This chapter is sacred chaos.
You've seen Max fight. You've seen Seth protect. But you haven't seen what happens when the divine breaks protocol. When love, grief, and power collide at full force.
In this chapter, you'll meet Anderson's true face, watch Seth make an unthinkable sacrifice, and see what happens when the Living Scripture stops whispering and begins to scream.
Trigger warning for emotional intensity and spiritual overload.
This one shook me while writing it.
Take a breath before you enter.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
The moment we crossed the threshold, the world above folded behind us like a closed book.
The silence hit first.
Not the peaceful kind that invites stillness, but the suffocating, tight-lunged kind. The kind that presses in from all sides like invisible hands, squeezing out even the sound of breath. Our footsteps didn't echo. Our breathing felt wrong, swallowed before it left our lips.
The path ahead curled downward into a narrow stone corridor chiseled into the earth, walls uneven and sweating dampness. The deeper we moved, the colder it became. Not physical cold. Spiritual. Like grief embedded in the stone.
Jamey walked behind me, unusually quiet. Alec scanned the darkness ahead, his fingers lightly tapping the handle of the long fighting knife sheathed at his side. Seth moved with eerie calm, but even his silver breath felt subdued here, more reluctant to glow.
Then the walls began to whisper.
Soft at first. Murmurs in tongues we didn't know but somehow understood.
You failed her...
They were better off without you...
What power? You're nothing here...
She'll choose the other one...
Alec flinched, his jaw tightening. "What the hell is this?"
"Don't listen," Seth said, voice low and steady. "They're not speaking to your ears. They're speaking to your shame."
He looked at me, eyes flickering faint silver even in the dark. "Max, they're trying to divide us."
"I know," I whispered. "We stay together. Keep moving."
We reached a junction, and the air grew heavier, like it had mass. My feet dragged. The walls here were carved with twisted scripture, God's name backwards, verses mangled into curses. They pulsed red, like veins under diseased skin.
Then... movement ahead.
We stopped.
A shadow walked into view. A familiar shape.
Samuel.
"Samuel!" Jamey stepped forward, but Seth's arm shot out.
"That's not him... and whatever it is, it feeds on despair."
The Samuel-thing turned. Its smile was too wide. Too still.
It opened its mouth, and my voice came out. "You could not protect me. Protect us."
Jamey recoiled. "So why is it showing us Samuel. Does the idiot not know that we know Sam has a beautiful smile."
Before any of us could respond to that, a second illusion flickered beside it, Campbell, eyes hollow, bound in chains, whispering "Help me" on loop like a broken prayer.
I narrowed my eyes. "Illusions. Designed to trigger panic. Guys, these entities are trying to mess with our heads and hearts. We know our guys are safe so DON'T let them succeed. Ok?"
"They're feeding off what we fear most," Seth said. "We don't trust what we see, we trust what we know."
A pulse of silver breath rippled from his hand. The illusions shattered like glass.
The silence returned, deeper now. Aware.
I pulled the team forward.
"We're getting close. I can feel it."
Alec glanced around, his fingers twitching near his blade. "Then let's find them, and end whatever nightmare Anderson is feeding."
I took a breath and lifted my hand, trying to summon the Aet-Ur symbol, the all-seeing eye etched in golden light. It flickered to life above my palm, spinning slowly as it searched.
Then something hit me.
A sharp, invisible force knocked the breath from my lungs and shattered the symbol in an instant. The light fractured into shards and vanished. I stumbled, clutching my forehead.
Seth caught me before I could fall, his hands gripping my shoulders as I swayed.
"I can't... I can't use my all-seeing eye to locate them," I whispered, panic tightening my throat. My fingers trembled as I reached for Seth. "Why can't I?"
He steadied me with a firm but gentle grip at my sides. "Don't panic. Our powers are divine..."
His gaze swept the space, silver breath flickering like cautious mist. "...and this place reeks of the opposite. They're likely using a signal blocker, something tuned to suppress spiritual gifts. Think back to the Hanged Man. The inversion-based decree he used."
I gave him a look. "Is that what we're calling him now?"
"It's easier to remember than 'the Mirror Apostle,'" he replied, sliding me a sideways glance that almost passed for a smirk.
Then he turned to Jamey. "And this is why we have Jamey here."
Seth released me, then stepped over and patted Jamey's shoulder, holding his gaze. "Max. Let's give it another go, with Jamey amplifying it."
Jamey nodded, stepping toward me, his face unusually serious.
"I've never tried amplifying the Aet-Ur before," he said, his voice low. "But I'll try."
