They burst through a side door onto the western terrace. The grounds were worse than the house. Fires burned across the manicured lawns Ash had played on as a child. More of those creatures moved through the smoke three, four, maybe more.
Bodies lay scattered like broken dolls.
He recognized Linda, the head gardener.
Recognized Yuki, who'd taught him to play piano. Recognized faces he'd known his entire life, now still and empty.
"The garage," Marcus gasped, bleeding worse now. "We get to the garage, take one of the cars, break through the gates"
An explosion lit up the garage. Flames roared into the night sky.
"Okay," Marcus's voice cracked. "Okay. Plan B."
"What's Plan B?" Mrs. Chen clutched Ash's arm so tight it hurt.
Marcus didn't answer. He was staring at something behind them.
Ash turned.
More creatures emerging from the house. Two of them. Then three. Moving with that unnatural, flowing motion that made his stomach churn.
They were surrounded.
"Sir," Marcus said quietly, professionally, like he was delivering a status report. "It's been an honor serving your family."
Then he charged.
Marcus opened fire while running straight at the nearest creature, drawing its attention. Giving them a chance. The other two guards followed without hesitation, their shouts of defiance swallowed by gunfire.
"Marcus!" Ash started forward, but Mrs. Chen yanked him back.
"Don't make his sacrifice meaningless! Go!"
They ran for the only clear path—toward the western balcony. Ash's mind was white noise and screaming. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't real. He'd wake up and it would be three months ago, before the rifts, before the monsters, before the world ended.
Behind them, the gunfire stopped.
They reached the balcony and Ash slammed the doors shut, locking them. Useless. He knew it was useless but he did it anyway because what else was there to do?
Mrs. Chen collapsed against the wall, breathing hard. Her face was pale, shock setting in. "What do we do? Ash, what do we do?"
Ash looked over the balcony. Three stories up. Below, the estate grounds burned. More creatures moving through the smoke. He could see the east wing from here, windows shattered, smoke pouring out. His sister was there. The staff who'd been with his family for decades were there.
And he couldn't help them.
"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't know."
The doors behind them buckled.
Mrs. Chen screamed. The creature from the hallway was there, its shadowy form seeping through the cracks around the door like liquid darkness.
Ash raised the pistol with shaking hands and fired. Once. Twice. Three times. The creature flinched but kept coming. The door was bending, warping, the metal screaming.
He was going to die. They were all going to die. His sister, Mrs. Chen, everyone left in the estate. The Sinclair legacy was going to end here, in fire and darkness and -
No.
The word crystallized in his mind with perfect clarity.
No.
He wouldn't let this happen. Couldn't let this happen. There had to be something, some way to fight back, some power in this broken world that could stop this.
His hands felt hot. Too hot. Like they were burning from the inside.
When he looked down, they were glowing.
Faintly. Red.
"Ash?" Mrs. Chen's voice seemed very far away. "Ash, your eyes..."
He could feel it now. Something vast and ancient pressing against his consciousness, like an ocean trying to force its way through a pinhole. Power. Not magic like his sister had awakened to something else. Something darker.
Words entered his mind. Not English. Not any language that had ever been spoken on Earth. But he understood them the way you understand pain or fear instinctively, fundamentally.
His hand moved without conscious thought, drawing symbols in the air. They hung there, glowing red lines that burned themselves into reality. A circle. Complex patterns within it. Geometry that hurt to look at but felt correct in a way nothing else ever had.
The summoning circle.
Blood dripped from his nose, spattering onto the balcony stones. The circle expanded, growing larger, more intricate. It burned itself into the stone, then into his palm, searing through skin and flesh. The pain was exquisite, absolute, but he couldn't stop. The words kept flowing from his lips, sounds that made his throat feel like it was tearing.
The door exploded inward. The creature lunged.
The circle blazed with red light.
Reality screamed.
The temperature plummeted so fast that ice formed on the balcony railing. Ash's breath came out in clouds of vapor. The creature stopped mid-lunge, its burning eyes fixed on the circle with what might have been fear.
Something was coming through.
The air itself seemed to crack, fractures spreading through space like broken glass. A figure began to materialize within the circle tall, impossibly tall, wrapped in robes that looked woven from shadows and bone. A hood obscured its face, but Ash could feel the gaze beneath. Ancient. Patient. Utterly without mercy.
When it spoke, the voice was the sound of earth settling over coffins, of the last breath before death, of time grinding civilizations to dust.
"Interesting."
The single word carried weight that made Ash's knees buckle. Mrs. Chen had passed out, crumpled against the wall. Even the creature had frozen, its shadowy form flickering uncertainly.
The figure stepped from the circle, and where its feet touched the ground, flowers withered and stone cracked with age.