff cut through the air.
"If there is a God," the priest said calmly, "then there is resistance. Balance demands it. Opposition defines devotion."
Murmurs rose. Uneasy. Curious. Irritated.
"What if," he went on, "the disturbances we are seeing are not folklore made flesh. Not wolves or vampires or stories we can laugh away."
Someone laughed anyway.
"What if," he said, "they are demons."
The reaction was instant.
Voices erupted. Laughter broke sharp and loud.
"Demons on earth," someone said. "That's rich."
"Delusional," another snapped. "This is supposed to be a serious discussion."
The priest tried to speak again, but the noise swallowed him.
His attendants stepped closer, one on each side.
"Sit down," a man from another table barked. "You're embarrassing everyone."
"I am warning you," the priest said, still composed.
The man laughed and rose to his feet. "You're fearmongering."
Marcus's High Priest did not react to the insult.
"There is confusion," he said calmly, raising his voice just enough to carry. "And confusion breeds arrogance."
The room quieted, not out of respect, but curiosity.
"Spirits," he continued, "are echoes. Impressions left behind. They linger without will. Ghosts are bound memory, unresolved and harmless unless provoked."
A few heads nodded. Familiar ground.
"Demons," he said, "are neither."
The nods stopped.
"They possess intent. Hunger. Hierarchy. They do not wander. They infiltrate. They do not seek notice. They seek access."
Someone huffed.
"They do not want belief," the priest went on. "They want permission."
A ripple moved through the hall, sharp now.
"What we are seeing," he said, "is not folklore gone wrong. It is structure. Coordination. Purpose."
The man who had spoken earlier stepped closer to the priest's table, irritation plain on his face.
"That's enough," he said. "You're disrupting the evening."
One of Marcus's attendants moved in immediately, placing a hand out, gentle but firm.
"Please sit," he said.
Another attendant from a different delegation rose."Everyone needs to calm down," he said, reaching for Marcus's attendant.Resistance met him.The priest stepped in to steady the moment.
His foot caught on the chair leg.
He went down.
The sound of his body hitting the floor was quiet. Embarrassing. Final in its own way.
No one moved.
One of his attendants dropped beside him at once, helping him sit upright, murmuring urgently. The other stood frozen, eyes darting across the room, waiting for help that did not come.
My jaw tightened.
Seth's hand closed over mine, grounding, warning.
"Easy," he murmured.
I stood anyway.
The shift was immediate.
The air tightened, subtle but unmistakable, like the hall had drawn a breath and forgotten how to let it go. Conversations died mid-word. Chairs stilled. Even the priest's attendant paused, sensing something had changed.
I did not raise my voice.
"I find it interesting," I said, "how quickly God-fearing people abandon dignity when faith makes them uncomfortable."
Faces turned.
"You gather in His name," I continued, "yet recoil the moment His opposition is mentioned. You speak of unity, then leave a servant of God on the floor because his warning disrupts your evening."
No one spoke.
"You call yourselves sincere," I said, "but sincerity does not vanish when belief is tested."
I stepped closer to the fallen priest and offered my hand.
"This," I said quietly, "is what faith looks like."
The pressure in the room deepened, and no one moved a muscle.
They would understand soon.
Whether they wanted to or not.
They felt it.
Marcus's High Priest took my hand.
His grip was steady despite the fall. His eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, sharp with certainty, then lowered as though nothing unusual had passed between us.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
A man near the dais rose and smoothed his robe, expression composed, voice warm.
"Let us pause for a moment," he said. "Emotions are clearly elevated."
Agreement followed quickly, relieved and eager.
"This gathering was intended to foster dialogue," he continued. "Perhaps we should redirect our focus and allow our guest to recover without further disruption."
His attention settled on me, careful rather than accusatory.
Others stood with him, one after another, spaced just far enough apart to appear incidental. Their bodies angled inward, creating a soft arc that narrowed the space around me.
Seth shifted beside me. I felt the restraint in him, deliberate and controlled.
A woman seated near the front table leaned forward. "Security," she said gently, "would you escort our guests somewhere quieter."
The word pressed against the air.
I remained where I was.
