The shelter smelled of iron, dust, and quiet suffering.
Mina knelt beside an older woman whose leg had been crushed earlier during the attack. The bone peeked through torn skin, but there was no blood—only the eerie, empty wound that refused to heal and refused to kill.
Mina wrapped it anyway, hands steady but eyes trembling.
"You're doing fine," she whispered to the woman, even though she didn't believe it.
The woman's breath was shallow. "Child... don't waste cloth on me."
Mina tightened the bandage. "If I stop, it gets worse."
The old woman looked at her with gentle, tired eyes. "You're already helping, dear. More than you know."
Mina swallowed a lump in her throat.
If only I had a power...
If only I could fight like Jean... or burn like Ashlyn...
I wouldn't be useless.
Her fingers pressed harder into the cloth.
She wanted to be brave.
She wanted to protect them.
Instead, she was here—cleaning wounds that wouldn't heal, watching people fade and weaken with every hour.
She looked toward the dark entrance of the shelter.
"Jean... Ash..." she whispered.
"Come back."
*****
Jean dangled helplessly mid-air, the monster's fused-head fingers wrapped around her neck like a grotesque collar. Her legs kicked, scraping against empty air as she choked out a strangled gasp.
The giant cyclops lifted its other hand—ready to tear her head free.
Ashlyn stood frozen in horror.
Her breath came fast.
Her heart felt like it would burst.
"J-Jean..." she whispered, powerless.
The monster's movement slowed—
Then stopped.
Completely.
The falling debris hung frozen mid-air.
The dust motes shimmered but did not drift.
Jean's terrified eyes were still widened, her mouth caught open in a half-breath.
Ashlyn blinked.
Her breath echoed as if she were suddenly underwater.
"...What... is happening?"
A faint chuckle rippled through the stillness, vibrating the air like a soft ripple in a pond.
Good, the voice said.
You can hear me clearly now.
Ashlyn spun around, though the world was locked in unmoving silence.
"W-who—?"
Someone who offers solutions, the voice murmured.
Someone who answers when you call without realizing you called.
A shape appeared beside her—a shadow coalescing from smoke and ink. A tall figure, faintly human-shaped but blurred around the edges, as if reality couldn't hold it clearly.
Only its mouth was visible.
A curved, gentle smile.
Ashlyn trembled. "I... I don't... want to die..."
No, the voice answered smoothly. You want to save her.
Her eyes shot to Jean—frozen in the monster's grip, moments from death.
"Yes," Ashlyn whispered. "Yes, I— I have to. Please—help her."
The shadow stepped closer.
Then accept my offer.
Ashlyn's hands shook violently. Her fire sputtered weakly in her palms—useless, flickering, pathetic.
"W-what... is the offer?"
Strength, the voice breathed, curling around her mind like warm smoke.
Power. Control. Enough to burn the world if you wish.
Ashlyn didn't hesitate.
"I accept."
The smile widened.
Good.
Then something touched her ankle.
Ashlyn gasped as black ink-like liquid began to spread across the ground—slow at first, then fast—crawling toward her feet like living shadow. It reached her toes and climbed.
Her breath hitched. "W-wait, what—"
Black hands emerged from the ink.
Thin. Bony. Fingered like claws but smooth as liquid. They curled around her legs, cold and slick, climbing upward with chilling precision.
Ashlyn choked on a scream.
Her body trembled violently as the ink hands reached her hips, her waist, her spine.
Do not struggle, the voice whispered. Deals require surrender.
She tried to breathe.
She couldn't.
The hands slid over her shoulders, across her arms, her throat, wrapping her like a cloak of darkness.
Then—
She saw herself.
Her body still stood there—frozen, wide-eyed, hands half raised, mouth open in a silent gasp.
But she was not inside it.
She floated slightly above it, weightless, as if her soul had slid free without permission. A pale echo of her physical form. A ghost.
Her eyes widened in horror.