He raised his hands slowly, fingers trembling slightly. A faint shimmer spread from his palms, like heatwaves without warmth. I felt it immediately. My skin prickled, and the air around us thickened with spiritual weight.
I closed my eyes, and the Aet-Ur symbol stirred beneath my skin.
"Steady," Seth whispered.
Jamey exhaled, and something clicked. His energy didn't overpower mine; it wove through it, like threads of unseen prayer latching onto the fragments of my symbol and rebuilding them with quiet precision.
The Aet-Ur ignited again. Brighter, and pulsing.
My breath hitched. I saw.
A flash. Then nothing. Then...
A stone corridor, flooded ankle-deep with black water.
Rusted chains hung from the ceiling.
A torn cloth, Campbell's, drifted in the current like a forgotten flag.
Then a whisper, like breath against my ear:
"Two doors. Only one leads to life."
I gasped and staggered back, the Aet-Ur flickering out again like a snuffed candle.
"They're alive," I said, voice hoarse. "I saw water... chains... and Campbell's cloth. But something's wrong. There are two doors, and only one is safe."
Seth's brow furrowed. "Then we'll find both. And we'll make sure they walk through the right one."
Jamey, pale and sweating, gave me a shaky smile. "Let's not do that again unless we have to."
We moved deeper into the sanctum, guided only by the fragments of my vision and the unease growing in our bones. Every step forward was slower. Heavier. The corridors seemed to breathe, exhaling stale sorrow and inhaling whatever hope we carried.
Then we saw it.
Two doors.
Just like the vision.
Both ancient. Both identical, weathered stone with rusted hinges, each marked with the same twisted version of the cross.
No sound. No clues.
Until...
Seth froze.
"I hear breathing," he said.
Then we all heard it. Wet. Ragged. It was coming from behind both doors.
And then we heard the voice, not one of ours, and definitely not human.
It came from the stone itself, vibrating low and sharp, like iron dragged against bone.
"Only one of you may choose. And if they choose wrong... the others stay."
The torches around us flared, casting shadows that didn't belong to us.
And behind both doors...
Something moved.
Both doors stood before us, cracked just wide enough for something unseen to watch us back.
The breathing continued, wet, ragged, almost...hungry.
My skin prickled. My Scripture pulsed, every golden line writhing beneath my sleeves like it wanted to flee. Or fight.
Seth stayed close. Alec had gone still, his eyes tracking every shadow like they might bite. Jamey hovered behind me, not saying a word, but the tremble in his breath betrayed him.
Then the voice returned.
"One chooses. One path. One fate."
I tilted my head, just slightly, and squinted at the stone like it had offended me.
"Really?" I muttered under my breath. "You think I came all this way to let some crusty wall spirit dictate terms?"
The voice didn't respond, but the shadows deepened. The choice was real.
Seth leaned in. "Max, sarcasm might not be the best strategy when ancient evil is eavesdropping."
I exhaled sharply through my nose. "Not sarcasm. Clarity."
I stepped forward, placing myself between both doors. "You want one of us to choose? Fine. But know this..."
I placed a hand over my chest. The Living Scripture stirred beneath, glowing faintly.
"I don't move by threat. I move by instruction. If Heaven doesn't speak then you're just noise."
The shadows recoiled slightly.
But the voice hissed again.
"Then listen closely, servant of ink. One door leads to death. The other... to sacrifice."
The light in Seth's eyes dimmed a fraction. "It's not giving us a right answer. It's giving us two losses."
Jamey stepped up, finally speaking. "So what if the sacrifice... is one of us?"
I looked between the doors, one whispering death, the other demanding a price.
And then...
A faint sound.
Far away. Weak. But real.
A voice crying out through the dark...
"Max..."
It was Samuel.
And it was coming from both doors.
My pulse skipped. Not in fear, but in fury.
I took a step back and started pacing, slowly at first. My thoughts circled faster than my feet. When I moved like this, it meant I was thinking. And when I thought like this, I always found a way out.
I stopped mid-stride. The answer sparked.
No way are we were playing by its rules.
Without a word, I pulled my phone from my pocket, flicked open our group chat, and began typing. I wasn't giving that thing the pleasure of overhearing a single syllable of our plan.
Max:
Seth. We apply our new power. We force both doors open. At once.
Alec, you flash into whichever one has our guys. Grab them. No hesitation.
Jamey. Be on stand-by. Boost Alec's power the moment he locks eyes on Sam and Campbell.
Seth and I will hold the line. Whatever's behind the other door, we handle it.
Once you've got them, get out. Fast. Don't look back.
Clear?
Four bubbles appeared, one after the other.
