Hailey and Andrew exchanged a glance, but neither spoke.Miles turned to face them, his ancient eyes sharp. "The veil between worlds is not a door that opens and closes at our whim. It is a wound. A scar on the fabric of reality. Every time we pull at it, every time we force it open, we risk tearing it further."He moved back to his chair, sinking into it heavily."The ritual I've described to you is not a summoning circle from a storybook. It is a surgical procedure on the skin of the world. And like any surgery, it carries the risk of infection, of complication, of death."Hailey's voice was steady, though her hands trembled. "We understand the risks.""Do you?" Miles leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Do you understand that the spirits you're trying to reach may not be the ones who answer? That something else—something older, something hungry—could slip through the tear you create?"Andrew's jaw tightened. "Miles, we've faced darkness before. We've fought things that would make mos

The warehouse on the outskirts of the city was dark, lit only by a few flickering fluorescent bulbs overhead. Crates and pallets were stacked against the walls, their contents obscured by dust and shadows. In the center of the space, a makeshift meeting area had been arranged—a table, several chairs, and a single lamp casting a pool of light on the worn concrete floor.Peniel sat at the table, his arm bandaged from where one of the CIA's bullet had grazed him. Linda sat beside him, her hands clasped in her lap, her face pale, her eyes darting nervously toward the shadows. Across from them sat three figures—Dmitry, Aziel, and Zhang, the three international observers.They had left the city six months ago, scattering to different corners of the globe, but Peniel had kept in contact. Now, he needed them."Thank you for coming," Peniel began.Dmitry held up a hand. "Save your thanks. We didn't come out of friendship. We came because the situation has become... complicated."Peniel's eyes