"H-how...? Why is my body—?"
The shadow's voice curled around her again:
Because power begins where your limits end.
Her soul felt pulled.
Dragged.
As if something was siphoning the weakness out of her, reshaping the burning core that had always been unstable.
Her body below twitched—
The ink crawled into her chest.
Her heart clenched.
Her soul trembled.
She screamed.
Silent, soundless agony.
Jean still hung above the street.
Skevin was trapped in the crushed bus.
The monster was seconds away from ripping off Jean's head—
But Ashlyn's soul was being remade.
Her body absorbed the crawling ink.
Her veins turned black for a second then glowed faint red inside.
Her fingertips smoked.
Her fire ability no longer flickered—
It pulsed.
Like a heartbeat.
Her heartbeat.
Ashlyn's pale soul-layer shivered as it was pulled downward—back into her body like a thread yanked through a needle.
She slammed back into her flesh—
And time snapped forward like a whip.
Dust fell.
Debris clattered.
The monster's hand tightened around Jean's head—
And Ashlyn opened her eyes.
They glowed.
Red and gold.
Ashlyn's eyes snapped open.
The world rushed back into motion, but her thoughts did not.
Her heart did not.
Her fear did not.
Everything inside her had gone quiet.
No trembling.
No doubts.
No screaming panic.
Just a single, sharp command echoing inside her skull:
Burn.
Her neck twitched violently, head jerking to the side like a puppet with a snapped string. Her body felt too light, too easy to move, as if something else were pulling the strings now.
The cyclops hadn't noticed.
It was still raising Jean toward its hand of fused heads, ready to twist.
Jean's fingers twitched weakly—she was half-conscious, her vision swimming.
"A-Ash—" she choked.
Ashlyn didn't speak.
She merely lifted her arm.
Her palm glowed—
not orange.
Not warm.
But black-red, like molten metal dripping through cracks of obsidian.
Her eyes remained empty and glassy.
Her fingers curled.
The fire erupted not like a stream this time, but like a violent explosion—
a compressed blast of corrupted flame roaring across the street and slamming into the cyclops's torso.
The creature reeled, arms flinching—
But the fire did nothing.
It sank into its skin again, absorbed like water into a sponge. The monster's glowing veins brightened until they pulsed like orange magma beneath its gray surface.
Jean slipped from its grip.
She fell.
Time slowed.
She hit the ground hard, dust exploding beneath her. Pain shot through her side. She coughed violently, pulling in ragged breaths as her vision blurred around the edges.
Through watering eyes, she saw Ashlyn's silhouette—
her friend, her gentle, nervous friend—
standing entirely still in the street.
Ashlyn's shirt and sleeves were burning.
Her lower pants, too.
Orange flames crawled up her clothes, eating through the fabric—
But her skin was untouched.
Not a single blister.
Not a single burn.
Her hair caught fire like dry grass—
yet the strands didn't curl or darken.
Ashlyn stood unharmed in the middle of her own fire, like a figure sculpted in flame.
Jean's heart twisted painfully.
"Ashlyn...?"
Ashlyn didn't respond.
Didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
Her empty gaze locked on the monster.
The cyclops took two steps back, wary now, its glowing gut pulsing as it absorbed the remnants of corrupted fire.
Its single eye narrowed.
Then it roared.
The roar shook the buildings, rattling shattered windows and sending a rain of dust and debris across the road. Jean pressed her hands to her ears, curling in on herself.
Ashlyn did not move.
Her burning clothes shed crackling embers, dropping around her feet. The fire crawled up her arms like living tattoos, swirling in black-red spirals.
The monster crouched—
its enormous back tensing.
"Skevin..." Jean gasped faintly, remembering the creature's earlier attacks. "Ashlyn, move—MOVE!"
But Ashlyn didn't.
Her body remained loose, almost relaxed—
a dangerous emptiness settling into her features.
As if she no longer saw anything except a target.
