The flight back to the school felt endless.
Not because of the distance.
Because of the silence.
Xia carried both Minho and Airi through the night sky while currents of wind spiraled around her body like invisible wings.
Normally she would have spent the entire trip boasting.
Complaining.
Mocking someone.
Anyone.
Tonight she said nothing.
The only sound was the violent rush of air as the city blurred beneath them.
Amberlath stretched endlessly below.
Millions of lights.
Millions of lives.
And somewhere among them...
The Puppeteers continued moving unseen.
The thought made Xia's stomach tighten.
For the first time since joining the Club of the Night, she wasn't thinking about victory.
She was thinking about survival.
When they finally reached the school rooftop, Xia landed so hard that cracks spread beneath her feet.
Her legs immediately gave out.
Minho and Airi slipped from her grasp and collapsed onto the concrete.
Xia staggered forward.
One step.
Then another.
Then darkness swallowed her.
She hit the ground face-first.
"XIA!"
Several voices echoed simultaneously.
Dark rushed forward.
Alya immediately knelt beside her.
A soft green glow emerged from her hands.
The familiar warmth of her healing energy flowed through Xia's exhausted body.
A few seconds later Alya exhaled.
"She's alive."
Everyone released the breath they had been holding.
"She's just completely drained."
Nobody laughed.
Nobody joked.
Normally someone would have made fun of Xia for overusing her powers.
Normally she would have insulted them back.
Tonight nobody had the energy.
They carried all three unconscious members inside.
The empty classroom welcomed them with its familiar silence.
Desks.
Chairs.
Whiteboards.
Everything looked exactly the same as it always had.
Yet something felt different.
As though they had crossed an invisible line.
As though they had stepped into a world they weren't supposed to see.
Twenty minutes passed.
The clock on the wall ticked steadily.
Its rhythm became the only sound in the room.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Every second felt heavier than the last.
Kimberly eventually fell asleep with her head resting on her folded arms.
Won Ho followed shortly after.
His soft snoring occasionally broke the silence.
Professor Leonard sat near the window.
The photographs captured by Airi's camera floated on a holographic screen before him.
Miriam stood beside him.
Neither spoke.
They simply studied the images.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Searching for something they might have missed.
Some clue.
Some weakness.
Some answer.
Dark remained seated beside Alya.
His eyes never left the three unconscious infiltrators.
He knew they had survived.
But survival wasn't the same as being unharmed.
Not after what they had seen.
Not after what had happened inside that gallery.
Eventually Xia's fingers twitched.
Airi stirred.
Minho groaned.
All three opened their eyes almost simultaneously.
For a brief moment confusion filled their faces.
Then memory returned.
And with it...
Fear.
Dark silently grabbed a bottle of water.
He handed it to Xia.
She snatched it immediately.
The bottle was empty within seconds.
"More."
Dark handed her another.
Then another.
Then another.
By the fourth bottle everyone in the room was staring at her.
Xia finally lowered the empty container and breathed heavily.
"I think..."
She paused.
"...I was dying."
"No."
Miriam replied instantly.
"You were being dramatic."
"That's basically the same thing."
A weak laugh escaped the room.
Small.
Brief.
Fragile.
But real.
For the first time since the infiltration...
The suffocating tension loosened slightly.
Even if only for a moment.
Yet nobody could forget the truth.
The gallery.
The meeting.
The files.
The Puppeteers.
Professor Eclipse.
The hidden war unfolding beneath Amberlath.
All of it remained waiting for them.
And sooner or later...
Someone would have to decide what came next.
The fragile moment of relief didn't last.
It never could.
Not after what they had seen.
Not after what they had learned.
The silence gradually returned to the classroom.
Heavier than before.
Nobody looked at each other.
Nobody seemed eager to speak.
As though saying the truth aloud would somehow make it more real.
The holographic images continued floating above Professor Leonard's desk.
Photographs of the gallery.
The meeting chamber.
The masks.
The map.
The mural.
The Tree of Marionettes.
Every image felt like evidence collected from a nightmare.
Proof that everything they had witnessed had actually happened.
Airi stared at the floor.