The pressure answered instead. The lights dulled slightly, drawn toward me without flicker or sound. The floor beneath my feet felt firm in a way that made everything else feel uncertain by comparison.
The man near the dais hesitated, his breath catching before he spoke again.
I turned slowly, letting my gaze pass over the faces nearest me as I watched curiosity, discomfort, calculation, and unease wash over them.
"You are attempting to manage what you do not understand," I said. "Courtesy does not make it safer."
A low murmur followed.
"I stood because a servant of God was left on the floor," I continued. "You rose because the room shifted."
No one objected.
"You speak of peace and order," I said. "Yet the moment truth unsettles comfort, removal becomes the solution."
Seth's hand rested at my back now, firm and anchoring.
"Containment dressed as civility remains fear," I said quietly.
The man near the dais opened his mouth, then reconsidered.
Behind me, Marcus's High Priest released a slow breath.
"This," he said to the room, voice steady and carrying, "is what I was trying to warn you about."
The pressure deepened, patient and watchful.
They had tried procedure.
They had tried composure.
Neither held.
Security closed the remaining distance.
Hands reached again, careful, rehearsed. Someone spoke my name as if familiarity might anchor me back into place.
The pressure below surged hard enough to rattle glass.
Silver answered beside me.
Seth inhaled, measured and deep, and the air obeyed first. Light curved along his frame, clean and deliberate, frost whispering at his feet before dissolving as he lifted free of the floor.
Heat stirred in my chest.
The Flame followed, slower, unfolding rather than surging. White spilled through my hair, lengthening as gold threaded beneath my skin in brief, living fragments. The ribbons woke, glyphs flowing along their lengths as the room dimmed, light drawing inward as though it had found its center.
Voices faltered.
Movement stopped.
I did not look at myself. I saw the change in reflection instead, in stone polished to a dull sheen, in eyes widened beyond denial, in the way space tightened around me as if bracing.
Afterimages stepped from me without sound.
One became many.
They moved with purpose, not speed, each echo carrying enough of the Flame to stand where it was needed. Silver threaded through them as Seth mirrored the motion, his presence unfolding alongside mine, shorter, sharper, just as deliberate.
Outside, the sky failed.
Clouds compressed until depth collapsed, shapes tearing free and dropping hard into the grounds below. Impact thundered through the hall as stone and structure answered the fall.
The floor sagged in widening circles.
Tiles dipped and slid as if the earth beneath them had decided to release its grip. Hands appeared first, already braced against surfaces that should not have held them. Bodies followed, pulling themselves upward through yielding ground, deliberate and coordinated.
I lifted my chin.
The hall quieted, not by command, but by instinct.
"This ends now," I said.
My voice carried without effort.
Afterimages spread further, Flame and Breath holding lines that no longer existed. Our people emerged where space allowed them, stepping through depth as though they had always been close.
The floor sagged in widening circles.
Fear finally found its way into the room.
Tables lurched first. Chairs followed, legs scraping as stone dipped beneath them. People cried out as the ground gave way, balance stolen in an instant. Some fell to their knees. Others slid toward the forming depressions, hands clawing for purchase that no longer existed.
I did not hesitate.
White strands surged from me in sharp, decisive lines. They caught wrists, waists, shoulders, anything within reach, yanking bodies free of the collapsing floor and flinging them clear in hard, controlled arcs.
People collided as they were thrown near the dais, breath knocked loose, dignity abandoned. One man struck the stone hard enough to curse. Another landed flat on his back, staring up in stunned silence.
Seth moved with me.
Silver threaded through the white strands, reinforcing the pull, snapping around those my reach missed. Together we cleared the sinking ground in seconds, leaving the space empty as the stone collapsed inward.
The hole widened.
Hands that were not human gripped the edges below.
The hall steadied for half a breath.
In that breath, I turned left.
Space deepened where it had already thinned. The afterimages parted just enough, and Alec came through first, boots striking stone already moving, lightning alive along his shoulders. Jamey followed, then Gabriel, then the others, momentum uninterrupted as though they had never been elsewhere at all.
Relief flickered once and vanished.
Seth moved.
Silver poured from his back in controlled arcs, afterimages unfolding outward like intent given shape. The first demon reached the lip of the hole, its form stretching too wide for the space it tried to claim.