The cyclops lunged.
Dust exploded behind its feet as it shot forward, its massive arm sweeping downward with lethal force.
But before the blow landed—
Its skin split.
Not where Ashlyn hit it.
But along its shoulders, its back, its sides—
deep cracks spreading like lightning scars.
Jean's eyes widened.
"Ash... what did you—"
But this wasn't Ashlyn.
This was the monster.
Its surface pulsed unnaturally.
The fire Ashlyn delivered hadn't burned it—
but it had destabilized something else.
The cracks widened, tearing apart flesh and muscle.
The cyclops screamed—a horrible, wet sound—
as two more shapes began pushing out from inside its own ribcage.
Jean scrambled backward on her elbows.
"What—what is—NO—"
The first creature tore free with a sickening rip.
It was smaller, no larger than a truck, with two hollow eye sockets and a jaw filled with mismatched teeth. Its skin was gray mist, swirling like smoke held in a vague animal form.
The second ripped out after it—
a thinner shape, all ribs and long arms ending in clawed fingers shaped like broken glass blades. Its spine cracked as it fully emerged, jaw hanging loose like a dislocated puppet.
Both newborn monsters landed on the street with thuds heavy enough to shake loose old signs from the walls.
Ashlyn didn't blink.
She simply shifted her foot forward, an unnatural jerk like someone cutting and pasting a single frame in reality.
Jean pushed herself backward, terror gripping her throat.
"Ashlyn! A-Ashlyn please— snap out of—"
Her friend didn't hear her.
Or she no longer recognized the voice.
The first new monster growled, a hollow sound like two pieces of metal scraping. Its misty skin rippled with unnatural heat from within. It charged Ashlyn, its claws sinking into the ground.
Ashlyn twisted her neck sharply—
unnaturally—
and her eyes widened at the creature.
Fire coiled in her hand.
Then—
She moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
Her body blurred into a streak of red and black, sliding across the ground like a thrown knife. She reached the creature in a heartbeat, her flame-coated hand slamming into its chest.
The monster exploded in a burst of gray mist—
but only for half a second before reforming behind her.
Ashlyn didn't turn.
It slashed at her back—
She tilted her head a fraction of an inch.
The strike passed through the burning strands of her hair.
A twitch.
Just a twitch.
Then she threw her elbow backward—
and her fire erupted again, blowing the creature apart a second time.
Jean felt sick.
This was not Ashlyn.
This was not even human.
The second creature leaped from the other side, its blade-arms whistling through the air. Ashlyn spun, dragging her burning foot along the ground. A trail of black flames followed, warping the air.
The slash hit her neck.
Her skin didn't cut.
The creature's blade cracked instead.
Ashlyn grabbed its wrist, squeezed—
The wrist crumbled like dry clay.
Jean clamped a hand over her mouth before a sob slipped out.
The cyclops—the original monster—stood hunched, its chest torn open, the cracks glowing faintly. It raised its fused-hand arm again, preparing to smash Ashlyn while she was distracted.
Jean screamed.
"Ashlyn, BEHIND YOU!"
Ashlyn didn't turn.
But her flames did.
A column of black-red fire spiraled upward from her spine like a serpent, roaring past her shoulder and slamming into the cyclops's face.
The air rippled with heat.
The entire street glowed.
Buildings trembled from the force.
And somewhere far away—
beyond the ruined city—
beyond the gray horizon—
A deep, thunderous BOOM echoed across the land.
People in shelters miles away paused, looking toward the dark sky.
Alex, sitting by Arte inside the cracked sewer walls, felt the vibration against his bones.
He stood sharply.
"What was that?!"
Arte's fur bristled.
"That," he said quietly, "was not the scorpion."
The shockwave faded, but the air still vibrated.
Jean lay on the cracked rooftop, staring in horror as the street below warped in heat. The air shimmered so violently she could barely tell where the flames ended and Ashlyn began.