Her hands trembled slightly.
She tried hiding it by folding them together.
It didn't work.
Dark noticed.
So did Alya.
So did everyone else.
Nobody said anything.
Finally Minho broke the silence.
"What do we do now?"
His voice sounded strangely small.
Almost fragile.
The question echoed through the classroom.
No one answered immediately.
Because everyone already knew what he was really asking.
Not:
What do we do next?
But:
Do we continue?
Several seconds passed.
Then Airi spoke.
"I don't think we should."
The room froze.
Her words came quietly.
But their impact was immediate.
Everyone looked toward her.
Airi lowered her gaze.
Yet she continued speaking.
"If we keep doing this..."
Her voice faltered.
"...we're going to die."
Nobody interrupted.
Nobody argued.
Because nobody could honestly say she was wrong.
Airi clenched her fists.
"The mayor."
"The businessmen."
"The government."
"The Day Moths."
"The Church."
"The Puppeteers."
She slowly shook her head.
"This isn't some secret club anymore."
Her eyes lifted.
For the first time that night genuine fear was visible inside them.
"We aren't investigating rumors."
"We aren't chasing ghosts."
"We stumbled into a war."
The room remained silent.
Even Xia didn't have a sarcastic response.
Airi swallowed hard.
"I still can't stop thinking about what Eclipse said."
Nobody needed clarification.
They all remembered.
Every word.
Every warning.
Her voice became quieter.
"She wasn't threatening us."
"She was warning us."
The realization hit harder than anyone wanted to admit.
Because deep down...
They had all reached the same conclusion.
Professor Leonard adjusted his glasses.
His expression remained thoughtful.
"Perhaps."
Everyone turned toward him.
The professor folded his hands together.
"For the first time..."
He hesitated.
Carefully choosing his words.
"For the first time since this began, I agree with Airi."
The surprise was immediate.
Professor Leonard had always encouraged investigation.
Curiosity.
Discovery.
Knowledge.
Hearing him say that sent a chill through the room.
"We are no longer dealing with isolated incidents."
His gaze drifted toward the photographs.
"Whatever the Puppeteers are..."
"They are organized."
"Patient."
"Connected."
"And frighteningly competent."
Miriam crossed her arms.
"And dangerous."
The professor nodded.
"Extremely dangerous."
Won Ho leaned back in his chair.
A nervous laugh escaped him.
"I knew this was insane."
He pointed toward the holographic images.
"But this?"
"This is beyond insane."
Kim stared at one of the photographs.
The image showing the giant map of Amberlath.
The red strings.
The marked locations.
The hidden network.
"It looked like they already own half the city."
Nobody argued.
Because that was exactly what it looked like.
The classroom grew silent once more.
A silence filled with uncertainty.
Fear.
Doubt.
Questions.
For the first time since the Club of the Night had been created...
The possibility of stopping entirely hung in the air.
Not because they lacked courage.
Not because they were weak.
But because for the first time...
They truly understood the size of the enemy standing before them.
And that realization was terrifying.
Across the room, Dark remained silent.
Listening.
Thinking.
Watching.
As the debate unfolded around him.
Because deep inside...
He already knew his answer.
Even if speaking it aloud terrified him.
The debate slowly faded.
Not because anyone had found an answer.
But because everyone had reached the same conclusion.
There wasn't a correct choice.
Only consequences.
Different roads leading toward different disasters.
Silence reclaimed the classroom.
The holographic photographs continued floating above the desks.
The masks.
The strings.
The mural.
The hidden headquarters.
Evidence of a truth none of them could ignore anymore.
Dark stared at the images.
His heart felt heavy.
Every photograph seemed to ask the same question.
How far are you willing to go?
He lowered his gaze.
His hands rested on his knees.
Slightly trembling.
Nobody noticed.
Or perhaps everyone noticed and simply chose not to mention it.
Airi was right.
Professor Leonard was right.
Everyone was right.
The Puppeteers were dangerous.
Far more dangerous than anything they had faced before.
They manipulated politicians.
Controlled businessmen.
Moved through the city unseen.
Killed investigators.
