The worst part is the best part about Lava, I don't burn I devour you whole,a process of absorption mind, body and soul...

  "Gugu... Gugu... Gugu!"

  I looked back at Mrs Lane.

  "Where did you go?" Mrs Lane asked.

  I smiled, "No where." oh how I hate making this fake smile.

  "It doesn't seem like it." Mrs Lane.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  "Okay, are you happy in this place or is it a place you hurt yourself so that you don't feel bad about Irma." Mrs Lane asked.

  "Well... It's... bad and worse."

  "Tell me about this place." Mrs Lane said.

  "We went to Ghent...

  I always hated kill orders even the idea that as a hunter I would be forced to act with such impunity turned my stomach and it had been hours and I still felt sick.

  Irma's voice played in my head from the moment she handed us the files. Calm, precise — like the words she spoke weren't deciding whether whole lives would be erased from this world.

  "Investigate disappearances in Ghent. If Chimeras are found... termination is authorized."

  No hesitation. No mercy.

  I stared out of the private jet window as we cut through the night sky, the faint drone of the engines drowning out the silence between all of us. The Committee never called for exterminations lightly. If every faction had signed off... it meant whatever we were walking into should be horrifying.

  I shifted in my seat, feeling Theo's hand brush against mine on the armrest. He didn't say anything, just laced his fingers through mine. His thumb traced slow circles over my knuckles — absentminded, like he wasn't even thinking about it.

  We hadn't been long since I said we should take a break so we can focus on passing. Maybe three months since I felt his touch but I didn't complain. We were given a mission to head to hell so maybe we could just enjoy this without asking question.

  "What's on your mind?" he murmured, leaning closer.

  I glanced at him — those dark curls falling over his forehead, soft brown eyes always carrying more weight than he let on. I could feel Klaus watching us from across the aisle, pretending not to notice. Bianca was asleep, curled against Bruce's shoulder. Lindo had his headphones in, head bobbing to whatever bass-heavy nonsense he was listening to.

  Only Irma sat upright, eyes flicking through her tablet — like she'd memorized the mission brief and was still looking for something everyone else missed.

  I squeezed Theo's hand.

  "The order."

  His lips pressed together. He didn't like it either — none of us did — but Theo was practical. He always had been. "Better us than some bloodthirsty strike team."

  I hated that he was right.

  We were the lesser evil.

  We landed just before dawn, touching down on some private airstrip far from the city lights. Black cars were already waiting for us — tinted windows, Committee drivers who never said a word. They took us straight to the hotel, a sleek place tucked between canals with stone walls and dark wood furniture.

  I couldn't help noticing how normal everything looked. Tourists sipped coffee along the water. Old couples wandered hand in hand. Somewhere in the distance, church bells rang — soft, hollow chimes that made my stomach turn.

  None of them knew what was happening beneath their feet.

  Our rooms were booked under fake names. Irma made sure we were spread out across different floors, but Theo and I were in the same room — some small mercy in all of this from her.

  We barely had time to unpack before Irma called us into one of the suites for the briefing.

  "Disappearances started four months ago." she began, pacing slowly at the head of the table. "Thirty-five confirmed victims — all supernatural. Vampires, Blood witches, Werewolves, fallen... no pattern except what they are."

  Bruce leaned forward, "Who tipped off the Committee?"

  Irma's eyes flicked toward him. "The Blood witches."

  A low murmur rippled through the room. Even Bianca looked up at that. The Blood witches never called for help. Not unless something had them running scared I thought but I later found out it wasn't fear they wanted but habearjars of death.

  Lindo shifted in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table. "They think someone's making Chimeras."

  Irma didn't confirm it. She didn't need to.

  "There's a kill order, they are the perfect slave no consciousness or soul just an empty shell that will follow orders even if those orders were to die." she said instead, cutting straight to the heart of it. "This order was signed by every faction. If we find any abominations..."

  Her eyes settled on me. "We end them."

  No one said a word.

  I felt Theo's hand rest on my thigh under the table, grounding me. That night, we went out for dinner — one last moment of normal before we'd have to dig through whatever nightmare was waiting for us in this city.

