After peace comes the reckoning.
Tonight's mission drags the team from quiet reflection straight into a battlefield where faith meets fury. New powers awaken, old rules bend, and the cost of mercy grows steeper with every breath.
Some houses keep memories. This one kept monsters. The glyphs dissolved into the air like smoke drawn back into the lungs of Heaven.
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The man staggered, rubbing his arms, clawing at his neck as though phantom chains still throttled him. His breath came ragged, his scowl twisted. He spat his words like venom, as if forcing them through clenched teeth.
"I was sent… by an old friend. One you may have forgotten. But he has not forgotten you."
His defiance lasted only a breath. His eyes darted from Seth to me. He held my gaze, and as he started laughing like a madman, no one noticed the tiny gun that slid from his sleeve into his hand. Before anyone could stop him, he shoved the barrel beneath his chin and fired.
The crack split the church. His body collapsed. The bloodstain spreading across the tiles was his final answer.
Seth stepped close, voice low enough for me alone. "An old friend? Max, you have plenty of enemies. Friends… those are scarce."
I jabbed him in the ribs hard enough to sting. "Not the time."
I nudged the corpse with my boot, jaw tightening as the echo of the shot still hung in the air. "This is just perfect. Blasphemy and suicide, he couldn't even keep his sin outside the door."
Gabriel's sudden presence broke my thoughts, his voice closer than I expected. "I called for backup."
My pulse jumped before I masked it with a slow breath. Nothing had startled me more today.
Without meeting his eyes, I asked, hiding the slip in my tone, "Is all well with Elizabeth and the baby?"
He answered with a smirk, and I knew he knew that he scared me for a second. "She is safe."
Within moments, boots thundered through the doors. Reinforcements moved with efficient precision, dragging the unconscious men out one by one. No body was left behind. When the last was carried away, the doors shut, and the church exhaled silence again.
Then our helper turned.
He stood only a few paces away, but he covered the distance in two strides with his long legs, the faint shimmer of gold and silver threading his aura like living veins of light. His gaze found mine, unwavering, and for the first time since he appeared, he faced me fully.
"Adrian," he said simply, his voice smooth, deliberate. "That is my name."
I opened my mouth to return the courtesy, but he cut across me with a small lift of his hand.
"I know who you are." His finger pointed toward me first. "Max." Then to Seth, standing tense at my side. "Seth." His hand shifted, precise, toward Alec. "Alec." Toward Jamey. "Jamey." Then Lady Elsa. "Lady Elsa." And finally, Gabriel. "Gabriel."
He lowered his hand, eyes never leaving mine. "Didn't need the stars to guide me. I know you by heart. Been studying your storm since the sky cracked open."
Jamey, deadpan, muttered just loud enough for us all to hear, "So you're a stalker with a flair for the dramatic. Got it."
Alec shot him a glare, but even Lady Elsa's lips twitched at the edges.
I turned to the priest, studying his face. "Should we still go? It's late. If the family is in danger, waiting until morning could make things worse."
Father Martin hesitated for a breath, then gave a firm nod. "They have young ones, and the disturbances have been getting stronger. If you are still willing, we should go tonight."
Seth answered before I could. "Then let's not waste time."
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We split into three cars.
Seth, Lady Elsa, Jamey, and I took the first. Alec, Elizabeth, and the Sams were in the second. Gabriel, Father Martin, and Adrian followed in the last. The road was quiet, the kind that forces silence to fill the space words can't. Jamey hummed faintly under his breath, while Seth drove with that unnerving calm that usually means he's ready for a fight.
We arrived shortly after.
The house was small, neat, and fenced in by rose bushes that had begun to wilt long before their time. The petals hung limp and bruised, the stems bending under invisible weight. Even the air seemed thinner here, dry and restless, carrying a low vibration that hummed beneath the skin.
Father Martin stepped forward first, his hand brushing against the wooden gate as though in silent prayer. "This is their home," he said quietly.