Silenced witnesses.
And somehow remained hidden from organizations far stronger than the Club of the Night.
Reason dictated only one answer.
Walk away.
Forget everything.
Live.
Dark closed his eyes.
For a moment he imagined doing exactly that.
Returning home.
Going back to school.
Pretending none of this existed.
Pretending the gallery never happened.
Pretending the Puppeteers were somebody else's problem.
The fantasy lasted only seconds.
Because another image surfaced.
Not from the gallery.
Not from the meeting.
Not from the infiltration.
A memory.
Or rather...
The absence of one.
His parents.
A void.
An emptiness that had followed him for as long as he could remember.
Questions without answers.
Fragments without context.
A life with missing pages.
Then another thought emerged.
The Day Moths.
Why had they investigated him?
Why had Eclipse destroyed that file?
What had they discovered?
What had been important enough for someone to kill over?
His breathing became heavier.
The classroom seemed distant.
As though he were sinking beneath deep water.
Who am I?
The question echoed inside him.
The same question that had haunted him for years.
The same question that had driven every step of his journey.
Slowly...
Dark stood.
The movement immediately drew everyone's attention.
The room became silent once more.
He wanted to sound confident.
Brave.
Certain.
He wasn't.
Fear churned inside his chest.
His stomach felt twisted into knots.
His hands wanted to shake.
His voice wanted to break.
But he spoke anyway.
"I'm continuing."
The words landed softly.
Yet they seemed to shake the room.
Dark looked toward the floor.
Not because he was ashamed.
Because meeting their eyes felt impossible.
"I'm scared."
The confession surprised everyone.
Including himself.
"I don't know if we can win."
His voice grew quieter.
"I don't know if we're strong enough."
He laughed weakly.
A hollow sound.
"Honestly..."
He paused.
"I can't even solve the smallest problems in my own life."
Nobody interrupted.
Nobody mocked him.
Nobody looked away.
Dark slowly clenched his fists.
"But I need answers."
His voice hardened.
Not with confidence.
With desperation.
"I need to know who the Puppeteers are."
"I need to know why the Day Moths were investigating me."
"I need to know why Eclipse protected us."
His breathing trembled.
"And more than anything..."
For the first time he raised his head.
"I want to know who I am."
The room became completely still.
"I want to know what happened to my parents."
Every word felt heavier than the last.
Years of frustration.
Years of uncertainty.
Years of loneliness.
Spilling into the open.
"I don't care how dangerous this becomes."
That wasn't true.
He cared.
He cared a lot.
He was terrified.
But some truths were worth fearing for.
"So I'll keep going."
His eyes moved across the room.
Meeting each of theirs in turn.
"I'll investigate the Puppeteers."
"I'll investigate the Day Moths."
"I'll investigate my past."
His voice softened.
"But..."
For the first time that night, genuine vulnerability appeared on his face.
"I don't want to do it alone."
Silence followed.
A long silence.
A fragile silence.
And for a moment nobody moved.
Because everyone understood what Dark was truly saying.
It wasn't a speech.
It wasn't a declaration.
It wasn't a heroic proclamation.
It was a request.
A frightened boy asking the people he trusted most to walk beside him into the darkness.
And one by one...
The others began to rise from their seats.
For several seconds after Dark finished speaking, nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The classroom remained frozen.
As though the entire world had paused to listen to the final echoes of his words.
The holographic images continued floating overhead.
Silent witnesses.
The Puppeteers.
The Day Moths.
The hidden war.
The future waiting for them.
Dark immediately regretted speaking.
The moment the words left his mouth, doubt followed.
Maybe he had asked too much.
Maybe he had been selfish.
Maybe—
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Firm.
Warm.
Certain.
Dark turned.
Xia stood beside him.
Her expression was unusually serious.
A rarity.
Almost unsettling.
"You idiot."
Dark blinked.
"What?"
Xia rolled her eyes.
"You make it sound like you're asking us to walk into hell."
A brief pause.
Then she smirked.
"You could have just asked normally."
A few quiet laughs escaped around the room.
The tension cracked slightly.
Xia folded her arms.
