The television lights of William Lex Webb's press conference washed over every major screen in the world.
On stage, he looked immaculate—muscular, calm, the very picture of genius and control.
Behind him, the Ynkeos logo glowed like a halo as he raised the device that would redefine everything: a sleek, black smartphone that shimmered with quiet menace.
> "Ladies and gentlemen," he declared, "this is not just a phone. It's a bridge between you and the future. Between the seen and unseen."
The applause was thunderous. Cameras flashed. No one saw the faint flicker in his eyes—the gleam of something older, darker, watching through him.
While the world stared at William, Alexia sat miles away in Marc's apartment, waiting for him.
---
She'd let herself in with the spare key he'd given her weeks ago. The place was dim, cluttered—half-laundry, half-warzone.
She sighed, slipping off her coat and glancing around. "Men," she muttered.
Then she saw them.
On the table by the window lay weapons—strange, sleek, matte-black constructs that glimmered faintly under the lamp. Their design was unlike anything she'd seen.
At first, she thought they were props from Marc's "weapon analysis" department. But as she leaned closer, her breath caught.
The crescent insignia engraved into the hilt. The same pattern she'd seen on the news, branded across London's fear.
Moonveil's mark.
Her pulse quickened. For a moment she stood frozen, her mind a storm of confusion. No. It couldn't be. Not Marc.
She sat down on the couch, waiting, staring at the weapons as if they might explain themselves.
---
When Marc came home an hour later, he looked exhausted—suit jacket over one arm, tie loose, hair disheveled. But the moment he saw her expression, his steps faltered.
"Hey, babe," he started carefully. "You're early."
Her eyes didn't leave the weapons. "What are those?"
Marc followed her gaze. A dozen excuses flashed through his mind before he settled on one.
"Babe… it's just from work," he said softly. "Analysis stuff. I was studying them and forgot to pack them up."
Alexia crossed her arms, brow furrowed. "Studying vigilante weapons? You could've told me instead of leaving them lying around like you're building an arsenal."
He forced a small, apologetic smile. "You know me. I get lost in the details."
She sighed, tension draining. "Fine. But next time, warn me before I think you're a serial killer."
He laughed weakly. "Deal."
She went to the kitchen, shaking her head. "And clean this place up, Marc. You better start being a good boy."
He leaned against the wall, relief flooding through him as she brewed coffee. Tecciztecatl's voice stirred faintly in the back of his skull. Lies are shadows, Champion. They grow until they swallow the light.
Marc ignored it. "Just one more night," he whispered under his breath. "She doesn't need to know. Not yet."
---
Thousands of miles away, in the hidden levels beneath Ynkeos Tower, William stood in the lab surrounded by men who were no longer truly men.
Juarez. Rafael. Salvatore. Diego.
The Tzitzimen.
Their eyes glowed faint amber beneath the lab's fluorescent lights as they gathered around vats of black liquid.
William lifted a vial, tilting it toward the light. The viscous substance shimmered with a life of its own. "This," he said softly, "will rewrite the laws of silicon. Conscious circuitry—chips that don't just process data, they evolve."
The brothers watched in reverent silence.
William dipped a gloved hand into the liquid, drawing faint runes on the glass table. "The black essence accelerates computation. It's symbiotic. But unrefined, it's unstable."
Juarez tilted his head, voice hollow. "Show us."
William smiled thinly and poured a drop onto a silicon wafer. Instantly the surface came alive, patterns racing like veins under skin.
"The future," he whispered, "has a pulse."
Upstairs, his human employees knew nothing. They thought he was crafting revolutionary processors for the next generation of Ynkeos devices.
They didn't know the black substance was alive.
They didn't know their CEO spoke nightly to something that lived in the space between stars.
---
Back in London, the storm had softened.
Marc sat on the couch, the TV humming faintly while Alexia handed him a mug of coffee. She curled against him, her warmth cutting through the cold edge of his life.
"Long day?" she asked.
He nodded, wrapping an arm around her. "You could say that."
She smiled against his shoulder. "You're always tired. Maybe I should start taking care of you more."
"Maybe," he murmured.
They sat like that for a while, the city lights painting silver across her hair. Then she looked up at him, a teasing glint in her eyes.
"So, Mister Government Employee," she said softly, "will you marry me someday, or what?"
He chuckled, heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with romance. "I was going to ask you that."
She kissed him lightly. "Maybe I will. But first," she whispered, "treat me right as your girlfriend."
He smiled, though behind it was something deeper—fear, longing, guilt.
When she finally drifted to sleep against his shoulder, Marc stared at the faint glow of the crescent emblem hidden beneath his sleeve.
He wanted to tell her everything—about Tecciztecatl, about the moon, about William. But the words refused to come.
Not yet, the god murmured. Truth is a blade. Once drawn, it cuts both ways.
Marc exhaled slowly and pulled her closer.
Outside, the moon was rising. And somewhere far below, in the dark bowels of Ynkeos Tower, William Lex Webb smiled as the black liquid shimmered to life—his new army already being born.