(A/N):
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Forks...
Night tightening around the trees
Jenny's house had turned into a quiet fortress.
Hayley, Paige, Paxton, and even the stubborn Grant were moved inside under strict instruction.
Windows covered. Mirrors draped. Lights kept steady.
Outside, large shadows moved between the trees.
The Quileute wolves were in position.
One of them stepped forward briefly in human form to speak.
Leah Clearwater
She stood with arms crossed, posture sharp, eyes scanning the dark perimeter.
"North treeline secured," Leah reported calmly to Jenny.
"Two patrol rotations active. No scent shifts yet."
Jenny nodded, clipboard in hand like this was corporate logistics instead of supernatural case.
-Nod
"...."
"Keep visual on the west side. They're not allowed near reflections," she said firmly.
Leah gave her a brief, approving nod before shifting back and disappearing into the forest in wolf form.
Jenny's House...
Inside the Jenny's house,
Inadu had taken position in the living room, seated upright, eyes half-lidded but aware of every fluctuation in energy.
If the tarot spirit made a move toward the survivors—It would meet something far older.
Meanwhile—Next door.
Jojo's Mansion...
The glass bench in the center of the hall reflected the ceiling lights cleanly.
On top of it sat the velvet tarot box.
Closed. Still. Waiting.
Jojo stood alone before it.
"...."
Everyone else had cleared out as instructed.
Outside his mansion, the perimeter was layered.
Rosalie leaned casually against a tree, though her senses were razor sharp.
Alice stood near the driveway, eyes occasionally glazing over in short bursts as she scanned potential futures.
Caroline paced slowly near the side entrance.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Gayathri stood beside Lorraine, Chloe, and Sophie further back, absorbing the weight of the atmosphere.
Debbie and Cecellia remained at Jenny's place with the others, while Cole Sear and his mother had been escorted safely home earlier.
The night air felt thick. Like something was holding its breath.
Inside the mansion,
Jojo placed one hand gently on the tarot box.
The glass bench beneath it began to frost slightly from the cold radiating off the wood.
He closed his eyes briefly.
And felt it. Layers upon layers of fear.
Desperation. Panic. The deck wasn't merely cursed.
It was fed. Every completed prophecy had strengthened it.
Every scream had layered intention into its construct.
This was not a wandering ghost. This was an engine. Built to enforce fate.
Jojo opened his eyes slowly.
"...."
The room temperature dipped sharply.
The lights dimmed—not flickering.
-Flicker -Flicker
Dimming. Like the house itself was being observed.
The velvet lid trembled faintly.
Not physically. Energetically.
He could feel the sins soaked into it. Disrespect for the original astrologer.
Mockery of sacred ritual.
Fear-fueled deaths.
Broken contracts with destiny.
He exhaled calmly.
"You followed them across states," he said quietly.
The glass surface beneath the box rippled for a split second.
A whisper brushed the air. Not words.
The temperature dropped another degree.
Not sharp. Not violent.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Just enough to make breath visible in the air.
A faint breeze moved through the hall, brushing past Jojo's hair as if unseen fingers were testing his presence.
He leaned back into the couch.
Arms resting open along the backrest.
Posture relaxed. Completely at ease.
He looked at the ceiling.
"You followed them across states," he said evenly once again since not receiving his answer.
"Don't be shy now."
Silence answered him.
"...."
"...."
"...."
Heavy, suffocating silence.
The tarot box on the glass bench vibrated faintly.
No lid movement. No sound. Just pressure.
Jojo didn't move. He closed his eyes slowly.
Like he was about to nap.
Like the temperature drop meant nothing.
Behind the couch—Something stirred.
At first, it looked like darkness bending incorrectly.
Then it rose. Thin strands of shadow peeled upward from the floorboards.
One shape. Then another. Then several. Figures. Distorted silhouettes of tarot imagery.
A hood. A lantern. A rope. A crown.
They merged together, overlapping and folding inward like ink dropped into water.
The shadows fused. Compressed. Condensed.
Until one towering shape stood directly behind him.
No features. Only outline. And two red gleaming eyes.
Watching. Studying.
"...."
Jojo remained still. Eyes closed. Breathing steady.
The red eyes leaned closer.
The temperature plummeted sharply. Frost crept across the back of the couch.
The entity loomed over him, its form flickering between card archetypes—The High Priestess veil.
The Hanged Man's twisted posture.
The skeletal grin of Death.
-Grin
It leaned down slowly, as if inspecting prey.
Its presence pressed down like gravity shifting.
Still—Jojo did not react.
The red eyes narrowed slightly. Confusion.
"...."
The tarot spirit thrived on fear. On reaction. On panic. There was none.
Outside, Alice suddenly stiffened.
Rosalie's jaw tightened.
"...."
"...."
The wolves growled low in unison.
-Growl!!!
Inside the mansion—The shadow stretched one elongated arm forward.
Its fingers nearly brushing Jojo's shoulder.
Just before contact—Jojo spoke. Eyes still closed.
"You're predictable."
The red eyes flickered. The hand halted mid-air.
Jojo's lips curved faintly.
"You enforce symbolism. You punish disrespect."
His eyes opened slowly.
The red eyes were inches behind him.
He did not turn.
"You mistake enforcement for power."
The shadow's form pulsed violently. The tarot box rattled sharply on the glass bench.
The red eyes flared brighter.
The entity began to solidify—Preparing to strike.
And Jojo finally tilted his head slightly.
"Turn around," he said calmly.
The shadow hesitated confused what is he talking about.
"...."
For the first time—It felt something unfamiliar.
Command. The red eyes flickered.