Her golden eyes met Dark's.
"I told you before."
For a moment her usual arrogance disappeared.
Leaving behind something far more genuine.
"We're your friends."
Dark stared at her.
Speechless.
"So obviously I'm coming."
The smirk returned.
"Besides."
She pointed toward one of the floating photographs.
The Tree of Marionettes.
"There's no way I'm letting a bunch of theater-loving psychopaths outsmart me."
That sounded more like Xia.
Minho laughed.
"That's actually a pretty convincing argument."
He stood from his chair.
Stretching his sore shoulders.
"I'm in too."
Dark looked toward him.
Minho shrugged.
"What?"
"You saved my life."
Dark opened his mouth.
Minho immediately pointed at him.
"Don't argue."
The gesture made several people smile.
"You've saved all of us at least once."
His expression softened.
"So if you're walking into disaster..."
A grin appeared.
"...someone has to be there to stop you from doing something stupid."
"Impossible."
"Why?"
"Because you're even dumber than me."
Minho gasped dramatically.
"That's slander."
The room laughed.
Even Airi.
The laughter lasted only a few seconds.
But it was enough.
Enough to make the fear feel smaller.
Then Airi slowly stood.
Immediately everyone became quiet.
She looked nervous.
Still frightened.
Still uncertain.
But she wasn't looking at the floor anymore.
"I still think this is a terrible idea."
Nobody argued.
"It probably is."
Won Ho nodded.
"A horrible idea."
Kim agreed.
"A suicidal idea."
Miriam added.
"The worst plan we've ever had."
Professor Leonard concluded.
The entire room nodded.
Airi couldn't help smiling.
Then she looked toward Dark.
"I'm still scared."
Her voice trembled slightly.
"I don't know if we can win."
She glanced toward the photographs.
Toward the masks.
Toward the hidden organization lurking beneath the city.
"But..."
She inhaled deeply.
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering what would've happened if we had tried."
Dark felt something tighten in his chest.
"So I'll help too."
Her voice was quiet.
Yet unwavering.
"Besides."
A faint smile appeared.
"Somebody has to record everything."
That earned another round of laughter.
One by one the others rose from their seats.
Won Ho.
Kim.
Miriam.
Professor Leonard.
Even Alya, who had remained silent the entire time.
The classroom slowly transformed.
Not into a battlefield.
Not into a war room.
Into something stronger.
A promise.
Alya stepped forward last.
Her emerald eyes locked onto Dark's.
Unlike the others...
She didn't joke.
She didn't smile.
She simply took his hand.
And squeezed it gently.
The classroom disappeared.
The voices disappeared.
The fear disappeared.
For a single moment...
Only that warmth remained.
"I'm staying."
Her voice was soft.
Almost a whisper.
"No matter where this leads."
Dark felt his throat tighten.
Alya smiled.
A small smile.
A fragile smile.
The kind that carried more meaning than a thousand speeches.
And for the first time since returning from the gallery...
The fear inside him eased.
Just a little.
Because the road ahead was still terrifying.
The Puppeteers were still out there.
The Day Moths were still watching.
The answers he sought were still hidden.
But now he wouldn't face them alone.
Together, the Club of the Night stood beneath the pale classroom lights.
A group of students.
A teacher.
A collection of broken people carrying too many secrets.
And unknowingly...
They had just taken their first true step into a war that would change all of their lives.
The meeting eventually came to an end.
Not because they had solved anything.
But because there was nothing left to discuss.
The Puppeteers remained hidden.
The Day Moths remained suspicious.
The answers remained buried somewhere beneath layers of secrets.
All they possessed now was determination.
And determination alone could not keep exhausted people awake forever.
One by one, everyone began gathering their belongings.
Chairs scraped softly against the floor.
Bags were lifted.
Laptops closed.
The atmosphere felt lighter than before.
Not safe.
Never safe.
But lighter.
Kim yawned loudly.
Won Ho immediately copied her.
"You're doing that on purpose."
"Maybe."
"You have the emotional maturity of a five-year-old."
"That's generous."
Miriam sighed.
Professor Leonard looked as though he regretted mentoring any of them.