Ashlyn stood in the center of the ruined road—
clothes half-burned,
hair rippling with black flames,
eyes empty.
The monster's skin—where the fire had struck—glowed. But it didn't melt. It didn't blister. It drank the corrupted fire just as greedily as before.
It roared.
The two newborn creatures regrouped at its feet, their misty bodies swirling into sharper shapes—learning, adapting, stabilizing.
Jean could only whisper:
"Ashlyn... what are you becoming...?"
The new monsters move first.
The blade-armed one struck first.
It dashed across the road, its limbs bending at impossible angles, its body weaving like liquid smoke. Its claws sliced at Ashlyn's throat like twin scythes.
Ashlyn didn't blink.
She simply tilted.
Her entire upper body leaned backward by an unnatural angle, as if her spine no longer held limits. The blades cut through the air above her nose.
Her foot slid forward.
In the next heartbeat, she was behind the creature—
though Jean hadn't even seen her move.
She placed two fingers on the creature's back, almost gently.
Black fire erupted from her fingertips—
a point-blank explosion.
The creature splintered into smoke again—
—only to reform behind her, quicker this time.
Jean swallowed a cry.
It was learning.
The second newborn beast—the one with hollow sockets—rushed forward on all fours, its movements shaking the pavement. Its claws scraped sparks from the ground.
It leaped.
Ashlyn didn't raise an arm.
She didn't dodge.
Instead—
Her head twitched.
Her eyes snapped toward it.
Heat pulsed around her in a shockwave, bending the air. The creature stopped mid-air as if it had hit a wall of pressure. Flames crawled across its misty body, trying to ignite its insides.
The monster screamed like metal tearing.
Jean covered her ears, struggling not to sob.
The main Cyclops—still cracked from birthing its spawn—lunged. Despite its wounds, it moved with terrifying speed.
It scooped up a crushed car frame and hurled it at Ashlyn with one enormous arm. The rusted vehicle spun like a chunk of meteoric iron, tearing through the air.
Ashlyn blinked.
Her hand rose lazily.
The car exploded mid-air before touching her, bursting into molten fragments that scattered across the ruined street.
Jean ducked, covering her head as fiery metal shards rained past her rooftop.
"ASHLYN! STOP—!!"
Ashlyn didn't hear her.
Her mind wasn't her own anymore.
Her consciousness felt thin, like a candle flame in the wind. She didn't think. She didn't feel.
She only burned.
The cyclops roared again, furious.
It raised both arms and slammed them into the ground. The shock traveled through the street like an earthquake. Buildings trembled violently. A whole wall collapsed five houses away.
Ashlyn stumbled a single step—
the first movement that looked remotely human.
The newborn monsters seized the opening.
They moved together.
One attacked her front.
One attacked her back.
Jean screamed, voice shredding:
"ASHLYN!!!"
Ashlyn didn't turn.
Didn't flinch.
She simply twisted her wrists—
a strange, jerking motion.
Fire surged from her palms, swirling upward into a blazing cyclone. The cyclone snapped into two separate threads, each striking one monster simultaneously.
The creatures recoiled, bodies ripping into mist—
But their regeneration was faster now.
Too fast.
They solidified again, roaring.
Jean's stomach twisted.
They're changing... because of her fire...
The corrupted energy Ashlyn wielded was strong—
but so unstable it fed the monsters too.
This was no longer a fight.
This was escalation.
The monsters lunged again, both targeting her head.
Ashlyn's foot drifted backward, sliding soundlessly. Her arms hung loose at her sides.
Then—
The fire around her spiked.
Her silhouette blurred.
She vanished—
—appearing behind both creatures.
Her hand carved through the air, leaving a crescent of fire trailing her fingertips. Black-red flames cut through the monsters' torsos.
Both beasts screamed as their forms collapsed back into scattered fog.
Ashlyn exhaled once.
Slow. Mechanical.