Lady Elsa's eyes swept the property, sharp and discerning. The faint shimmer of something unseen rippled along the ground, distorting the air like heat over asphalt. "They're feeding off this family," she murmured. "The land is thinning."
Seth moved closer beside me, his tone steady but resolute. "Given our powers, we should be confident that we can save them."
Before I could reply, the front door creaked open.
A young girl stood there, no older than thirteen. The light from the hallway framed her small form, and though her face was kind, exhaustion was carved deep into it. Dark circles shadowed her soft eyes, and her shoulders drooped with the kind of weariness no child should carry.
"Father Martin?" she asked softly.
The priest's expression softened as he stepped forward. "Yes, my dear. We're here to help."
She nodded, opening the door wider. "Please come in. My parents are waiting."
Outside, the Sams remained by the cars, their joined prayers forming unseen shields to guard against the spiritual turbulence clawing at the air. Elizabeth held Israel close, his faint glow stirring every time the wind shifted. Gabriel stood watch nearby, his presence anchoring the divine barrier they maintained.
The rest of us stepped inside.
The air felt different. Not heavy but drained. As if every breath stolen by the living had to be bargained for first. A faint static filled the space, the promise of a storm with no rain.
Jamey wrinkled his nose. "Why does it smell like someone microwaved bad vibes in here?"
Alec shot him a look, deadpan. "Maybe because they did. Keep your sarcasm on low heat, Jamey, we're guests in a haunted house."
Jamey smirked. "Yeah, sure. Remind me to leave a five-star review if we make it out alive."
In the lounge, a boy about fifteen sat on the couch, his hands clasped tightly together. His parents flanked him, their faces pale, eyes hollow, and posture rigid. The television flickered between static and faint bursts of color, like the signal itself was suffocating.
The moment Father Martin entered, their eyes lit faintly with hope. The mother rose shakily, clutching a worn handkerchief.
"Father Martin," she breathed in relief. "I'm so glad you pulled through for us." Her gaze drifted to the group behind him. "And these are…?"
"My friends," he replied simply. "They're here to help."
The father's expression shifted from doubt to something closer to faith. The boy, silent until now, whispered, "You can really make it stop?"
I stepped closer. The Living Scripture stirred beneath my sleeves, faint lines of gold tightening along my skin as if they, too, held their breath. "We'll do everything we can," I said.
The television flickered, just once. In its dark glass, a shadow leaned where none of us stood. I turned, and it ducked out of sight.
The air changed.
A pull, faint but deliberate, slid toward the corner of the room. I didn't see it move, but my spirit did, and the subtle drag of pressure in the air, the invisible shift of attention.
I drew a slow breath, shutting out sound, color, and scent until only instinct remained. The world fell quiet, muffled behind the rhythm of my pulse.
"Uh…" Jamey's voice cracked the silence. "They're… teasing us, right? Moving around just to freak us out?"
Alec's eyes narrowed toward the hallway. "One's by the bathroom."
Seth's gaze flicked to the kitchen. "Another near the fridge."
I felt the third before they spoke it, the weight behind the boy's reflection, the one that watched rather than wandered. I met its gaze through the television's sheen and spoke dryly, "Forget the small fry. I spotted the one pulling the strings."
I turned to Lady Elsa, my voice low but steady. "Get Gabriel and Sam to get the family ready for a drive. We can't work with them here. Take them out… somewhere far."
She nodded and moved toward the parents. Hope sparked in their dull eyes for the first time that night. They gathered their children quickly, whispering soft prayers as they reached the front door.
Then it hit.
The moment the mother's hand brushed the handle, the air convulsed. A pressure wave rolled through the house, invisible but crushing. Like a storm folding inward. The family froze mid-motion, their bodies jerking, chests heaving as unseen hands clamped around their souls.
The door shuddered but did not open. A low hum filled the air, thick and alive, vibrating through the walls.
Lady Elsa gasped. "They won't let them leave. The spirits are feeding on them."
My jaw tightened. "Then we cut the supply."
