Gabriel releases the butterfly.

  Silent but deliberate, it lifts off his palm, its wings shimmering with every shade of the rainbow, and flutters toward me.

  It settles on my forehead with impossible grace.

  I barely breathe.

  Tiny appendages extend, impossibly delicate, and press into my skin.

  They don’t hurt. Not really.

  But they sink, past flesh, past bone.

  They burrow into my mind like gentle threads latching onto memories not meant to be touched.

  Then it begins.

  Wisps of iridescent light pulse from the butterfly’s body, stretching outward like veins of stained glass.

  They link back to Gabriel’s forehead in a radiant beam of color.

  We’re connected now.

  I feel it. His presence brushes against my thoughts.

  Cool. Calm. Intrusive.

  He’s inside.

  The butterfly pries deeper, searching.

  Memory by memory.

  Moment by moment.

  And as violated as I feel, I can’t help it.

  It’s mesmerizing.

  I’ve heard of this kind of memory extraction. But experiencing it…

  It’s like watching your life play out through stained glass.

  Beautiful. Intimate. Exposing.

  But I am not an open book.

  Unbeknownst to him, or even the butterfly, my Living Scripture stirs.

  Not defensively. No. That would raise an alarm.

  It moves with precision. Subtle. Intentional.

  It doesn’t block the memories.

  It simply… curates them.

  A gentle redirection here.

  A slight tilt there.

  A guiding hand on the tiller of perception.

  The truth remains. But it bends.

  Alec’s rage, wild, unshackled, world-ending softens.

  The lightning that tore across the battlefield now flickers like a contained storm.

  The devastation becomes defensive. Controlled. Righteous.

  Gabriel lingers too long.

  I feel it. The weight of his consciousness pressing against mine, dragging over things it shouldn’t see.

  He knows something is off.

  My pulse quickens.

  My breathing slows.

  I can’t betray it.

  Not a twitch.

  Not a flinch.

  Then...

  He withdraws.

  Slow.

  Reluctant.

  The butterfly unfurls from my forehead like smoke peeling off glass.

  It flutters once.

  Twice.

  And vanishes.

  When my eyes snap open, Gabriel is watching me.

  Silver eyes narrowed. Thoughtful. Calculating.

  “You held back,” he says. Not a question.

  I hold his gaze, unblinking. “Alec is strong, but he’s not a murderer.”

  There’s a pause.

  The space between us hums with something unsaid.

  Then he releases my hand.

  He doesn’t believe me.

  But he can’t prove otherwise.

  He turns to his men and gestures once.

  They move in eerie unison, collecting the fallen.

  No questions. No wasted motion.

  Alec stirs, still unconscious, but Samuel is already adjusting his posture to keep him down.

  Eric steps forward, arms crossed, his tone low. “Well?”

  Gabriel doesn’t answer right away.

  His gaze sweeps across the remnants of our home. The splintered walls, the scorched ground, then back to me.

  “We will be watching.”

  It’s not a warning.

  It’s a promise.

  The Judicars turn as one.

  Their silent exodus is more haunting than their arrival.

  As their figures disappear into the shadows, the night feels colder somehow. Emptier.

  Inside, Eric and Samuel begin repairing the broken door.

  The scent of sawdust fills the room.

  Their conversation is quiet, but their movements are restless. Wary.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  I kneel beside Alec, fingers brushing over his wrist, checking the steady beat beneath the skin.

  He’s warm. Breathing.

  Mr. Grant approaches, a steaming mug of coffee in his hands.

  He places it gently beside me before sitting down.

  His shoulders are no longer as tight.

  His eyes are softer.

  “Tonight was… eventful,” he murmurs, lifting the cup.

  He takes a slow sip. Breathes out.

  Then...

  “I need to ask.”

  His voice is unsure. Small.

  I brace myself.

  “Will Aleesha… go through what you’re facing now?”

  The question lands heavy.

  I could lie.

  Make it pretty. Make it palatable.

  But I don’t.

  “She might.”

  I meet his eyes.

  “But that’s why we’re cutting out the rot. So she won’t have to do it alone.”

  Behind me, Alec shifts.

  I turn, brushing hair from his face.

  “Hey,” I whisper. “Are you with me?”

  His lashes flutter.

  Blue eyes blink open.

  Hazy but familiar.

  And he smiles.

  A dam breaks inside me.

  I lean back just long enough to swing a fist into his arm.

  “You nearly got us all killed, you idiot.”

  Alec groans, rubbing his shoulder. “What do you mean I nearly caused our extinction?”

  I fall onto the couch beside him, arms crossed.

  “You lit them up like Fourth of July. Then the Judicars came.”

  That gets his attention.

  He bolts upright.

  “The Judicars?” he echoes, voice sharp.

  “Why would they...”

  I raise a brow.

  “Because you nearly electrocuted ten men into oblivion.”

  He winces. “They lived?”

  I nod. “Barely. And Gabriel? Their leader? Let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled.”

  Alec exhales. “How bad?”

  “If even one of them dies, we’re toast.”

  His shoulders tighten.

  His hands flex.

  Then I smirk. “Oh, it gets better. Gabriel decided to rip memories straight from my head.”

  He pales. “What?”

  His hands grab my face. “You survived that? How?”

  I peel his fingers away. “Because I’m amazing.”

