Chapter 4
January 8, 2012 — 1:30 a.m., Sunday
Grey and Lailah had fallen into a restless sleep on the sofa, the weight of worry pressing against their chests like a physical force. Even in dreams, the faces of their parents haunted them, smiling, distant, as if trapped on the other side of a barrier they could not cross.
Then a notification shattered the quiet. Grey jolted awake, heart hammering. Another scheduled email had arrived. Unlike the previous one, this timer contained two videos, each set to self-destruct if left unattended. He shook Lailah gently; she stirred, groggy, and he nudged her toward awareness.
"Wake up," he whispered. "It's… it's them again."
The siblings worked quickly. Grey disconnected his phone from the internet, ensuring the recording would be saved and untraceable, while Lailah rubbed the sleep from her eyes. He hit record on a secondary device, the red light blinking steadily. Their parents' voices, familiar yet tinged with exhaustion, soon filled the room.
Grey's chest tightened. The first video brought a pang of nostalgia: his father's measured tone, his mother's calm reassurance. Yet beneath it was something urgent, unspoken—a weight they could no longer ignore. The message wasn't just familial; it was a briefing, a warning, a set of instructions.
The Russian city of Derbent, nestled along the Caspian Sea, was at the center of a supernatural phenomenon. Grey's father explained that a dimensional rift had been discovered in an abandoned underground railroad tunnel, formerly a Cold War weapons bunker. Recent urban explorers had accidentally exposed it, and the Russian government now considered the rift a threat of unimaginable proportions.
Personnel had died. Toxic energy leaked from the six-foot-tall, two-centimeter gap in the rift, and containment efforts had proven deadly. Grey's parents, part of an international task force, were risking everything to study and control it. The government, wary of the rift's potential, had quarantined the area and limited outside access, but Grey's father hinted at distrust: the rift was too valuable, too dangerous for simple oversight.
Grey's pulse quickened. The videos weren't chronological; the timeline had been scrambled, and no dates marked the footage. He watched scientists in lab coats argue in Russian, their voices tinged with fear. The images were chaotic: lights flickering, shadows twisting, personnel shooting at something massive and grotesque.
When the second video began automatically, Lailah, now fully awake, ran to stand beside her brother. On the screen, their parents looked exhausted, sick, almost hollowed out from days of relentless work. Behind them, chaos erupted. Soldiers fired service pistols and carbines into the shadows, screams echoed across dim corridors, and unknown creatures, growling, enormous, ripped through everything in their path.
Grey's mother turned to the camera, eyes wide with fear and determination. Her voice cracked but carried clarity:
"Prepare for the worst. Do not be fooled. The world is in danger."
Their father fought beside her, communicating silently in hand signals, guiding those around him. The video captured a fleeting, human moment, a flying kiss toward the camera, toward Grey and Lailah, but the warmth was swallowed by the cacophony. Shadows surged, lights flickered, screams filled the void, and suddenly, blackness. Something smashed the laptop.
Silence fell like a tomb. The siblings clung to each other, breath ragged, tears streaking their faces. Grief, terror, and helplessness threatened to consume them. Grey's hands trembled, but instinct guided him: he moved directly to the basement, toward the maple cabinet that had always seemed imposing, almost sacred.
He opened it, revealing rows of journals and folders, but also a flat fingerprint scanner. Thumb pressed. A hum of machinery echoed. The cabinet slid aside, exposing a narrow, hidden room. Grey stepped inside, memories flooding him: childhood games in this secret space, laughter mingled with the weight of legacy.
The walls were lined with military memorabilia, medals, photographs, uniforms spanning generations. Each item spoke of sacrifice, courage, and honor. Grey's breath caught. This room was more than a hidden space; it was a vault of the family's history and secrets.
At the room's far end, a secure vault awaited. Hands trembling, heart hammering, Grey entered the code—a childhood memory serving now as a lifeline. Silence. The heavy steel doors clicked open. Inside: a small vial, crimson liquid swirling as if alive. Symbols etched into the glass seemed to pulse faintly. Beside it, a piece of paper bore the name "Wyatt" and a dire warning: "This is mankind's last remaining chance."
Questions burned in Grey's mind: Who was R. Wyatt? What was this substance? What had his parents sacrificed to keep it safe?
The room was silent, but the weight of responsibility pressed down on him, nearly suffocating. Every instinct, every memory, every lesson his parents had imparted surged within him. Grey knew: this was only the beginning.
Outside, the world slept, unaware of the rift, the creatures, and the danger lurking in the shadows. Inside, two siblings gripped each other, staring at the vial, realizing the scope of what lay ahead.
Grey's jaw set, eyes fierce: Whatever comes next… we will be ready.
