They stood in a loose circle near the still-smoking ashes of the demon, deep in the shattered ruins of the mall's first floor. The air was thick with the lingering heat and the acrid sting of something recently burned. Cracks veined the walls, broken glass glittered like fallen stars, and flickering emergency lights threw long, uneasy shadows around them.

  The battle was written all over them, bruises blooming along cheekbones and jaws, dirt and dried blood streaking their skin. Their clothes hung in tatters, slashed and scorched in places, evidence of just how close the fight had come. Every breath was slow and ragged, every face drawn tight with exhaustion. Yet beneath the weariness, something steadier lingered. Quiet satisfaction. The hard-earned weight of victory. They had done it. They had won.

  Fenrik stood beside Alice, his dark fur streaked with ash, ribs rising and falling with shallow pants. His eyes stayed sharp, ears flicking at the slightest sound, the silent guardian among them still alert even in the aftermath.

  Thorne let out a long breath and dragged a hand through his sweat-matted hair. "Well," he muttered, voice rough but still carrying a flicker of humor, "the old man'll be happy to hear we finally brought down that invader."

  Lyric, arms crossed and one sleeve nearly torn off, gave him a sideways glance. "Maybe. Or maybe he'll do what he always does, glare, sigh, and complain we didn't do it with 'more precision and forty-three percent less collateral damage.'"

  Elias chuckled weakly, leaning back against a cracked pillar with a hand pressed to his side. "Or that we were 'half a beat off on synchronization' and 'emotionally compromised.' I swear, he's got a spreadsheet for our feelings."

  Thorne grinned, the fatigue around his eyes softening. "He probably does. Bet he's already circling things in red ink, muttering, 'Sloppy. Sloppy!'"

  Alice let out a tired laugh, then hissed softly as a bruise pulled at her ribs. "Let him say what he wants. We're still standing. That thing isn't." Her gaze dropped to the smoldering ashes at their feet. "That's what matters."

  Fenrik huffed beside her, tail brushing lightly against her leg, his presence grounding, like always.

  Elias shifted his weight and looked around. "So... what now? How are we supposed to get back to the Luminaries Sanctum? We're miles away from anywhere that matters."

  Thorne groaned, sliding down with a thud against the base of a half-crushed column. "Bro, I'm not gonna be able to walk after that fight." He gestured weakly toward the scorched remains. "That thing almost turned my spine into a souvenir."

  Alice crossed her arms, her voice tired but resolute. "We have to find a way back. We can't just stay here and wait around for someone to come rescue us."

  Thorne blinked at her, frowning. "Okay, but explain this—why did they give us precise instructions on how to get here when we got attacked, but nothing about getting back?"

  He paused, squinting in exaggerated suspicion. "Wait... you don't think they figured we wouldn't survive, right?"

  Lyric rolled her eyes and stretched, shoulder muscles pulling beneath the tears in her sleeve. "You're overthinking it. Maybe they were just too busy to draw us a map back."

  Fenrik padded over and sat beside her with a thump, ears flicking. His golden eyes locked onto Thorne, and though he didn't speak, the tilt of his head and lazy tail wag seemed to side with Lyric's dry reasoning.

  Thorne pointed at the wolf with mock betrayal. "Wow. Now even you siding with her?" He sighed dramatically, letting his head thump back against the pillar. "I never thought I'd say this, but... I'm actually starting to miss Aiden."

  Elias chuckled and raked a hand through his hair. "Look, we'll figure it out later. Right now, we need rest, and someone to patch us up before we bleed all over the tile. Let's not collapse before we solve the getting-home part."

  A shared silence followed, heavy and agreeable. They all nodded, the weight of exhaustion folding over them like a blanket too thick to shake off.

  Thorne pushed himself up with a wince, brushing dust off his arms as he looked around at the wrecked storefronts and splintered walls. “Okay, but seriously… how the hell are we supposed to find our way back through this mess?”

  And just then—

  A voice rang out behind them, calm and low, cutting cleanly through the stillness. "You've already done the hard part. Now let me help you return."

  They turned.

  Cassandra approached, her boots tapping steadily over broken tile, cloak trailing behind her like smoke. Her expression was composed, almost amused, as though this were just another afternoon stroll.

  Thorne arched an eyebrow. "Oh look. Her Highness of Perfect Timing graces us with her presence."

  Lyric's arms dropped to her sides. "Where were you? We were out here playing dodge-the-demon with zero backup."

