"Don't-" Jonathan coughed; the words dragged from his throat by the iron tendrils of pain lashing his skull. "Tell me... Tell me what the hell is going on with me."
For a moment, nobody moved.
The woman in the silver cloak's pale eyes held an unnerving intensity, flickering briefly to the faint pulse still drumming beneath his skin. Closer now, Jonathan could feel her power. It was not the explosive, corrupted force of the Enforcer, nor the raw, uncontained energy of his core-but rather something compressed and razor-sharp and cold. Something dangerous.
Darric, the Blackwell Enforcer from behind them, slowly cracked his neck, the green serpent tattoo beneath his skin glowing faintly. The smile, thin and knowing, returned.
"Agent," Lydia said, her grip tightening on Jonathan's arm, her voice carefully leveled. "You're late."
The woman's gaze never left Jonathan's face. "The timing was intended."
His head throbbed. His own pulse thundered in his ears. "Can anyone..." he rasped. "Please... Stop the cryptic warnings and tell me why suddenly everyone either wants to kill me, or kidnap me?"
The silver-cloaked woman offered a tiny, barely visible smile in response. "You really don't know," she murmured.
Inside him, the Echo stirred-ancient and wary. Be careful, it whispered. This one sees too much.
Jonathan did his best to ignore it.
The woman took another step closer, her boots crunching lightly on the scattered glass. Jonathan could now see the symbol at her collar – a stylized star split by a vertical blade, pinned neatly.
"Your name?" he demanded.
She studied him for a moment before replying. "Agent Seraphine Vale," she said. "Senior Field Instructor, Retrieval Division, Destral Academy."
The words fell into the suddenly silent street like lead weights. Lydia let out a soft gasp next to him. "They sent Vale herself..."
Seraphine's sharp gaze cut to Lydia. "You were ordered to observe. You activated a Blackwell response team and nearly killed the heir before acquisition procedures began."
Jonathan blinked. "...Acquisition?"
"Academy politics," Lydia said quickly, jaw clenched. "Ignore the semantics."
Seraphine did not contradict her. This gave Jonathan no comfort.
Darric clapped, a single slow, mocking sound, from across the shattered street. "How touching. The Academy has come to claim its lost property."
Seraphine didn't acknowledge him. "Leave," she said, flat and final. The word wasn't loud, but the air around it seemed to buckle. For the first time, the Enforcer's smile faltered slightly.
"Oh, I'm going," Darric purred, his eyes – bright green and glinting-fixed back on Jonathan, hunger in them. "Retrieval wasn't part of my orders tonight. Just confirmation the Core activated."
Jonathan's stomach dropped. The serpent tattoo flared again, sickly green.
Darric backed slowly towards the waiting SUVs. "But it changes nothing, heir. You're already at war. You just don't know it yet."
Car doors slammed in unison. Engines roared to life, then... They were gone.
The street was left in a ringing silence, broken only by the distant wail of sirens and the crackle of the burning safe house behind them. Jonathan swayed on his feet, the adrenaline rapidly draining away. The pain, however, remained.
Seraphine turned back to him, her expression hardening as she saw his trembling hands. "You're destabilizing."
"Noticed that," Jonathan muttered.
The Echo stirred again, hard and insistent. His vision blurred for a split second; chains snapped, a gate splintered, and a smiling figure wearing his face flickered through fire. Jonathan stumbled.
Seraphine reacted instantly. Two fingers pressed sharply against his sternum, directly over the Destral Core Seal. A flood of cold, absolute force, not at all gentle, washed over him. The chaos within raged, then abruptly compressed, pushed back behind whatever invisible barrier held the seal. He almost buckled.
"...What was that?" he breathed.
"Temporary suppression," Seraphine said. "You were seconds from a partial breach."
Lydia went utterly still. Jonathan's throat felt like sandpaper. "Partial... Breach?"
Seraphine's face remained impassive. "When the Destral Core fully activates within an untrained host, the common outcomes are catastrophic detonation... Or personality overwrite."
Silence. Jonathan stared at her.
"...Overwrite?"
The Echo said nothing. That frightened him more than anything.
Seraphine relaxed slightly, folding her hands behind her back. "There's no time for explanation. Blackwell knows you survived. They will retaliate."
Lydia let out a shaky breath. "How long?"
"Hours, at most," Seraphine said.
Jonathan laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "Fantastic."
Against all odds, Seraphine's mouth twitched into the briefest hint of a smile. It was gone before he could properly register it. "You have two options. Stay here and wait for the next Blackwell team..." She left the thought hanging. Jonathan grimaced. "Or?" "Or you come with me. Immediately. Destral Academy will take provisional custody and begin stabilization."
Custody. That word again. Jonathan slowly straightened, his entire body screaming in protest. "I'm not property."
For the first time, respect flickered in Seraphine's pale eyes. "No," she said. "You are a risk factor carrying an ancient weapon. The terminology is unfortunate, but accurate."
"...Wow," Lydia huffed, a little piece of the old her resurfacing. "She's always like this."
Jonathan rubbed a hand over his face. His wife was alive. Blackwell wanted him dead. He was a weapon, possibly with a mind-destroying core, and some academy held the only hope of controlling him. This was going to be a fun night.
He looked up and met Seraphine's steady gaze. "If I go with you," he said slowly, "I get answers."
"Within operational guidelines."
"Training."
"Yes."
"Protection from Blackwell."
A pause. "Conditional," Seraphine said.
Jonathan narrowed his eyes. "I don't like that word."
"You don't have to," she replied calmly. "It's the truth."
Fair enough. The roof of the safe house behind them finally collapsed with a distant crash, sending sparks high into the night sky. Time was running out. Jonathan met Lydia's calm gaze.
"You won't survive another assault without training," she said quietly. "And Blackwell never sends the same amount of force twice."
Which meant the next time, it would be worse.
Jonathan took a slow breath and nodded. "...Alright," he said. "I'm coming with you."
Seraphine turned immediately. "Good. We're going now."
She raised one hand. The air above the ruined street warped, then tore open, revealing a shimmering, circular portal of silver light edged with controlled Destral energy. Beyond it, Jonathan saw impossible spires, floating platforms, and a sky streaked with aurora-like light currents. Nothing on Earth could possibly look like that.
Jonathan gasped.
"That," Seraphine said coolly, "is Destral Academy."
The Echo whispered, its ancient voice low and resonant. So the cage is revealed.
Jonathan's stomach tightened. Cage? He didn't like the sound of that at all.
Seraphine stepped towards the portal, then paused, her pale eyes locking with his. "One word of warning, Jonathan Collin," she said. "Once you cross this threshold, there is no turning back."
The silver gateway hummed louder behind her. Jonathan stared at it, at the impossible world on the other side, at the war already hunting him. Slowly, he stepped forward.
And the night closed behind him.