I turned toward Adrian, who stood by the window watching everything unfold with unsettling calm. "You're the influencer, right?"
He arched a brow, amused. "That's what they call me."
"Good," I said, stepping closer. "Then influence them. Prove your worth. Put them to sleep. I can't have them watching what comes next."
He blinked, half a laugh escaping him. "You want me to… what… tuck them in with divine persuasion?"
"Call it a bedtime miracle," I replied, my lips curving. "Unless you'd rather I show you how it's done, and trust me… you'll need therapy after."
Adrian's smirk faded, replaced by something sharper. He nodded once, the air around him beginning to hum with quiet energy. "Fine. But next time, you handle the lullabies."
"Deal," I said. "Now make them dream."
Adrian moved before anyone could speak.
One second, he stood beside the window, and the next, he was near the family, close enough to touch them, though none of us saw him cross the space between. He didn't blur. He simply was there.
The mother looked up first, startled by his sudden presence. But whatever protest she meant to give died on her lips.
Adrian's voice slipped into the air. It was soft, measured, and almost musical. It wasn't the tone that mattered, but the weight behind it. His words sank beneath thought, curling through their consciousness like smoke under a door.
"Close your eyes," he murmured, each syllable delicate as falling ash. "It's safe to rest now. You've done enough for one night."
The father's head dropped forward. The children swayed, their lashes fluttering shut. Even the mother's trembling eased, her breath lengthening as she slumped into his waiting hands.
Around them, the atmosphere thickened with illusion. The house itself seemed to sigh, the oppressive air momentarily forgetting its hunger.
Lady Elsa whispered, awed, "He didn't even touch them."
"He doesn't have to," Seth replied quietly. His gaze stayed fixed on Adrian, silver eyes narrowing. "He threads thought like silk. Dangerous silk."
I nodded, sensing it too. The gentle distortion in the air, the way Adrian's presence rearranged perception without resistance. Even knowing what he was doing, I had to blink to remind myself where he stood.
He turned back to us, voice steady, utterly composed. "They won't wake until morning. Keep your noise holy, and they'll sleep through a thunderstorm."
Alec and Jamey moved in at once, each lifting one of the sleeping children with care. Lady Elsa knelt beside the parents, adjusting pillows and draping a blanket over their shoulders. The family now rested together on the lounge floor, arranged like a tableau of peace beneath the storm.
I stepped closer to Adrian, studying him openly. "That was clean work," I said. "Too clean. You sure you're one of us?"
His lips curved in a slow, practiced smile. "You asked for results, not pedigree."
Seth's hand brushed mine, subtle but deliberate. His voice was quiet, laced with caution. "He masks power in courtesy. Be careful around that one."
"I always am," I whispered back, though my eyes never left Adrian.
He gave a small, knowing bow, as if hearing thoughts not spoken. Then, with the ease of a shadow, he stepped aside, his outline flickering and appearing near the door again without any visible movement.
For the first time that night, even the walls seemed to hold their breath.
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Seth's Silver Breath split from his body in three gleaming silhouettes, fluid, weightless, alive. They moved with purpose, weaving through the lounge like dancers bound by divine instinct.
The first collided with a shrieking spirit, dissolving it mid-scream. The second spun through the air, scattering three more in a flash of silver light. The third rose higher, needles of breath spiraling outward, piercing the phantoms until they burst into trails of glittering dust.
Before the silence could settle, Alec's lightning answered.
It crawled over his skin, silver and blue veins crackling up his arms and down his legs, a living circuit of fury and command. "Wake," he whispered, and the lightning obeyed.
Bolts slithered across the walls, striking every corner, flushing out the lingering specters. They screamed as the current burned through their incorporeal forms, erasing their essence like chalk beneath a storm. Alec's body became their conduit, each motion sharp, deliberate, divine precision turned to purpose.
But his battle wasn't done.
A sharp crack split the air as his lightning sparked in warning, a silver-blue divide drawn between him and the beast that dared to hijack him.