The familiar banter slowly filled the room.
A desperate attempt to reclaim normality.
Dark watched them quietly.
A small smile forming on his face.
For a few minutes...
They looked like ordinary students again.
Not investigators.
Not Illuminated.
Not future participants in a hidden war.
Just friends.
Alya noticed his expression.
"What?"
Dark shook his head.
"Nothing."
The smile remained.
"I was just thinking."
"Dangerous."
"Very funny."
"It was."
Dark rolled his eyes.
Alya laughed softly.
For a brief moment...
Everything felt normal.
Then the feeling vanished.
A chill ran through his body.
Sudden.
Sharp.
Instinctive.
Dark froze.
His gaze drifted toward the classroom window.
Something had changed.
He didn't know what.
Only that the sensation felt familiar.
The same feeling he experienced whenever something important was about to happen.
Slowly...
He approached the glass.
The city stretched beyond the school grounds.
Amberlath glittered beneath the night sky.
Thousands of lights.
Countless streets.
An endless sea of buildings.
And among them...
One rooftop.
Dark stopped breathing.
Someone stood there.
A girl.
Watching him.
The distance should have made her impossible to identify.
Yet somehow...
He could see her clearly.
Moonlight bathed her figure.
Silver hair danced in the wind.
Long strands shimmered like flowing threads of liquid starlight.
Her pale skin reflected the lunar glow.
Making her seem less like a person.
And more like an apparition.
A ghost.
A memory.
A dream.
Her clothing looked strange.
Old-fashioned.
Practical.
Almost resembling the attire of an explorer from another era.
Belts.
Leather straps.
Gloves.
Boots.
A pocket watch hanging at her side.
And upon her forehead rested a pair of goggles.
Dark had never seen her before.
He was certain of it.
Yet...
Something inside him disagreed.
A strange feeling emerged.
Not recognition.
Not familiarity.
Longing.
As though some forgotten part of himself remembered her.
Even if his mind could not.
The girl remained motionless.
Simply observing.
Neither hostile.
Nor friendly.
Just watching.
Then something changed.
For the briefest moment...
An emotion crossed her face.
Compassion.
Or perhaps sorrow.
Dark couldn't tell.
The expression vanished almost immediately.
But its impact remained.
Because it felt genuine.
As though she pitied him.
As though she understood something he didn't.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
Alya stepped beside him.
"What are you looking at?"
Dark pointed toward the rooftop.
Alya followed his gaze.
And frowned.
"There."
She narrowed her eyes.
For several seconds she searched the darkness.
Then slowly shook her head.
"I don't see anyone."
Dark blinked.
"What?"
The rooftop was empty.
Completely empty.
The girl had vanished.
No movement.
No sound.
No trace.
Nothing.
Dark stared at the building.
Trying to understand what had happened.
Had she jumped?
Teleported?
Hidden?
Or had she never been there at all?
Alya studied his expression carefully.
"You look pale."
Dark hesitated.
Then looked back toward the city.
Toward the empty rooftop.
"I thought I saw someone."
The answer sounded ridiculous even to him.
Alya gently touched his arm.
"Maybe you're exhausted."
Maybe.
But deep down...
Dark knew exhaustion wasn't the answer.
Because even now...
Long after the mysterious girl had disappeared...
He could still feel her eyes.
Watching him.
Somewhere beyond the city.
Beyond the night.
Beyond his understanding.
And for reasons he could not explain...
The encounter left him with a single terrifying certainty.
The Puppeteers were not the only ones observing him.
Eventually, everyone left.
One by one.
The classroom slowly emptied.
Kim and Won Ho were the first to leave.
Still arguing about something neither of them fully understood.
Professor Leonard departed shortly afterward.
Taking copies of the photographs Airi had captured.
Miriam disappeared without saying goodbye.
As usual.
Minho escorted Airi home.
Though judging by their expressions, neither expected much sleep that night.
Soon only three people remained.
Dark.
Alya.
And Moka, sleeping peacefully inside Dark's backpack.
The silence felt different now.
Not uncomfortable.
Not tense.
Simply tired.
