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

Dylan Stones stepped into the dimly lit room, the faintest of smiles on his lips as though he carried no burden at all. “You’re fine,” he said in that smooth, practiced voice of his, the one that was meant to reassure but never quite reached his eyes. “You don’t need to worry.”Bella blinked at him, still gathering herself, the edges of fear and confusion blurring her thoughts. “Fine?” she repeated, her voice tightening. “How… how did I even get here?” She glanced around the unfamiliar walls, then locked her gaze back on him. “And where’s Trey? Don’t tell me—” Her voice cracked, and then hardened. “Are you working with him? What have you done to Jackson?”She didn’t leave him a breath to respond before she took a step closer, her eyes blazing. “Who the hell are you and what do you want with me? Somebody help!" She screamed.“No… no… no, don’t,” Dylan cut in quickly, both palms raised in a gesture that was meant to signal peace, though his stance was far too measured to be entirely inn

Evans’ car rolled up to the curb outside his apartment building, the late evening air heavy with the scent of rain that hadn’t quite fallen. He was already rehearsing in his head the list of things he needed to do once inside.He'd charge his phone whose battery had been dead since the last time he put a call through to Dylan. Then, he'd check his messages, reheat the leftover stir-fry and maybe finally get some proper sleep—when a familiar figure caught his eye.Samantha Lewis.She was descending the narrow staircase from his building, her heels clicking lightly against the concrete, her silhouette framed in the dim amber glow of the stairwell lamp.Evans’ hands tightened on the steering wheel before instinctively pressing down on the brake. If there was one person he had least expected to see in front of his house that evening, it'd be Samantha. It's been a while since they actually talked, especially after he found out that her father—Don Lewis was a close associate with Senator M