The creature looked even more wrong than the one eyeing Seth. Imagine a Bigfoot bred with a Wendigo, minus the fur and mercy. Its height pressed against the ceiling, hunching grotesquely as if its own body were a cage too small to contain it. Even a meter away, it loomed over Alec, a mountain of malformed hunger and bone.
Seth's demon crouched in the corner, ribs pushing through grey, blistered skin. Each breath swelled its stomach grotesquely, like famine tightening its grip on a dying child. Its spine was a saw of bone under burned flesh, every knot sharp enough to tear through. The head twitched, too small for its teeth, jagged and wet, and the black eyes bulged sideways, as though mercy had never been part of its design. Smooth scars marked where its ears had once been, raw and recent.
It snarled when Seth stepped forward, saliva hissing as it hit the floor. Then it moved; spiderlike, limbs scraping against the wall, its body contorting until the bones themselves seemed to shriek.
My lip curled. "Figures. Hell only welcomes the ugly."
Jamey snorted, voice tight but steady. "Then we're safe. Pretty like us doesn't make the guest list."
The demon's ribs flexed like blades about to spring, yet it waited, quivering, as if commanded not to strike. Not yet.
Then Alec moved.
Lightning coiled around his arm, splitting into brilliant strands that looped and snapped through the air. He lashed them out, catching the demon by the throat. The bolts cinched tight, dragging the beast down to his level. Alec spun with the motion, a conductor mid-performance, his lightning ribbons cutting through the darkness with terrible grace.
Each turn, each flick of his wrist, carved arcs of light through the air. It was rhythmic, controlled, almost beautiful, until the creature collapsed to its knees.
He didn't stop there. Alec lunged forward, grappling the demon in a furious lock. It pressed back, claws digging into his shoulders, bones cracking beneath the pressure. Sparks burst across his arms as the lightning bled red, merging with the silver and blue in a storm that painted the room in holy chaos.
Jamey's voice cut through the din. "Alec's going to need a cleansing after that. He's practically cuddling a demon!"
Alec grunted, muscles flexing as lightning danced from his arms into the creature's chest. "I'm going to cleanse your mouth when I'm done here!"
Jamey ducked behind an overturned chair, barely suppressing a grin. "Sure thing, Sparky. Maybe start with soap before you try holy water!"
Even amid the roar of divine power, laughter rippled through the air. A ridiculous, defiant sound that didn't belong on a battlefield yet somehow made it sacred.
But the room wasn't done testing us.
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The demon watching Seth shifted, a blur of motion to the left, fast enough to stir the air but not escape his gaze.
It scuttled sideways, claws scraping concrete into powder. I stepped back. This was Seth's battle now.
The moment our eyes met, the demon noticed, and in a blur of motion, it launched toward me, tearing the wall apart in its wake.
The Living Scripture rose in a storm of gold, blazing around me, ready to strike. But Seth was already there, between me and the beast. His expression unreadable, his stillness louder than any roar.
He inhaled.
The air shivered.
Every sound, every breath, every flutter of dust halted.
Time froze. The world hung in crystal silence. Even light seemed unsure whether to move.
Then came the transformation.
The demon lunged, its body half smoke, half sinew, and too fast for thought.
I lifted my hand.
The Living Scripture ignited. Golden light burst from my skin, spinning outward in a lattice of flame so fine it looked like sunlight caught in glass. The web spiraled wider, its strands alive with moving glyphs that whispered as they burned. They struck the demon mid-leap and coiled around it, threading through shadow and bone like divine silk.
I lifted my arm, fingers curling slightly. The creature froze mid-air, suspended as though the air itself held its breath. I drew it closer.
Up close, the stench hit, burnt flesh laced with rot. Its jaw split open, crooked teeth slick with black spit that hissed as it touched the ground. The sound it made wasn't a scream; it was the echo of something that had forgotten what mercy sounded like.
"The first touch isn't fire," I said softly. "It's judgment."
The Flame mirrored my hand as I closed it into a fist, tightening around the creature until its thrashing became a shudder. The golden threads slid upward, wrapping its mouth, snuffing out its howls.