  Irma chose some little bistro by the water. Candlelit tables. Warm bread. I could almost pretend it was just a trip, just friends on a European vacation.

  Theo ordered wine for both of us without asking. He always remembered the little things — what I liked, what I couldn't drink without my stomach twisting.

  "You okay?" he asked quietly as the others argued over the menu.

  I nodded, even though I wasn't.

  He leaned in, voice low. "I know what you're thinking."

  "You don't."

  He tilted his head, those soft eyes catching mine. "You're thinking they were people once. That maybe they still are."

  I swallowed hard. "You don't know that."

  Theo didn't argue. He just reached across the table and squeezed my hand again, like he could hold me together by touch alone.

  By the time we got back to the hotel, the city was heavy with mist. I could feel the heat rising under my skin — the way it always did before a mission but this one was different.

  Theo peeled off his jacket, stretching out on the bed like this was just another night.

  I stood by the window, watching the canal below.

  "You're not sleeping, are you?" he asked softly.

  "No."

  He didn't press. He never did.

  Instead, he got up, walked behind me, and wrapped his arms around my waist — warm, steady. His lips brushed the back of my neck. "We'll get through this."

  I closed my eyes and leaned into him, letting his heartbeat drown out the memories already trying to claw their way in the first Chemira... how I burnt it."They're just mindless slaves." I whispered.

  Theo kissed the side of my head. "You keep telling yourself that."

  I didn't know if he meant the Chimeras...

  ...or us.

  I couldn't sleep that night.

  Theo snored softly beside me, one arm draped across my waist like he'd forget where I was if he let go. I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling until the first cracks of dawn stretched across the sky.

  By the time we made it downstairs for breakfast, the others were already at the table — Klaus nursing a black coffee, Bianca with her curls tucked under a silk scarf, Bruce halfway through his third plate of eggs.

  Lindo tapped away at his phone, probably texting one of his side pieces. Theo slid in next to me, yawning as he reached for the coffee pot.

  Irma was nowhere to be seen.

  I didn't expect her to be.

  Twenty minutes passed before the door opened and she walked in — hair pinned into a pony tail in a dark suit pristine like she'd never even touched a bed.Her eyes flicked across the table, checking faces. "We know who made them."

  The whole room went still.

  Lindo's phone clicked off. Bruce set down his fork.

  Irma dropped a file onto the table.

  "Willem De Klerk. Former biochemist for the Dutch government. Went off the grid three years ago. The Committee's been tracking his movements, but this..." She tapped the folder. "This is new."

  I opened the file, flipping through photos of the manor — all cold stone and wrought iron gates, tucked deep into the Ghent countryside.

  "They're calling it the Foundry." Irma said. "That's where he's making them. But the Chimeras aren't stored there."

  Klaus's sharp blue eyes cut toward her. "Where are they kept then?"

  Irma's lips pressed together. "We head to the manor which is a front. We lean on De Klerk, he'll give us the location excalt location of the sight."

  I stared at the grainy surveillance photos — guards at every entrance, some carrying weapons, others with that unmistakable glow behind their eyes.

  Enhanced.

  "We hit the manor first." Irma's voice was steady. "Neutralize the security, find De Klerk... then we move on the storage facility."

  No one asked if we'd get the information out of him. If the Committee signed off on this... there would be no interrogation rooms.

  Just bodies.

  We left within the hour.

  Two black SUVs, tinted windows. Theo drove, knuckles tight around the wheel. Klaus rode shotgun, cleaning his revolver like we were heading to a funeral.

  I watched the city slip by through the glass — old buildings and winding canals, little boats rocking against stone walls. It all felt so fragile.

  I hated cities like this. The ones that pretended the world hadn't already ended a hundred times over beneath their feet.

  The manor stood on the outskirts — a hulking beast carved into the earth. Iron fences wrapped around the property, cameras in every corner. I could see the guards from half a mile away — steel, sweat, something bitter curling under their skin.

  They weren't human. Not entirely.

  Irma's voice crackled through the comms in my ear.

  "Klaus, Bruce — perimeter. Lindo, Bianca — south entrance. Theo, Gugu — you're with me."

