The mirror showed the group running for their lives after the attackers stormed the hideout. The celebration was over, and panic took its place. Before fleeing, they had managed to defend the hideout for a while, buying precious moments to gather their belongings from their respective rooms. Each member of the team had a plan to escape to their home country, and they quickly split up, heading toward Roissy Airport—the nearest one.
Marcus stayed close to Lucia Maren, helping her navigate through the chaos. Alina Vetrova tried to keep up with the others, shouting directions, but everything was a mess. As they moved through the streets, the attackers were not far behind. Gunfire echoed in the air, and the group used whatever cover they could find to avoid being hit.
Marcus led the way for Lucia, giving her quick signals to follow. Despite the danger, there was a moment when their eyes met—a silent acknowledgment of their bond. But there was no time to stop.
One by one, the others were caught in the crossfire. Renji Takeda tried to hold his ground, marking critical turns and helping the others navigate, but he was caught in an ambush and didn't make it. Kaleb Tesfaye tried to fight back, his voice rising in shouts of resistance, but he was quickly overwhelmed and silenced. Alina Vetrova ran ahead, but even she couldn't escape—she was taken down ruthlessly.
Marcus and Lucia pushed forward, determined to reach their destination, but the attackers were closing in fast. Their chance of escape was slipping away. The attackers were relentless, firing with chilling precision as they chased the last survivors through the winding streets. Marcus and Lucia moved as one, ducking behind cars, hiding in alleyways, using every bit of their training to survive. They communicated with quick glances and gestures—too well-trained to panic, but too human not to feel the fear creeping in.
At the outskirts of the city, Roissy Airport was finally in sight—but it was too late. The attackers surrounded them, cutting off every route. Marcus fought fiercely, shielding Lucia with every move. She fired back, covering his blind spots with steady hands—but they were hopelessly outnumbered.
The mirror showed the final moments—Marcus was struck, a bullet tearing through him. He collapsed, and Lucia caught him, falling to her knees. Her face was twisted in grief, frozen in shock. She couldn't speak. She couldn't run.
One of the attackers took aim—and without hesitation, shot Lucia. As the bullet pierced through her chest, her body collapsed beside Marcus's. They lay together on the cold concrete floor, their hands inches apart.
Marcus didn't have any strength left in him. He tried to reach Lucia's fingers but couldn't. His hand dragged across the concrete, fingers trembling. Lucia lay still, just out of reach—her eyes already lost its light.
"Lucia…" he whispered, his voice cracking, even though he knew she couldn't hear him anymore. In that moment, everything inside him shattered. He watched the one person he had come to care about slip away, powerless to stop it. He let out a shaky breath, forcing a smile through the ache.
"Hey… you still owe me that coffee," he said, quietly. "I'll be there soon." A pause—his voice softer now, barely a whisper. "You better be waiting with that coffee… or I'm haunting the place."
He tried to say her name again, but the sound faded before it ever left his lips. The attackers closed in. And then, the mirror turned dark—marking the end of Marcus's story.
(((Here's a picture showing the current state of the ritual. You can refer to the Google Drive link or visit the art section on my Discord if you're unable to copy the link. You can also find the picture in the comments section below this chapter.)))
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1RCzr4rR0671UVq6gFrNlSJ1IWpOn5nlY/view?usp=sharing