Her flames pulsed brighter—
too bright—
like a bomb overloaded with energy.
Jean watched helplessly.
"Ashlyn! You have to stop—you're going to—"
But Ashlyn was already moving.
She approached the cyclops.
Each step she took left a black scorch mark on the ground.
Her clothes continued to burn.
Her hair snapped and whipped like flaming ribbons.
Her skin, still untouched, glowed faintly from within.
The cyclops reached down with one massive hand.
Ashlyn stopped.
Her empty eyes lifted.
Her flames condensed around her arm, swirling faster and tighter, forming a spear of black fire that hummed with demonic heat.
She thrust it upward—
The cyclops grabbed her.
Its huge hand closed around her entire torso.
Jean screamed.
Skevin groaned from the crushed bus.
The newborn monsters hissed in unison.
But Ashlyn didn't flinch.
Even as she was lifted from the ground, legs dangling, flames spiraling around her face and hair—
Her expression didn't change.
Her mouth didn't move.
Her heart didn't pound.
She simply kept burning.
The cyclops squeezed, trying to crush her. Its fused-head fingers gnashed their tiny teeth against her fire. The creature roared in her face, breath thick and foul.
Ashlyn stared into its single glowing eye.
Then—
With a twitch of her fingers, her fire expanded, engulfing the creature's entire forearm.
Lights pulsed under its skin.
Black-red cracks appeared.
The cyclops suddenly threw her—
—straight through the air, toward the row of ruined buildings.
Jean's heart dropped.
"Ashlyn—!!"
Ashlyn crashed into the second story of a house, smashing through the wall in a shower of bricks.
The room collapsed around her.
Jean scrambled to her feet.
"No, no, NO—"
Before she could jump down, a thunderous explosion erupted from the house.
Ashlyn stepped out of the collapsing rubble, flames spiraling around her shoulders like a cloak.
Her wounds?
None.
Not a bruise.
Her face?
Still blank.
Mouth slightly parted.
Eyes glassy with corrupted light.
She lifted her hand again.
Fire gathered, swirling into an orb heavy enough to distort the air.
Jean's voice broke.
"Ashlyn... please... stop..."
Ashlyn didn't blink.
She didn't hear her.
The orb grew larger—
—far too large—
—and the ground vibrated beneath Jean's feet.
The monsters sensed it.
They staggered back, howling in panic.
The cyclops lifted both arms, bracing.
Ashlyn didn't care.
She released it.
The orb of corrupted flame erupted outward, a violent bomb of black-red fire expanding in all directions—
—swallowing the entire block in blinding light.
The explosion swallowed the world.
Black-red fire bloomed outward in a violent sphere, devouring everything in its radius. The blast tore through the street, ripping asphalt upward like shredded cloth. Windows shattered. Walls collapsed. Steel frames bent like soft wax.
Jean threw herself flat on the rooftop as the shockwave hit. The entire building shuddered under her, groaning like it was about to buckle. Dust and debris rained down around her in choking clouds.
She covered her head, heart pounding, ears ringing with a painful whine.
The light was so bright she could see it through her closed eyes.
Ashlyn... what did you do...?
The explosion expanded, rolling down the ruined street like a wildfire storm, engulfing cars, poles, fallen bricks—turning them to ash and molten slag. The cyclops reeled, raising its arms in a futile attempt to block the blast. Its gray flesh blistered and cracked, glowing molten.
The newborn monsters shrieked—high, metallic wails—as the fire washed over them. Their mist-like bodies tore apart, unraveling like smoke sucked into a vortex.
Jean dared to lift her head.
The street was no longer a street.
It was a crater of molten stone and burning metal. Black-red flames licked along the ground, pulsing like veins of lava. Embers drifted through the air like fireflies from hell.
The cyclops staggered.
Half of its upper body was melted, its ribs exposed like carved stone pillars. The fused-head hand had been completely burned away—tiny skulls reduced to white dust floating in the air.