  Theo glanced at me. "You ready?"

  I rolled my shoulders, heat flickering under my palms. "Yeah."

  The first guard never saw me coming.

  I moved faster sound and ended the fight quickly as possible my fist connected with his chest, ribs cracking as his body folded in half. He hit the ground before the echo of the sonic boom caught up.

  Theo was right behind me — shadows coiling around his arms, his knife flashing once before another body crumpled at his feet.

  We left them in the dark — broken bones, scorched earth.

  Irma glided through the breach like a ghost, not even breaking stride as she snapped a man's neck with one hand.

  She was always faster than the rest of us — faster than me.

  We tore through the manor like predators bring death to all — clearing rooms, dropping guards before they could scream. Bianca's voice whispered through the comms, counting bodies in that soft, bored tone of hers.

  "Nine down."

  "Twelve."

  "Seventeen."

  The whole place smelled like antiseptic and rot — like something had been carved out of the walls and stitched back together wrong.

  Theo opened the basement door, and the stench poured out thick and heavy.

  I gagged.

  They weren't storing anything here.

  This was where they were made.

  We found Willem De Klerk in the library, sipping tea like he hadn't built an abomination under his own floors.

  Irma walked in first, pistol leveled at his head.

  He barely blinked. "You're too late, you know." His voice was thin, clipped.

  Irma didn't flinch. "Where's the facility?"

  De Klerk smiled. "You wouldn't understand the beauty of my creations. As humans we stand at the precipice of war at the best of times this force creation means no need for human life to be disposable numbers and no children being molded by propaganda of the state that it's they duty to fight and they are fighting for democracy and when they turn 18 they are just shipped into one warzone after another to protect billion dollar industries interest not democracy or the people."

  I heard his jaw break before I saw Irma move — her hand twisting under his chin, snapping bone like wet wood. He slumped forward onto the desk, blood pooling against parchment.

  Theo didn't even blink.

  Irma wiped her hands on his sleeve, leaned down, and whispered something against his ear.

  Whatever she said... it made him talk.

  The coordinates led north — an old textile mill outside the city, buried beneath a shipping yard.

  That's where they kept them. Hundreds of them.

  Waiting.

  We stood outside the manor at dawn, the sun bleeding red over the skyline. The city stretched out below us, blissfully unaware.

  Irma stood at the front of the group, tying her braid back like she hadn't just killed a man with her bare hands. "You all know what happens next."

  No one said a word.

  Her eyes found me last — cold steel behind those silver irises.

  "Gugu." My stomach twisted. I already knew what she was going to say. "When we find them... you're the one who ends it."

  Theo's hand found mine — warm, steady.

  I squeezed his hand as I stared at the sky, heat licking under my skin — molten, waiting. In a couple of hours I'd turn a whole building into a tomb.

  Hundreds of lives.

  Maybe they were still people.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Maybe they weren't.

  It didn't matter.

  The kill order had been signed.

  I would be the one to carry it out.

  "We move in pairs." Irma whispered, voice low against the stone walls of the abandoned textile mill. "Zac and Lindo, north wing. Klaus and Theo, south. Bianca with Bruce—central offices. Gugu... you're with me."

  I didn't argue. No one argued with Irma.

  The place reeked of death. The kind that lingers long after bodies are gone — like the air itself remembers what happened.

  It was fitting. This was where the first Chimera had been made centuries ago. Half-wolf, half-vampire, stitched together with necromancy and hubris. The creature was said to have torn through entire villages before the witches burned it down to the marrow.

  The Committee buried that secret. But secrets always come crawling back.

  We found the bodies first — bloodless, soulless husks stacked like cargo behind rusted machinery. Bianca swore under her breath over the comms, but I could hear the tremor in her voice.

  "Human?" Klaus asked.

  "No." Irma answered.

  "They're harvesting them." she murmured.

  Harvesting.

  I felt my stomach twist. They were breaking down supernatural bodies — claws, fangs, venom sacs — cutting and stitching until something wrong was born.

  Chimeras weren't just abominations. They were sacrilege.