  Alice narrowed her eyes through damp, matted hair. "You took a lunch break while we were getting eaten alive?"

  Thorne scoffed. "Let me guess. Watching from the shadows, waiting for your entrance cue and the perfect lighting?"

  Cassandra stopped, her gaze sweeping over the group like an artist inspecting a canvas, her eyes lingering on the bloodstains and the weary bodies standing before her. A smirk pulled at the corners of her lips.

  “Well,” she said lightly, almost casually, “no point stepping into a fire you were already dancing through so beautifully.”

  Her eyes traced each of them—Aiden, Lyric, Alice, Elias—and the way they stood, bruised, bloodied, but still standing. Still breathing.

  “And besides...” Her voice softened, a quiet pride replacing the teasing tone, “The point wasn’t to save you. It was to see if you’d rise.”

  She took a step forward, her expression unshifting, but something in her posture held a quiet weight. “You did.”

  The words hung in the air, and for a moment, no one spoke. They simply stared at her, their silence thick with unspoken questions.

  Her gaze flicked toward Fenrik, standing like an unmovable pillar of power, his eyes sharp and watchful.

  “And you,” she said warmly, stepping closer to the beast. “That hit you landed, sending the invader crashing into the storefront?” Her voice dropped lower, almost a whisper, but her pride was evident. “That was amazing. When you vanished, I honestly thought you weren’t coming back. But you did... and you brought hell with you.”

  Fenrik blinked, his expression unreadable. He flicked his tail once, the only sign of acknowledgment.

  Cassandra smiled softly, a quiet understanding passing between them. She nodded. “I think Aiden should take it from here now.”

  A low shimmer of golden light curled around Fenrik’s form, and the transformation began.

  Bones shifted, fur retracted, and in a blink, Aiden stood where the great wolf once stand. Naked. Completely and utterly naked.

  The air seemed to hold its breath for a heartbeat. And then, as if the spell had broken...

  "OH MY GOD—AIDEN!" Alice shrieked, flinging both hands up to shield her eyes as though she could erase the sight from her memory.

  Lyric whipped around, clutching Cassandra’s cloak and muttering something about modesty and decency. “For the love of stars! We’re literally in a mall! There are piles of clothes everywhere! You couldn't have shifted behind a changing room?”

  Cassandra stifled a laugh, her eyes trained politely on the floor. "At least he's confident."

  Aiden blinked, confused. “What? We've all seen worse.”

  “No," Elias said flatly, his voice dripping with dry humor. He turned his head sharply, his tone sharp as though trying to escape the very sight of Aiden. "We haven't. And now it's burned into my retinas."

  Thorne, unfazed and leaning casually with his arms crossed, gave a slow, appreciative nod. "You know," he mused, "if I had abs like that, I’d never wear clothes either. Man looks like he was chiseled by angry gods with too much free time."

  Aiden, still very much in his post-transformation state of undress, gave a helpless shrug, unbothered by the reactions. He lifted his shoulders in a loose, unapologetic shrug, then pivoted on his heel and jogged off, bare and entirely unbothered, toward the gaping remains of a shattered storefront.

  Glass crunched beneath his steps as he slipped through the skewed frame. The windows had blown out from the earlier battle, jagged teeth of glass still clinging to the edges. Inside, the place looked ransacked, shelves collapsed and hangers tangled on the ground, mannequins slumped over like casualties of war.

  Aiden didn’t hesitate. He ducked behind a half-toppled rack, fingers digging through the mess with practiced ease. A pair of jeans. A worn jacket. He yanked them free without checking the size.

  Back outside, Thorne rubbed a hand down his face and exhaled through his nose, watching the storefront like someone processing a minor tragedy. “Could’ve at least waited ten seconds before dropping everything in front of us,” he muttered, half to himself, half to no one.

  Lyric shot him a look. “You and Aiden. Being shapeshifters, nakedness probably doesn’t faze you, huh? Happens all the time for your kind.” She gestured vaguely toward the store, the clothes that still lay in disarray. “But for us? It’s still a thing.”

  Thorne’s grin spread. “Fair enough.”

  Aiden emerged a moment later, now dressed, though the jacket was on backwards at first. He noticed, cursed under his breath, and spun it around with a flourish. "Didn't really think about it," he said quietly. "When you shift so fast, survival's the only thing that matters. Modesty comes after."