It staggered once more—
And collapsed, shaking the entire block as it hit the ground.
The clang reverberated through Jean's bones.
For a moment, everything was silent except for the low crackle of corrupted flames and the steady crumble of falling debris.
Jean pushed herself to her knees, coughing hard. The dust burned her throat. Her eyes watered. Blood trickled down her arm from a cut she hadn't felt during the blast.
She staggered to her feet, wobbling on unstable legs.
"Ashlyn... Ashlyn!"
Her voice echoed in the empty block.
The street below was a wasteland of charred remains and molten stone. The heat was still so intense that the air shimmered like a mirage. Jean shielded her face with her arm, squinting through the haze.
Where was she?
Where—
Something moved.
A shape walked through the swirling heat haze.
Jean's breath caught.
Ashlyn.
She stepped over the melted remains of a car, her silhouette blurred by the flames still rising around her. Black fire coiled around her like living tendrils, crawling up her neck and arms. Her clothes were gone—burned away and replaced by a thin sheet of hardened ash clinging to her like a second skin.
Her skin glowed faintly beneath the cracks of firelight.
Her hair—once brown—was now streaked with black smoke, flowing weightlessly behind her in a phantom wind.
But her face—
Her face wasn't right.
No fear.
No relief.
No humanity.
Just emptiness.
Her pupils glowed amber-red, wide and glassy, like she was looking at nothing at all.
Jean's chest tightened.
She swallowed hard. "Ashlyn?"
Ashlyn tilted her head sharply, her neck flexing with a twitch that made Jean flinch. The movement was too fast, too unbalanced—like a broken puppet pulled by invisible strings.
Jean stepped backward.
"Ash... it's me."
The flames surrounding Ashlyn danced higher, responding not to emotion but to instinct—a predator sensing movement.
A fragment of the newborn monsters remained in the street, a smoky, half-formed remnant struggling to pull itself together. It let out a faint, gurgled hiss.
Ashlyn didn't even look at it.
A single spark flared in her palm—
And the remnant evaporated.
Jean's breath stilled.
Ashlyn turned her face toward Jean's rooftop.
Their eyes met.
Jean froze.
Ashlyn's gaze had always been soft—
curious, anxious, gentle, easily frightened by insects and loud noises.
But now...
Those eyes were hollow.
Unblinking.
Hungry.
Jean took another step back, heart pounding. Sweat dripped down her neck despite the cold wind.
"Ash...?"
Ashlyn didn't speak.
Didn't smile.
Didn't even recognize her.
Her flames curled upward, wrapping around her arms like serpents preparing to strike.
Jean realized—
Her friend was gone.
Something else stood in her place.
The rooftop trembled beneath Jean's feet. A chunk of stone slid off the edge and shattered into pieces below. The thunderous echo made Ashlyn's head twitch again, flames sparking off her shoulders.
Jean held her breath, too terrified to move.
Ashlyn took one step toward the building.
The ground beneath her blackened instantly.
Jean's knees trembled. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she backed toward the far end of the roof.
Her voice cracked.
"A-Ashlyn... please... it's Jean... it's me..."
Ashlyn said nothing.
She simply stared, those inhuman eyes glowing in the firelight.
Jean's heart squeezed painfully in her chest.
This wasn't a victory.
This wasn't salvation.
This wasn't a miracle.
This was something born from a deal with darkness.
A being wrapped in flame and silence.
Jean clutched her chest, breath trembling, eyes burning with tears she didn't dare blink away.
As the smoke rose and the flames crackled around them—
Jean whispered the truth she didn't want to believe:
"Ashlyn... I'm scared of you."
And Ashlyn
didn't blink.
Didn't speak.
Didn't move.
She just stared back, the fire swirling around her as if the flames themselves whispered in her place.
Ashlyn's body swayed once—
Then collapsed.