  The first one came at us in the basement. It crawled on all fours, built like a wolf but with leathery wings fused to its back and two mismatched eyes — one yellow, one crimson. Lindo shot it through the heart. It kept coming. Bruce beheaded it. It still twitched.

  I had to melt its bones into slag before it stopped moving.

  "There's more," Irma said, wiping blood off her blade.

  There were always more.

  By the time we reached the central hall, we'd seen at least a dozen — mangled things with too many limbs, stitched smiles, and souls screaming behind yellow eyes.

  Zac lost his knife arm in the scuffle. Bianca's ribs were cracked.

  Klaus whispered a prayer, but no gods were listening in this place.

  We found the lab at the heart of the mill — glass tanks filled with hundreds of them. Floating things with stitched faces, their eyes flickering behind the glass, half-awake. Half-alive.

  Irma's voice was steady as always.

  "Kill order stands."

  They were monsters, I told myself. Abominations. Things that shouldn't exist.

  But when I walked between those tanks, they stared at me. Some of them were crying — soft, muffled sobs against the glass.

  "I can't..." Bianca whispered.

  "You can." Irma's knife was already in her hand.

  I stepped forward. The others backed away.

  That was why they'd brought me. Why they always brought me.

  The living can't burn the dead. But lava... lava devours everything.

  I felt it stirring beneath my skin — molten heat rolling through my veins. My palms prickled, sweat sizzling where it touched me. I raised my hands, and the first tank shattered — glass, fluid, and stitched flesh melting into black sludge.

  The second tank followed. Then the third.

  They screamed — not human, not beast. Something in between.

  I hated how easily they burned. How quickly the air filled with ash.

  Irma stayed silent through it all. She knew better than to comfort me.

  By the time it was done, the walls were scorched black. Nothing left but heat and the stench of cooked meat. Hundreds of lives snuffed out — no funerals, no names. Just another secret buried under the Committee's orders.

  Irma placed her hand on my shoulder.

  "You did the right thing."

  I didn't answer. I just watched the ashes swirl.

  The Committee would write this down as a victory. A necessary act. The abominations were gone. The city was clean.

  No one would ask who gave the order to make them in the first place.

  No one ever does.

  By dawn, we were on a train out of Ghent. Zac's arm was gone. Bianca would need weeks to heal. The rest of us just carried the weight.

  I watched the sunrise from the window, skin still fever-hot beneath my jacket.

  I did the right thing.

  That's what I kept telling myself.

  I wondered how long it would take for that to feel true.

  ***

  I couldn't sleep that night.

  Theo snored softly beside me, one arm draped across my waist like he'd forget where I was if he let go. I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling until the first cracks of dawn stretched across the sky.

  By the time we made it downstairs for breakfast, the others were already at the table — Klaus nursing a black coffee, Bianca with her curls tucked under a silk scarf, Bruce halfway through his third plate of eggs.

  Lindo tapped away at his phone, probably texting one of his side pieces. Theo slid in next to me, yawning as he reached for the coffee pot.

  Irma was nowhere to be seen.

  I didn't expect her to be.

  Twenty minutes passed before the door opened and she walked in — hair pinned into a pony tail in a dark suit pristine like she'd never even touched a bed.Her eyes flicked across the table, checking faces. "We know who made them."

  The whole room went still.

  Lindo's phone clicked off. Bruce set down his fork.

  Irma dropped a file onto the table.

  "Willem De Klerk. Former biochemist for the Dutch government. Went off the grid three years ago. The Committee's been tracking his movements, but this..." She tapped the folder. "This is new."

  I opened the file, flipping through photos of the manor — all cold stone and wrought iron gates, tucked deep into the Ghent countryside.

  "They're calling it the Foundry." Irma said. "That's where he's making them. But the Chimeras aren't stored there...wait something is off."

  Klaus's sharp blue eyes cut toward her. "Where are they kept then?"

  Irma's lips pressed together as she spaced out for a moment, "W... we head to the manor which is a front. We lean on De Klerk, he'll give us the location excalt location of the sight."

  I stared at the grainy surveillance photos — guards at every entrance, some carrying weapons, others with that unmistakable glow behind their eyes.

  Enhanced.

