Chapter 136
- Evan -
She wasn't summoning anything but trying to guide.
Like a mother teaching a newborn how to walk.
We should have known the storm was coming from the smell of iron and blood in the air.
The ground continued to pulse beneath our feet. Every tremor crawled up my spine. The mayor's lawyer stood over the forming breach as if it were something sacred. Reverent. Devoted.
As she extended her hand, she spoke, "Come now." She whispered, her voice soft as honey. "You've waited long enough."
I could feel Micah stiffen beside me.
James' jaw flexed.
Duke's fingers twitched near his belt—the universal sign he was seconds away from tackling someone headfirst.
My breath caught—Josh stepped forward from behind her.
Dust on his clothes. Scraped knuckles. His shoulders were set like he was the only wall standing between her and the rest of the world.
And he looked at us, or should I say through us, like we were strangers.
No worse.
Like we were a threat.
"Josh," My voice came out rougher than I meant. I knew we might be in for a fight.
Hi, Flinched—eye tightening around the edges—hearing my voice and the hurt in it.
I took a slow breath, grounding myself the way Duke taught me.
See—hear—feel—return...
"Look at me," I finally breathed. "Really look at us; your friends are here."
He lifts his eyes. —
Something moved out of the corner of my eye fast towards James.
Not from the portal on the rooftop above.
A shadow uncoiled itself from the cracked roof and dropped in front of James with a snarl. Limbs too long, spine broken like a marionette. Jaws full of needle teeth and eyes that burned like hot coals.
A demon that looked freshly formed—a newborn, feral, and starving.
James was ready and reacting—flying the buttstock of his pistol crossbow into the demon and readying a shot with his bolt—quick, clean, precise.
Steel glinted—but the demon dodged before he could fire. Claws caught his forearm—tearing fabric—drawing blood. James grunted but stayed grounded, spinning with the momentum, bolt re-aimed, sliding into place to counter.
Trigger finger is prepared to kill.
Josh slammed the pistol crossbow into his chest. Flames erupting from his hands.
He saw something entirely different from what we did.
His eye widened in pure horror, like he was watching his friend be murdered before his very eyes.
"No—no, stop!"
Before any of us could process his movements, Josh barreled forward. Fist of fire directed, the intentional flames flickered up his arm with a familiar, practiced hum.
"GET AWAY FROM THEM!" He shouted with a roar.
Tackling James as if protecting the demon.
The impact was a solid hit, driving James to the ground with a shoulder blow, slamming him to the pavement. The demon skittered away, screeching.
Josh didn't try to kill him. But I was trying to protect the demon.
His eyes—his eyes—said that James was the monster, the demon.
Josh's fire rolled outward, catching James' jacket on fire as he lay pinned on the ground—the heat seared with a hiss. James let out a sharp hiss in pain. Patting out the flame, but Josh pulled back, swinging again fast and desperately.
I was there before the strike could land.
My hand grabs James by the collar and yanks him out of range, boots skidding in the dust and loose gravel. Josh's flaming hand smashed the ground where James had been—stone cracking under the blow.
James sucked in breath, chest heaving, skin flushed and red where the heat burned him. Micah twists the wind around his arm to cool it.
"He's not—" He coughed, his voice breaking and raw. Struggling to get air back in his lungs. "He's not seeing us. —He sees"
"I know," I said, teeth clenched.
I understood now; Josh is standing his ground, shielding the demon that had nearly torn James apart.
He wasn't protecting the demon; he thought he was protecting one of us.
James swallowed hard. "He sees us as the enemy."
Micah's whisper. "Oh—Josh..."
Josh's breath sputtered, fists up again, fire curling around his knuckles like living anger.
"Stay back," his voice broke. "I won't let you hurt them."
He wasn't possessed or corrupted this time.
He was trying to save what he believed was us from the wrong threat—us.
A pain struck my ribs, a familiar sharpness.
This isn't the first time I've had to drag you out of the dark.
I stepped forward.
Slowly, with caution, like approaching a wild, injured animal.
Hands low with a steady voice.
"Josh," I whispered, every memory of us laced into his name. It's me."
He flinched.
Because he heard me.
Even if he couldn't see me yet.
"I know you," he choked, shaking his head. "I do. I am trying—I swear I'm trying to see you."
The ground quaked hard beneath us.
The portal swelled, widening.
The witch smiled.
The demon behind Josh curled closer to him like a pet returning to its master.
And the world held its breath.
The next step we take will decide everything.
The ground bucked again—sharp, violent—like the earth trying to throw us off its back.
Josh recoiled, and I steadied my footing.
But he saw something different.
His head whipped toward me—eyes with terror, like I just split the sky open with my bare hands.
"That's not you, Evan, my brother, His voice cracked, high and panicked. "You're trying to trick me again."
"I'm not—" I tried to say.
But fear had already swallowed him again into the darkness.
His fire ignited—violent this time, uncontrolled, his arm fully engulfed—it scorched even him as well. The heat hit my face before the punch even came.
He swung.
I barely dodged—the heat singed past my cheek. My boots dug into the broken concrete, sliding just enough to ruin my stance.
"Damn it, Josh—LISTEN TO ME!"
He came in again. Fast, wild as a cornered animal.
This wasn't the disciplined sparring we had done before. This was fear wearing him.
I met his next strike with my forearm—pain flared hot—then drove his shoulder into my chest, and we hit the ground hard, gravel biting skin.
His knee pinned my ribs, his forearm pressed across my collarbone, and heat rolled off of him in waves.
Up close, I could see the tear tracks that were carved through the dirt on his face.
"Please—just stop—" He begged, voice shredding. "They said you would try to trick me. That you only look and sound like my brother playing pretend. But my mind is so fuzzy—I don't know."
My stomach felt hollowed out.
"They"
The witch.
The demons.
Whoever had whispered in the dark when he was alone.
"They told me you would try to pull me away from protecting my friends." His voice warbled, cracking like something fragile. "—And you're doing exactly what they said."
My heart shattered.
"Josh," I managed to speak, choking from the pressure on my ribs. "Look at me. Really look at me."
"I am looking!" He shouted, and it sounded like a confession, a plea, or a punishment. He wanted to believe them, but something sent him mixed signals, as if he knew this felt wrong.
His fist flared again—ready to come down.
Reflex overrode everything else.
I twisted—one hand gripping his wrist, my knee bracing under his weight. I shoved hard, rolling us, throwing him off balance enough to break the pin.
We both scrambled up—dust swirling, the ground groaning again beneath us.
The portal pulsed—closer, louder, hungrier.
Josh came at me again.
His movements were distressed, not careful, or standardized.
I blocked one hit and absorbed another to the shoulder—pain rattled up my spine. I didn't swing back.
"Evan, MOVE!" Duke shouted somewhere behind me, steel clashing with claws.
"I've got him," I snapped, even though my lungs were burning and my vision sparked at the edges.
Josh's fist slammed into my jaw—stars spun behind my eyes.
"Fine." I spit blood onto the ground.
If she needed force to hear me, so be it.