The room’s air had thickened into something dense—unspoken truths pressing against every wall. Jack stared at the coordinates on his phone screen, the pulsing cursor like a heartbeat in the dark.Angela’s voice sliced through the quiet. “They’ve chosen their next move. We don’t have long.”Jack lowered the phone, his eyes still sharp. “You said the third vault… What’s in it?”Angela hesitated. Her hand drifted unconsciously toward the scar under her collarbone. “Not what. Who.”Sarah’s brows pinched together. “What do you mean?”Angela drew in a long breath, as if bracing for something no one in the room was ready for. “The vaults were never just containment facilities. They’re prisons. Seals. For something ancient. Something we were never meant to wake.”William crossed his arms. “Ancient like… how ancient?”Angela looked him dead in the eyes. “Before language. Before nations. Before even the bloodlines were named. The thing locked in the third vault—”She paused.“—is a shard of The

The mist curled thicker around their boots as Jack stepped ahead, his presence cutting through the tension like a blade. The Shepherds didn’t move, but their leader’s smirk deepened.“You shouldn’t have come here, Harbinger,” the man said, voice smooth like poisoned silk. “Reidsville was supposed to be your grave.”Behind Jack, Sarah kept her weapon trained. “Jack,” she whispered again, more urgent now. “This feels wrong. It’s too quiet.”Emily’s fingers hovered near her sidearm. “No sniper lights. No backup. They’re not trying to kill us... yet.”Jack’s gaze flicked around the warehouse perimeter. Shadows moved just beyond the broken glass windows. A trap, clearly—but not the kind meant to kill.A warning.“We’re not here to start a war,” Jack called out. “We came for the heir. We know they’re here.”The Shepherd leader tilted his head. “You think this is about one heir?” He took a slow step forward. “It’s never been about that.”Jack’s brows furrowed. “Then what is it about?”But th

He stood in the doorway, watching Sarah clutch the dragon dagger like it might crack and spill time itself.His heart thudded like war drums beneath his ribs. There wasn’t time to linger.He stepped into the catacomb’s shadows.Behind him, Sarah didn’t call after him.She knew better than to try and stop the tide.The drive down from Old Joe’s ridge felt like descending from the past into a burning present.As the vehicle crested the hill overlooking Harmonfield, Jack’s breath caught.The city below wasn’t just burning—it was bleeding.Smoke billowed from shattered buildings. Lightning cracked the skies, streaking violet and black. Roads were torn like paper. The clock tower—the one Ryan used to graffiti—lay in ruins.The Vault had broken through.Jack gripped the wheel tighter.They rolled through the city’s remains, past overturned vehicles and flickering streetlamps, as cries echoed from side streets. Patricia reached for her pistol without a word. Emily pressed her hand against th

Smoke clung to the shattered stones like mourning cloth, the echoes of Vincent’s last stand still pulsing in the air. The fire ring he summoned had scorched the breach shut, sealing the tower from the shadow swarm—for now.Jack hadn’t moved from the spot where Vincent disappeared. His hand hovered near the barrier’s remains, ash flaking off his fingertips. No words passed between them. None seemed enough.Angela finally spoke, her voice brittle. “He knew. The fire would consume him. That was the price.”Jack nodded, jaw clenched so tight it ached. “He paid for it anyway.” Sarah placed a trembling hand on his shoulder. “We’ll honor him by finishing this. That’s what he wanted.”Ryan stepped up beside them, still faintly glowing with sapphire flame. “He didn’t just buy time… he gave us a chance.”Patricia lowered her head, tears trailing down dirt-smeared cheeks. “Then let’s not waste it.”Emily stood tall in the seal’s center, her fire a silent storm. “Let’s move. Harmonfield is waiti

The rift bled light, red and writhing like muscle torn across the sky.Jack’s breath caught. “No… not again.”Wind howled through the rubble of Harmonfield, dragging ash in frantic spirals. The others stood motionless, watching the scar above the horizon pulse like a heartbeat.Angela stepped forward. “That’s not just a rift. It’s… pulling.”They all felt it—a slow, irresistible tug behind their ribs. Like gravity being rewritten.Ryan’s voice broke. “The Void’s not gone.”Patricia flinched. “But Emily—she sealed it. She gave everything.”Jack turned back toward the sinkhole. The ash had shifted.It wasn’t just ash anymore.It was her.A silhouette, crouched in the ruins. Hands clawed into the stone, shoulders rising and falling with ragged breath. Fire still flickered at the edges of her skin—but so did shadow, like ink fighting to claim her outline.“Emily,” Jack whispered.She looked up.Her eyes glowed like molten gold. But around them, a ring of black bled outward.“Jack,” she sa