  "We hit the manor first." Irma's voice was steady. "Neutralize the security, find De Klerk... then we move on the storage facility."

  No one asked if we'd get the information out of him. If the Committee signed off on this... there would be no interrogation rooms.

  Just bodies.

  We left within the hour.

  Two black SUVs, tinted windows. Theo drove, knuckles tight around the wheel. Klaus rode shotgun, cleaning his revolver like we were heading to a funeral.

  I watched the city slip by through the glass — old buildings and winding canals, little boats rocking against stone walls. It all felt so fragile.

  The manor loomed at the edge of the city — a stone carcass half-swallowed by ivy and rust. Floodlights carved pale circles into the mud, their beams sweeping slow across barbed fences and guards posted like statues. Even from this far out, I could smell what they were.

  Spliced. Half-human. Half-something else.

  Irma's voice filled my ear — steady, clipped, the way it always was before bloodshed.

  "Klaus, Bruce — perimeter. Lindo, Bianca — south wing. Theo and Gugu... with me."

  No one argued.

  Irma moved first, a green coat wrapped tight around her ribs. The moon caught the silver glint of her blade as she vanished into the dark.

  Theo nudged me forward, "You hot?"

  I flexed my fingers, feeling the heat stir beneath my skin — low and steady, waiting "Always."

  The first guard didn't get a chance to scream.

  Theo slipped behind him — blade under the jaw, slicing clean. I caught the second before he could turn, pressing one burning palm against his chest. His ribcage caved inward, heart boiling inside the bone.

  We left their bodies smoking in the grass.

  No alarms. No sound.

  Just death soaking into the dirt.

  Inside, the walls were lined with velvet and dust. Chandeliers hung like broken ribs. The whole place smelled... wrong. Like bleach failing to cover rot.

  We cleared room after room — shadows and whispers swallowed by our silencers. Bianca counted bodies through the comms, her voice too flat to be bored.

  "Seven."

  "Twelve."

  "Nineteen."

  The library was at the heart of the manor. Willem De Klerk sat behind a desk, tea steaming at his elbow, like he hadn't built an abomination under his own floors.

  Irma's pistol leveled between his eyes, "Where's the facility?"

  He barely glanced up, "You think you're saving anyone?"

  His smile was the kind men wear when they believe in what they're doing.

  "We're not making monsters. We're refining evolution."

  Irma broke his jaw with one hand.

  Whatever she whispered into his bleeding mouth made him talk.

  The mill waited north — a gutted skeleton tucked beneath the shipping yards. The place had burned centuries ago when the first Chimera tore through the village. The Committee buried the story. Left the ruins to rot.

  But secrets never stay buried.

  By the time we reached the entrance, the stench had already worked its way under my skin — something sweet and spoiled clinging to the walls.

  Irma raised her hand, two fingers flicking forward.

  "Pairs."

  I fell in behind her.

  We found the bodies first — strung up behind rusted machinery, drained dry. They weren't human.

  Harvesting.

  That's what they were doing. Breaking them down into parts — claws, fangs, venom sacs — cutting and stitching until something worse was born.

  The first Chimera crawled out of the basement.

  Half-wolf. Half-crow. Eyes stitched shut. Wings fused to its spine.

  Lindo shot it through the heart. It kept coming. Bruce beheaded it. It kept twitching.

  I had to melt it down to bones before it stopped moving.

  They waited for us in glass tanks — rows of them, floating in yellow fluid, eyes flickering behind the glass. Some were half-formed — ribs yawning open, limbs stretched too long. Others were whole — stitched smiles carved into gray faces, their souls trapped behind yellow eyes.

  Irma's voice never shook.

  "Kill order stands."

  They were monsters.

  I told myself that. Over and over.

  But when I moved between the tanks, some of them reached for the glass — weak fingers pressing against the fogged surface.

  Some of them cried.

  Bianca mummers, "I can't—"

  "You can."

  Irma's knife flashed once.

  The others backed away.

  That's why they'd brought me. They always did.

  Lava doesn't ask questions. Lava doesn't weep.

  I let the heat rise — molten hunger filling my veins. My palms blistered. Sweat turned to steam.

