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Constantine's mind raced as debris rained around them. Surrender meant giving Varnae ultimate power over probability itself. Fight meant risking another backlash that could level Manhattan.
There had to be a third option. There was always a third option.
His synchronicity magic pulsed again, weaker this time but still active. He felt it reaching out, searching for favorable outcomes, trying to protect him and his team. But after the backlash, probability was exhausted there was no more luck left to draw on.
Unless he looked somewhere else.
"I'll do it," Constantine said, raising his hands. "I'll give you my power. Just let them leave first."
Varnae tilted its head, suspicious. "You're scheming. I can see it in your aura. What's the play, Constantine?"
"No play." Constantine took a step forward, moving away from his unconscious teammates. "You're right I can't control this power. It's destroying everything. Better you have it than me."
It was almost true. But Constantine had noticed something in the past few minutes: his synchronicity magic wasn't completely uncontrolled. It responded to intent, to what he believed needed to happen. The backlash occurred because part of him thought they deserved punishment for using such power.
So what if he changed what he believed?
"Come here then," Varnae said, extending a hand. "Let me show you how probability truly works."
Constantine walked forward, each step carefully measured. Behind Varnae, he could see the Countess watching with predatory interest. The remaining vampire guards formed a loose perimeter. The garage continued collapsing around them, but slower now as if reality itself was holding its breath.
When Constantine was three feet away, he grabbed Varnae's offered hand.
Power exploded between them.
Varnae's vampire nature tried to dominate Constantine's synchronicity magic, to absorb and control it. But Constantine wasn't resisting he was feeding it into the hybrid vampire. All the chaotic, uncontrolled probability energy, the accumulated backlash potential, everything.
"What are you " Varnae's eyes widened. "No!"
"You wanted my power," Constantine said through gritted teeth. "Take all of it."
Synchronicity magic flooded into Varnae. Not refined power that could be controlled, but raw probability chaos. Every impossible outcome, every unlikely event, every improbable catastrophe that Constantine's subconscious could imagine all of it channeled directly into the hybrid vampire.
Varnae began to scream.
Its form flickered, probability affecting its very existence. One moment fully vampire, the next completely human. Then something in between. Then something that shouldn't exist at all. The ritual that created Varnae had made it a being of possibility which meant probability magic affected it more than anyone.
"Stop!" the Countess lunged forward. "You're killing it!"
"I'm giving it exactly what it wanted," Constantine snarled. "Unlimited probability manipulation. Hope it chokes on it."
Varnae's form began to unravel. Too many possibilities, too many potential states of being, all occurring simultaneously. The hybrid vampire was experiencing every version of itself at once alive, dead, never existed, immortal, vulnerable, powerful, weak.
With a sound like reality tearing, Varnae exploded into light.
The blast threw Constantine backward. He hit a car hard enough to crack ribs, his vision swimming. But through the pain, he saw the result of his gambit.
Varnae was gone. Not dead Constantine wasn't sure if the thing could die but dispersed across probability space, its consciousness shattered into a trillion possible timelines.
The Countess stared at the empty space where her creation had been. Then she turned to Constantine, fangs bared and eyes blazing red.
"You've destroyed centuries of work! Killed the perfect being! I'll "
Blade's sword emerged from her chest.
The vampire hunter had recovered his backup weapons and approached silently during the chaos. His blade, silver-edged and consecrated, pierced the Countess's heart perfectly.
"You talk too much," Blade said, twisting the blade.
Countess Varnae crumbled to ash.
The remaining vampire guards, seeing their leaders destroyed, fled into the pre-dawn darkness. Within seconds, the parking garage was empty except for the heroes.
Constantine lay against the crumpled car, every breath agony. His synchronicity magic was dormant now not gone, but exhausted, sleeping after the massive expenditure of power.
"Everyone alive?" he called out weakly.
Luke Cage helped Strange to his feet. The Sorcerer Supreme looked dazed but functional. Danny was conscious again, his chi powers flickering back to life. Elsa pulled a piece of rebar from her shoulder with a grimace, the Bloodstone already healing the wound. Colleen and Wong emerged from behind cover, battered but intact.
"We're alive," Luke confirmed. "Varnae?"
"Scattered across the probability space," Constantine explained, wincing as Blade helped him up. "Could reform eventually, but it'll take years. Centuries, maybe. Enough time to figure out a permanent solution."
Strange approached, his expression unreadable. "That was incredibly reckless. You could have destroyed yourself along with Varnae."
"But I didn't." Constantine tried to smile, though it hurt. "Synchronicity magic, remember? Probability favored my survival just enough."
"This time." Strange's tone was stern. "John, your synchronicity powers are active now. Awake. They won't go dormant again they'll continue to affect reality around you, subtly influencing probability in your favor. That makes you extraordinarily dangerous."
"Dangerous how?"
Strange gestured at the collapsing parking garage, the chaos of the past hour, the unconscious people they'd rescued. "Your power operates on a scale that can affect millions. We've seen what happens when it runs wild reality itself becomes unstable. You need training, control, understanding of what you are."
"And who's going to teach me?" Constantine lit a cigarette with shaking hands. "You said synchronicity mages are rare."