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Thorne," Alice said, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes still fixed away from Aiden’s direction. "Next time, toss him a blanket first."

  Thorne chuckled, his smirk wide and unapologetic. “Dude, just because you can handle your transformation like pros doesn’t mean you get a pass to air your goods in public.”

  Elias, deadpan, crossed his arms. "Also? I really didn't need to see your weapon, Aiden. Thanks, but no thanks."

  Aiden’s laugh echoed faintly from within the store. "Hey, if I have to fight monsters naked, I at least deserve some applause."

  Alice narrowed her eyes, finally brave enough to look his way. "You deserve a towel."

  "A long one," Lyric added, face still turned away

  Thorne grinned, clapping Aiden on the shoulder. "On the bright side, buddy... at least now everyone knows you're brave."

  Elias raised a brow. "Brave's one word for it."

  Their laughter rolled through the half-collapsed corridor, light, shaken, but needed. Until Cassandra's eyes caught a glint, something metallic peeking through the thick bed of smoldering ash where the demon had fallen.

  Her smile vanished. Without a word, she stepped away, her boots crunching over scorched rubble.

  Elias noticed first. "What is it?" he asked, his tone cautious.

  Cassandra didn't answer immediately. She knelt, brushing her gloved hand gently through the thick grey layers. "I saw something... just here," she murmured.

  Lyric inched closer, arms folded tightly. “Careful,” she warned. “That’s still invader ash. We don’t know what it might do.”

  “I know,” Cassandra replied, calm but focused. “But it’s not active anymore, it’s just remains. And there’s definitely something buried here.”

  Thorne leaned over her shoulder, grimacing. “Please tell me it’s not a cursed eyeball or something.”

  She swept aside more ash. Then paused.

  The light caught on jagged black metal, shot through with faint crimson veins pulsing like something still breathing. Cassandra didn’t flinch. She pulled a cloth from her cloak, wrapped it tight, and rose with the bundle in her hand.

  Thorne stepped back. “Okay, creepy. That thing’s still intact? I thought it would've crumbled with its owner.”

  Aiden stiffened, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing? Don’t tell me you're planning to use that.”

  Cassandra shook her head. “Of course not. But it might tell us where it came from, and more importantly, what it came from. Its kind. Its forge. Its master.”

  Alice took a step closer, hesitant. “You really think it can talk back?”

  “Maybe not in words,” Cassandra said, lifting her eyes. “But blades like this... they carry memory. Energy. Traces. We might be able to find something, if we listen carefully enough.”

  Silence returned, this time heavier. The thought hung over them like smoke.

  Lyric muttered, “Great. Now we're collecting haunted souvenirs.”

  Aiden crossed his arms, eyes still on the ash. “Next time, I vote we just burn everything and walk away.”

  Thorne sighed, glancing toward the cracked ceiling. “And miss all the horrifying mystery clues? Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

  Cassandra tucked the cloth-wrapped weapon into her belt. Her expression was unreadable—calm but calculating, like pieces clicking into place.

  She looked up.

  “Come on. There’s something you need to see.”

  Cassandra didn’t flinch. Her face shifted, no longer patient. Just resolute. “This is bigger than that,” she said, her voice low. “You’ve won your first battle. And the next step begins now.”

  Aiden’s laugh was bitter and short, almost a cough. He rubbed at a streak of dried blood on his jaw. “Can’t you just give us a break?”

  Thorne gestured down at himself with both hands, shirt torn open, dried blood crusted along his collarbone, one sleeve hanging by threads. “Look at us. We’re stitched together with spite and sarcasm. If one of us sneezes wrong, we’ll fall apart.”

  Cassandra turned fully toward them. Her gaze swept over the group, Elias leaning slightly on the railing, Alice clutching her side, Lyric’s hair stuck to a smear of blood on her cheek. Even Aiden, still barefoot, looked more shadow than boy. Her jaw tightened.

  “I know you’re exhausted,” she said quietly. “But you need to see this. After what you just faced... you have to understand why it mattered.”

  The words hung there, soft but heavy.

  Elias ran a hand through his soot-streaked hair, eyes flicking between his friends. No one moved, but no one argued. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly.

  “Fine,” he said, squaring his shoulders with visible effort. “But after that, we go back. If we're meant to fight a war, we need to stay alive long enough to do it.”

