Behind the tv anchors is a live graphic of the U.S. map, with California, Nevada, Arizona, and Oregon flashing red overlays. Below it, a ticker scrolls:
“BREAKING: Red Hollow Disaster / New York Impact / 2.6M Dead”
ANCHOR (male, early 40s, dark suit, gray tie, bags under his eyes):
“Good evening. One month ago, the quiet forest of Redwood Hollow, California became ground zero for an event that emergency responders are still struggling to define. The destruction spread across state lines—effecting portions of California, Nevada, Arizona, and even reaching into southern Oregon.
Satellite images show scorched earth, massive sinkholes, and what geologists have described as non-natural atmospheric collapse. Civilians reported everything from buildings crumbling in slow motion… to, and I quote: black chains curling through the sky… and a ‘huge freakin’ tornado that wasn’t touching the ground.’”
CO-ANCHOR (female, late 30s, short brown bob, blue blouse, visibly rattled):
“Can we… pause for a second? I just—black chains? A tornado that’s not touching the ground? This sounds like something out of a movie. We’re airing this live. Are we—are we seriously running with these descriptions?”
ANCHOR (rubbing eyes, nodding slightly):
“We are. Because that’s what’s being reported. And I wish I could say it ended there.”
A beat.
“Yesterday. Just a month later, as the nation was still reeling… New York City was hit.”
CO-ANCHOR (quietly):
“Times Square…”
ANCHOR (leans forward, voice low and deliberate):
“In just under six minutes, forty-four percent of the city was either leveled or permanently altered. Iconic landmarks: gone. Subway lines: collapsed. Power grids: melted.
More than 2.6 million people are confirmed dead, and over 4 million injured. We have cell phone videos showing entire streets splitting in half. Civilians were—again, I hate reading this—sliced apart by invisible forces. As well as shadowy knights blowing up parts of the city.
There are reports of gunfire that, by multiple sources, appeared to only target young women. Firefighters on the scene described purple flames that wouldn’t go out even underwater.
And near downtown—surveillance caught what appears to be a black sphere, completely still… just there while chaos unfolded around it. Until it was sliced open… down the middle…”
CO-ANCHOR (visibly shaken):
“And then the—creatures…”
ANCHOR:
“Yes. Fish-like creatures… clawed, translucent, some the size of compact cars… pulling themselves into reality. Or at least… what looked like reality at the time. Many faded from view within seconds, but not before dozens of eyewitnesses caught them on camera. You’ve seen the footage online.”
CO-ANCHOR:
“Thousands of people are still missing. Nobody’s giving clear answers. People are terrified. Is this another attack? Is it natural? Is it something new entirely? The internet is calling it the Second Pulse. Some are connecting it back to Red Hollow. But nobody knows what it is.”
ANCHOR (facing camera directly):
“The White House released a statement earlier today, calling this an ‘unprecedented multi-regional disaster under investigation.’ No details. No clarity. Just more questions.
Tonight, millions of Americans are asking:
What just happened to our country?
And more importantly—what’s next?”
CO-ANCHOR (softly):
“We’ll keep following. Stay with us for ——
She clicked the TV off with a soft chuckle, stretching as she rose from her couch. The dim glow of the news broadcast still lingered on the walls of her loft—a warm, sunlit space nestled on the outskirts of the city, just far enough to escape the chaos that had swallowed New York whole. The space was cozy yet vibrant: hardwood floors polished to a soft shine, potted plants in mismatched ceramic pots, a record player in the corner, books stacked messily along the walls. Her sneakers slid across a braided rug as she twirled, golden hair catching the light like a slow fire. Her golden eyes gleamed with amusement, lashes long and sharp against pale skin.
She wore a simple white hoodie, its sleeves scrunched to her elbows, paired with ripped blue jeans and a pair of well-worn, pillowy sneakers. A small gold pin shimmered in her hair—subtle, but elegant. She spun once, then again, before laughing freely, the sound bouncing off the exposed brick.
Someone tried to copy her.
She knew it the moment she saw the results—an attempt to create structure out of chaos, to shape the unknown into something palatable, explainable. A hypothesis. She even had a good idea of who was behind it. But it didn’t matter. Not really.
Because while others theorized and reacted, she was already changing the foundation of the equation.
What began as speculation had become evolution. And now? Now it was transcendence. The world was no longer fixed—it was fluid, pliable, and she was stirring the waters.
Her dance slowed as her thoughts drifted to a variable she found far more compelling: Savannah. The girl was still unaware of what she represented. She had survived Red Hollow. She had been spared by Mason Marwell. And now she stood at the intersection of every fracture—close to all three of the active subjects, floating deeper into the current with every breath.
“She’ll be perfect,” the woman whispered to herself, grabbing a glass of water as she stared out at the fractured skyline. “Unpredictable… yet.” She smiled. “Full of potential.”
Governments were scrambling. Agencies—E.R.O., A.A.A.P., T.R.O, even Cults and the Church—were mobilizing, theorizing, preparing their countermeasures. But none of them truly understood the game they’d been pulled into. Their alarms and protocols were nothing but noise to her now.