"They are. Which is why " Strange paused, seeming to wrestle with a decision. " you need to meet someone. Another synchronicity mage. The only other one I know of in this reality."
"Who?"
"Domino. She works with the X-Men occasionally, though she's primarily a mercenary. Her mutation is probability manipulation specifically, she causes herself good luck and others bad luck. She's spent years learning to control it."
Constantine considered. "A mercenary mutant who manipulates luck. Sounds like my kind of people."
"I'll arrange a meeting." Strange pulled out his phone, then paused. "John, I need you to understand something. What happened tonight assembling the team, claiming the artifacts, defeating a hybrid vampire that wasn't random. The artifacts' reaction to your presence suggests something."
"What?"
"That you're meant to reform the Midnight Sons. Not as a historical recreation, but as something new. A team specifically designed to combat threats that exist in the space between order and chaos."
Constantine laughed, then regretted it as his ribs protested. "You want me to lead a team? After Newcastle? After everything?"
"I want you to consider the possibility that your presence here in this reality, at this time serves a purpose." Strange's gaze was intense. "The artifacts recognized you. They activated in your presence. That's not coincidence."
"Everything in my life is coincidence. I'm a synchronicity mage, remember?"
"Exactly." Strange smiled slightly. "Which means your coincidences might not be as random as you think. Consider it. That's all I ask."
They evacuated before police arrived, Strange opening portals to transport everyone back to the Sanctum. The rescued prisoners were treated for trauma and minor injuries, their memories gently modified to remove the supernatural elements standard procedure, Strange explained, to avoid mass panic.
Constantine found himself in the Sanctum's recovery room, ribs wrapped and pain dulled by mystical healing that worked faster than normal medicine. As dawn broke over Manhattan, he watched the city wake up through the window.
How many people had been affected by his probability waves? How many experienced impossible luck or terrible misfortune because of him?
His phone buzzed. Multiple texts, all arriving simultaneously another probability quirk, he suspected.
From Luke Cage:Â Good work tonight. Heroes for Hire stands ready if you need us again.
From Danny Rand:Â Colleen says the Council wants to discuss the Midnight Sons reformation. Not urgent, but eventually.
From Elsa Bloodstone:Â Impressive performance, Constantine. If you're assembling a monster-hunting team, I'm interested. Good pay rates expected.
From Blade:Â You're not bad for a magician. Call me if you need vampire problems solved. Or if you hear about Varnae reforming. I'll be watching.
And finally, from Strange:Â Domino will meet you tomorrow evening, Sanctum library, 8 PM. Try not to destroy anything before then. Also, the Midnight Sons artifacts are yours now. They've bonded to you permanently. Use them wisely.
Constantine set down his phone and looked at the Medallion still around his neck. It pulsed gently, acknowledging his attention. The Darkhold Dagger lay on a nearby table, within easy reach. The Amulet of Sight hung on a wall hook, its gem catching morning light.
Three artifacts. Three pieces of a legacy he hadn't asked for but apparently inherited.
"Midnight Sons," he muttered. "Bloody hell."
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Wong entered, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits actual good biscuits, not the terrible American approximations.
"Master Strange thought you might need sustenance," Wong said, setting down the tray. "And perhaps someone to talk to who isn't lecturing about responsibility and destiny."
Constantine smiled genuinely. "Appreciated. Sit, if you've got time."
Wong settled into a chair. "The Sanctum is quiet for once. Everyone is resting. I have time."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, drinking tea and watching the city.
"Strange is right, you know," Wong said eventually. "About the Midnight Sons. The artifacts don't choose randomly. They recognize something in you perhaps something you don't see in yourself."
"I see a conman who keeps stumbling into things beyond his control."
"I see someone who risks his life to save others, despite claiming to be self-interested. Someone who fights monsters when easier paths exist. Someone who, despite every reason to walk away, keeps choosing to stay."
Constantine wanted to argue but found he couldn't. Because Wong was right he could have left New York. Could have refused to help with Varnae. Could have run a thousand times but didn't.
"When did I become a hero?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know that you did," Wong replied. "But perhaps you became something better someone who fights not for glory or recognition, but because it needs doing. The Midnight Sons were never about heroism. They were about warriors who stood in darkness so others could live in light."
"Poetic."
"I have my moments." Wong stood, collecting the tea tray. "Rest now. Tomorrow you begin learning to control your synchronicity magic. And after that..." He smiled. "After that, I suspect your life becomes very interesting."
"It's already interesting."
"This is just the beginning, Mr. Constantine. The artifacts have chosen you. The team is assembling. The darkness takes notice. But for tonight, rest. You've earned it."
After Wong left, Constantine lay back on the recovery bed and closed his eyes. He could feel his synchronicity magic stirring, responding to his consciousness. Probability threads connecting him to thousands of people across the city, subtle influences that could tip the scales of fate.
Power he'd never asked for but couldn't give back.
Responsibility he'd spent years avoiding but couldn't escape.
A destiny that felt simultaneously inevitable and impossible.
"Midnight Sons," he whispered again. "Why not? What's the worst that could happen?"
Somewhere in the probability space between timelines, Constantine's synchronicity magic stirred and laughed.
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🌟 If you'd like to support me or read EARLY ACCESS Chapters, you can find me on Patreon 🌟
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