The air was thick. Heavy. Unnatural.
Selene's boots crunched against the cracked stone beneath her as she took a slow step forward, scanning their surroundings. The sky above them was a swirling mass of dark clouds, shifting like sothing alive. The ground was barren, littered with ruins—broken pillars, shattered statues, remnants of a temple that must have once stood proud but was now nothing more than a decayed corpse of the past.
Her voice ca out uneasy. "Where… are we?"
Thomas exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. His head was pounding, like a lingering hangover from sothing he couldn't rember. He swallowed, trying to shake the feeling crawling under his skin.
"No idea… but I got a bad feeling about this place. Like—" he hesitated, his fingers twitching. "Like we're not supposed to be here. Like we shouldn't have opened that damn door."
Damien let out a dry laugh—one with absolutely no humor in it. "Oh, you think?" He shot Thomas a sharp glare. "You were the one who refused to listen and just had to go charging in like an idiot."
Thomas ran a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his face. "Yeah, well… I wasn't exactly in control of myself, was I?" He shivered slightly, rembering that mont—how his body had moved on its own, how sothing had called to him.
Selene tensed. "Guys…"
They both turned to her—then followed her gaze.
Up ahead, past the ruins, was what was left of an ancient temple. But that wasn't the problem.
The problem… was the figures standing within its shadows.
Silent. Still. Watching.
Dozens of them. Maybe more. Their eyes—if they even had eyes—glead faintly, locked onto the trio like predators sizing up their prey.
"That's not good." Damien's fingers curled around his weapon.
But then he noticed sothing else.
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They weren't looking at them.
They were looking behind them.
A chill ran down his spine.
Slowly—hesitantly—he turned around.
The others followed.
And there it was.
A portal. The sa one that had pulled them in. Only now—it was stable. Fully ford, swirling in eerie silence.
Thomas felt his breath hitch. His gut twisted. "Oh… I don't like this."
Selene's heart pounded. It was too obvious now.
The figures weren't looking at them.
They were looking at the exit.
And that's when the realization hit.
"This place…" Thomas murmured. His voice barely above a whisper. "It's a prison."
A low, guttural growl rumbled from the shadows.
Then—movent.
The figures lurking within the ruins stepped forward, slow and deliberate. Their forms were humanoid, but sothing was wrong. Their limbs were too long, their movents unnatural, jerky—like puppets on invisible strings.
And their eyes—empty, glowing slits—locked onto the portal with hunger.
"Shit," Damien muttered, instinctively reaching for his weapon. "They're making a move."
Then—one of them lunged.
Like a blur of darkness, it sprinted straight for the portal.
"No, no, no—hell no!" Thomas snarled, throwing out his hand. A pulse of energy crackled from his fingertips, slamming into the creature mid-air and sending it skidding back with an unholy screech.
But that was just the beginning.
The others saw it—saw the way out.
And now, they were all moving.
A stampede of shadows, rushing for the gate.
"We can't let them through!" Selene shouted, drawing her twin daggers.
Damien was already in motion. In one swift move, he pulled out his sword—midnight black steel flashing under the eerie glow.
"Tch. Damn prisoners." He exhaled sharply. "You're staying right here."
The first wave reached them.
Selene ducked low, her blades slicing clean through the tendrils of a lunging creature. Its body convulsed before it dissolved into wisps of darkness. Damien swung wide, his blade carving through three at once, sending black ichor splattering onto the ground.
Thomas moved like lightning, dodging, weaving, striking with precision—his energy crackling through the air with each hit.
But there were too many.
The creatures kept coming, relentless, desperate.
And the portal—still wide open.
Selene gritted her teeth. This isn't working.
"We need backup!" she called out, flipping back as a clawed hand slashed past her face.
Without hesitation, she raised her wrist—activating the small device strapped around it.
A faint blue light blinked once. Twice.
Then—a pulse.
The ergency signal had been sent.
Sowhere out there, Raph and Freya would receive it.
"That better have been an SOS," Thomas said, his eyes flicking toward her as he blasted another creature back.
"It was," Selene confird.
Damien smirked, driving his sword into the ground, sending a shockwave of dark energy rippling outward.
"Good," Thomas exhaled, cracking his knuckles. "Because I can feel sothing strong nearby… and I don't think it's friendly."
Selene's stomach dropped.
As if on cue, a chilling presence filled the air.
A deep, echoing click-click-click sounded from within the ruins.
Elsewhere
The evening sky burned in shades of gold and crimson as laughter echoed through the air.
Adam, just fourteen, darted across the grassy yard, his movents quick and effortless as he dodged and weaved between his two younger siblings—Alfred and Aria, both barely three. They giggled as they chased after him, their tiny legs struggling to keep up.
"Adam, get back here! Stop running around!"
Freya's voice rang out, firm yet gentle. She stood at the porch, hands on her hips, watching her son with a mix of amusent and exasperation.
Adam skidded to a stop, turning to face her with a pout. "But we're having fun!"
Freya sighed, shaking her head before walking toward them. She crouched, brushing Aria's ssy hair back into place while Alfred clung to her leg.
"Co on," she said with a warm smile. "Let's go have dinner. Your father is waiting."
Adam's ears perked up at that.
His siblings, too.
Without hesitation, all three bolted toward the house, their excitent clear as they rushed inside. Freya chuckled softly, watching them disappear through the doorway.
Then—her smile faded.
Sothing flickered in the sky.
A faint blue light.
Freya's breath hitched. One of Raphael's signals.
A tool crafted by him—designed to reach him no matter where he was.
And seeing one now could only an one thing.
Trouble.
She turned—ready to act—but she didn't have to.
Raphael was already there.
He stood just outside the house, his presence calm yet commanding. Midnight-black hair fell ssily over his forehead, and his sharp, dark eyes reflected the fading sunlight. He looked so much like Adam—but there was sothing about him, an air of quiet power, the kind that made even the wind hesitate around him.
He t her gaze, already knowing.
"I told the kids we'd be back real soon." His voice was steady, unwavering. Then—a small, knowing smile. "Let's keep that promise."
Freya nodded.
She reached for his outstretched hand.
And in the blink of an eye—
They were gone.
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