Because with each collapse, each anomaly, each desperate attempt to force order back into a world slipping from their grasp…
They were only bringing her Desire one step closer to reality.
Phase Three was already beginning.
———
This was awkward. Extremely awkward.
And not because he was strapped down like a lunatic—cuffed to both the floor and the table. No, that part he could live with.
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What made this unbearable was the girl standing in front of him.
She wore a green hoodie and black shorts. Her red hair was twisted into a messy bun, but her emerald eyes were crystal clear in their message.
He sighed.
“Can’t answer the question?”
His eyes flicked up. “Well, no, it’s just—”
“Strange,” she cut him off, voice flat. “Strange your stupid ass is alive. Yeah.”
“You don’t have to be so—”
“Fuck you.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Like hell you didn’t!” She lunged forward, slamming her palms onto the table with enough force to rattle it against the bolts. “Everyone’s dead because of you. Because of your sick, twisted fucking mind, Howard!”
Aura flared around her like fire, painting her silhouette in a violent shimmer. The chains at his ankles clinked as he instinctively leaned back.
He didn’t need powers to feel how close she was to snapping.
And she didn’t need powers to finish what Red Hollow started.
He sneered, body jerking against the restraints. “That wasn’t me! I didn’t do that!”
Savannah’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “Seemed like you. Talked like you.”
“Can you just—”
“Oi! Just answer my question, you piece of shit, so some good can come from your pathetic—”
“Stop talking to me like that,” he snapped, voice cracking with something between anger and desperation. “What happened wasn’t easy.”
“Oh, it wasn’t easy?” Her aura flashed, bending the metal of the table. “What part? Ripping everyone apart? Burning them alive? Forcing them to fucking dance in the flames?”
He looked away, jaw tight.
“Or wait—” she leaned in, voice dropping, poisonous, “—was it when you forced everyone to fucking RAPE EACH OTHER—”
“I DIDN’T DO IT!” he roared, face red, eyes wild.
Silence hit the room like a gunshot.
Then Savannah’s palms slammed the table again. She didn’t even know what she was saying anymore—her voice was shaking, her throat raw, every word pulled from the gaping wound inside her chest. She didn’t care if her accusations were jumbled, messy, or blurred.
She hated him.
She hated him so much.
How dare he sit here breathing. How dare he look confused. How dare he think he had the right to defend himself. To claim innocence. To exist.
“You don’t get to fucking talk,” she spat, trembling. “You don’t get to explain. You don’t get to pretend you’re the victim. You killed them. All of them. And you think you get to sit here and tell me it ‘wasn’t easy’?”
He shrank back, for the first time looking genuinely afraid of her.
And she… didn’t care.
Savannah wanted him gone from the world.
Wanted him erased.
Wanted him punished in every way a person could be punished.
Because whether he remembered it, understood it, or denied it—
He was the face burned into her nightmares.
“I really didn’t…” Howard stammered, shifting in his restraints. “After you left me, I got attacked and—”
“Then you should be dead,” Savannah cut in sharply.
He blinked at her, stunned. “The Demurge… it like—fused with me…”
“I was briefed on your “story”.” She put up quotations.
“Then why are you here?” he pleaded. “If you already know, then why—”
“They think me talking to your stupid ass will make you more honest.”
“But I haven’t been difficult! I just— I just wanna go home.”
"A lot of people would also like to go home,” Savannah said coldly. “Too bad you ripped them open.”
He swallowed hard. “I didn’t— I swear, Savannah, I d-don’t—”
“Also,” she continued, ignoring him entirely, “a fucking creep like you shouldn’t be allowed out. How are you alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you do,” she whispered, leaning in. “Howard.” Her voice dripped with mock sympathy. “What, you think you're an anime character or something? ‘Ooh the demon inside me made me do it.’”
Her smile sharpened into something cruel.
“Let’s be clear, dumbass. This isn’t how that works. Humans don’t just get powers. You tricked me. Tried to play with my body. So I want you to be crystal clear on why.”
She placed her palms on the table and slowly leaned forward until their faces were inches apart.
“Because if you think I can’t hurt you faster than they can stop me,” she murmured, soft as venom, “you’re even dumber than I thought.”
Howard trembled so badly the cuffs rattled.
“So,” Savannah said, green eyes burning, “what the fuck did you mean when you said I’m part of your experiment? You disgusting Demurge.”
“I’m not—” he began.
She slapped him.
Hard.
Hard enough his lip split and blood smeared down his chin. The chair screeched back, and he whimpered.
“That’s not answering my fucking question.”
Her aura hummed, hot and dangerous, swirling like a storm about to break open.
Howard stared at her, breathing raggedly—
and finally, he broke. Tears started running down his face as he trembled.
“Well, that wasn’t very nice.”
Savannah froze.
That wasn’t Howard’s voice.
It was new.
It was familiar.
And it was terrifying.
