Tonight marks a shift.
The balance changes, power awakens, and one of the first-tier chosen finally stirs.
If you have been watching the signs, this moment may feel inevitable.

Read slowly.

Everything from here begins to change.

The spirits did not move.

They stood like an army carved from fog, not formed but summoned.
Their eyes, like white fire, drifted in shadow, staring at everything and nothing, as though seeing through us into the air itself.

Only when their hollow mouths folded shut did the sound die. The slow, nerve-splitting drone collapsed into a silence so thick it felt like the world exhaled.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, we dared to breathe.

Then, through the mist, came the living.

Men and women stepped out from among the spirits. Their skin looked almost translucent beneath the pulse of black stones clutched in their hands. The air around them shimmered wrong, like heat over tar. The stones throbbed once, twice, in unison, answering a heartbeat buried somewhere deep beneath the earth.

Seth and I both clutched our heads, wincing as the pulse slammed through our skulls. Alec, seemingly unaffected, rushed to my side, catching me before I could stumble.

“Max!” His hand steadied my shoulder, eyes wide. “What’s wrong? Is it the twins?”

I shook my head, grimacing. “No. Not them. It’s…” I pressed my fingers to my temple. “You don’t feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“The cosmic migraine from hell,” I said through a strained breath. “It’s in my skull like someone’s hammering tuning forks into my brain.”

The spirits no longer made a sound, yet the stones vibrated with such force that the air itself quivered, humming like broken strings. The frequency crawled beneath my skin, sank into bone, and the Scripture answered.

Something shifted under my skin.

The inscriptions didn’t just glow. They reacted.

A tremor rolled through the Living Scripture and the golden glyphs along my arms snapped awake, their lines rippling like a creature listening for danger. The pulse spread across my body, racing up my neck, down my spine, coiling over my ribs. Every symbol convulsed in unison, as if trying to escape the confines of flesh.

Then they rose.

Glyph after glyph peeled away from my skin, trembling, flickering, struggling against an unseen force. Some dissolved into glittering dust, others shattered like glass made of light before reforming midair, only to sink back into me and erupt outward again in the next heartbeat.

The air throbbed.

The Scripture pulsed once more, harder, almost snarling. Golden light shot outward in ragged lashes, striking the earth, the walls, and Alec before I could speak or breathe or stop it.

He grunted as lightning flared over him, shielding his body in a static halo. The sparks danced across his skin, retaliating against my Scripture in wild, crackling bursts.

I turned to Seth, breath caught tight.

The silver Breath did not flare like mine. It compressed. It tightened around him in spirals of cold light, each coil trembling as if holding back a storm. The mist flickered, then folded inward, pulling closer and closer until it pressed against his skin like invisible shackles.

His jaw clenched.

A muscle in his neck twitched.

The air around him thickened, distorting with a pressure that made my ears ring. Shadows bent toward him. Dew lifted. Even the ground beneath his feet sank a fraction, as though gravity itself struggled to decide which direction it belonged.

The Breath pulsed once, twice, then fractured into thin threads of silver, splintering like cracking ice. Some dissolved into stardust, others reformed, only to shudder and repeat the motion, restless and spiraling.

Seth exhaled sharply, a sound between restraint and pain.

The Breath circled him again, this time slower, tighter, protective, and volatile all at once.

I reached for him and he for me.

“Seth, what is happening? I cannot control the Living Scripture.”

I thought he would take my hand, but instead, he grabbed a chair and hurled it through the nearest window. His other hand shot forward, commanding the Breath to strike.

His body radiated a searing cold that gathered in his outstretched hand, then shot toward the enemy in ribbons of pale frostlight twisting through the air.  The temperature dropped so sharply that the window’s edges smoked. The frost didn’t stab, it devoured, spreading like a living mist that drained warmth and sound from everything it touched.

The air itself began to fracture under the pressure. For a heartbeat, it was glorious. Then the black stones pulsed again, and the frost solidified mid-motion, suspended like frozen lightning.

Seth bent forward as if the force inside him shifted sideways. The strain carved sharp lines across his face and for a moment his stance faltered, his body fighting against a power that no longer recognized him. The effort nearly tore through him.

