2025-05-14 15:43:03
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Chapter 145: Through the Fire!
The city seemed to blur past him as Jackson tore through the sleeping streets, tires skimming corners, the growl of the engine drowned by the roar inside his chest. The Flameborn pulsed beneath his ribs like a second heart, urging him faster. Every red light, every stretch of asphalt was one more heartbeat too many—one more moment Dr. Celestine didn’t have.When he reached the safe house, the night was alive with the flicker of red and blue. Fire engines flanked the street like armored beasts. Long black hoses snaked across the pavement, spewing streams of water that hissed into the blaze eating through the building like a living, breathing monster.Jackson leapt from the car before it had even stopped rolling. The first thing he saw was Mr. Copper—standing near the barricade with his coat drawn tight around him, his eyes locked on the flames, a grim silhouette beneath the pulsing emergency lights.Jackson charged straight to him. “How long?” he demanded, the words shredding his throa
Chapter 144: At the Top of Silver Hill!
The wind was colder at the top of Silver Hill, colder than Jackson expected. The abandoned luxury tower—once meant to be the crown jewel of the city’s skyline—stood silent and unfinished, its upper floors nothing but hollow glass and exposed steel bones. From the edge of the rooftop, the whole city sprawled beneath him like a field waiting to burn.Jackson stepped out of the battered elevator shaft and into the darkened floor, the Flameborn sigil on his palm humming faintly under his sleeve. He could feel him—Trey. Or what was left of Trey.It was quiet at first. Then came a voice—low, jagged, threaded with an edge that didn’t belong to any human throat.“Well… look who finally decided to show up.”Jackson froze. At the far end of the skeletal floor, Trey stood with his back turned to him. What little moonlight spilled through the broken windows made the figure seem both real and unreal—shoulders rigid, silver mist drifting lazily off his frame like steam rising from an open wound.“T
Chapter 143: Jackson’s Resolve!
Inside the private lounge at Sky Tower, Jackson stood by the window, one hand pressed to the cool glass as his friends, James, Nancy, and Bella, watched him—waiting for him to speak, to explain the unspoken dread that had drawn them here in the dead of night.Andrew and Hailey had not been able to make it, as both had gone out on a date before Jackson’s message came. After the beach party, both of them had really become closer and were going steady even if they were not yet officially a couple.James was the first to crack under the tension. He leaned forward in his seat, his voice sharp but edged with worry. “Alright, Jackson—what is it? You called us here, said it couldn’t wait. You’re pacing around like you’re about to drop a bomb. Just say it.”Nancy, perched at the far end of the couch, hugged a pillow to her chest like a shield. “Please, Jackson… We’ve all seen the news. The storm, the bus crash, the people who—” She broke off, eyes glistening. “It wasn’t just a freak accident,
Chapter 142: Emergency Council!
The corridors of the CIA’s Capital Headquarters pulsed with a tension Evans hadn’t felt ever since he arrived at the capital. Security clearance checkpoints were doubled, ID badges flashed under scanners that hummed louder than usual, and officers—usually casual at this hour—marched like soldiers under wartime orders.Evans pushed through the glass doors leading into the conference wing. Inside, the air was stale with dread and urgency. Director Whitaker stood near the end the table, already surrounded by Superintendent Hayes—an imposing figure with steel-gray hair—and a half-dozen division chiefs, each with tablets flickering with fresh reports.Evans nodded stiffly at Whitaker, ignoring the side glances from colleagues who’d heard rumors about his unsanctioned trip to Montgomery for the second time in one week.“Agent Tony,” Superintendent Hayes said, voice echoing in the tense room. “Glad you could join us before the city burns to the ground.”Evans offered no pleasantries and just
Chapter 141: Ghosts and Graves!
The ride back into the capital was quiet, but the silence inside Evans Tony was deafening. No screeching tires, honking cars, or murmuring crowds could drown out the storm brewing within him. He had gone to Montgomery seeking answers—hoping for a sliver of understanding about the mysterious power rising in Jackson Hart. What he found instead unraveled the very foundation of his beliefs.His father had been the first Silver Phoenix in a thousand years. Not just a decorated intelligence officer or a loyal patriot, but a vessel of ancient fire, the dark twin to the Flameborn.The revelation twisted in his chest like a knife.He didn’t go home. He couldn’t. Not when the weight of that truth pulled his soul elsewhere.Instead, Evans found himself turning onto the gravel path of the city’s military cemetery, where the men and women who had supposedly died for country and truth lay buried beneath tidy marble stones. He slowed the car, parked, and stepped out without speaking a word. The over
Chapter 140: Back to Where It All Began!
The wind whispered through the ruins of the old monastery as the trio, Jackson, Mr. Copper and Evans, stood in the middle of the scorched sanctum.Jackson stepped forward toward the blackened altar that Evans had talked about, wondering what would be next, as he wasn’t so sure if he should actually do this or not. But they had come all the way to Montgomery for this, and there was no way he could turn back now.He could feel the heat rising beneath his skin, as though the Flame within him recognized this place. It tugged at his soul with urgency—like it was reaching home.“This is it,” Mr. Copper said softly, placing a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “The place where the legacy began. Where your father’s life changed forever.”Evans stood off to the side, eyes fixed on the burnt sigils etched into the altar stone. He knew this moment could bring answers—about Philip Hart, about Flameborn, and perhaps… his own father.Jackson placed his palm on the cold surface of the altar.And then—every
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