2026-06-14 23:41:52
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Chapter 664: The Nightmare!
Sophia parked her car in the circular drive, her hands still trembling on the steering wheel. The house was lit up—warm light spilling from every window.She sat for a long moment, staring at the front door.You can still leave, a voice whispered in her mind. You can still drive away. You don't have to do this.But she couldn't. She had nowhere else to go. And the weight of the prophecy—the weight of Jason's words—pressed down on her chest like a stone.She got out of the car.***Ruth stood in the doorway, her arms open, her face a mixture of relief and worry. "Sophia," Ruth said, her voice warm. "You're back. I didn't know you had left, but—""I need to be alone."Sophia's voice was flat, emotionless. She walked past Ruth, through the grand foyer, past the portraits of ancestors who stared down at her with judgmental eyes. She didn't stop. Didn't pause. Didn't look back.Ruth's arms dropped to her sides. "Sophia—""I need to be alone," Sophia repeated. And then she was gone, climbi
Chapter 663: The Assembly of Wardens!
Jason stood in the empty parking lot of the Rusty Spoon, watching Sophia's taillights disappear into the gathering dusk.The cold wind cut through his jacket, but he barely felt it. His mind was still in the diner—still replaying her words, her tears, the way she had pushed the parchment away as if it might burn her.I didn't ask for this. I don't want this. I just want to live my life.He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath.I know. But the war doesn't care what we want.He walked to his truck—an old, battered thing that had seen better decades—and climbed in. The engine coughed to life, and he pulled out of the parking lot, heading not toward the estate, but away from it.The Wardens were waiting.***The church was hidden in plain sight.On the outskirts of the city, where the suburbs gave way to farmland, stood a small, rundown building with a sagging roof and a steeple that leaned slightly to the left. The sign out front read "St. Michael's Community Church" in faded
Chapter 662: The Forgotten Hart!
Sophia sat in silence, her coffee cold, her heart pounding. Jason watched her with those warm, tired eyes—waiting, patient, as if he had all the time in the world."But that's not all," Sophia said. It wasn't a question.Jason shook his head slowly. "No. That's not all."He reached into his jacket again—a different pocket this time—and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. It was yellowed with age, the edges frayed, the creases so deep they had almost worn through. He smoothed it on the table between them, his calloused fingers gentle, reverent."This," he said, "is the reason I was assigned to you. The reason the Wardens have been watching you since the day you were born. The reason you have never been able to escape the Harts, no matter how far you ran."Sophia looked down at the parchment.The writing was old—older than the journal, older than the diner, older than the town itself. The ink had faded to a rusty brown, and the letters were formed in a script she didn't recognize. B
Chapter 661: The Wardens' Oath!
Jason took a long breath, his fingers still brushing Sophia's across the worn linoleum of the diner table. The coffee sat between them, growing cold, forgotten."The beginning," he said slowly, "is seven centuries ago. Before the first Hart built this estate. Before the Watcher was awakened. Before the Devourers were named."Sophia didn't move. Didn't blink."There was a woman named Elena Ward," Jason continued. "She was not a soldier. She was not a queen. She was a farmer's daughter who lived in a village at the edge of the forest—the forest where the shadows gathered."He pulled his hand back and reached into his jacket. From an inner pocket, he withdrew a small, leather-bound book—old, worn, its cover cracked and faded. He set it on the table between them."This is her journal. The original. Passed down through my family for twenty-eight generations."Sophia stared at the book. "You carry that with you?""Always." Jason opened it to the first page. The handwriting was shaky, writte
Chapter 660: The Call from the Past!
Sophia stood up, pacing along the edge of the cliff, her boots crunching on the grass. "Jason, whatever you think you know, whatever you've heard—this isn't something you can just walk into. This isn't a handyman job. This is—""A war," he finished. "I know.""You don't know. You can't know. You're a handyman from a small town. You fix leaky faucets. You don't fight shadows."Jason was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was different—harder, older, carrying a weight that Sophia had never heard before."I'm not just a handyman, Sophia. I never was."She stopped pacing. "What do you mean?""I mean that Mrs. Patterson wasn't the only one who knew things about you. The people who came looking for you—the ones you thought you sent away? They weren't Hart enemies. They were my people. Guardians. Protectors. The ones who have been watching the Harts from the shadows for centuries."Sophia's mind reeled. "Your people?""My family has served the Harts longer than the Miles fami
Chapter 659: The Ghost of the Coast!
Sophia couldn't breathe as she left Celestine in the garden, mumbling an excuse about needing air, about needing space, about needing to be anywhere but here. Her car had carried her east on autopilot, following roads she hadn't traveled before that led away from the estate, away from the prophecy, away from the weight of being a Hart.Now she stood at the edge of the cliff, staring at the ocean.The water stretched before her, gray and endless, merging with the sky at a horizon that seemed impossibly far away. Gulls cried overhead. The wind whipped her hair across her face. The salt spray stung her cheeks.She closed her eyes and remembered.***Years ago.She had been someone else then. Not Sophia Hart, loyal daughter of the family, fierce protector of the bloodline. She had been Sophia—just Sophia—an enemy of everything the Harts stood for.She and Peniel had worked together in those days. Peniel, with his cold eyes and colder smile, his hunger for power that matched her own. They
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