  The first tank cracked — glass, fluid, stitched flesh melting into black sludge.

  Then the second.

  Then the third.

  They screamed. Not human. Not beast. Something in between.

  I hated how quickly they burned.

  By the time it was done, the walls were black, the floor slick with ash.

  Irma laid a hand on my shoulder — light, steady.

  "You did the right thing."

  I didn't answer.

  The Committee would call it a victory. A necessary act.

  The city would go to bed without ever knowing what had been built beneath their feet.

  No one would ask who signed the orders. Who made the first cuts.

  No one ever does.

  By dawn, we were on a train out of Ghent. Zac's arm was gone. Bianca's ribs would never heal right.

  The rest of us carried the weight — tucked behind our teeth, pressing against our lungs.

  I watched the sun rise over endless fields. The heat still clung to my skin beneath the jacket, coiled and waiting.

  I did the right thing.

  That's what I kept telling myself.

  I wondered how long it would take before the lie stopped tasting like ash.

  ***

  I couldn't sleep that night.

  Theo snored softly beside me, one arm draped across my waist like he'd forget where I was if he let go. I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling until the first cracks of dawn stretched across the sky.

  By the time we made it downstairs for breakfast, the others were already at the table — Klaus nursing a black coffee, Bianca with her curls tucked under a silk scarf, Bruce halfway through his third plate of eggs.

  Lindo tapped away at his phone, probably texting one of his side pieces. Theo slid in next to me, yawning as he reached for the coffee pot.

  Irma was nowhere to be seen.

  I didn't expect her to be.

  Twenty minutes passed before the door opened and she walked in — hair pinned into a pony tail in a dark suit pristine like she'd never even touched a bed.Her eyes flicked across the table, checking faces. "We know who made them."

  The whole room went still.

  Lindo's phone clicked off. Bruce set down his fork.

  Irma dropped a file onto the table.

  "Willem De Klerk. Former biochemist for the Dutch government. Went off the grid three years ago. The Committee's been tracking his movements, but this..." She tapped the folder. "This is new."

  I opened the file, flipping through photos of the manor — all cold stone and wrought iron gates, tucked deep into the Ghent countryside.

  "They're calling it the Foundry." Irma said. "That's where he's making them. But the Chimeras aren't stored there wait something is off... I have said that before..."

  Klaus's sharp blue eyes cut toward her. "Where are they kept then?"

  Irma's lips pressed together spaced out for a moment, "W... we head to the manor which is a front. We lean on De Klerk, he'll give us the location excalt location of the sight... I see you." Irma said as she took out a knife and run it besides her neck till blood shot up in the air and she spun around grabbing something mid air and stabbed it so many times that she was covered in red and when this person dropped to the floor everything fractured.

  Walls bent. Light folded in on itself. The whole world cracked like glass.

  We were back at the manor.

  Willem was at his desk. The tea still steaming.

  I felt the heat in my chest spike — rage boiling under my ribs.

  A loop.

  They played us.

  Irma's gun barked. Willem's head snapped back — body crumpling to the floor. But the smile stayed stretched across his slack mouth.

  Fake. A puppet.

  The scent of burnt gunpowder hung thick in the air. Irma stared at the body, her eyes flicking over every detail — the blood pooling wrong, the way the fingers twitched even after death. The whole time, her face stayed carved from stone.

  Theo stepped forward, "Loop’s broken... he’s dead."

  Irma didn't answer.

  Her hand shot out — fingers wrapping tight around the puppet's slack jaw. She pried it open, pushing past teeth until her thumb caught on something tucked behind the tongue.

  A capsule.

  Glass, thin as a film.

  She crushed it between her nails, and a wet hiss filled the room — black liquid burning away against her skin like acid.

  "Delayed trigger." she murmured. "His body was buying time."

  None of us missed the way her knuckles clenched, "They knew we'd get this far. The lab’s already burned... but the shipment’s still intact, it's on his cargo plane since they planning on containing it just incase things went left field it's the 23G model with the hawk painted on the back."

  I shifted where I stood, "How do you know?"

  Her eyes flicked up, "Because we’re still alive."

