The room felt suffocating, heavy with a presence that defied logic or nature. Scarlett's legs threatened to give out as she stared into Rogue's eyes—or what used to be Johnny's. They were dark, soulless pits, flickering with a fiery hatred that seemed to burn everything in its gaze. Beside her, Samaira whimpered, clutching the edge of the sofa as if the fragile fabric could shield her from the storm that had just entered.
"You," Rogue growled, his voice echoing unnaturally in the small space. It was layered, a chorus of anguish and wrath that sent shivers down Scarlett's spine. He pointed a clawed finger at Samaira, who shrank further into herself. "You killed Shellie!"
The accusation slammed into Samaira like a physical blow. Her face turned ghostly pale, and she gasped for air, clutching her chest as if her heart might burst from the sheer force of his words. Without a sound, she crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Scarlett stood frozen, unable to move or think. Rogue's head turned slowly, his gaze locking onto her. The tension in the room was unbearable, the air thick with his rage.
"Samaira is the one who ended her," Rogue said, his tone quieter but no less menacing. "Her jealousy. Her cowardice. She destroyed Shellie. And now..." He took a step forward, his presence filling the room with an almost tangible darkness. "Now I'll destroy her."
Scarlett swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak through the terror clawing at her throat. "Are you... are you from the Black Web Authority?" Her voice wavered, barely a whisper.
Rogue stopped, his expression shifting. His anger faltered for a moment, replaced by something else—confusion. "What did you say?"
Scarlett steadied herself, though her heart was pounding. "Are you here because of the Black Web? Because Samaira used it illegally? Is that why you're... you're doing this?"
For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint sound of Samaira's ragged breathing. Rogue tilted his head, his expression almost human. "The Black Web?" he echoed. And then, with a sudden bitterness, he laughed—a hollow, broken sound. "No, Scarlett. I am not their executioner. I am no one's servant."
"Then... who are you?" Scarlett asked, her voice trembling.
Rogue's eyes softened, and for the briefest of moments, Scarlett could see something familiar in them. "I am Johnny," he said quietly.
Scarlett staggered back as if she had been slapped. "No. That's not possible. Johnny is—"
"Dead?" Rogue interrupted, his voice sharp. He shook his head. "I wish I were. But death isn't what happened to me, Scarlett. Let me tell you what did."
Scarlett didn't move. She couldn't. Her eyes stayed locked on him as he began to speak, his voice heavy with sorrow.
"After Shellie's air funeral," Rogue began, "I couldn't go on. The grief was... unbearable. I was her brother, Scarlett. I was supposed to protect her, and I failed. Every day, her absence gnawed at me like a disease. The whispers started soon after."
"Whispers?" Scarlett asked cautiously.
He nodded. "Voices. In my head. Telling me I could bring her back. That there was a way. I didn't want to believe them at first, but grief makes you desperate. So I went to Saint Isaac, looking for answers. Professor Ruso was there. He saw what I was going through and... he told me about a ritual. Something ancient. Something forbidden."
Scarlett's stomach churned. "What kind of ritual?"
Rogue's expression darkened. "A summoning. A way to call upon Valkorath, an entity from beyond our understanding. Ruso said Valkorath could grant a single wish to any mortal brave—or foolish—enough to summon him. But there was a price. My life."
Scarlett's breath caught. "And you did it?"
Rogue nodded. "I was too blinded by grief to care. I followed the instructions, performed the ritual, and Valkorath came. He promised me he could bring Shellie back. He said all I had to do was sacrifice myself completely—body, mind, and soul. And I... I agreed."
Tears welled up in Scarlett's eyes. "Johnny, no..."
"Valkorath didn't honor his promise," Rogue continued, his voice hardening. "Instead of bringing Shellie back, he tore me apart. He fed on my pain, my despair, and left behind this." He gestured to himself, his voice filled with venom. "I became something else. Something inhuman. He called me Rogue. A shadow of what I once was."
Scarlett couldn't speak. Her mind reeled with the weight of his words.
"And now," Rogue said, his voice cracking, "I've wandered this world, consumed by anger and grief. But tonight, I found her. The one who caused it all. Samaira."
Scarlett shook her head, trying to process everything. "Johnny, listen to me. You're not who you think you are. This... this isn't you."
Rogue's gaze softened again, and for a moment, Scarlett thought she had reached him. But then his eyes flicked to Samaira's unconscious form, and the rage returned.
"It doesn't matter anymore," he said, his voice cold. "I've found her. The one responsible for Shellie's death. And now, I will end her."
Scarlett stepped forward, her voice trembling but firm. "Johnny, please. Don't do this. This isn't what Shellie would have wanted."
Rogue hesitated, his form flickering like a flame about to be extinguished. "You think Shellie would want me to let her murderer live?"
"I think Shellie would want you to find peace," Scarlett said, tears streaming down her face. "Not this. Not more death."
Rogue looked at her, his expression torn. For a moment, the room was silent. Then he sank to his knees, his head in his hands.
"I don't know how to find peace," he whispered, his voice broken. "I've lost everything. I don't even know who I am anymore."
Scarlett knelt beside him, her heart breaking for the boy she had once known. "We'll find a way," she said softly. "Together."
But even as she spoke, the tension in the air remained, a dark promise that this was far from over.