January 8, 2012 — 6:10 a.m., Sunday
Grey sat cross-legged on the basement floor, the vial of crimson liquid cradled in one hand, the folded note with the name "Wyatt" in the other. The dim light from a single hanging bulb flickered across the room, casting long shadows that danced on the walls adorned with generations of Chevalier military memorabilia. Each shadow seemed alive, reminding him of the lineage he now carried on his shoulders.
Lailah, sitting on the edge of the narrow vault bench, still clutched her phone, replaying the horrific footage in fragments. She didn't dare watch the whole thing again; her stomach churned at every growl, every shadow, every scream. But she needed to remember, to memorize, to understand. Her fingers drummed nervously against her lap, eyes darting toward Grey for reassurance.
"We can't stay here," Grey said quietly, voice steady despite the turmoil in his chest. "If someone, or something, comes looking for this…" He gestured toward the vial, "we'll need to move fast. And we need a plan."
Lailah nodded, biting her lip. "But where do we even start? There's… there's nothing in the files about what this thing actually does. Or Wyatt. Or" Her voice faltered. "Or if Mom and Dad… if they're—"
Grey placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "I know. I saw everything. I know. But right now, the only thing we can do is prepare. Research, train, understand our options. And… we're not alone in this."
He paused, letting the weight of that statement settle between them.
"You mean… Maeve?" Lailah asked, hesitant.
Grey's lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe. She's smart. Observant. She's already proven she can handle more than most think, remember the library alley incident?" His eyes softened slightly at the memory. "And she trusts me. I think… if anyone can help bridge the normal world and this…" His hand gestured toward the vial again, "…it might be her."
Lailah's eyes widened. "You're talking about bringing a civilian into… this?"
Grey shook his head. "Not just a civilian. Someone I can trust. Someone who sees me, not just the Chevalier reputation, not just a soldier, but me. Maeve sees that. And right now… that counts for a lot."
A long silence fell over the basement as the two siblings digested the enormity of the situation. Outside, the forest remained still, the morning fog curling around the edges of the Chevalier estate. The world continued its ignorant march forward, unaware of the dangers already stirring.
Grey finally stood, the vial tucked carefully into an insulated, shock-proof container he had prepared years ago for field experiments. Lailah mirrored him, securing her devices and notebooks. "First," Grey said, "we need to catalog everything. Every scrap of intel we have, every observation from the videos, every clue about the rift, Wyatt, and the government task force. Then… training. Simulation. Contingencies."
Lailah nodded, determination setting in. "We'll need weapons. Communication devices. Supplies. I can… I can handle logistics, create safe zones inside the house, make fallback points."
Grey's lips curved in a faint, grim smile. "Good. And I'll… handle the rest. Physical training, defensive tactics, strategy. If those things from the video show up here, we won't just survive—we'll fight."
The siblings spent the next hour methodically preparing, the basement transforming into a command center. Maps were pinned to the walls, highlighting every underground tunnel, escape route, and vantage point surrounding the property. Notebooks filled with observations, tactical sketches, and potential rift scenarios. Laptops ran simulations, calculations, and research on dimensional anomalies.
And then there was Maeve.
Grey's mind kept drifting back to her. Her warm smile, her quiet curiosity, her ability to remain composed even in tense situations. She might be just a student, just a classmate, but in her, Grey saw the spark of resilience that mirrored their own. He knew he had to gauge her readiness, subtly, without alarming her. She couldn't be thrown in blindly; she needed to choose to be part of this.
Grey picked up his phone and began drafting a casual text:
"Hey… library project update. Found some interesting old stories. Thought you might want to help me sort them out this weekend?"
It was innocuous, friendly, but for Grey, it was an opening, a test to see if Maeve would step closer, to see if she could handle a glimpse of the world he was now preparing to navigate.
Meanwhile, Lailah continued setting up devices and organizing supplies. "We should also think about contingencies beyond the house," she said. "If the rift, or whoever's behind it, comes looking, we can't just stay here. We need a fallback point. Somewhere secure."
Grey nodded. "Agreed. I know a few places in the woods nearby, old cabins our parents used to train in. We can reinforce them, stock them. And… we'll need to practice movement, stealth, everything. I want us prepared for anything."
By mid-morning, the siblings had a plan forming, a delicate balance between research, strategy, and cautious outreach. They could feel the tension building, a faint pulse beneath the surface of ordinary life, a reminder that what lay ahead would test them in ways school and daily routines never could.
Grey glanced at Lailah, then toward the door. "We have a lot to do. And we can't do it alone forever. Soon, we'll need allies. Friends we can trust. And… someone like Maeve might be the first of them."
Lailah's eyes softened with a mixture of worry and approval. "Just… promise me you'll be careful with her."
Grey's gaze hardened, determination sharpening. "I will. No one else gets hurt, not if I can prevent it."
Outside, the world was quiet, but Grey felt the undercurrent of something dangerous stirring, the rift, the creatures, the secrets buried in Derbent. And he knew that soon, the calm would shatter.
The game was no longer theoretical. It had begun.