The kind of silence that comes after surviving something nobody was prepared for.
Alya leaned against a desk.
Watching him.
Dark was staring at the floor.
Lost in thought.
Again.
"You've been doing that for ten minutes."
Dark blinked.
"Doing what?"
"Thinking."
He sighed.
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize."
Alya smiled faintly.
"I'm just worried."
Dark looked away.
That answer hurt more than criticism ever could.
Because she wasn't wrong.
His thoughts were a complete mess.
The Puppeteers.
The hidden meeting.
The destroyed archive.
The Day Moths investigating him.
Professor Eclipse.
The silver-haired girl.
Questions.
Questions.
Questions.
Every answer seemed to create ten more mysteries.
And the worst part?
None of them felt disconnected.
Somehow everything seemed linked.
As though invisible threads connected every event.
Every person.
Every secret.
And all those threads were slowly tightening around him.
Dark rubbed his forehead.
"I hate this."
Alya tilted her head.
"The investigation?"
"No."
His voice came out quieter than intended.
"Not knowing."
For a moment neither spoke.
Then Alya slowly approached.
She gently placed a hand on his cheek.
Dark froze.
Her touch felt warm.
Comforting.
Real.
Unlike everything else.
"You'll find the answers."
Her voice was soft.
Steady.
Dark wanted to believe her.
Part of him did.
But another part remembered the gallery.
The photographs.
The hanging masks.
The destroyed file.
How many answers had already been erased?
How many truths had been buried before he could find them?
Alya seemed to notice his hesitation.
So instead of speaking again...
She simply hugged him.
No dramatic speech.
No promises.
No declarations.
Just warmth.
For several seconds Dark remained still.
Then he slowly returned the embrace.
And for the first time that night...
His mind became quiet.
Only for a moment.
But it was enough.
Eventually they separated.
Alya glanced toward the window.
The night was already beginning to fade.
"You should sleep."
Dark laughed weakly.
"That's probably a good idea."
"Definitely."
She pointed toward him.
"You look terrible."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
A small smile appeared between them.
Then Alya finally left.
Dark watched her car disappear into the distance.
And suddenly...
The school felt enormous.
Empty.
Cold.
The last few hours replayed endlessly inside his mind.
The silver-haired girl.
The compassion in her eyes.
The way she had vanished.
Something about that encounter refused to leave him alone.
As though a forgotten memory were scratching against the inside of his skull.
Trying to emerge.
Trying to be remembered.
Dark shook his head.
"No."
He was exhausted.
That was all.
At least...
That was what he told himself.
The trip home passed in a blur.
Empty streets.
Silent intersections.
The distant glow of Amberlath's towers.
By the time he reached his house, dawn was still hours away.
Everything felt strangely normal.
The familiar furniture.
The quiet staircase.
The scent of home.
Moka immediately claimed the bed as her personal kingdom.
As always.
Dark changed clothes.
Collapsed onto the mattress.
And stared at the ceiling.
Minutes passed.
Sleep refused to come.
Every time he closed his eyes...
He saw something different.
White masks.
Silver eyes.
Black roses.
Strings.
Blood.
The images blended together.
Twisting.
Merging.
Transforming.
Until eventually exhaustion won.
His eyelids grew heavier.
His breathing slowed.
His thoughts faded.
And somewhere in the darkness between waking and dreaming...
Something was waiting.
Watching.
Patiently.
At first...
There was only darkness.
Not the darkness of a room.
Not the darkness behind closed eyes.
A deeper darkness.
Ancient.
Silent.
Endless.
Dark drifted within it.
Weightless.
Directionless.
Time seemed absent.
Distance meaningless.
There was no sky.
No earth.
No stars.
Only emptiness.
Then...
Something moved.
A sound.
Drip.
Dark opened his eyes.
Another drop fell.
Drip.
A third.
Drip.
The sound echoed through the void.
Growing louder.
Closer.
Dark looked down.
A red droplet struck the darkness beneath his feet.
Ripples spread outward.
Blood.
His heart skipped a beat.
Another drop landed.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Soon the silence became a rhythm.
A slow rain.