I joined him. My Scripture burst from my skin in molten strands of gold, streaking toward the wielders. But, like the Breath, it halted midair, trembling in place.

“Whatever those stones are,” I gasped, “they’re confusing our Flame and Breath.”

The others tried to intervene, but the horror only deepened. My Flame and Seth’s Breath turned in unison to face us, swirling like divine serpents ready to strike.

Everyone froze.

I leaned forward, clutching my belly, sweat breaking out, every pore screaming in agony. I grabbed a chair, the table, anything that might keep me from collapsing. Samantha came to guide me to a seat but I pushed her hand away with all the strength I could muster. I turned to Seth and saw sweat sliding down his neck and realized then and there that his struggle was as painful as mine. The bond burned and froze within us, a shared pulse of betrayal from powers that once obeyed without question.

Seth’s voice cut through the tremor. “No one move. The Flame and Breath think we are the enemy.”

He stepped forward and placed himself between me and the storm. One arm moved behind him until his hand found mine, steady, sure, defiant. “And it might not end pretty if anyone attacks.”

The air thickened. The Flame writhed, golden strands coiling and snapping as though fighting invisible chains. The Breath twisted beside it, ribbons of frost spiraling in anguish. Both forces trembled, their light dimming, their movement frantic, ashamed to be turned against their own.

The black stones pulsed again and the serpents slithered toward our enemies, their rage flaring like a cry for freedom. Another pulse followed, harsher, and they swiveled back to us. I took a step forward. “The Flame is begging for mercy. I am begging for mercy. Release my flame.”

The sound that left them was not a hiss but a wail, holy power caught between obedience and love. Seth’s grip on my hand tightened. He held my gaze, set both hands on my arms and forced me upright. “Breath Max. If not for me, then think of our babies.”

Tears tracked down my cheeks. I drew shallow breaths and reached for his face. “The babies are fine, but I do not know how much more of this agony I can take.”

He brushed the tears away with a thumb. “Then believe in the Divine. Help will come.”

Our focus snapped back to the Flame and the Breath. The Flame shuddered. The Breath writhed as though trying to break free. Then, with impossible effort, both forces dropped low, pressing themselves to the ground in defiance of the command that bound them.

The sight tore something inside me. “Stop!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “I will make you pay for this. Whoever or whatever is behind it, I will search the ends of the universe to find you, and I will end you!”

I lunged forward.

Seth caught my hand, not forceful, just desperate. His fingers trembled where they held mine.

“Max, please.” The words broke out of him, raw and unguarded. “I know it hurts. I know it calls. But you cannot go to it. Not now. Think of the babies… think of yourself… think of me.” His voice dropped to something soft and terrified. “I cannot lose you. Stay with me.”

But I could not stay still. I felt their pain through the bond, a raw ache that was not entirely mine. The Breath shivered where it lay, light bleeding from its edges like silver tears. I pulled free of Seth and stepped toward it, drawn by its struggle, answering the unspoken plea that echoed in my soul.

From the far edge of the mist, a figure emerged, dragging an unconscious man by his neck. The spirits recoiled, their glow stuttering as though even the dead feared him. The wielders who held the stones that had confused the Flame and Breath dropped like sacks of potatoes, their stones clattering to the ground. What caught my attention wasn’t their fall, but what followed. Their spirits rose from their bodies, drawn into a single bead he held in his hand.

The Flame and Breath were free, yet neither moved. Whether from exhaustion, pain, or shame, I could not tell. I wanted nothing more than for my Flame to return to me, but I knew it needed time to reclaim itself. That gave me a moment to study the stranger standing in our garden.

His hair fell in long waves to his waist, thin plaits woven through the length. Each plait carried beads of dark bronze, green, blue, and red that chimed softly with every step.  A quiet music that did not belong to this world. He attached the bead in his hand to one of the plaits, and smiled with satisfaction. His smile was a blaze against sun-touched skin, trailing down tattooed arms and a chest half-hidden by an open shirt.