Her pulse spiked as she stared at him—strapped in a white-and?grey straightjacket, chained to the floor and table, brown hair longer than before. He looked the same: weak, fragile, no horns, no aura, nothing.
No reason he should sound like that.
“Please… shut up,” Howard whispered through split lips.
“Well she’s not exactly being pleasant about this whole ordeal,” the voice continued cheerfully, “and besides—she’s mad at me, not you.”
Savannah’s breath hitched. “What the fuck is going on?!”
Howard winced, then slowly turned his head.
Savannah’s stomach dropped into her shoes.
A mouth had opened on the side of his cheek—grinning wide, full of sharp, crooked teeth.
And beside it sat a single swirling, pupil-less eye.
No color.
No focus.
Just spiraling darkness.
“Oi…” Savannah whispered.
“Hello, Savannah,” the entity purred. “We meet again.”
Savannah’s skin prickled. “Howard, what game are you—”
“It’s not a game,” he murmured, tears beading. “I was trying to explain. But you… you wouldn’t listen, so…”
“All that anger,” the entity said warmly, “my dear Savannah, should be directed at me.”
Savannah didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
Howard kept his gaze on the table, shaking.
“Please,” the entity said politely. “Take a seat. We’ll explain everything.”
She didn’t sit.
Her breathing was too heavy.
Her hands were trembling.
“Please,” it insisted again, still maddeningly calm. “This isn’t a trap. I’m far too weak to take over his body right now. Not after my last fight.”
“Last fight?” she asked sharply.
“Yes. And I lost… again.” The eye blinked sideways. “You Veythari are quite troublesome. This one was stronger than you, actually. I think his name was—”
“Crucible Knight,” Howard whispered.
“Ah! That’s the one. Wonderful fighter. Would love a rematch someday.” The mouth curled wider. “But since I lost, I’ll be a good sport and follow the rules.”
Savannah swallowed, throat dry. They fought a Riftkeeper and survived? How? And why did no one brief her about that?
After a long moment, she pulled the chair out and sat—never taking her eyes off that twisted side-face.
Howard trembled.
The entity smiled.
“So,” it began lightly, “I suppose I’ll—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Savannah snapped. “Only answer questions.”
“Wow,” it chuckled. “I—”
“I won’t repeat myself.”
A pause.
Then a soft, amused hum.
“Hmmm. I see. Very well. But before we begin…”
The swirling eye lowered slightly.
The jagged mouth softened into something almost human.
“I just want to say I’m… sorry.”
Savannah’s face flickered.
It wasn’t the reaction she expected.
Not even close.
“…What?” she breathed.
“I’m sorry,” the voice said. “For trying to defile your body. And for causing this whole mess. Truly.”
Savannah blinked.
Slowly.
Disbelieving.
“That doesn’t make sense.” Her glare snapped to Howard. “I swear—if this dipshit is—”
“He’s not,” Howard whispered, foggy blue eyes glued to the table. “It’s like you said. He’s just… the thing inside me.”
“Exactly.” The mouth on Howard’s cheek curled. “And I’m not a demon. I suppose I was a Demurge before, but that’s all gone now.”
Savannah stared at the warped eye spiraling on his face.
Then back at his normal one.
Her stomach churned.
“Then why,” she said, her voice shredding through the air, “did you torture and defile everyone else?”
The entity didn’t hesitate.
“I thought I was supposed to.”
Silence crashed between them.
It continued, tone maddeningly casual.
“As a Demurge, I was already destroying things. And when I settled inside Howard’s mind, I saw his thoughts—demons and quests, heroes and villains, worlds and stories of them clashing.”
The jagged teeth flexed.
“So it made sense to me that I was a demon. And I acted accordingly. Or… thought I was. Apparently the term “demon” has a much different meaning than Howard assumed.”
Savannah’s fist curled on the table.
“You think that makes it okay? You think that sweeps everything under the goddamn rug?”
“No,” Howard murmured.
“No,” the entity echoed at the same time, quicker, amused.
“I’m apologizing,” it continued, “because it’s what you do to someone you care about.”
Savannah stared at him like he’d sprouted a second, worse head. Which—technically—he had.
“Care about? What about everyone else?!”
“I don’t care about them,” it replied without shame. “But you and I have history. And one day…”
The spiraled eye gleamed.
“I want to defeat you.”
It took everything in Savannah not to lunge across the table and twist Howard’s head off—entity or not.
A baby monster doing cosplay.
That’s what killed everyone.
Her vacation.
Her classmates.
Her life.
The rage curled in her stomach like a fresh blade.
But she needed answers. And this thing—this confused, twisted parasite—was finally talking.
She inhaled slowly and leaned back in her chair.
“Oi,” she said. “Let’s start from the beginning.”
The entity perked up. “You accept my apology?”
“No.”
She leaned forward again, green eyes sharp enough to shred steel.
“Now tell me everything that happened leading up to our fight. And since everyone’s suddenly so innocent and sorry… let’s hope this doesn’t turn into a different kind of interrogation.”
Howard swallowed hard.
The entity smiled wide.
“What a reunion,” it purred.
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