  Bianca's voice crackled over the comms, "Irma, what’s more valuable than making new Chirmera's?"

  "A way to control them." Irma said.

  The air shifted we all felt it — that cold pulse crawling under the skin. Like something waking up.

  Theo turned first, knife raised. I felt the heat surge through me on reflex, palms simmering. But Irma was already reaching into her coat — pulling out a thin vial wrapped in cloth.

  A siren's bone.

  She snapped it between her fingers.

  The cry that spilled out of the hollow tube was barely more than a whisper — low and wet, like something scraping against glass from the other side.

  And the thing that answered...

  It was already here.

  "My assumption is true they were using tge corpes of a siren to kidnap the people who would be used for experimentation." Irma said

  As a hulking figure broke through the wall, limbs twisted through the dark, joints bending wrong. Water leaked from its open mouth — salt dripping down a neck marbled with stitch scars. It hung in the air like a puppet dragged up by unseen strings.

  Irma's voice stayed flat. "They're reanimating them now we all know the rules about confranting a siren avoidance means life fight means death but I ask all of you to buy me sometime so we can finish this mission, it's a corpse not the real thing I know you won't have issues."

  It attacked first.

  Just a blur of twisted limbs and raw strength — faster than something that size had any right to be.

  Klaus covered his body with a winds moving at high speed that mange to cut part of the siren's hand but it punched straight through the wind sending him into the wall.

  Theo's knife caught it in the side of the neck — steel glinting under the flickering lights. But the siren didn't bleed. The blade stayed buried in muscle, and the stitched seams bulged, sealing around the steel.

  Bianca opened fire from behind, bullets hammering into its back with hails of bullets— but the damn thing didn't stop moving.

  It turned — faster than any corpse should — and threw Theo across the room like a ragdoll.

  The air cracked as Lindo vaulted over the table, blade carving into its shoulder — muscle splitting like wet fabric — but the siren's arm lashed out and caught him mid-air, slamming him against the ceiling hard enough to bend metal beams.

  It was mindless, but that made it worse.

  No fear. No pain.

  It just kept coming.

  I blurred into motion — heat rippling from my palms as I slid low under one of its arms and slammed my fist into its ribs — molten cracks splitting through dead flesh.

  The siren flinched.

  Barely.

  But the smell of burning meat filled the air.

  Theo carved another gash across its spine — this time the blade caught bone — but the siren grabbed him and tossed him halfway across the room.

  Bianca was firing steel into its head — but the thing just kept twisting and lunging, time she made the projectiles faster more durable it wouldn't stop.

  Klaus rose from the rubble, and used Bianca offense to get close enough to press his against what was left of it's chest and he unleashed a blast of compressed air.

  Boom.

  The slug blasted straight through.

  The siren staggered.

  But the wound was already stitching shut.

  Irma's voice stayed steady from the back.

  "Thirty seconds."

  The thing charged — claws dragging through stone, mouth yawning wide enough to split its own jaw.

  We broke it down piece by piece — every hit slower than the last — but the damn thing wouldn't stay down.

  My lava burned through chunks of muscle — but the dead flesh just knitted itself tighter.

  Theo's blade flicked out again — severing tendons — but the limbs kept moving without them.

  Klaus' compressed air shredded it's flesh — but the corpse wouldn't fall.

  It took all of us — all of us — just to pin it in place for a handful of seconds at a time.

  Irma's voice cut through the chaos.

  "Ten."

  The siren threw Bianca clean across the room, her molten blood splattering against the walls.

  Theo buried a knife straight through its empty eye socket — the blade punching out the back of its skull. The siren twitched — head snapping sideways — but it just kept moving.

  "Five."

  Lindo jammed the barrel of her pistol under its chin and emptied the whole clip — blood spraying across the ceiling.

  It didn't stop.

  "Three."

  Theo locked both arms around its throat, straining as his skin stretched tight — strength surging through his veins — but the siren's body barely even buckled.

  It grabbed him by the wrist — bones snapping — and flung him across the room.

  "One."

  Irma stood up, "Fall."

  The word came out soft — but the world obeyed.

