Jackson floated in that place between burning pain and cold silence — a limbo where the walls of his mind felt thin, as if a single breath might tear them apart. His body lay somewhere else, broken and fevered, but here he drifted through a shifting darkness lit only by flickers of buried flame.Through the murk, a figure began to form — broad shoulders, an old suit jacket, the familiar hush of polished shoes on marble floors he half-remembered from his childhood. The air tasted like smoke and old books. And then the shadows cleared just enough for Jackson to see him.Philip Hart stood before him, eyes alive with a restless blaze that now echoed in his own.“Dad…” Jackson’s voice cracked out of his dream-self, rough as ash. He reached for him, but the distance between them stretched like a cruel joke.That was when Jackson knew that he wasn't dead. He had almost thought he was dead, but now, seeing that he wasn't able to reach out to his father, something in him was enough to convince

Victor Vaughan stood in the center of the room, which had now suddenly become silent, save for the slow drip of condensation from the stone ceiling and the faint hum of ancient machines embedded in the walls — a fusion of old magic and stolen technology.Around him stood the members of the other members of the Crescent Order who could already see victory in the distant horizon. For years they've been waiting patiently for the day that the Silver Phoenix and the Flameborn would be under their control, and that day was finally here.As a testament to their forthcoming victory, Trey and Tyler stepped forward and knelt before Victor who had successful been able to plant into them the lies they needed to hear just to trust him enough to be his pawn in the game of power that he was playing.Victor had only one ambition, and that was to merge the Flameborn and Silver Phoenix back together, embody the amalgamated entity and subject the entire world to his rule in not just being the most power

The front door creaked open just as dusk began to bleed into the walls of the small apartment. Emily was curled up on the couch, her phone clutched in her hand, while Jonah paced the living room like a man holding back a storm.It's been two days since Tyler went missing and there's not been any news about him. And just when they were still thinking of just what to do next, Tyler walked in through the door, a faint smirk on his face, as though he’d simply stepped out for groceries. Emily shot up from the couch.“Tyler?!” Her voice cracked between relief and anger. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Her worry was written all over her pale face, the kind of worry that steals sleep and appetite.But Tyler didn’t seem to care. His eyes were distant, colder somehow — and yet sharper, as though he were looking straight through her.“I heard you sent word to the police,” he said flatly, his tone clipped and accusing. “That I went missing. And you caused my parent