  Cassandra gave a single nod, then turned. Her cloak caught the wind as she walked, quiet and deliberate steps carrying her toward a set of stairs half-swallowed by shadow and dust.

  Their boots scraped along shattered tile, crunching over glass and bits of bone-dry ash. Overhead, the emergency lights buzzed faintly, flickering as if uncertain whether to keep fighting.

  When Cassandra stepped onto the stairs and began to climb, Thorne blinked.

  “Wait. Upstairs?” He gestured vaguely at the wreckage around them. “We’re not leaving? What’s even left here to see?”

  “You’ll see in a moment,” she called back, without turning her head.

  Alice groaned behind her hands. “Why is it always suspense with you? Just once, Cassandra. Just once, could you try leading with the actual information?”

  Cassandra only smiled, faint and maddening.

  They followed.

  The staircase groaned under their weight. With each floor, the air thickened, old smoke, ash, dust unsettled by their steps. The building felt hollow now, a quiet husk echoing with memories and footsteps.

  By the fourth flight, Lyric had one elbow hooked around the railing, her other hand bracing her lower back. “This feels less like survival and more like ascending to heaven... one stair at a time.”

  Thorne pulled himself up the next step, panting theatrically. “Cassandra... seriously. You knew we were coming up here. You knew. Why not take the damn lift?”

  “Because the lift’s out of order,” she replied smoothly, not even winded. “That invader fried half the circuitry on its way down.”

  Thorne threw his hands into the air, nearly losing his balance. “Of course it did. Big metal psycho with lightning ropes wrecks half the mall, tries to rip my lungs out, and ruins my cardio. Fantastic.”

  He muttered a string of curses, low and rhythmic, like a mantra for endurance.

  Aiden’s laugh came from somewhere near the bottom of the group. “You want me to carry you, grandma?”

  Thorne shot a glare over his shoulder. “Keep talking and I’ll throw you down the stairs.”

  Despite everything, laughter rippled through the group, ragged, breathless, but real.

  The climb dragged on, their movements slower now, less from resistance and more from sheer wear. Still, they pushed upward, driven by Cassandra’s pace and the lingering sense that the answers were just above them.

  Near the landing, Lyric paused and glanced behind her. Elias was two steps down, one hand gripping the rail like it was the only thing holding him upright. His brow was knit, jaw tight, but he kept moving.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Lyric said, voice low but teasing. “You know. You could go ahead. No one’s stopping you.”

  Elias blinked, his brow drawing together as if the question had landed sideways. “What do you mean?”

  Behind him, Aiden’s voice floated up with a smirk tucked between the words. “Come on, man, you teleported when you stabbed that demon in the heart. One second you were a few feet away from him, the next you were in its chest. And now you’re moving like your joints are rusted?”

  Thorne let out a theatrical groan, dragging his feet as though each step required divine effort. “Also, if you’re taking off ahead again, mind carrying me this time?” He gave Elias a pitiful look, one eye puffed and purpled, cheek still streaked with dried blood. “I’ll even say please.”

  The group chuckled, the sound dry and frayed at the edges.

  But Elias didn’t join them.

  He’d stopped mid-step, one hand frozen on the railing. His eyes weren’t on anyone, they weren’t on anything. Just slightly unfocused, like he was staring through the wall and into memory.

  His fingers twitched. One breath. One blink.

  That instant replayed, how the demon’s heart had been in front of him, too far, until suddenly it wasn’t. There’d been no dash, no blur, no burst of speed. Just there, then here.

  His knuckles whitened around the rail.

  Alice, catching his hesitation, looked back. "Hey," she said gently. "You alright?"

  Elias blinked, snapped from his thoughts. "Yeah. I just... I don't know how I did that. I mean, I'm not even that fast. Definitely not faster than other vampires. But that moment—" he trailed off, brows furrowed.

  Cassandra paused mid-step and turned, her gaze settling on Elias with quiet intensity. “I saw it too,” she said, her voice low, almost cautious. "You were way behind, then in a blink, you were there. In front of him. No vampire can move like that. Not even close."

  Elias's gaze flicked toward her, then toward the others. His voice stayed low, edged with something like unease. “So what does that mean? Did I... change?” His fingers curled into fists. “Because that didn’t feel like me.”

  Cassandra didn’t answer right away. She studied him, eyes narrowed, not suspicious, just measuring something unseen.

  “Try again,” she said. “Whatever you touched in that moment. See if it’s still there.”

  Elias closed his eyes. The others fell silent.

