The sky was still pitch black when my wings snapped open, slicing through the air as I caught an updraft over Bobby's junkyard. Cold wind stung my face, the kind of chill that cut past skin and went straight to the bone. I banked hard left, shadow gliding over rusted trucks and stacks of scrapped memories, testing the limits of my anatomy upgrade.
Dive.
I plummeted fifty feet in a controlled freefall, adrenaline surging like jet fuel through my veins. At the last second, I flared my wings wide. Talons—yeah, I have those now—skimmed the rusted hood of a '78 Cadillac, peeling paint with a satisfying screech.
Good. Better. Stronger.
Somewhere between the kill and the flight, I'd stopped being surprised by the new abilities. Now it was about control. Efficiency. Mastery.
Because Kharon's shadow was stretching over everything, and if I didn't get ahead of it, it'd swallow all of us whole.
Behind me, a floorboard creaked. I didn't turn, already knowing it was Lena. She'd been moving quieter lately—whether it was the stone heart in her chest or just the weight of everything crashing down, I couldn't say.
She stepped onto the porch, hair a tangled mess, eyes still heavy with sleep. Her threadbare AC/DC shirt hung off one shoulder. The stone beneath pulsed faintly—one beat, then another, slow and deliberate.
"You're up early," she mumbled, rubbing her arms.
I retracted my wings with a hiss of shifting scales. "Just getting to know the new hardware. Better I crash into a rusty Buick than a living person, right?"
She squinted toward the horizon. "It's four in the morning, Marcus."
"And? Demons keep banker's hours now?"
She opened her mouth to retort—
CRASH.
Dean's voice thundered from inside the house: "WHO THE HELL PUT SALT IN THE SUGAR JAR?!"
I smirked. "Ah. The circle of life continues."
Breakfast was a chaotic blend of syrup, sarcasm, and centuries-old lore. Maple syrup pooled around one of Bobby's leather-bound demon encyclopedias. He grunted but didn't move it—probably the stickiest summoning circle he's ever dealt with.
Dean flipped a pancake onto my plate, blueberries steaming.
"Eat up, Feathers. Gotta bulk up if you plan on punching a god in the face."
"Appreciate the concern, Tweety." I stuffed half of it in my mouth. "Just don't start molting out of jealousy."
Sam, ever the adult in the room, unfurled an ancient scroll across the table. Yellowed parchment, ink that shimmered faintly under the kitchen light—Enochian. I recognized a few words from my previous hunts.
"We found the tracking spell," he said, fingers scanning the text. "It's designed to locate god-tier entities—but it needs blood. From the vessel."
His eyes flicked toward Lena. Her posture stiffened like someone just dropped ice down her back.
"How much?" she asked quietly.
Sam hesitated. Bobby answered for him. "Enough to sting."
"Maybe worse," Sam added.
I could feel the energy shift. The air grew heavy, tense. Like the moment before a bar brawl, when everyone holds their breath.
I set my fork down. "We don't have that kind of time."
Dean looked up. "What do you mean?"
My voice dropped lower. "He's coming. I don't know how I know, but I do. Kharon's not waiting anymore."
Lena met my eyes. She knew. Felt it too. The way her stone heart had pulsed earlier, faster than before—it wasn't just reacting. It was syncing. A countdown, maybe.
Dean wiped his hands on a dish towel. "So what's the play?"
I stood, wings flaring on instinct before I could stop them.
"There were four more Drakons back in that cave. If they're still there, we get answers—before Kharon uses them to power his next nightmare."
Sam sat forward. "You want to interrogate dragons?"
"Interrogate, vivisect, take to dinner—whatever gets them talking."
Lena pushed back from the table, jaw set. "I'm coming with you."
"No." My tone was sharper than I intended. I softened it. "Not yet. We still don't know how the stone affects them—or how they affect you."
Her glare could've melted steel, but she nodded. Brave girl. Smarter than most hunters I've met.
Bobby tossed me a silver blade etched with runes. "Bring me back a scale. Preferably not yours."
I caught it, grinning. "Be back before lunch."
The cave was exactly as I'd left it—reeking of rot and old blood, a tomb for gods who hadn't died yet.
I touched down silently, wings kicking up stale dust and bone fragments. My enhanced hearing zeroed in: breathing, slithering, claws scraping against rock.
Four heartbeats.
Perfect.
No more stealth. No more caution.
I marched in like I owned the place.
They turned instantly—reptilian eyes glowing like molten coins, nostrils flaring as they caught my scent.
The biggest one—easily nine feet tall, with horns that curled like black lightning bolts—snarled.
"Thief."
I cracked my neck, letting bone claws extend from both hands with a satisfying crunch.
"Funny," I said. "I was gonna call you the same."
Before any of them could react, I launched a full-force Telekinetic wave. 450 kilograms of raw force slammed into them, pinning three to the far wall like grotesque dragonfly specimens. The fourth, the leader, held his ground.
He actually laughed.
"He knows you're coming, mongrel."
"Good," I growled, stepping forward. "Let's talk about how to kill your boss."
One hour later.
The cave looked like a murder museum curated by a psychopath.
Three Drakons lay in various states of disassembly. One was missing a jaw. Another was still twitching. The last was barely a smear on the floor.
The leader—bloody, eyeless, limbs broken in all the right ways—hovered mid-air in my telekinetic grip.
He was still grinning.
"Last chance," I said, pressing a bone blade against the remains of his eye socket. "How. Do. We. Kill. Kharon."
Black blood oozed from his mouth.
"Fool… the Heartstone… destroy it… weakens him… enough for mortal blades…"
I leaned in, nostrils flaring. "Where is it?"
"You already know," he hissed, voice breaking.
And then I felt it—his flesh swelling unnaturally, skin distorting like something was inflating him from the inside out.
Self-destruct.
"Oh hell no."
I Shadow Jumped behind him and decapitated him mid-pop. His body hit the ground like a busted trash bag.
Then the power hit.
Hot. Dark. Addictive.
It slammed into my chest, into my bones, into my very cells.
Power Upgrade:
Strength: 20 tons (up from 16)
Telekinesis: 600 kg (up from 450)
My body burned with the new energy. Muscles tensed and reshaped. My bones hummed like tuning forks made of steel.
I flexed one clawed hand, watching the cave tremble.
Good.
The Heartstone.
That's the key.
And I already know where it is.
Time to hunt a god.