The forest screamed violently. Wind tore through the trees like the breath of an ancient god, flogging branches and stones aside. Black lightning coiled through the mist, crashing against the veins of gold light that carved fissures across the night.The world was unraveling. And at its center—three men stood between creation and destruction."Let's see how the two of you are going to take me down!" Aadam yelled as he clenched his fists. "The both of you are no match for me at all! I possess powers which you cannot comprehend!"He hovered above the ground, eyes burning like twin shards of amethyst flame. Nether surged through him like a living thing—noy power, but possession. The Dark Stone, fused into his chest, pulsed violently with each heartbeat, a rhythm that seemed to mock the world's own.This power is really terrifying... Jeffery Flamel thought within his heart. But I can't run away right now... I feel this is the reason I given this power... to help humanity... I need to use

Darkness. Only darkness.That was all there was at first—thick, suffocating darkness that clung to Jeffery's lungs and mind like smoke. His heartbeat was faint, uneven, echoing somewhere deep inside his skull. Every breath burned, every pulse screamed exhaustion.And it didn't just stop there. The exhaustion affected not just his physical body but his entire being. His meridians and Dantian seemed as if they were going to be destroyed while his soul kept wavering. As if it would be snuffed out of his body in no time.Ugh... he groaned, feeling the agonizing pain which couldn't be described in human words. I... need... to...He didn't know how long he'd been lying there. How long he had been unconscious. The world around him was still—a graveyard of scroched soil, shattered trees, and lifeless bodies. The scent of iron, ash, and ozone hung heavy in the air.I... need to open my eyes, he grunted inwardly as he struggled to move his eyelids. They seemed very heavy as if something was wei

The cell was cold. Too cold and damp. Every sound echoed—the faint drip of water, the scratch of chains, the distant murmur of guards outside.Jeffery sat in silence, his back against the wall. His coat had been taken, his arm still wrapped in torn fabric. The faint traces of the woman's healing Qi still pulsed within him, keeping him alive—but only barely.I can't believe I allowed all this to happen, he thought within himself. I caused everything that happened this night...His mind replayed the night over and over. The explosion. The voices. The crater. And those words—Oblivion's Heir. And he blamed himself for everything that had happened.If he had controlled himself back then and not felt humiliated by Aadam, he wouldn't have kicked him. And if he hadn't kicked Aadam, making the security guards to send him out, then he wouldn't have found the Dark Stone to begin with.If any of this hadn't happen, the Prescotts would have still been alive. The Dark Stone would still be lost and

The corridor smelled of old rain and iron. In the cell, the light bulb swung once, twice, catching Jeffery's bruised face and throwing his shadow against the cracked wall. He lay back, breathing shallow, the metal bars a cold lattice between him and the night. The echo of Aadam's voice had not left him; it lingered like a bitter aftertaste, an impossible taste of someone who had once been flesh and jokes and arrogance, now speaking like a god.You cannot stop what has already begun...The sentence wrapped itself around his ribs, squeezing tightly. He pressed his palm to the rough concrete and felt the hum beneath the stone—not the slow, living throb of a heart, but a thin, alien vibration that resonated with the marrow in his bones. The Dark Stone had not only taken Aadam; it had braided itself into the ley-lines of his life, and now it tugged at Jeffery through threads he could not name.If Aadam sat upon a throne of shadow in his visions, then Jeffery understood where his own throne

The cell smelled of rust and old fear—one borne out of the depths of human consciousness. The light bulb flickered above Jeffery Flamel, buzzing like a dying insect, throwing brief, cruel flashes across his tired face. He saw against the wall, head tilted back, chest rising and falling as if breathing took a piece of his soul each time.His knuckles were raw. He had been pounding the wall again—notnin madness, but rhythm. It was the only thing that reminded him that he was still here, still flesh. Every hit brought the same thought: You are not him. You are not Aadam. You didn't kill the Prescotts...The whisper still crawled beneath his skin, sometimes faint, sometimes loud enough to drown his thoughts. He could feel it brushing the edge of his mind like a nail scraping glass. Every now and then, it spoke—a single word, a single command—and each time, his resistance thinned a little more.He pressed his palms against his temples and muttered under his breath, "You're not getting in.