"We have our rules about killing," I murmured. "But your kind… I don't need to hold back."
Its body folded inward as if the world itself recoiled. The spine is bent wrong. Limbs convulsed. The threads pulled, bone turned to ash, flesh unstitched, and the air swallowed the sound whole.
But the Flame wasn't finished.
It moved on its own, sentient, searching, furious.
Threads raced through the walls, spilling into the rest of the house. They found the other spirits still hiding in the dark corners and burned them to dust before turning outward, stretching far beyond the neighborhood.
A youngster mugging an elderly man in his shop.
A man striking his wife because she wasn't subservient enough.
A soul praying for forgiveness after stealing diapers for her two-month-old baby.
It all pressed into me at once. Emotions folding over like a tidal wave of grief and guilt. The Scripture wasn't just revealing, it was feeling.
My knees hit the floor. I gasped, clutching my chest as if the pain were physical.
"Stop," I whispered. The threads didn't listen.
"Stop," again, louder.
"Stop!"
The word broke into a scream. The air itself convulsed.
Golden threads lashed through the room, through windows, through the ceiling, striking at unseen shapes only they could sense. Spirits we couldn't see were ripped from hiding, dragged screaming into light, and shattered into dust.
Alec's lightning crackled across his arms. "Max!" He moved toward me, shielding Lady Elsa as shards of light tore past. "You're losing it!"
"I can't." My voice fractured into a sob. "It won't stop. It feels everything!"
Seth was already moving.
His silver motes flooded the air before I could collapse, shimmering with the same desperation that lived in his eyes. Each breath he took pulsed like a heartbeat through the room. He reached me through the storm, dropped to his knees, and caught me as I fell, easing me down with careful hands, as if afraid I might break apart completely.
"Breathe with me," he said, gentle, his voice steady but frayed at the edges.
His thumb brushed the curve of my jaw, tracing a path that anchored me more than air ever could. The silver breath spilled from his skin, threading through the gold, cooling it, soothing it, coaxing it back into balance.
I felt his hand tremble where it touched my face, and that's when I knew… he wasn't calm. He was terrified.
Outside, the last cries of unseen spirits faded into silence.
I sagged against him, trembling, the Scripture dimming along my skin like dying embers. "It hurts," I whispered. "Every sin… they all came at once."
He kept his forehead against mine, whispering through the light between us. His eyes searched mine like someone checking if the world had ended.
"I've got you," he murmured. "You don't have to carry it all."
The final strands of gold curled into my body, the glyphs flickering once more before vanishing completely.
And for the first time since the Scripture awakened, the world went still.
The silence pressed against my chest. My fingers were still tangled in Seth's shirt when I realized I was shaking. "I quit," I murmured. "I don't want to feel that again. If it made me want to vomit it back to them, then how must Israel feel when he absorbs it, to cleanse this rot?"
Seth's silver aura dimmed, his hand steady against mine, silent but anchoring.
Jamey cleared his throat, breaking the heaviness. "Yeah, well… that's why we're here, isn't it? To stop the world from going completely rotten." He smirked faintly. "Not everyone deserves redemption, sure… but some do. Like Samuel's girlfriend. She still thinks he's normal. That's got to count as divine patience."
Alec snorted. "You call that patience?"
"Faith," Jamey said. "Or maybe denial. Hard to tell the difference sometimes."
My lips curved despite everything, the smallest flicker of a smile. Then I looked toward the far end of the room. "Enjoy the show, Adrian?"
He stepped from the shadows, his silver-and-gold aura flickering faintly in the fading light. "Every frame of it," he said with a lazy grin, then tilted his head at me. "But the world felt the shift, Max. I did, and if I did, then so did the bad guys."
He pointed a finger at me, then at Seth. "Both your flame and his breath just evolved. Congratulations, twin flames. You've let the unseen world know that you are no longer mere humans."
He gave a low whistle, that grin sharpening into something that wasn't quite humor. "Guess that means round two's already watching."