Her flames vanished instantly, snuffed out as if someone pinched the wick of a candle. The heat died. The corrupted fire sank into her skin like ink slipping into cracks. The glow in her eyes flickered—
—and extinguished.
She hit the molten, cracked pavement with a soft thud, unconscious.
Jean remained frozen on the rooftop, chest heaving, trembling so badly her legs barely kept her upright. She stared down at her friend's motionless body, terrified to go down. Terrified to get close.
Terrified of what Ashlyn had become.
"...Ash...?" Jean whispered, voice cracking.
Ashlyn didn't respond.
No twitch.
No breath.
No flames.
Just a girl lying in the burned remains of a street she had destroyed.
Jean climbed down the broken building on shaking legs. Every muscle trembled. She had to grab the broken window frame twice just to keep herself from falling.
She reached the street and approached Ashlyn slowly, her steps hesitant, terrified. The closer she got, the more she felt her heart crawl up her throat.
Ashlyn lay on her side, unconscious. The air around her was still warm, but no flames danced at her skin now.
Jean knelt beside her, hands trembling as she reached out—
Then stopped.
Her fingers hovered an inch above Ashlyn's arm.
"What... what happened to you?" Jean whispered, tears stinging her eyes.
Ashlyn's eyelids fluttered slightly—but she didn't wake.
Jean withdrew her hand shakily. She wanted to help. She wanted to shake her awake. She wanted to hug her and cry and beg her to be normal again.
But she was afraid.
So afraid.
Her whisper broke:
"I don't know if you're still you."
The distant rumble of engines cut through the silence.
Jean jerked her head toward the sound.
Down the far end of the broken avenue, a convoy appeared—three armored vehicles patched with welded metal, barbed wire, and scavenged plates. Their tires kicked up clouds of gray dust as they rolled closer.
Jean's breath caught.
People. Survivors.
A man stepped out of the front vehicle as soon as they approached the scene.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Blond hair tied into a messy ponytail.
Blue eyes sharp and alert.
Wearing a dusty gray vest over a long-sleeved shirt, sturdy boots, and a cowboy hat slightly crooked from travel.
Bryan Yard.
Leader of Northcrest Sweep Shelter—one of the more stable, organized groups known in the ruins.
His men—eight of them—fanned out behind him, armed with makeshift rifles, spears, and scrap armor.
Bryan's boots crunched on the scorched, uneven ground as he hurried toward Jean.
"Hey, are you alright?!"
Jean flinched, recognizing him. "Sir Bryan...?"
He reached her, catching her shoulders to steady her.
"Hey, hey—easy. What happened here?" His eyes darted from the melted street to the ruined buildings. "What caused all this? Did something attack your shelter?"
Jean opened her mouth to explain.
Nothing came out.
Her throat closed, tears spilling down her cheeks as her body finally registered how terrified and exhausted she was.
Bryan softened his voice, steady and warm. "Come on girl. Look at me. You're safe now. Just tell me what happened."
She managed a whisper:
"M-monster..."
Bryan leaned closer. "A monster?"
Jean nodded weakly. Her knees gave out and she collapsed—Bryan caught her before she hit the ground.
"It was... it was huge... it— it had one eye— and— and it pulled out two more monsters... and Ashlyn— she— and I— I—"
Her voice broke completely.
Bryan's jaw tightened. He signaled his men.
"Spread out. Check the area. Look for survivors. And keep your guard up—if something made a mess like this, it might still be around."
His men moved quickly, practiced and efficient—pulling rubble aside, checking corners, covering perimeter lines.
Bryan turned back to Jean.
"We'll take you back to our shelter," he said gently. "You and—"
His gaze stopped.
On Ashlyn.
The girl lay unconscious, hair scorched black at the tips, skin glowing faintly under ash-like residue. She looked peaceful—too peaceful—on a battlefield she had created.
Bryan's brows drew together.
"What happened to her?"
Jean shook her head, voice trembling. "I... I don't know. I don't know anymore."
