Arc Two continues.
After peace comes the summons, and our team finds themselves faced with whispers of something unthinkable: a newborn child claimed to be a demon.
But is it madness, trauma, or something darker stirring beneath the surface?

Thank you for journeying further into the unknown.
Every answer will lead to deeper questions.

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We disembark from the boat, sand shifting underfoot as the breeze greets us like gossip come alive.

I swear, the captain sighed in relief the moment we stepped off. Maybe it was the wind. Maybe it was the weight of knowing he had just ferried a divine soap opera across cursed waters.
Either way, he did not look back.

Samuel's phone rings first.
Then Lady Elsa's.
Then Alec's.
Mine? Blissfully dead, exactly as I intended.

Samuel approaches, phone glowing, face unreadable.
I raise a hand without even looking at him. "Nope. Not yet. I'm going home. I'm going to take the longest, warmest, most spiritually unproductive bath of my entire afterlife."

He opens his mouth. I take a dramatic step back, hand still raised. "Then I'm going to order everything on the junk food list, eat it all, and reintroduce my anxiety to carbs."

Samuel lifts a brow. "Anxiety? You just came back from paradise, not purgatory."

I sigh, giving him a tired smile. "After watching Seth and Eric try to turn paradise into purgatory over me, I think I've earned it."

"But Max, this is important. The kind of important that gets us all yelled at later if I don't say it now."

"I said no, Sam." I pull a face. "I feel crusty, oily, spiritually wrung out, and I smell like something the tide threw back. Don't ruin this moment for me."

Seth chuckles beside me, low and warm. "I think she means it, Samuel. I feel the same. I think you do, too."

I glance at him, lips twitching. "Good. Maybe next time you and Eric can settle it without the atmosphere needing therapy."

He slips an arm around me, breath steady, the scent of sea and smoke still clinging to him and winks at Samuel. "We'll meet at the house tonight. Eight sharp."

At eight on the dot, the front gate chimes, and moments later, the gang steps into our home, our new headquarters.
No longer just a house. Now a fortress dressed as a palace: white stone, glass etched with scripture, halls wide enough to host kings or angels.

I set fruit platters on the table, the scent of mango and strawberries filling the space while tension hides in the corners. Then I drop beside Seth.
Only Eric and his team are missing. A twinge rises; I flick it away like lint.

"Alright," I say. "I am clean, fed, and emotionally moisturized. What was so urgent you nearly ruined my reunion with hot water?"

Alec speaks, voice heavier than usual.
"Samuel and I went over the calls on the way here. They are all about the same thing."
He grabs a few grapes, chews slowly, then says it like he is still wrapping his mind around the words.
"A woman, around thirty, tried to kill her newborn at a hospital this morning."

My breath stumbles. I blink once.
"Wow," I say quietly. "Just… wow."

The room shifts. The fruit suddenly feels too sweet, the silence too loud.

Jamey, elbow-deep in the platter, mumbles through a mouthful, "She says the kid was born with horns and hooves for feet."
He swallows, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and adds, "Claims the baby's a demon."

Beside me, Seth repeats in my exact tone, "Wow. Just… wow."
I jab him in the ribs. "That's copyright."
He grins, unfazed.

I shift forward. "Did anyone we know actually see the baby?"
Alec answers under his breath, almost reluctantly. "Gabriel."

Oh. His nemesis. Lovely.

Jamey is halfway through another handful of grapes.
"Hey, slow down, you fruit-vacuum," I said, smirking. "Save some for the rest of us."
I pluck a grape from the platter and lob it at his head. "And what does our dearest Gabriel have to say about demon babies?"

Samuel sighs, a deep, tired sound like someone who would rather be anywhere else.
"He did not see any horns or hooves. Apparently, we've moved past the classics. But," he pauses, "he picked up something wrong. A heavy aura. The kind that made him decide this was a Max and Seth situation."

I frown, reaching into my pocket for my phone. The screen lights up with five missed calls from Gabriel.
I do not mention it.

Seth stirs beside me, posture shifting from relaxed to ready.
"Which hospital?"
"St. Helena's Medical Centre," Samuel replies, voice hushed like the name itself carries weight.

Samantha returns from the hallway, drying her hands with a towel.
"I know that hospital. It does charity work, mostly for the poor and the homeless. It is not unusual for their patients to slip through the cracks. It is worth looking into this woman's background."

She turns to her brother. "Has anyone pulled her file yet?"

Lady Elsa, ever prepared, reaches into her leather satchel and produces a folder.
"Name: Elizabeth. Thirty-two. Divorced. Lives with an elderly aunt. The child is not her ex-husband's."

She hands the documents to me, and I glance through the summary.
"The father of the baby," Lady Elsa continues, voice grim, "is her uncle."

I look up slowly. Everyone is silent now.
"So this could be trauma," she adds, "disguised as delusion. Or something darker wearing human skin."

Seth, ever the voice of reason, speaks up, calm but already dismantling the chaos.
"Let us not assume anything until we have met this woman and seen the child ourselves."
That's our Seth, a walking archive of logic, a one-man library of inconvenient truths.

He continues, eyes narrowing slightly as his thoughts spool into words.
"Regardless of her relationship with her uncle, and even if this is rooted in trauma, why describe horns and hooves? Why not simply say the child is a demon? Why add those specific details?"

The room falls silent.
No sarcasm from Jamey. No commentary from Alec.
Even Lady Elsa looks up, brows slightly furrowed.

And honestly? I have to agree.
I turn toward Seth. "You are right. And Gabriel is not exactly known for scaring easily. Something about this child unsettled him enough to call us."

Jamey leans back, arms stretched above his head like he is trying to crack the tension in his spine.
"So. What's the plan?"

Seth and I speak at the same time.
"It's…"
We both stop, glance at each other.
Jamey freezes mid-stretch, one eye squinting.
"What are you two now, spiritually conjoined?"

A grape meets his face, square on the cheek.
I clear my throat, victorious.
"As I was trying to say, it is too late to act tonight. You guys should sleep over. We will head to the hospital at nine in the morning and check out this demon-baby situation then."

I scan the room, meeting each gaze in turn.
"Sound good?"
One by one, heads nod.

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Moonlight spills across the floor.
Seth is warm against my back, hand resting lightly on my hip.
Still, my thoughts circle the same question.

"What do we do if the baby really is a demon?"
He rubs slow circles between my shoulders. "We cannot kill a newborn, can we?"
I do not answer, only hum softly, exhaustion blurring faith and fear.

He pulls me closer, voice fading. "We will figure it out tomorrow. Sleep first. See what the morning brings."

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We are ten minutes from the hospital when my phone buzzes.
Gabriel.
I answer, expecting, hoping, for something polite. Something resembling human warmth.

Instead: "I'm at entrance two. When are you arriving?"
No hello. No "how was the honeymoon?"
Okay. That last bit might have been too hopeful. But still… manners?
"Ten minutes," I reply flatly.
Then hang up.
Back to you, Mr. Gabriel.

Right on cue, we meet him at Entrance Two.
I do not look at him, just keep walking as I pass, my voice low but clear.
"Take us to the mother first."
He says nothing, just obeys.