Page 55
Hundreds of chains hang from a vaulted ceiling carved from living bedrock. Each one holds a victim—paranormals with moonish bloodlines serving as grotesque, suspended ornaments. Their blood drips steadily into channels cut into the floor that feed an intricate network of symbols, its thudding rhythm casting a sickly light.
At the center, something writhes above the altar—vast and formless, a body straining beneath the skin of reality itself. This presence is the entity. It is neither the Moon Prophet nor Sybil. This is the ancient force my bloodline imprisoned centuries ago, and it is so much larger than anything I imagined.
"Soon, little Crowe." Its voice echoes inside my skull rather than reaching my ears.
The vision shifts and shows me the red moon's progression. This is the absolute peak of the transformation, expanding from the earlier haze into a towering sky that pours ancient power directly into the ritual chamber.
"Serenity!" Darius saying my name punches through the hallucination.
I snap back to reality, gasping as the underground chamber dissolves around me. Trembling fingers grip his arm for support, the phantom odor of blood and musk burning in my nostrils.
"Sybil." The name tastes like copper on my tongue. "She's in my head again, showing me—"
"Later." He jerks me forward as another building erupts in supernatural fire three blocks away. "Right now we have bigger problems."
We race through streets choked by panicking civilians and emergency paranormal and human responders who have no idea what they're really facing. The attacks create a systemic funnel, and with it, they dictate the flow of paranormal movement into defined pathways—intersections and transit hubs. It is a highly efficient design that channels everything toward a singular destination.
Millennium Park stops us both cold. Coven assassins in masks move through the crowd, a ruthless discipline guiding every step as they target anyone who shows the slightest hint of supernatural ability. They advance, their total indifference to the human crowd driving them to bring down bystanders and paranormals alike whenever paths cross. Bodies litter the ground between overturned food stands and abandoned picnic blankets.
A family huddles behind a concrete barrier—two adult fae and their young daughter, her pointed ears giving away her heritage to the approaching killers. The parents shield her with their bodies as blades flash in the unnatural twilight.
"No!" The exclamation breaks free, its jagged intensity ripping the air, its echoes piercing the quiet while taking on a life of their own.
Darius catches my arm. "Rene, there are too many. We can't—"
I'm already moving, liquid starlight coursing through my veins and fueling every step. A rush of pure adrenaline floods my mouth as I summon magic I've spent years trying to suppress. This is a dangerous, unstable power that could level city blocks if I lose control.
But right now, I couldn’t care about the consequences.
A blinding surge of light shears from my outstretched hands in waves of devastating force, bleaching all the color from the surrounding air. The nearest assassin simply disintegrates, his mask clattering to the ground as his body turns to ash. Two more try to flee, but the power follows them, reducing them to nothing before they can scream.
The remaining coven members abandon their civilian targets, turning toward me with renewed malice.
"Come on then." An otherworldly resonance pours from me, shattering nearby windows, and part of me—the part that thinks rationally—knows that should terrify me. Yet I feel absolutely no fear.
The remaining assassins advance, every step locked in coordinated accuracy, but they might as well be moving through molasses. Moonly power courses through my veins, making every heartbeat thunder out an otherworldly strength.
The first one lunges with a blade aimed at my throat. I sidestep and let pure magic flow through my fingertips, watching him crumble into dust before the weapon even touches ground. His partner tries to flank me, but I'm already turning, power erupting in controlled bursts that leave nothing but empty masks and scattered ash.
"Go! Emergency responders are three blocks north!" I shout to the fae family cowering behind the barrier.
They scramble away, propelled only by the urge to put distance between themselves and the threat, the mother clutching her daughter while the father shields them both. Around us, other civilians emerge from hiding spots and sprint toward safety, finally able to move without masked killers hunting them.
Such beautiful destruction, whispers a voice that doesn't belong to me. You could end this war with a thought. Accept what you are, Vessel.
I grit my teeth and push the entity's seduction aside, reorienting my awareness toward the next group of trapped paranormals. A vampire clan huddles beneath an overturned food truck while three more assassins close in. My power lashes out before I consciously decide to act and reduces the threats to nothing in seconds.
Darius appears beside me, his eyes reflecting concern and perhaps wariness. "You need to dial it back."
"They're murdering innocent people."
"Look around."
I follow his gaze, finally registering the emergency responders standing amidst the chaos. Paranormal Authority officers stand frozen at the park’s edge, their hands hovering over weapons. They bypass the remaining coven members, locking their sights directly onto me.
"She's losing control," one of them mutters into his radio. "Request backup. Possible Code Seven situation."
A Code Seven indicates a magical threat requiring immediate containment.