  A pinpoint of light blinked into existence in front of her, this point no larger than a marble floated in the air.

  Then everything bent.

  The walls curved inward — stone groaning as their own weight dragged them toward that singular point.

  The floor stretched.

  The ceiling twisted.

  I staggered back — heart hammering in my ribs — but there was nowhere to go.

  Every step curved back on itself — like I was trapped in a spiral tightening with each breath.

  I looked up.

  The sky itself was folding — clouds smeared into thin streaks, stars bending into slow, lazy curves — dragged across the horizon toward that tiny hole.

  Reality was collapsing.

  Not breaking.

  Not warping.

  Folding.

  Like every inch of space between here and as far as my eyes could see had been nothing but paper — and Irma was creasing it between her fingers.

  My stomach flipped as I felt a hand on my back before I was thrown into this folding abyss.

  I thought I was going to die and closed my eyes and then I started falling, "I didn't know the afterlife had air." I opened my eyes and well it wasn't the afterlife so I turned trying to get my bearings looking back to see it was who did this but the was no one.

  Even the manor wasn't visible.

  The was nothing behind me but the same endless black and bits of white, I turned around and the plane was right there.

  Irma had stitched the distance between the plane and I.

  I took off midair and flew the sonic boom echoed throughout the sky as I closed the distance.

  The engines howled — red lights blinking in the dark — but I caught up quick, the hawk painted on the back a clear bullseye and when I touched it all the heat rolling through my bones swelled up.

  I slammed both hands into the hull — fingers burning straight through the steel — cutting into the plane like it was made of butter.

  Irma had played her part.

  Now it was my turn.

  Guards spilled into the cargo bay — rifles snapping up — but I barely slowed down. I carved through them — skin blistering under my palms — until their screams melted into the wind but I only knocked then out.

  Then the Chimera stepped out from the shadows.

  Bigger than the last ones I had fought in thw loop.

  It wings dragged low against the floor — bat-leather stretched over barbed bone. Its breath steamed through fanged jaws, eyes burning white behind patchwork stitches.

  It grinned was it alive or a muscle tick.

  The plane buckled beneath us.

  I fought like I always did — heat rolling through every punch, every kick — but the damn thing kept knitting itself back together.

  Demon blood.

  I ripped a wing off at the joint. It grew back.

  I scorched half its face into molten bone. It grinned wider.

  The plane was already breaking apart around us.

  I made my choice.

  I grabbed the Chimera by the throat — fingers melting through its patchwork skin.

  The sonic boom ripped the night apart — the last pieces of the plane breaking behind me in a wash of flame and twisted steel.

  Higher.

  Wind screamed in my ears.

  The Chimera thrashed — claws carving into my ribs, snapping through flesh and bone — but I held on.

  Higher.

  The stars smeared into streaks of white.

  My lungs burned — breath turning to smoke in the thinning air — but I could feel the heat building underneath my skin.

  That molten thing inside me, rolling through muscle and marrow.

  It howled against my palm — jaws stretching wide, too many teeth snapping at my face.

  Its wounds were closing as fast as I made them. Flesh knitting itself back together — faster than any werewolf, faster than any vampire I'd ever seen.

  No silver. No fire. Nothing would kill it.

  Unless...

  I stopped trying to burn through it.

  And started burning it from the inside and outside.

  I let go.

  Lava poured from my palms — thick and glowing — filling its mouth, its lungs, its veins.

  It bucked — shrieking as molten light spilled from its eyes, from the seams stitched into its throat and I flew faster burning it from the outside as well.

  But I didn't stop.

  Not until there was nothing left but ash — smoke swirling in the cold, thin air.

  I opened my hand.

  What was left of the Chimera scattered to the wind.

  I looked down at my palms — scarred, blistered — the heat still burning beneath the surface.

  Nothing left.

  Not even bones.

  Something flickered in the corner of my eye.

  I squinted — raising a hand against the glare — and saw the sun breaking over the horizon.

  A new day.

  The mission was done.

  I floated there for a while — clouds painted gold beneath my feet, ribs aching, lungs raw — watching the world wake up below me and looking at this view was worth it, such beauty made me feel... good.

  Bye.