It wasn’t just his body that demanded attention, it was the weight of him. Every movement carried that impossible blend of grace and threat, the calm of someone who knew he didn’t need to prove his power. When he lifted his head, the light caught his eyes; pale brown, sharp, and still. I searched for intention there, but found only the watchful silence of a predator deciding whether to strike.

“Who the hell is that?” Alec whispered.

Jamey, who had been unusually quiet, leaned beside him with an admiring whistle. “Jealous much? I mean, come on. He looks like every goddess’s bad decision wrapped in divine lighting. Even his hair has better posture than me.”

No one answered. The silence thickened, everyone caught between awe and unease as the stranger’s gaze found us. The faint chime of his beads was the only sound left in the garden, delicate and terrifying all at once.

The man stopped before the broken window and held my gaze a moment too long. My Flame recoiled and slipped back into me, trembling like a scolded child. The weight of its guilt settled deep, wordless but understood. Seth’s Breath followed, curling around him again in quiet remorse. I exhaled, making a mental note to discuss it with him later, preferably when the world wasn’t collapsing.

The man released the body, letting it fall with dull thud against the earth. For a long moment, he stood in stillness, his attention shifting from me to Seth, measuring rather than staring, as though deciding which of us Heaven had chosen to speak first.

Seth stepped forward and opened the door.

I stared at the shattered window before him and muttered, “Right. Because using the perfectly good hole you just made would have been too simple.”

They spoke near the broken window, yet not a word reached us. A faint shimmer wavered between them, perhaps Seth’s doing or the stranger’s, a barrier of intent that turned sound to nothing. Whatever passed between them was measured, grave. Then Seth looked at me through the veil of still air and tilted his head, a simple signal.

I understood.

The stranger exhaled slowly. Gold and silver light unfurled from his breath, spiraling together in thin streams before dissolving into the air. It wasn’t ordinary breath as it shimmered with quiet dominion, the kind that bent the room toward stillness.

Seth’s eyes lifted, narrowing slightly as the silver in his own aura stirred in answer, a faint glow rising beneath his skin. For a moment, the air between them trembled, although not in hostility, but recognition.

Seth faced the man again, lifting his hand in invitation. The stranger inclined his head, calm as still water, then bent to seize the unconscious man by the collar.

The spirits lingered at the edge of the lawn, shrinking farther back with every step he took. Their summoners clutched their black stones tighter, but none dared raise them. Whatever power bound them was no match for the presence that had already walked past them.

He crossed the threshold as if the house itself recognized him. The air shuddered once, like breath drawn and held, and Seth broke the silence.
“Everyone, meet Marcus. He is with us.”

And the world sighed.

The unconscious man was taken somewhere, though I couldn’t say where. The dizziness rising in my throat made me not care. I brushed past everyone and headed straight for the downstairs bathroom.

When I returned, Seth waited with tea, a sandwich, and the weight of the world on one plate.

Jamey approached first, quiet for once, reading my mood before whispering, “Max, that man is scary. And the way he looks at you is making Seth scarier. I think I saw his eyebrow pray.”

Thania slipped in beside him, her voice low and amused. “Forget who’s scary, he’s to die for.”

I lifted my eyes to Seth and smiled faintly. “Seth doesn’t have to worry about me looking at men. You haven’t seen what’s under all that control.”

Seth cleared his throat and tapped my arm. “Not in front of the kids, madam.”

The laughter that followed broke some of the tension, even if the weight of the spirits and the enemy still pressed at the edges of our minds.

Marcus approached then, his steps measured, his gaze fixed on me. I shifted, cleared my throat, and met his eyes.
“Marcus, you will not intimidate me. If you think staring is an invitation, you are sorely mistaken.”

I rapped my knuckles lightly on the table, just enough to make my point.

He leaned back in his chair and raised both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I just think you’re as beautiful as the day I saw you through the rift.”

Seth sat still, a calm smile curving his lips as though the comment didn’t faze him. But beneath the table, I felt it, the Breath nudging against my leg, restrained and simmering. He was not fine.

Eric, sensing the tension, stepped in with a grin. “My good sir, I wouldn’t flirt with Max in Seth’s presence. He might look like a church boy, but beneath that,” he pointed from Seth’s head to his boots, “is something even the devil fears.”