  He inhaled. Slowed his breath. Tried to reach for the same sensation, that break in reality, that slip in distance. But all he felt was the ache in his legs and the rasp in his lungs. Just fatigue. Just himself.

  His shoulders slumped as he opened his eyes. “Nothing. Whatever it was... it’s gone.”

  “Or it’s hiding,” Cassandra said softly. “Or waiting.”

  He looked at her, the corners of his mouth tight. “Waiting for what? I’ve been alive over a century. I think I’d know if there was something buried inside me.”

  Thorne let out a snort. “Oh no, here we go. This is the part where she tells you you’ve been ‘unlocked by destiny’ or something dramatic like that.”

  Elias glanced at him, lips twitching despite himself.

  Cassandra offered no such prophecy. Just a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll talk more later,” she said. “Right now, keep moving.”

  Aiden threw up his hands. “Of course. Mystery now, answers later—classic Cassandra.”

  He leaned closer to Elias as they started walking again. “Still,” he added under his breath, “it was cool. Kinda creepy. But definitely cool.”

  Elias didn’t answer. His thoughts were still behind him, on the step where something unspoken had cracked open, and then disappeared before he could touch it again.

  The group kept climbing, footsteps echoing once again as silence settled between them, each of them wondering just a little more about the powers they hadn't yet discovered in themselves.

  As they finally reached the highest floor, the group stumbled onto the landing like soldiers crawling from the trenches.

  Thorne flopped dramatically against the nearest wall, clutching his chest. "Leave me," he gasped. "Tell my story. Bury me with snacks."

  Alice leaned on the railing, wheezing. "I don't think I have bones anymore. Just regret and leg cramps."

  Lyric dropped onto the floor with a grunt, arms sprawled out like a starfish. "I didn't sign up for the Stairway to Heaven reboot."

  Aiden hauled himself up the last step, jaw clenched. "This better be worth it. If the next big reveal is another vague, world-ending prophecy, I swear I'm jumping back down."

  Even Elias, who usually moved like dusk itself, measured and untouchable, had slowed, sweat at his brow, one shoulder brushing the wall for support. "Someone... remind me why we didn't just... die downstairs instead?"

  Cassandra, still catching her breath, grinned despite herself. "Oh come on, it wasn't that bad."

  Thorne looked at her, betrayed. "Not that bad? You weren’t the one getting flung around by a demon with electric ropes like a chew toy in a thunderstorm."

  He threw his hands up, leaning heavily against the railing. "My soul left my body twice. And now I think one of my lungs has a cramp. I didn’t even know lungs could do that."

  But mid-rant, he stopped.

  His tone dropped, eyebrows creasing. “…Wait.”

  The words barely left him, but the shift was enough, the others turned, posture sharpening.

  At the far end of the ruined floor, beyond shattered skylights and the fractured skeleton of what used to be a storefront, Sentinel stood still as stone.

  Emergency lights flickered above, casting him in pulses of red and silver. He stood near the edge of a broken balcony, backlit by the storm-dim sky leaking through jagged windows. His coat stirred faintly in the breeze, long, dark, and unmistakably weathered from battles past.

  His profile was angled just enough to catch the sharp cut of his brow, the calm precision in his stance. No motion. No tension. Just watchful silence.

  He wasn’t moving. Not toward them. Not away.

  But something had changed.

  A phone, previously held to his ear, was lowered. He tapped once, ended the call, and slipped the device into his coat pocket without breaking eye contact.

  Aiden took a slow step forward, shoulders tightening. “We interrupting something?”

  Sentinel didn’t answer. He just watched. Calm. Unreadable. Like he'd been expecting them.

  The air felt heavier now, dense with the kind of silence that makes you lower your voice without knowing why. Cassandra stepped forward slowly, steady, the worn soles of her boots whispering against shattered tile. Her eyes never left him. No tension in her shoulders. No startle in her step.

  She had known.

  The others hadn’t.

  Their eyes moved over him with dawning recognition, Thorne stiffening, Lyric straightening slightly off the floor, Alice frowning in disbelief. Elias stared, trying to reconcile what he was seeing with what he’d assumed.

  "Guys..." Thorne said, voice low and foreboding, "Brace yourselves. I think we're about to be hit with another long, life-changing monologue."

  The silence settled again, thicker now. Anticipation hummed in the ruined air.

  And just like that... the next chapter began.