Damien dug through the mess of stolen trinkets, kicking aside old relics, gilded jewelry, and other auctioned valuables he barely remembered taking.
"Wow," Sarah said, her arms crossed as she leaned against the stone wall. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "You've been *busy* these past few months, huh? Busy making enemies."
Damien rolled his eyes, muttering, "We have worse things to worry about."
Finally, his fingers brushed against something unnaturally cold beneath the pile. He hesitated, then carefully pulled back the layers of cloth to reveal it—
A perfect black sphere, its surface carved with ancient patterns that pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat beneath obsidian skin.
"Here it is," Damien said, frowning as he studied the orb. "But… it's glowing? Why's it glowing?"
"They can sense each other," Palmer murmured, stepping forward. His crimson gaze darkened, locked onto the sphere like it was whispering secrets only he could hear. "Careful not to make contact."
Damien grabbed a piece of cloth and began wrapping the orb. As he lifted it, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the mansion—an agonized, piercing wail from the skinwalker at Valen's mercy. The sound jolted him so hard he lost his grip.
Time seemed too slow.
The black orb tumbled from his hands, spiraling through the air—
Straight toward Palmer.
The moment his fingers brushed against the sphere, the world shattered.
Palmer's mind was wrenched from reality. He wasn't in the mansion anymore. He was everywhere.
Hovering above the world, watching it burn.
Factions waged war in the streets, supernatural creatures clashing in a chaotic, bloodstained ballet. Cities lay in ruins, humans enslaved, hunted, devoured. Their screams merged with the symphony of destruction.
And at the heart of it all—
His mother.
She stood atop a throne of bones, the five orbs in her grasp, her crimson eyes aglow with unfathomable power. Below her, countless bodies—familiar bodies—were strung up like trophies.
At another location
Sarah.
Damien.
Valen.
The estate guards.
Drained, lifeless. In the distance not far from their bodies, a figure emerged from the carnage—a blurred silhouette. Palmer couldn't make out its face, but something about them felt—similar
He tried to move. Tried to act.
But the world twisted again.
Now, he stood before something—someone—that defied existence itself.
A being neither god nor monster, but something in between.
It was unlike any entity Palmer had ever encountered. It radiated no malice, no holiness, no allegiance.
One side of its body gleamed like molten light, pure and untouchable. The other seethed with darkness, an abyss that devoured everything in its presence.
In its right hand, it wielded a sword of divine radiance.
In its left, a blade of absolute darkness.
Palmer's breath hitched.
What… is this?
The figure lifted its head. Glowing eyes gazing intently at him—
Palmer's vision blurred—
A sharp, piercing pain erupted in his skull. Crashes Back
"Palmer!"
Sarah's panicked voice dragged him from the abyss.
He was back. The mansion, the underground chamber, the worried faces of Damien and Sarah.
Palmer staggered back, his breath ragged. His fingers tingled like they were still touching the orb. His heart pounded against his ribs, the echoes of that vision still burning behind his eyes.
Damien took a wary step closer. "Palmer…? What the hell just happened?"
Palmer's scarlet eyes darted between them. He remembered everything he had seen.
The war. His mother. The unknown figure. The absolute failure to protect them.
His stomach twisted.
"Palmer?" Sarah reached for him.
Before he could answer—His vision wavered.
The room spun. His body tilted. Darkness swallowed him whole.
Palmer collapsed.