The room beyond the glass hummed with quiet urgency.

  A reinforced observation window stretched across the far wall, its surface darkened just enough to reflect the figures inside while still allowing a clear view of Savannah, Howard, and the entity seated within. To the people watching note-screens and heart-rate monitors, it felt less like a room and more like a nerve center.

  Rows of operators filled the space.

  Some stood at angled consoles, fingers dancing across holographic interfaces that streamed biometric data—pulse spikes, aura null zones, cognitive overlap percentages. Others murmured into headsets, relaying timestamps and behavioral notes to unseen departments. A woman in a navy jacket adjusted spectral filters, cycling through wavelengths the naked eye couldn’t perceive, while a man beside her rewound footage frame by frame, marking the exact moment the entity smiled.

  Soft lights traced the ceiling in muted blues and whites, never bright enough to distract, never dim enough to miss a detail. Every screen showed something different: neural activity, audio isolation channels, environmental stress readouts, threat probability models steadily updating in the corner.

  This felt cruel.

  White Bullseye stood with her arms crossed, jaw tight, her white coat brushing against the sterile metal wall. Beside her, Doctor Yawlene adjusted her glasses—round lenses on a rounder face—her expression far too eager for Bullseye’s taste. Jason Foyer completed the trio, slouched in a rumpled black suit with a tie patterned in deflated party balloons, looking like he’d slept in it. Or never took it off.

  “It’s wrong,” Bullseye said, voice flat and stern.

  Jason nodded anyway. “Maybe. But it’s necessary. We need to see how Howard reacts to new stimuli—specifically emotional stress. If his feelings trigger the entity, we need to know now.” He shrugged, almost apologetic. “Red Gale was the best option for that.”

  Bullseye’s lip curled. She still hated it.

  Doctor Yawlene, however, brightened. “Orders from the top,” she reminded them. “Southern Commander Elesa Wyvern made the call herself. And honestly? Howard hasn’t been nearly as problematic as everyone predicted.” Her tone carried an uncomfortable note of excitement.

  Bullseye shot her a sideways glare. She found the doctor’s enthusiasm borderline disgusting—like watching someone enjoy dissecting something still alive.

  But orders were orders.

  Doctor Yawlene flipped through the tablet in her hands, skimming Howard’s chart with the precision of someone reading something far more exciting than it should’ve been.

  “Howard Fields,” she recited. “Eighteen. Strong academic record. Teachers say he’s quiet but motivated. Wants to be a marine biologist.” She tapped the screen. “And before the event—just like Zoey Bail—he had no supernatural abilities, no anomalous interactions, no aura irregularities. Completely baseline.”

  Jason exhaled through his nose. “That’s exactly why Red Gale has to be here. She’s the common thread in all of this.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, the balloons on his tie crinkling as he moved. “We’ve already briefed her, sure. But after the uproar Zoey caused a few days before the New York Explosion? We need to be one hundred percent certain that Red Gale was just… unlucky. Not corroborating.”

  White Bullseye clicked her tongue. “She’s one of my sharpest calves,” she said firmly. “And Zoey didn’t mean no harm in that mess. Girl just kicked up more dust than she realized.” She uncrossed her arms, the leather of her coat creaking. “And far as I can see, Howard and that thing inside him are givin’ Savannah the same story she already told us.” A long sigh followed. “Poor filly’s been through enough. And I still gotta tell her about Zoey… which I ain’t lookin’ forward to.”

  Yawlene’s eyes gleamed in a way that made Bullseye’s stomach turn. “That’s why this is important. Howard and the entity perform black magic and manifestation with no aura whatsoever. Two independent consciousnesses occupying one host. And Zoey—well, Zoey is a manifestation anomaly all by herself. After-images, rapid cognitive bursts, a gold aura that flickers in and out like a faulty sun… It’s remarkable.”

  Jason let his head fall back. “This is also to confirm they weren’t involved with New York,” he muttered. “We can’t afford assumptions anymore. The Devils Den made this a bigger issue than expected.”