A crimson rain.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The darkness beneath him began changing.
Shapes emerged.
Stone.
Roads.
Buildings.
A city.
Amberlath.
Except...
Something was wrong.
Everything looked distorted.
The streets stretched farther than they should.
Buildings leaned at impossible angles.
Windows watched like countless eyes.
The city resembled Amberlath.
But felt like a nightmare attempting to imitate it.
Dark found himself standing in the middle of an avenue.
The sky above was crimson.
Not orange.
Not scarlet.
Crimson.
The color of fresh blood.
Three moons hung overhead.
Each one cracked.
Each one bleeding.
Thin rivers of red flowed across their surfaces.
Cascading downward through the heavens.
Dark stared upward.
Unable to breathe.
The sight felt wrong.
Fundamentally wrong.
As though reality itself had been wounded.
A cold wind swept through the avenue.
It carried a scent.
Metal.
Copper.
Blood.
So much blood.
The smell was overwhelming.
Dark instinctively covered his nose.
It didn't help.
The scent seemed to come from everywhere.
From the sky.
From the buildings.
From the ground itself.
His stomach twisted.
Then he noticed something.
The street wasn't black.
Or gray.
It was red.
Dark slowly lowered his gaze.
The pavement had disappeared beneath a thin layer of liquid.
Blood.
An endless sea of blood.
The surface trembled around his boots.
Sending crimson ripples through the avenue.
His reflection stared back from beneath the surface.
Except...
The reflection wasn't moving correctly.
Dark froze.
The figure beneath the blood smiled.
A second too late.
His pulse exploded.
The reflection's smile widened.
Then the blood rippled.
And it vanished.
Dark stumbled backward.
His breathing became uneven.
No.
This wasn't a dream.
Or at least...
It didn't feel like one.
The city remained silent.
Too silent.
No cars.
No voices.
No animals.
Nothing.
An entire city without life.
Then he heard it.
A distant noise.
Clink.
Metal striking metal.
The sound echoed through the empty streets.
Again.
Clink.
And again.
Clink.
Chains.
Someone was dragging chains.
Far away.
Yet somehow the sound seemed to come from every direction simultaneously.
Dark turned.
Searching.
Finding nothing.
The chains continued.
Slowly.
Patiently.
Getting closer.
The blood beneath his feet began vibrating.
Tiny ripples spread across the crimson surface.
The sound was approaching.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
Then another sound joined it.
A whisper.
So faint it barely existed.
A voice.
Neither male nor female.
Neither young nor old.
Ancient.
The whisper drifted through the red wind.
And though Dark couldn't understand the language...
His soul somehow recognized the meaning.
A warning.
No.
A sentence.
A verdict.
Something had already been decided.
Something irreversible.
The crimson sky darkened further.
The moons seemed to bleed faster.
The blood around Dark's feet rose slightly.
Ankle-deep now.
The chains stopped.
Silence returned.
Absolute silence.
Then, far ahead in the distance...
A silhouette appeared.
Standing motionless at the end of the avenue.
Watching him.
Too far away to identify.
Too still to be human.
Dark felt his entire body go cold.
Because somehow...
Even from that impossible distance...
He knew.
The figure had been waiting for him.
And this dream...
Had only just begun.
The silhouette moved.
Not quickly.
Not slowly.
Inevitably.
Dark stood frozen as the distant figure began walking through the crimson avenue.
Each step sent ripples through the sea of blood.
Each movement felt wrong.
As though the world itself was bending around its existence.
The chains resumed.
Clink.
Clink.
Clink.
The sound no longer echoed.
It was beside him now.
The figure stopped.
Still too far away to identify.
Still hidden beneath impossible shadows.
Then it raised an arm.
And pointed.
Toward the horizon.
The city trembled.
A deep vibration shook the streets.
The buildings.
The sky.
The blood.
Dark turned.
And his heart stopped.
At the end of the avenue stood something colossal.
Something impossible.
Something ancient.
A tree.
No.
Not a tree.
The memory of a tree.
The corpse of a tree.
The nightmare of a tree.
Its trunk towered into the heavens.
Black as a starless void.
