God of War: The Silent Healer

CHAPTER 4 — THE SHADOW THAT KNEW HIS NAME

Rain hammered the windshield as Lira sped through the city. Headlights smeared into white streaks across the glass. Spencer gripped the seat so hard his knuckles turned pale.

“Lira, he was watching us. Who was that?”

“Someone who should’ve been dead,” she muttered. “Someone who has no business being here.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No,” she said. “It’s a warning.”

The tires screeched as the car swerved around a corner. “Slow down!” Spencer shouted.

“Can’t,” Lira said. “He marked you.”

Spencer blinked. “Marked, what does that even”

A deafening BOOM shook the air. A streetlamp exploded behind them, showering sparks across the road. Spencer ducked instinctively. “What was that?!”

“Proof,” Lira hissed, “that he can reach you from anywhere.”

The rear window blackened like smoke spreading across glass. But it wasn’t smoke, not from the outside. It was spreading from within. Spencer whispered, “Lira… the window… something’s wrong with it.”

She didn’t look back. “Don’t make eye contact with it.”

“Why? What happens if I do?”

“It’ll see you.”

Spencer turned away, heart pounding. “What is that thing?”

“Not a thing,” Lira said. “A person. A warlock.”

“Warlock?” Spencer echoed. “As in, magic?”

“As in someone who sold his soul to the remnants long before you were born.”

Spencer stared at her. “The same kind of remnant that’s inside me?”

“No,” Lira said. “Yours is older. Stronger. And far more dangerous.”

The black stain crawled across the glass like living tar. “Lira,” Spencer whispered, “it’s spreading fast.”

“I know. Hold your breath.”

“What? Why”

“Do it!”

Spencer inhaled sharply, The stain burst inward like a ruptured blister. For a moment, the entire backseat filled with black mist. Something whispered inside it: “Spencer Ford.”

He froze. “That, that wasn’t the voice inside me.”

“No,” Lira said tightly. “That was the warlock. He knows your name now.”

“How?!”

“Because you listened.”

Spencer slapped a hand over his mouth as if that could undo what happened. “Lira, please tell me he can’t track me with just a name.”

“He can’t,” she said. “But”

“But what?”

She hesitated. “He can track the thing inside you.”

Spencer felt his entire chest collapse in dread. “Lira… tell me you’re lying.”

“I’m not,” she said.

“And that’s why we need to lose him now.”

The car lurched as they sped onto a bridge. Spencer’s pulse thrashed. “How do we lose him?”

“By making you harder to sense.”

“And how do I do that?!”

“You can’t,” she said.

“But I can.”

She jerked the wheel. The car skidded sideways, straight into an abandoned underpass beneath the bridge. “Out,” she ordered. “What, here?!”

“Now!”

Spencer scrambled out into the dark concrete chamber. Water dripped steadily from cracks in the ceiling. Graffiti glowed faintly from distant streetlights.

Lira grabbed the trunk and started pulling out strange metal stakes. Spencer frowned. “What are those?”

“Black-iron anchors,” she said. “They disrupt tracking.”

She stabbed one into the ground. It hummed with a low metallic vibration. Spencer swallowed. “Lira… he said my name.”

“I know.”

“He spoke directly to me.”

“I know.”

“How is he inside my head?”

“He isn’t,” she corrected. “He’s inside the remnant that’s inside you.”

Spencer froze. “So he can talk to it?”

“Yes.”

“Can, can it talk back?”

Lira’s silence was the worst answer possible. The underpass filled with a tense, suffocating quiet.

Spencer grabbed Lira’s arm. “Tell me the truth. Can the remnant talk to him?”

“Spencer”

“Tell me!”

Lira met his eyes slowly. “Yes.”

Spencer stumbled back. “And what is it telling him?!”

“Nothing,” Lira said. “Because it’s focused on you.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It shouldn’t.”

Another booming noise echoed across the bridge overhead. Spencer flinched. “Was that him?”

“No,” Lira said, “that was the city power grid. He’s trying to black out the area.”

Spencer stuttered, “Why? Why shut down the power?”

“So that when he gets close enough…”

She planted another anchor. “…you won’t see him coming.”

Spencer grabbed her shoulder. “Lira, you’re scaring me on purpose.”

“Yes,” she said calmly. “Because fear will keep you alive.”

The last anchor screeched as she twisted it into the ground. “Done. This should buy us ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Maybe?!” Spencer shouted. “What do you mean maybe?!”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she froze. Spencer followed her gaze. A figure stood at the far end of the underpass, outlined by flickering streetlight, motionless quiet watching.

Spencer whispered, “Is that him?”

“No,” Lira said softly. “That’s worse.”

The figure took one step forward. A slow, deliberate step that echoed across the concrete. Spencer’s breath hitched. “I can’t see his face.”

“You don’t want to.”

“What is he?”

“A herald,” Lira whispered.

“A messenger for the warlock.”

The figure spoke, its voice layered, like two voices talking in unison: “Spencer Ford.”

Spencer shivered. “It knows my name too.”

“It’s reading it from the remnant,” Lira said.

“Why does everything know my name?!”

“Because something ancient is waking inside you,” she said.

“And they all want to be the first to claim it.”

Lira pushed Spencer behind her. “Whatever happens,” she whispered, “do not speak to it. Do not answer it. Do not even breathe loudly.”

Spencer whispered back, “It’s just a messenger. Why can’t we fight it?”

“Because killing a herald is impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re already dead.”

Spencer’s blood ran cold. The herald stepped closer, its skin cracked like dried clay its eyes hollow its mouth too wide. “Come.”

Spencer clapped both hands over his ears. “No, no no no”

Lira snarled, “He’s not going anywhere.”

The herald tilted its head, joints snapping like breaking wood. “We saw you awaken.”

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut. Lira called out, “You’re not welcome here.”

“We are not speaking to you.”

The herald raised a decayed hand and pointed directly at Spencer. “We are speaking to him.”

Lira drew a blade from her sleeve, a thin curved silver dagger. Spencer whispered, “You’re going to fight that thing with a knife?!”

“Not fight,” she murmured.

“Delay.”

The herald took another step. And another. The lights flickered violently. Spencer begged, “Lira—let’s run, please”

“We can’t outrun a herald.”

“Then what do we do?!”

“We hope it’s not here for you.”

The herald stretched a hand toward Spencer’s chest, And the voice inside him growled: “Touch him and die.”

The concrete under Spencer’s feet cracked, sharp lines radiating outward like lightning. Lira grabbed his arm. “No—Spencer, don’t let it respond—DON’T”

Too late. The herald recoiled. Then collapsed to its knees. Then shattered like glass struck by a hammer, fragments of its decayed body scattering across the floor.

Spencer stared, paralyzed. “Lira… what just happened?”

Lira took one step back from him. “You answered,” she whispered, horrified.

“But it wasn’t you that answered.”

Spencer shook. “I couldn’t control it.”

“I know.”

Spencer swallowed. “You said killing a herald was impossible.”

“It is.”

“Then why is it dead?”

Lira didn’t blink. “Because the thing inside you killed it.”

Before Spencer could react, before he could breathe, The scattered fragments of the herald’s body began to move. They slid across the concrete clinking merging pulling themselves together forming symbols, No.

Not symbols. Letters.

Spelling a single, chilling message across the floor: “YOU ARE AWAKENING TOO FAST.”

Spencer’s legs almost gave out. “Lira… what does that mean?”

She grabbed his wrist. “It means we’re running out of time.”

“Time for what?!”

Lira stared into the dark tunnel ahead. “For you to stay human.”