Seth connected.
His strike landed clean and exact, fist driving into the creature's skull with decisive force. The demon did not shatter. It was redirected. Its body folded downward, slammed back into the yielding dark beneath the floor.
Afterimages mirrored the motion.
Every emerging shape met the same refusal. Silver and white moved together, denying ascent, driving presence back into depth, hands and limbs vanishing as the ground accepted them again.
The hole churned.
More pressure surged.
My team spread instinctively, weapons ready, eyes tracking threats that no longer followed expected paths.
"I've instructed the Flame to keep the overlap open," I said, voice carrying without strain. "Get them to the farm."
They did not question it.
Alec nodded once. Jamey was already moving. Victor and Rachel turned, herding the stunned and injured toward the waiting depth as afterimages guided them through, firm and unyielding.
Seth glanced back at me.
We moved together.
The ground swallowed us as we vanished into the hole, white and silver folding inward, afterimages collapsing behind us as the surface sealed just enough to slow what followed.
Darkness pressed.
Then pressure broke.
Minutes later, I rose again.
The sky had lost patience.
Clouds churned low and wrong, heavy with movement. Shapes tore free and dropped hard, striking ground, structure, anything that existed beneath them.
I did not slow.
White and gold flared as I lifted, afterimages streaming behind me in overwhelming number, presence multiplying until the air itself felt crowded with intention.
"End it," I said.
They obeyed.
Afterimages fanned outward, intercepting falling bodies, severing descent, cutting through mass and momentum alike. Light flashed where they moved, white threaded with gold, precise and final.
I flew straight into the clouds.
The world below vanished.
Inside the grey, only light remained.
White and gold burned through the density, flaring and folding, illumination ripping through shadow as judgment moved unseen. Flashes strobed within the cloudbank, irregular and violent, the sky losing coherence around the intrusion.
Below, afterimages finished what fell.
Above, the clouds began to thin.
I did not look back.
The sky opened to me.
The All-Seeing Eye unfolded, not widening vision, but layering it. I saw the clouds tear apart above me, the ground break beneath the hall, the interior collapsing into evacuation and fire. I saw the farm through the thinning overlap, bodies moving through safety one by one.
I saw the battlefield below.
Marcus stood at the center of it, spirits tearing forward at his command, fierce and disciplined. Jamey moved like a storm, twin sickles etched with living glyphs, amplification radiating from him in widening pulses as he passed through allies. The Judicars fought in formation, weapons burning with inscriptions meant to endure.
Gabriel was with them now.
I heard Marcus shout his name.
A spirit surged forward, too fast, too late.
The demon struck first.
It tore through Gabriel's arm in a single motion, flesh and bone yielding without resistance. He fell hard, scream cutting through the noise as the spirit obliterated the creature.
Another demon rose from his left.
I was already moving.
It drove into his shoulder before I reached him.
I tore through the space between us, ribbons flashing white and gold, demons in my path erased without slowing me. I caught him as his legs gave out, his weight collapsing into my arms.
Blood soaked my hands.
Afterimages closed around us, shields locking, strikes intercepting everything that tried to reach us.
I focused.
The Flame answered.
Glyphs flowed. Scripture rewrote. I pressed everything I was into the space where he had been whole.
Nothing changed.
I tried again.
Rachel and Leah appeared beside me, hands already glowing, afterimages flanking them as they joined the attempt.
It did not matter.
Gabriel's breath shuddered once.
Then stopped.
The world did not tilt.
Sound did not vanish.
Something inside me did.
The white withdrew.
Light along my skin dimmed and sank inward, as though recalled by something deeper. My hair darkened strand by strand, the white swallowed into black that drank what little light remained. The flowing strands slowed, then changed, their pale glow collapsing into pitch, the gold within them cooling into shadow.
Black script spread across my body, deliberate and patient, carving itself into place with quiet authority. It did not rest against my skin.
It exceeded it.
The Flame fell silent.
What rose in its place did not hesitate.
-----------------------------------------------------
Thank you for reading through this chapter. The events here reshape the path forward in ways that will unfold over the next arc. Some losses are meant to be carried, not erased.