The sky over Shinshigan had lost its color.
A haze of violet and gray bled across the horizon as Marcus steered the car down the winding hill road that led back into the city. The pendant beneath his shirt throbbed with a steady rhythm, brighter than before, almost urgent, like a second heartbeat that wasn't his own.
Lila watched it from the passenger seat, her hand pressed to the dashboard. Her voice was quiet but edged with unease. "It's pulsing faster," she said. "Is it reacting to something?"
Marcus nodded slightly, his eyes on the road. "It's her," he murmured. "Thecla. I can feel it — like she's sending something through the air."
Elias, seated in the back, leaned forward, clutching the headrest. His face looked pale in the half-light. "You mean from the hotel?"
"Yes." Marcus's voice was low. "But it's… different this time. Stronger. Like a surge."
They passed a park where every blade of grass had turned gray, curling at the edges as if burned from within. The trees drooped, their branches shedding leaves that dissolved into ash before touching the ground. The swings creaked in the wind, though no one sat on them.
"The Host," Elias whispered. "It's leaking into the city."
Marcus tightened his grip on the wheel until his knuckles whitened. "Then we're running out of time."
The road curved sharply toward the industrial valley. Below, the skyline of Shinshigan shimmered — towers half-swallowed by haze, streetlights flickering like dying candles. The city that once never slept now looked hollow, drained of sound and color. Even the air had weight, thick and metallic, pressing against the car like a living thing.
He followed the faint route on Father Ilyas's map — the inked lines seemed almost alive under the dim glow of the dashboard. They pulsed faintly, echoing the rhythm of his pendant. The lines led toward the southern docks, where the "roots" of the Foundation supposedly stretched beneath the concrete veins of the city.
But before they could reach the turnoff, Marcus's phone buzzed, its screen flickering erratically.
David Grant.
Marcus pulled over by the roadside, answering quickly. "David, it's me."
"Marcus?" The voice came through thick static. "Where are you? The whole city's losing power — traffic lights dead, phones dropping out. You've got to tell me what's going on."
Marcus hesitated. He could hear wind behind David's voice, faint sirens, the distant hum of failing machines. "I can't explain everything over the phone. But remember what I told you about the hotel?"
"I remember you said something was wrong there," David replied, his tone cautious. "But you were talking about visions, not evidence. You can't expect me to file a warrant on a feeling."
"It wasn't just a feeling," Marcus said. "The place is alive, David. Something ancient — it's spreading. It's using the city's grid, the signals. You've seen it, haven't you? The outages. The mist."
Static swelled across the line; then David's voice cut back in, strained. "I've seen things, yes. Birds dropping from the sky. A patrol car burned out with the officers still inside — no fire marks, just… empty shells."
Lila covered her mouth. Elias crossed himself again.
Marcus felt a chill crawl up his spine. "Listen to me. Get out of the precinct if you can. Head east, near the old bridge. There's still a pocket of ground the Host hasn't touched yet."
David gave a short, bitter laugh. "You always were the visionary, Marcus. Still chasing ghosts."
"Not ghosts," Marcus said softly. "Truth."
The line went silent for a moment. The hum of the car filled the void. Then a faint sound came through — the echo of radio chatter, distorted by something unseen.
David's tone shifted, low and uneasy. "Marcus… something's interfering with our comms. The signal — it's bleeding into every channel."
"What do you mean bleeding?"
There was a sharp hiss, and the voice fractured into a scream of static. Marcus winced, pulling the phone from his ear as the sound distorted into a garbled chorus of whispers.
Lila leaned closer. "Marcus?"
He didn't answer immediately. He pressed the phone to his ear again, but what came through was no longer David's voice.
A hundred overlapping tones — male, female, childlike — murmured through the speaker:
The light will purge anything that stains His sacred will.
Marcus froze. The words struck through him like a pulse. The air seemed to hold its breath. He looked down at the pendant, now shining through his shirt with the same golden hue that had filled Thecla's vision.
Elias made the sign of the cross again, his voice trembling. "That wasn't human."
"No," Marcus said. "It wasn't meant to be."
Suddenly, the car's dashboard flickered. The radio came alive on its own, scrolling through stations with no input. Every frequency repeated the same phrase, distorted by static:
The dying signal… the heart must break… the light will cleanse…
The words came faster, layered, until they blurred into one continuous chant.
The air outside shimmered — the mist thickened, turning into a wall of iridescent haze that bent the headlights. Buildings on either side seemed to shift, their edges bending inward, their shapes subtly warping as if seen through rippling water.
Lila clutched Marcus's arm. "Marcus, the road!"
He slammed the brakes. The tires screeched, and the car skidded to a stop inches before an overturned bus that hadn't been there a moment ago. Its windows were black, opaque like mirrors.
Elias opened his door slowly, the hinges groaning. "The city's folding in on itself…"
Marcus stepped out, his boots splashing into shallow water that had gathered on the asphalt. The pendant's light cut through the mist, revealing something faint on the bus's surface — sigils, etched in soot, pulsing faintly like veins.
He whispered, "Thecla's light is colliding with the Host's network. That's what we're feeling — the interference."
Lila pointed upward. "Look."
Above them, the clouds were spiraling, a vortex of dark and gold. At its center, lightning flared — not white, but pure amber. It was beautiful and terrible, the echo of something holy forcing its way through decay.
The sound deepened into a low hum that rattled their bones. The ground trembled underfoot. Somewhere in the distance, alarms wailed and then died, swallowed by the storm.
Marcus felt his knees weaken. "She's fighting it from inside…"
Elias stared up, awe mingled with fear. "Can she win against that?"
"She's already inside it," Marcus said. "Maybe she doesn't need to win — just to wake it."
The pendant grew hot against his chest, and for a fleeting second, he heard her voice — calm, resolute, echoing through the storm:
Marcus… follow the signal. The heart is waking.
The clouds split with a blinding flash. Thunder rolled like a drumbeat from heaven itself.
Marcus staggered back to the car, meeting Elias's terrified eyes. "We're not done yet. David may still be alive, and Thecla just gave us the path."
Elias swallowed hard. "And if the city collapses before we reach it?"
Marcus started the engine, the headlights flaring weakly through the mist. "Then we bring the light before it does."
The radio still whispered faintly as he shifted gears, the static forming words too faint to catch. Lila glanced once more at the bus, where the soot markings now bled gold, as if reacting to the pendant's glow.
The storm above them roared louder, and the city lights below began to flicker in unison, forming strange, geometric patterns across the skyline — circles within circles, like the language of something that wasn't meant for human eyes.
Marcus gripped the wheel and pressed down on the accelerator. The car roared forward into the storm, swallowed by the haze.
Behind them, the bus dissolved into ash. Ahead, the road split open, glowing with the faint trace of light that only the faithful could follow.
And above it all, the voice came again, faint but unmistakable — Thecla's, carried through the dying signal:
"The heart is waiting, Marcus. Do not let it break alone."
The pendant answered with a pulse of gold, and the city of Shinshigan trembled as if something buried deep beneath it had begun to stir.