  Bullseye didn’t respond. None of them did for a moment.

  Too much was happening, too fast. Entire cities collapsing, governments panicking, scientists arguing over words like impossible. And somehow, impossibly, three children—Savannah, Howard, and Zoey—sat at the center of it all.

  Different angles. Same point of convergence.

  The world was unraveling, and it kept leading back to them.

  ——

  [Back inside the interrogation room]

  “So after I left you,” Savannah said slowly, “a Demurge appeared and attacked you.”

  The entity smirked. “Which would be me.”

  “Shut the hell up.” She didn’t even look at it. “For some reason, the Demurge didn’t kill you—it fused with you.”

  Howard nodded once.

  “And you’re not sure how or why?”

  He shook his head.

  The entity clicked its tongue, impatient.

  Savannah turned her gaze to it. “And you don’t know how or why you fused with Howard?”

  “None,” it said. “I just remember crushing this vial—”

  Savannah’s heart dropped.

  “—and then a gold light, and then I was stalking you both through the forest. You couldn’t sense me. But when you left Howard behind… I felt… compelled, I suppose, to attack. And to fuse.”

  “A vial…” she whispered.

  “Yeah. Some silver pendant thing.”

  “That caused you to change?”

  “No clue.”

  Howard’s shoulders slumped. “It’s like I’ve been saying. I was attacked, and then this thing took over. I couldn’t control anything. The only time I had control was when you broke my ribs and tore my heart out.” He shivered.

  Savannah stared at the two of them—one face filled with sorrow, the other with curiosity bordering on hunger.

  “So this urge to fuse,” she said, “was different than your usual urge to be a nuisance?”

  “Yes,” the entity answered quickly. “But it’s hard to remember what I was like when I was a Demurge.”

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  She looked at Howard again. He exhaled quietly. “He’s telling the truth. I can see his memories too, and… yeah. They’re blurry. I have a few ideas why that could be, but—”

  “I don’t care.”

  Her tone cut the air cleanly. Whatever theories Howard had weren’t for her. Not right now.

  She needed to confirm they weren’t connected to New York. Or to Mason Marwell.

  “New York,” she said. “Tell me everything. Did either of you have anything to do with the Explosion? Or with Mason Marwell?”

  Howard shook his head hard. The entity echoed the denial, a flick of annoyance crossing its face.

  “And… the rift rebound?” she pressed. “Did you have something to do with it?”

  The entity gave a look that seemed like a shrug. “I was just as surprised by the rebound as you were. I didn’t even know what that term meant until recently. All I did was make the other Demurge waste your time.”

  Savannah let out a long, strained sigh.

  So they had no idea about Zoey. No involvement in New York. No link to Mason. Which meant the Devils Den was out too.

  Maybe it really had been two separate clusterfucks in one day.

  God help her if there was a third waiting.

  “You still haven’t explained what experiment you’re trying,” Savannah said.

  Howard shrugged helplessly.

  The entity beamed. “I’m not sure either!”

  “What?” Savannah blinked.

  “I’m not sure,” it repeated cheerfully. “I remember hearing it before I fused—unless it was after? Hard to say. Howard, you—”

  “Don’t say my name,” Howard snapped, jaw tightening. “And no. I don’t remember. I wasn’t conscious when you said whatever you said.”

  Savannah rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. Another dead end. Figures.

  She had her answers—well, some of them. Enough to rule out the worst possibilities, not enough to feel good about any of it. Howard was an asshole with a broken mind. The entity was basically a supernatural newborn with the personality of an idiot gremlin.

  And she still didn’t know which one scared her more.

  She drew a slow breath.

  ———

  Yawlene smirked as she folded her arms. “The Pendant of Oblivion couldn’t have caused this.”

  Jason and Bullseye both turned toward her at the same time.