  A moment passes, then the others pour in.

  Samuel slaps Alec’s shoulder.

  Samantha gives him a thumbs-up.

  Jamey shoves him back onto the couch and grins.

  Alec groans, rubbing his face. “You guys suck.”

  But his smile is real.

  And this time, so is mine.

  The next afternoon…

  Peace lies to me.

  Sunlight drapes over my body like a warm embrace.

  I drift atop the pool on an inflatable bed, eyes closed, limbs loose, breath steady.

  For the first time in weeks, I feel almost human.

  The scent of chlorine and warm stone replaces ash and fear.

  The sky stretches wide above me. Cloudless. Impossibly blue.

  No whispers. No shadowy figures creeping in the periphery.

  No war.

  Just the occasional chatter of resort guests and the rhythmic hum of waves beyond the fence.

  Eric lounges at the edge of the pool.

  Shirtless. Yummy. Arms tucked behind his head.

  Dark hair, messy from a nap he denies taking.

  He doesn’t open his eyes.

  But I know he’s listening.

  He always is.

  Then my phone rings.

  I ignore it.

  It rings again.

  Sharper. Insistent.

  Like it knows this calm is a lie.

  I groan, lurching up on one elbow.

  The float bobs unsteadily.

  One glance at the caller ID makes my stomach twist.

  Jamey.

  I answer. “Hey, Jamey. What’s up?”

  Silence.

  Eric’s eyes crack open.

  His posture shifts.

  Then, barely above a whisper,

  “Max… Alec and I… we’re being followed.”

  Branches snapping.

  Footsteps crunching.

  Jamey is running.

  Just like that, the moment shatters.

  “Followed?”

  I sit up straighter.

  “By who?”

  Eric’s already up, grabbing his shirt from the poolside.

  He doesn’t need to hear the rest.

  Jamey pants into the phone.

  “Not… sure. But they’re relentless.”

  A rustle.

  A hand passing the phone.

  Then Alec’s voice.

  Low. Grim.

  “We’re traversing Devil’s Peak. We noticed them at Break Point.”

  My pulse spikes. “Where are you now?”

  “We haven’t moved. We’re near the curve. By the waterfall.”

  I close my eyes. Think fast.

  “There’s a way behind it. Get there. Hide. We’re coming.”

  The call ends.

  Eric is already moving.

  ????

  Water crashes against the stone wall like the heavens decided to bleed sound into rock. Mist clings to our skin, and the roar is deafening, the weight of it making speech impossible.

  Mist clings to our skin, and the roar is deafening.

  The weight of it makes speech impossible.

  The space behind the waterfall is narrow, hollowed from years of erosion.

  Natural.

  Perfect for hiding.

  Humid air wraps around us, dense with tension.

  Alec and Jamey crouch near a fissure in the rock, oblivious to our arrival.

  They scan the thick green beyond.

  I step up behind Jamey and tap his shoulder lightly.

  He swats like I’m a mosquito.

  I try again, grabbing his wrist.

  He stiffens.

  Turns.

  His eyes meet mine.

  And then...

  A high-pitched scream pierces the roar.

  His eyes roll back.

  Arms flail.

  Down he goes like a Shakespearean maiden struck by fainting fever.

  A perfect S-shaped collapse.

  Then Alec snorts.

  Eric snickers.

  I double over, gasping through laughter.

  The sound bounces off the cavern walls in great, echoing bursts.

  Jamey flails upright, then throws his arms around my legs.

  “Max! I missed you!”

  I snort. “Yeah, I missed saving your butt, too.”

  I pat his cheek.

  Then shove his face away. “Dramatic as always.”

  Alec, now crouched at the entrance, parts the brush.

  “No movement. Either they backed off, or...”

  “Find them. Now.”

  A voice, sharp and cutting, slices through the rain.

  Shadows shift outside.

  A figure halts.

  Tilts his head.

  Before he can step forward, Eric lunges.

  One arm wraps the man’s jacket.

  The other yanks.

  A hard crack.

  He’s limp before he hits the ground.

  Eric drags the body inside with zero ceremony.

  I give him a casual thumbs-up.

  Another figure sprints past, then stops.

  He kneels, eyes catching something on the ground.

  His voice rises. “I found something!”

  Others close in.

  Their silhouettes stretch unnaturally beneath the dawn light.

  Then one steps forward.

  His hand lifts.

  And the waterfall parts.

  Not with violence.

  Not with power.

  With command.

  The cascade splits down the center, a clean divide revealing the inside of our hiding spot like a curtain torn open.

  The air shifts.

  My pulse stutters.

  Alec doesn’t hesitate.

  Lightning explodes from his body.

  Wild. Frantic. Alive.

  Blue-white bolts ripple outward, lashing like wild serpents.

  The intruders freeze.

  Except one.

  He walks through it.

  The lightning parts around him like it knows him.

  Like it obeys him.

  Eric stumbles back. “What the... "

  The man lifts his chin.

  And smiles.

  Slow.

  Deliberate.

  Knowing.

  Wrong.

  I feel it in my gut.

  My soul.

  We weren’t supposed to win this fight.

  Did you catch the subtle twist of Max’s Living Scripture editing the truth?

  And what about that final moment at the falls?

  The lightning obeyed someone else…

  ?? Please don’t forget to like, follow, and share this chapter if it resonated with you.