2023-10-31 23:04:09"In five counts, you'll meet everyone you've killed, including Ivanka's mother. One... Two... Th--."
"Okay, stop! Enough, okay!" Bo raised both hands and shouted at Andrew. "I'll follow and listen to everything you say; you don't need to turn the tables. Remember, you're in my house, and I can move a lot of my men to beat you up.""You still want to threaten me, you brave old man. No wonder you got your position as the police chief." Andrew then lowered the gun that was held against Bo's right temple. "Sit down." Andrew whistled at Bo's bodyguard, who stood beside him. He then pointed his hand towards the door, giving a signal for the young man with gray eyes to follow Marcel, who had already left.Bo remained still like a statue; he didn't even say anything to the bodyguard who approached him. Bo looked exactly like an old man experiencing nerve trouble and unable to move.Andrew raised both eyebrows and patted Bo's shoulder. "You don't need
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Season 2-Chp 45
Not calm — still. As if time had paused between one breath and the next. Jerome stood in the aftermath of Veyra’s touch, her hand still warm against his forehead though her body had stepped back. He had not moved, not spoken. His eyes were open, but they weren’t focused on anything in the present.Because Veyra hadn’t just touched him.She had opened something.And Jerome was falling inward.The world around him blurred. He didn’t stumble. He dropped — through thought, through time, through memory not entirely his. Light fractured, bled sideways. His name cracked and reassembled a dozen different ways in languages he didn’t speak. And then everything went dark.Until he landed.Not on ground, but on a floor made of gold.Not metal.Gold as in something revered. A place where every inch of space breathed intention. He stood in the center of a great hall — massive, spiraled, not built by mortal hands. Fire burned on water. Air shimmered without wind. And from the edges of the chamber, v
Season 2-Chp 44
The voice inside the woman’s body wasn’t hers.It moved through her like wind through a cave — deep, endless, echoing off chambers no one had touched in centuries. Her lips moved, but the sound didn’t belong to a living thing. It was old. It was exact.Jerome felt every hair along his arms rise.“I was the first to crown you,” the voice said again, “and I will be the last to test you.”The gold in her eyes wasn’t magic. It was memory.And Jerome knew — even before the name formed on his tongue — who was speaking.“Veyra,” he whispered.The moment he said the name, a gust of hot wind spiraled from the earth, circling their group in a slow, tightening ring. The light dimmed again, even though no clouds passed the sun. It was like something in the atmosphere flinched.Rhydan growled, stepping forward. “She’s dead.”“No,” Jerome said. “She was sealed. By me. A long time ago.”Selene moved in beside Rhydan. “You sealed a bearer inside another bearer?”“No,” Jerome said softly. “I sealed th
Season 2-Chp 43
Not white like before. Not gold like when Jerome first bound it to his soul. No — this light was green. Deep and alive. Verdant, almost pulsing like the roots of some long-forgotten forest had grown under his skin. The kind of green that whispered not of decay, but of rebirth. Dangerous rebirth.Jerome didn’t move.He couldn’t.Margareth stepped closer, slowly, cautiously, like one might approach someone standing too close to the edge of a cliff. “Jerome, talk to me.”He didn’t answer. Not right away.Because he didn’t hear her voice — not fully.In his ears, something else was speaking. Not words, exactly. But images. Roots growing backward. A mountain being buried instead of formed. Names that had no letters, only emotion. The language of the Crown. The original one. And it wasn’t just whispering to him. It was recognizing him.The woman still lay unconscious, her breathing shallow. Selene crouched beside her, checking for signs of damage, but her hands trembled. Rhydan stood a few
Season 2-Chp 42
The Crown screamed, and the world recoiled.Not just the sky, not just the dirt — but everything in between. Trees bent backward. Stones cracked beneath feet that hadn’t moved. The echoes — the twisted fragments of Jerome’s past selves — trembled and dissolved into smoke. The field dimmed, as if the sun had stepped behind a veil.Jerome stood alone, the chain lifted in his hand. It vibrated with impossible tension, glowing not from within but in response — to the boy, to the Crown, to the choice he was about to make.The boy — the child of memory, the seal-born heir — didn’t cry out. He didn’t move. His gaze stayed locked with Jerome’s, calm and steady.He nodded once. A gesture of surrender. Of trust.And still, Jerome hesitated.Behind him, Margareth rose to her feet, staggering toward him. “Jerome, you have to do it.”“He’s just a boy,” he said hoarsely.“He’s more than that,” the woman said from the side, her eyes locked on the Crown still spinning behind the child. “He’s all of y
Season 2-Chp 41
The child stood at the edge of the cracked stone basin, where all the echoes of Jerome — fractured, burned, hollowed-out versions — had emerged like bone rising from waterlogged soil. But he wasn’t like them. He wasn’t faded or broken. He wasn’t stitched together from regrets. He looked whole.And yet his eyes didn’t blink. His feet didn’t quite touch the ground. And behind him, the floating Crown turned slowly, imperfect, still forming like a thought not yet fully spoken.Jerome stepped forward.The others didn’t follow. Even Rhydan had stopped — not in fear, but caution, like a wolf approaching something it couldn’t scent.The child watched Jerome with the calm of a god trapped in a boy’s body.Jerome dropped to one knee.“Do you know who I am?”The child tilted his head, like a bird considering a branch. His voice, when it came, wasn’t cruel or sweet — just clear.“You’re the first.”“The first what?”“The first to run.”Jerome’s shoulders tensed.Selene’s hand gripped her blade be
Season 2-Chp 40
The false Jerome — the mirror, the echo, the shadow — knelt in the hollowed field where symbols still burned faintly in the ground. Its form shimmered like heat over stone, struggling to hold together, no longer mimicking Jerome perfectly but flickering between faces. Not other people — other possibilities.Jerome stood a few feet away, the shattered memory vial still steaming on the grass beside him. The image it had unleashed — of his own grief, his own brokenness — lingered in the air like fog, soft and gray. Not magic. Just memory, made too vivid to disappear.Margareth moved first, stepping between Selene and the woman, eyes locked on Jerome’s stillness.“What is it doing?”“It’s not attacking,” Selene murmured.“It doesn’t need to,” said Rhydan. “That thing wasn’t meant to destroy us.”Jerome didn’t move. “It was meant to ask us.”“Ask us what?”“To finish what we started.”The false Jerome lifted its head again, but its face was no longer a blur — it had formed completely. And
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