  “We’ve already tested it on various creatures,” Yawlene continued smoothly. “Demurges. Demons. Gnomes, vampires, werewolves.” She tapped the side of her tablet. “And the substance itself is derived from the Lethean moth—a mythic parasite known for erasing memory simply by proximity. Total cognitive wipe, that we tampered with. No transformation effects.”

  She waved a hand dismissively. “So I wouldn’t fixate on the pendant.”

  Bullseye squinted. “Then what in the nine hells caused this?”

  “Not sure?” Yawlene shrugged. “It tortured and destabilized the camp because of Howard’s DND-inspired mindset. Imagination plus trauma plus a catalyst. That could explain….” Her lips twitched into a grin. “It can also exert control over other Demurges—which is ironic, because that makes it behave far more like a demon within its own species.” She let out a soft chuckle, clearly pleased.

  Bullseye frowned. “What ya yappin’ about, Doc?”

  Yawlene raised a stubby finger. “The point is—it mentioned something interesting. A through line.”

  Jason and Bullseye both waited.

  Yawlene’s smile widened. “It mentioned a gold light.”

  The words hung in the air.

  Slowly, realization crept across Jason’s face. Bullseye’s jaw tightened, her usual confidence faltering just a notch.

  Jason turned back toward the reinforced glass, staring at the three figures inside the room—Savannah, Howard, and the thing that shouldn’t exist.

  Maybe there was a connection after all.

  ———

  “I need you to really focus,” Savannah said, leaning forward. “Demurges don’t fuse with humans. Never have. So tell me—was a Lord or an Apostle involved?”

  Howard blinked.

  The entity tilted its eye back.

  Both of them looked genuinely confused.

  “The higher forms of Demurges,” Savannah snapped. “Howard, I literally explained this to you before.”

  He stared at her for a second longer than necessary, then blinked again. “Oh. Right…”

  She scoffed. “Dickhead. How could you—”

  “Stop.”

  The word cut clean through her.

  Savannah froze.

  That hadn’t been the entity.

  And judging by the way the entity’s single eye widened—its mouth pulling crooked in surprise—it hadn’t expected it either.

  She turned slowly. “You say something?”

  “Stop talking to me like that.”

  The voice was raw. Stripped of its usual timid tone.

  “You keep saying I’m guilty,” he continued, voice shaking. “But you see I’m innocent. You know that. And you still talk to me like I chose this. Like I deserve it.”

  Savannah’s eyes hardened. “Don’t play the—”

  “I AM THE FUCKING VICTIM!”

  The words detonated out of him.

  “I didn’t want to kill them! I didn’t want to mutilate my best friends’ faces!” His body trembled as he shook his head. “I can’t stop feeling their blood on my hands! I can’t stop hearing the camp's screams! Every time I close my eyes I see—”

  His voice broke.

  “So don’t stand there,” he sobbed, “don’t stand there all noble and privileged and tell me how fucking—how fucking—”

  He couldn’t finish.

  Tears streamed down his face, shoulders shaking as the words finally collapsed under their own weight.

  Savannah didn’t know what to say.

  Silence stretched between them.

  Then the entity clicked its tongue lightly.

  “Well, well,” it said, tone unbothered. “While you were all chatting, I had time to filter through his memories properly.”

  Savannah looked up.

  “No,” the entity continued. “It wasn’t a Lord. And it wasn’t an Apostle.” Its eye curved in something like amusement. “Funny thing, those terms. Very human.”

  It’s eye leaned back, thoughtful.

  “Whatever fused us,” it said, “was something else entirely.”

  “Whatever fused you?” Savannah repeated, forcing her breathing steady.

  “That’s the only logical explanation,” the entity replied. “I remember a smile. A gold light. That’s all. If How—”

  “Don’t say my name!” Howard snapped. “And I’m done talking.” He leaned back hard in the chair, jaw clenched.

  The entity chuckled. “Aww. He’s suppressing me.” Its eye slid toward Savannah. “Until next time, Sav—”

  The face sunk back into Howard’s cheek.

  Savannah stared. “So you can control—”

  “I said I’m DONE TALKING!” Howard shouted.