The merged tarot figures behind him trembled—Not from cold. But from doubt.
The shadow lunged. Not fully solid. Not fully spirit.
But enough to kill.
Before its clawed shape could reach him—
Jojo's eyes snapped open. Crimson. Not glowing. Burning.
"...."
The temperature in the room surged upward in a violent shift.
Frost on the couch evaporated instantly.
The glass bench cracked faintly under thermal stress.
-HISSSS!!!
Black smoke began seeping from Jojo's skin. Slow. Controlled. Not explosive.
The shadow halted mid-strike.
Its red eyes flickered. Confusion turned to something older.
"...."
Instinct. Primal fear.
Jojo did not rise. He remained leaning back on the couch.
Only his eyes changed. And the air around him began to distort like heat rising from asphalt.
The shadow tried to force its momentum forward.
But something in its core recoiled. It felt it.
"...."
The scent of something beyond archetypes.
Beyond ritual. Beyond zodiac alignment. Hell.
Jojo's voice shifted. Low. Layered. Like two entities speaking through the same throat.
"SIT."
The word didn't echo. It weighed.
-Hiss!!!
The smoke thickened around his shoulders.
The shadow trembled.
Its form flickered between The High Priestess veil and The Hanged Man's twisted silhouette.
It growled.
-GRRRR!
A low, distorted vibration that shook the glass bench.
It attempted to strike again—Jojo's eyes flared brighter.
The temperature spiked further.
Flames began crawling faintly beneath his skin.
Not fully erupted. Not yet. Just enough.
The shadow recoiled violently. Its red eyes widened.
"...."
That wasn't a spirit it faced. That was a judge.
Jojo leaned his head slightly backward, staring directly into the red eyes without turning his body.
Voice deeper now. Commanding.
"SIT."
This time the word carried weight beyond sound. It pressed into the entity's form like gravity.
The shadow staggered backward. Its outline destabilized. It tried to resist. Tried to manifest larger.
But every expansion was met by rising heat.
"...."
Hellfire energy bleeding through the seams of Jojo's skin.
The primal fear intensified. This wasn't prey.
This wasn't a mortal medium. This wasn't a rival spirit. This was something that devoured sin.
The shadow slowly retreated. Its shape compressed unwillingly.
Red eyes locked onto Jojo's burning gaze. The couch opposite him creaked slightly.
As the entity's form folded inward—Condensed—And then—It sat.
Still towering. Still shadow. But seated.
Jojo's transformation halted midway. Flames retreated slightly.
Smoke thinned. His eyes remained red.
Locked. Unblinking.
The tarot box vibrated violently on the glass bench.
The shadow's growl turned lower. Quieter. Not aggression now.
Calculation.
Jojo's voice returned to a steadier tone.
"Good."
He straightened slightly on the couch.
"Now we can speak."
The smoke thinned.
But Jojo did not return fully to human.
His skin remained intact.
His skull had not fully ignited.
Yet the air around him shimmered with restrained hellfire.
When he spoke—His voice carried iron and flame.
"WHY."
The word vibrated through the walls.
"WHY DO YOU HUNT THEM."
The shadow trembled.
Its red eyes flickered violently.
Under that gaze—It faltered.
The black mass behind the couch began to unravel, threads peeling away like burnt parchment. The towering silhouette shrank. Compressed. Distorted.
Until the shadow split apart completely—Revealing a woman standing in its place.
She wore garments centuries old.
Dark layered robes embroidered with zodiac constellations in faded gold thread.
Her hair was braided in an archaic style.
Her skin pale—not corpse-like—but drained by time.
Her eyes were no longer red.
They were hollow amber. Ancient. Wronged.
The temperature stabilized.
She stood before him, no longer monstrous, but no less dangerous.
Her voice, when it came, was not a growl.
It was wounded.
"They mocked the stars."
Jojo's burning eyes narrowed.
"SPEAK CLEARLY."
She flinched at the command.
"They used my craft without reverence," she said, voice trembling between pride and sorrow.
"I charted destinies for kings. I warned of plagues. I read the heavens when men still feared eclipses."
Her jaw tightened.
"They laughed."
The tarot box rattled once on the glass bench.
"I bound my soul to the zodiac cycle," she continued. "The twelve archetypes. Each card is law. Fate is sacred."
Her hollow eyes hardened.
"They broke the rules."
Jojo leaned slightly forward, smoke curling from his shoulders.
"YOU SLAUGHTER FOR DISRESPECT."
"They invoked it!" she snapped, emotion flaring.
"The ritual requires understanding one's sign. They shuffled blindly. They severed order."
Her expression twisted.
"When a cycle is disturbed, balance demands correction."
Outside the mansion, the wolves stirred uneasily, sensing the emotional spike.
Inside—Jojo's eyes glowed brighter.
"BALANCE."
He let the word hang like accusation.
"OR VENGEANCE."
The woman faltered.
Her form flickered faintly at the edges.
"I maintained structure," she insisted.
"You fed," he corrected.
The word struck. The tarot deck pulsed darkly.
Jojo rose slowly from the couch. Partial transformation still held. His presence expanded.
"You have completed cycles before."
Her silence answered him.
"...."
"...."
"...."
He stepped closer.
"You grew stronger with each death."
Her amber eyes trembled.
"I preserved destiny."
"YOU BECAME ADDICTED TO IT."
The room vibrated.
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(Author's POV)
(A/N):
[New Fan fic: Star Entertainment: Building An Empire. Check it out.
There will be two chapters a week(Monday and Tuesday)
If delayed I would post it on Wednesday or Thursday.]
Thanks for reading the chapter!
Please give a review and power stone!!!