Seth: 👍
Alec: ✅
Jamey: Got it.
Jamey again: I better get paid for this.
I smirked.
The Scripture along my arms pulsed with a golden urgency.
"Now," I said, voice low but steady. "Let's ruin this thing's plan."
I reached for Seth's hand. The moment our fingers locked, the Living Scripture stirred across my skin. Golden symbols kindled like embers kissed by breath, waking from slumber. It wasn't just power. It was permission.
With my free hand, I pressed my palm against the right door. The stone was ancient. Cold. Offended by our touch.
Seth mirrored me, placing his left hand on the other side. His breath was calm, measured. Beneath his skin, silver currents flickered. Soft at first, hesitant, and then catching like a prayer igniting on holy air.
We looked at each other. No words. Just knowing.
Then we inhaled.
Together.
Slow. Deep.
And as we exhaled, the world around us bent.
It started with silence. Total, reverent silence, as if something unseen paused to listen. Then a pressure rolled through the floor, up the walls, through our chests.
Heaven had heard.
Not with thunder. Not with trumpets. But with stillness. Authority. The kind that bends realms and rewrites laws without raising its voice.
A hush fell across the doorway like a veil being lifted.
Then the shift.
A hum threaded through the air, low and resonant, as golden ink spilled from my veins and silver breath welled up through Seth's skin. They reached for each other, not as opposites, but as halves that had waited to unite.
Where his fingers touched mine, the breath braided with Scripture, spinning threads of divine light that pulsed and shimmered. The markings along my body flared, responding to the breath like it belonged, like it always had.
The doors trembled.
Not from force. From judgment.
Seth's jaw clenched. I could feel it too. The resistance, not from the stone, but from whatever dared defy Heaven's will. It wasn't letting go easily. This place had been shut to us on purpose.
But Heaven had spoken.
And Heaven does not repeat itself.
Cracks snaked outward like divine lightning, crawling across the surface. The groan of the stone was deep and wounded, as if the door remembered what it once sealed.
One more breath.
One more push.
We surged forward. Shoulder to shoulder. Spirit to spirit.
The doors shattered in a burst of consecrated force, pieces flung wide like fractured stars torn from orbit. Light poured in behind them, illuminating the path ahead.
Before the dust could even settle, Alec moved.
A blur of motion and lightning, he was through the left door before the rubble hit the ground. Inside, Samuel lay slumped against the far wall, barely conscious... but breathing.
He dropped Sam gently outside the threshold, then bolted back in without hesitation.
"Campbell!"
Jamey was already moving. He didn't wait. As Alec reappeared with Campbell in his arms, Jamey reached out with his free hand and pressed it firmly to Alec's back.
Then the world lit up.
Silver-white electricity burst from Alec's core, surging down his legs, across the ground, racing up the walls and arching across the ceiling. It didn't just spark, it sang. A spiritual frequency, ancient and loud, waking the stone itself.
The energy recognized them, Alec, Jamey, Samuel, Campbell, and enfolded them like a living current.
Pillars of light rose beneath their feet.
The moment their weight touched the glowing streaks, the corridor pulsed with radiant power, and then they were gone.
Flashes of silver lightning raced down the passage like Heaven itself had come to collect them.
Safe.
Gone.
Delivered.
I turned to Seth.
My hand still crackled with golden heat, but his breath... it danced like a living storm. Wisps of silver curled across his arms, shoulders, jaw like smoke from a holy furnace, marking a man no longer fully of this world.
I met his eyes.
"It's our turn now."
We stepped into the second chamber, and froze.
Anderson.
I knew his face. Lady Elsa had shown us the photo. But this? This wasn't the same man.
His skin crawled with blackened sigils, dozens, maybe hundreds, slithering beneath the surface like scarab beetles burrowing through flesh. They didn't glow. They oozed. Each mark gave off a smoky mist that moved like it had a will of its own.
And that grin...
It made me want to peel it off his face with my bare hands. I wrinkled my nose. Yuck. Kill that idea, his face looks like it's hosting a demonic art exhibit.
"The duo I've been waiting for..."
His voice wasn't just a sound. It was a disease, a grating whisper that scratched against my bones, the same voice we heard behind the door.
He was tall, taller than Seth. Broader. Greasy in presence and spirit. Even his shoulder-length hair hung like something rotting.
Seth instinctively stepped in front of me. His body was calm but I felt it. His breath shifted. Rearranged. Readied.
He was going to strike.
But Anderson moved first.
His sigils rippled, and the mist they carried spilled into the air like ink in water, tendrils slow, hungry, reaching.