  She flinched despite herself. “Who the fuck—”

  The door slammed open.

  White Bullseye strode in, boots hitting the floor like punctuation, grabbing Savannah before it could get uglier, one hand raised, voice calm but carrying the kind of authority that didn’t need to shout.

  “That’s enough,” she said evenly. “Both of you.”

  Savannah didn’t answer. She just stared—pure, unfiltered daggers— locked on Howard like she was daring him to breathe wrong. Howard met her glare head-on, chin lifted, defiant and pissed.

  “Growing a pair now?” Savannah muttered.

  Howard barked a laugh, sharp and humorless. “Bitch, don’t talk to me. I’ve got nothing left to say to you.”

  “Oh, really?” Savannah shot back, taking a half step forward.

  “Fuck you.”

  That was as far as it got.

  Bullseye moved fast, planting herself solidly between them, one arm guiding Savannah back with surprising firmness. “Alright. We’re done here,” she said, tone calm.

  Savannah resisted for half a second—then let herself be steered toward the door, never breaking eye contact with Howard. Even as Bullseye ushered her out, Savannah twisted just enough to keep him in her sight, jaw clenched tight enough to ache.

  The door slid shut behind them.

  Almost immediately, it opened again—this time for the guards.

  Two of them entered, hands resting near restraints, posture professional and wary. Howard didn’t fight them. He didn’t even look at them. His eyes were still fixed on the closed door Savannah had gone through.

  They took him by the arms and guided him up.

  As they led him away, his expression finally shifted—not anger, not fear.

  Just something tightly locked down.

  And somewhere deep behind his eyes, something else waited.

  ———

  Bullseye didn’t let Savannah get more than three steps down the hall before she spoke, her tone dropping low.

  “Easy there, sugar. You’re wound tighter than a spooked steer. Ain’t doin’ you no favors.”

  Savannah stopped and turned on her. “How long,” she said flatly, “did you know Howard was alive?”

  Bullseye didn’t dodge it. “A while.”

  Savannah’s jaw clenched. “Then the photo. The body. That was fake?”

  Bullseye exhaled through her nose. “No it was real.”

  “Then how—

  “He rose from the dead, sugar.”

  Savannah eyes twitched.

  “And no one thought to mention a Riftkeeper interfered?” Savannah snapped. “No reports. Nothing. Why is he still breathing, Bullseye!?”

  Bullseye’s gaze hardened, the warmth draining from her drawl. “Because this ain’t our call. It’s upper-branch agenda. Above my hat brim.”

  Savannah laughed—short, sharp, ugly. “So that’s it? You just follow orders like a good lil—”

  “Careful.”

  The word came down like a gavel.

  Bullseye stepped closer, boots planted, voice low. “You don’t get to talk like that. Not to me. I don’t make the rules, but they keep this whole damn operation from fallin’ apart. And I’ve buried more bodies under those orders than you’ve had hot meals.”

  Savannah swallowed, the fight in her eyes flickering—not gone, but checked.

  Bullseye straightened her hat. “You wanna be mad, be mad. Hell, I’ll stand here and take it. But don’t mistake followin’ orders for not carin’. That’s a line you don’t cross.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  “Am I needed for anything else?” Savannah asked, her voice flat now. Controlled. “Because I’m pretty sure this whole thing was just to see if I could be trusted.”

  Bullseye sighed.

  “I ain’t stupid,” Savannah continued. “You know I wouldn’t work with a Demurge. Or a Judicator. Especially not Devil’s Den.”

  Bullseye nodded once. “That’s exactly why you’re not bein’ sidelined,” she said, drawl back but quieter now. “You’re on standby. That’s it. Close enough if we need you. Far enough if we don’t.”

  Savannah turned to leave, she was barely ten steps when she stopped.

  She didn’t look back at first. “Bullseye,” she said softly.

  Bullseye waited.

  “Is Zoey awake?”

  The pause that followed was just a little too long.