Its bark twisted like screaming faces trapped beneath stone.
Its roots spread across entire districts.
Breaking buildings apart.
Piercing roads.
Devouring the city.
And hanging from every branch...
Were bodies.
Thousands.
Perhaps millions.
Dark couldn't tell.
The branches disappeared into the crimson sky.
And the corpses continued upward beyond sight.
A sea of death suspended from an endless tree.
His legs moved without permission.
One step.
Another.
The blood rose higher.
Reaching his knees.
Yet he continued walking.
Something was calling him.
Pulling him forward.
The closer he came...
The more details emerged.
The bodies were not random.
Politicians.
Priests.
Soldiers.
Businessmen.
Children.
Teachers.
Criminals.
Beggars.
Kings.
Everyone.
Every station.
Every status.
Every belief.
All equal beneath the branches.
Dark's breathing became ragged.
Then he saw a familiar white mask.
A Puppeteer.
Hanging from a branch.
Its body had been split open from throat to abdomen.
Blackened entrails dangled from the wound.
Nearby hung a member of the Church.
Then another.
Then a Day Moth investigator.
Then another.
Entire factions.
Entire organizations.
All reduced to corpses decorating the same tree.
The realization struck him like lightning.
Whatever this thing represented...
It stood above every side.
Above every conflict.
Above every war.
Above every ideology.
As though the struggles of humanity meant absolutely nothing before it.
Dark finally reached the roots.
The blood was waist-deep now.
And that was when he noticed he was no longer alone.
Someone stood beside him.
A hooded figure.
Silent.
Motionless.
Trembling.
Dark couldn't see the person's face.
Only darkness beneath the hood.
Yet something about them felt familiar.
Painfully familiar.
The figure slowly raised a shaking hand.
And placed it on his shoulder.
The touch felt warm.
Human.
Desperate.
Then the voice came.
Not from the sky.
Not from the tree.
Not from the hooded figure.
From everywhere.
From reality itself.
A voice older than language.
Older than memory.
Older than the stars.
And yet every word was perfectly understood.
"Sheep are raised for only two purposes."
The world grew silent.
The blood stopped moving.
The wind ceased.
Even the moons seemed frozen.
"To be devoured."
A pause.
"Or to be sacrificed."
The hooded figure stiffened.
Dark felt terror unlike anything he had ever known.
Not fear of death.
Fear of significance.
Fear that humanity itself was livestock in a story written by something else.
Then a hand emerged from the darkness.
A gigantic hand.
Formed entirely from shadow.
It appeared behind the hooded figure.
Before Dark could react—
The hand pierced their chest.
Blood exploded across the crimson sea.
The hooded figure convulsed.
A heart was torn free.
Still beating.
Still alive.
Dark tried to scream.
Nothing came out.
The shadow grabbed the figure's head.
And ripped it away from the body.
The sound echoed forever.
The corpse collapsed into the blood.
The severed heart sank beneath the crimson surface.
And then...
The shadow turned toward him.
For the first time.
It looked directly at him.
Dark couldn't see its face.
But he knew.
It was smiling.
The blood began rising.
Chest level.
Neck level.
The corpses hanging from Thar'nöth opened their eyes simultaneously.
Millions of dead eyes.
All staring at him.
The shadow lunged.
The universe disappeared.
Dark awoke with a violent gasp.
His entire body was drenched in sweat.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
His lungs burned.
The room was dark.
Silent.
Safe.
For several seconds he couldn't move.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't breathe properly.
Then something soft brushed against his arm.
Moka.
The cat lazily opened one eye.
Stretched.
And returned to sleep.
Dark stared at the ceiling.
The image of Thar'nöth remained burned into his mind.
Every corpse.
Every word.
Every drop of blood.
And worst of all...
The feeling.
The horrible certainty that the dream had not felt like a dream.
As though somewhere beyond the veil of reality...
Something had shown him a glimpse of what was coming.
Dark slowly closed his eyes again.
Outside, the first rays of dawn began to appear.
And far beyond the city...
Beyond the horizon...
Beyond what any human could perceive...
Something ancient continued watching.