Seth and I didn't speak. We didn't need to. Our bodies responded before thought caught up.
From our skin, silver and gold droplets bled. Not upward toward Heaven, but forward, toward the corruption.
Where they met, they didn't fuse.
They sang.
A single note. Pure. Resonant. Alive.
Then came the storm.
Not blades. Not fire. But glyph-born echoes. Tiny golden-silver spirals, each one a living decree wrapped in breath. They weren't thrown. They chose where to go.
They moved like memory and light, singing through the mist, unravelling Anderson's sigils on contact.
Not piercing. Rewriting.
Each echo burned through corruption and left behind scripture in its place, lines of living command stitched into the air itself.
Anderson staggered. The mist recoiled. But the echoes kept coming. Thousands.
Not weapons. Witnesses.
Carrying flame. Carrying breath. Carrying judgment.
The impact flung him back, cracking the wall behind him. He let out a sound that shouldn't exist. A screech-smear-roar, as if every siren and beast in the world had been thrown into a blender and poured through a storm.
The stench that followed wasn't just rot. It was blasphemy. A smell that offended creation itself.
His black mist retaliated, lashing toward me like a viper.
But Seth...
He moved like lightning made of love.
He shoved me aside and took the full force.
The mist wrapped around him instantly, coiling like a serpent, squeezing the divine out of him. His silver breath flared. Dimmed. Flared again. Brighter. Resisting.
"SETH!"
I threw myself at him, arms around his body as we hit the floor.
My aura burst in a golden wave, wrapping around him like a cocoon, giving his breath space to breathe.
But it wasn't enough.
Anderson's laughter rose like smoke. Gleeful. Mocking. Cruel.
The darkness tore Seth from my arms.
Ripped him from me like he was never mine to hold.
"Max..." he rasped. "Go. Leave this place..."
I rose.
Not out of defiance. Out of something deeper.
My skin hummed. The Scripture beneath it no longer flowed. It marched.
Every step I took branded the ground beneath me, sacred letters etched in molten light.
Divine Circuitry.
I wasn't walking. I was rewriting the rules.
When I reached him, I reached for his body.
But it wasn't pain I felt. It was purpose.
Seth raised a trembling hand.
His divine breath, dense and pulsing, gathered in his palm.
And he gave it to me.
Every sacred breath.
The moment his hand fell, the darkness claimed him.
And he screamed.
Not a cry.
A cosmic rupture.
A sound that unstitched the stars.
My body surged.
The Living Scripture shimmered with silver moonlight, and Seth's breath, now inside me, exploded in golden strobes.
The chamber vanished in light.
Anderson's mist shriveled, screamed, burned.
"You let go of him."
My voice didn't rise. It ruled.
"I said... LET GO OF HIM."
My aura erupted with rings of gold and silver spiralling outward, flooding the chamber.
Not energy. Judgment.
Not noise. Command.
Anderson convulsed. His body fractured. The mist peeled away like skin meeting fire.
Seth fell.
Still.
Silent.
I dropped beside him, knees sinking into ash.
"Seth... love... wake up for me."
Nothing.
"Seth, please... don't do this to me. I can't lose you."
Still nothing.
I cupped his face.
And only then realized I was crying. My tears hit his skin and turned to steam.
My body shook.
My mind unraveled.
My spirit collapsed.
I was falling, not to the ground but through every level of Heaven and earth, through every silence that had ever answered a prayer too late.
And I screamed.
Not with breath.
With spirit.
It tore through every barrier.
Every rift.
Every veil between the worlds.
And the gifted heard it.
From mountain shrines to alley churches, to ruins where sacred things once dwelled, they saw me.
Bent over Seth's still form.
Broken. Barefoot.
The bearer of the Living Scripture, sobbing in the ruins of holy battle.
And they felt it.
Not just sorrow.
But the tremor of something divine unraveling.
The world cracked.
Rifts split the skies.
Dimensions bent.
Reality trembled like glass on the verge of shattering.
And from one of them...
An eye blinked open.
It did not judge.
It did not speak.
It simply watched.
Waiting.
And the universe held its breath.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you're still breathing, thank you for surviving Chapter 28 with me.
Seth is not dead. He cannot die. But Max doesn't know that. Not yet.
The scream she released wasn't just grief, it was divine backlash. A warning. A war cry. A wound ripped open across the spiritual realm.
In Chapter 29, we'll deal with the consequences of that scream. Rifts opened, dimensions stirred, and something very old now watching her.
Let me know what hit hardest. Her scream? His sacrifice? That eye at the end?
You're not ready for 29. And neither is she.