Bryan knelt beside Ashlyn, checking for a pulse, for burns, for anything typical.
But she didn't look burned.
Didn't look bruised.
Didn't look human, either.
"Some power did this," he muttered. "And whatever it is... is too dangerous."
Jean trembled, whispering through cracked lips:
"I'm scared of her."
Bryan looked at her sharply.
Jean stared at Ashlyn's unconscious face—
the glowing skin beneath ash,
the faint swirl of smoke still rising from her shoulders,
the unnatural calm on her face.
Jean wrapped her arms around herself.
Her voice came out faint, broken, terrified:
"I don't think... she's Ashlyn anymore."
*****
CLAP.
The sound echoed through the ruins, crisp and slow, cutting through the settling smoke.
High above, perched casually on the jagged roof of a fallen billboard, stood the cloaked figure.
Black veil.
Shadowed face.
Smile sharp enough to cut silk.
He applauded gently, as though admiring art.
"Well done," he murmured—though no one on the street could hear him but the ghosts and the ashes. "Who knew such a fragile little thing... could hold my power without shattering?"
He tilted his head, amused.
"A perfect puppet."
His smile widened beneath the veil.
"I'll enjoy this game."
With a soft hum, he dissolved into smoke, melting into the shadows as if swallowed by the darkness itself.
*****
Alex stepped out of the sewer entrance, blinking as the dim gray daylight washed over him. The air was cold, sharp against his skin, carrying the faint scent of distant smoke.
He tightened the straps of his bag and glanced behind him.
Arte wasn't walking at his side.
Alex frowned. "Hey. You're not coming?"
The black cat stood at the edge of the sewer opening, half-hidden in shadow. His golden eyes glowed faintly, watching Alex with an expression that wasn't quite worry—but wasn't calm either.
"I'm not," Arte replied.
Alex blinked. "What? Why? You're the one who keeps dragging me around."
Arte flicked his tail. "Yes. But only where it is necessary. This… this is different."
Alex crossed his arms. "Different how? The ground shook like a meteor hit. Something is out there. What if it's dangerous?"
"It is dangerous." Arte's voice was calm. Too calm. "And that is exactly why I should not be seen."
Alex squinted. "What does that even mean? You're just a cat—"
Arte let out a soft, annoyed hiss. "Others must not know me. Not yet. Not in this state of the world."
Alex took a step forward, frustration tightening his voice. "Others? What others? Survivors? Monsters? Arte—what aren't you telling me?"
Arte's gaze turned upward, toward the sky—the dark, cloud-choked heavens that never changed. He stared into it as though searching for something hidden behind the layers of gloom.
"The world is shifting," Arte murmured.
"You go," he said softly. "I will stay at a distance."
Alex hesitated. "Are you sure?"
Arte nodded once. "If anything happens… I will know."
Alex exhaled slowly.
"Fine. But don't disappear on me."
Arte's whiskers twitched in faint amusement. "I am everywhere, Alex. I simply choose when to be seen."
That didn't exactly comfort him.
Still, Alex turned.His boots cracked dry debris as he began to run up the ruined street, heading toward the direction of the explosion—the burning light still etched in the horizon, a strange glow lingering in the clouds.
His legs pushed harder, breath turning into sharp bursts. The city blurred past—collapsed buildings, abandoned cars, shattered glass reflecting the dull sky.
Once Alex vanished into the maze of ruins, Arte stepped fully out of the sewer's shadow. He lifted his head, eyes locked on the dark sky.
The clouds there weren't just dark.
They were swirling.
Faint ripples—barely visible—shifted like something enormous moved behind them.
Arte's fur bristled.
"So it begins, your own childish game," he whispered.
A ripple of black flame pulsed at the edge of the horizon, fading just as quickly.
Arte's gaze sharpened.
"The child has made his first move."
He lowered his tail, expression unreadable.
"And Alex… is about to be caught in the middle."