My mind was a mess after Bagley's threats. He insisted it wasn't intentional, but who accidentally threatens someone? I didn't believe him. He held my life in his hands, and those words felt all too real. Being around him made me nervous and uneasy.

Those threats stayed at the forefront of my mind all day. Even when Harleen returned from lunch and we chatted, I could barely pay attention to her. One thought kept repeating in my head: I was screwed.

Once five o'clock hit, I was out. I mumbled farewells to Harleen and Mr Mann. Mr. Mann's grunt was his way of saying 'goodbye’. I headed to a different bus stop than the one I used in the morning. On my way, Bagley kept nagging me to kill something.

"Come on, start killing things, please. I'm bored out of my mind here. I need some action. All praise to the Death Lord—why choose this boring man as your apostle?"

I tried to tune him out and waited, but after twenty minutes and no bus, my patience wore thin. I checked the schedule on my phone—it should've been here ten minutes ago. Feeling frustrated, I decided to walk home. I punched in my address and saw it was an hour's walk. I groaned inwardly but figured I might as well get moving. Who knows when the bus would arrive?

The walk home wasn't as long as I thought it would be. Along the way, I saw things that took my mind off the journey: a couple arguing—probably over a discovered affair; a group of kids sprinting out of a shop, the shopkeeper chasing after them—they must've stolen something; then a guy tried to sell me snake oil, claiming it would make money rain on whichever hand I applied it to. This city never lacked for odd sights

Bagley floated next to me, noting, “Your world's not so different from mine.” He was lounging in mid-air as he took in the surroundings. "We've got our fair share of con men like that snake oil fellow back there."

I raised an eyebrow. "Tired of trying to make me kill something?"

He scoffed. "I'm not making you kill—not the way you think. I just need you to gather souls so you can get stronger. The Beast Clan doesn't do mercy. They're ruthless—they enjoy torturing everyone they conquer."

"Sounds like cheap propaganda to me."

Bagley grinned. "Propaganda, huh? Sure. We all use it when we’re recruiting lost souls. Everyone spins their own version of the truth."

"And what's the version of truth you're telling me?"

He continued, " That when the Beast Clan arrives, they'll kill you, you’re family and everyone you love, and more. That's how they conquer planets—they're the King's mad dogs."

"And you? The Death Clan does the same—colonizing planets, controlling native. Don't pretend you're heroes, saving people, ending their misery and taking their souls."

He sighed but grinned, "No, we're not heroes. Not even close. But we’re civilized. We have a better way of controlling populations without unnecessary bloodshed."

I scoffed. " Isn’t it funny? The people who call themselves 'civilized' are often the ones capable of the worst kinds of violence. As soon as they think they’re better than everyone else, they stop seeing the rest of us as equals. It’s like we stop existing as real people to them, and Once you stop seeing people as human, you can justify anything—every act of cruelty. To them, the 'uncivilized' don’t even count as real people anymore.”

Bagley halted mid-air, surprised, as if my words hit him hard.

"Well, Zakir, perhaps you're wiser than I thought. Maybe the Death Lord chose well."

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I rolled my eyes and kept walking. I crossed onto a quieter street; it was hard to talk with Bagley in such a busy place.

"So, how powerful are Earth's new conquerors? If they're going head-to-head with the Beast Clan, they must be some clan with an impressive history," I said, trying to restart the conversation.

"Well, we didn't start that way,” he began. The Death Clan wasn't always among the six most powerful clans—the Beast, Light, Earth, Fire, Life, and Demon Clans. Even though we were one of the oldest, we were also one of the smallest. Not because we were weak; we always had power. But our Lords never wanted to expand or join the wars for supremacy among the clans. We were... content with our role, our job. Which was..."

"Was...?"

He looked at me. "Ghost whisperers, or shamans, as you'd say on Earth. We talked to spirits, sometimes exorcised them, or helped resolve their regrets from life. People paid a little, or gave what they could, and our clan was satisfied." A single tear rolled down his cheek. "Until something happened that decimated us... forced us to face reality."

Seeing him vulnerable was strange. I almost wanted to comfort him, but hadn't I feared him moments ago? He wiped away the tear. "But that's a story for another day. Anyway, you need to be alert—you've got two people following you."

I snapped to attention and whipped around. Two people were behind me, following me. My heart skipped a beat. I couldn't see their faces because scarves hid them, but their blue eyes and pale skin stood out—the only things visible.

"Stop looking," Bagley hissed. "Eyes forward. We need to shake them off."

I took a deep breath and kept moving, scanning my surroundings. The crowd thinned as I went, until the streets were empty. Yet, their footsteps echoed behind me; they were still on my tail. Panic started to creep in.

Reaching the main road, the crowd grew dense again. Across the way was a park. It was almost dark, and except for the streetlamps lining the paths, everything was cloaked in shadows. This was my chance to lose them.

Without hesitation, I broke into a run, weaving through people, dodging cars as I dashed across the street. Horns blared, but I made it to the other side. A quick glance back showed the two chasing me, but they nearly got hit by a car that screeched to a halt, forcing them to stop momentarily. Relief washed over me; I had a head start to find a hiding spot.

"There," Bagley pointed. "Those bushes are big enough to hide you. But you should face them. If anyone sees the Apostle of the Death Lord running, it'll shame the clan."

"They could kill me," I hissed. "If they use them, I'm done, and so is the Apostle."

He rolled his eyes, but I ignored him. Survival mattered more than pride right now. I slipped into a cluster of bushes. They surrounded me on all sides, enough space to crouch quietly.

"Where did he go?" one of them said, looking around.

"He must be here somewhere," the other replied, pulling out a small pistol. My breath caught—they were armed.

They shouldn't see me; it was dark, and the lamps only lit a few feet ahead. But they kept searching nearby. I couldn't see them, but their boots crunching on gravel and heavy breathing got closer and closer, until I could almost feel it. I held my breath.

"I can't see anything. Did you bring your phone?"

"Nah."

"Damn it! Who forgets their phone? Let's check over there."

They took off elsewhere. I stayed crouched in the bushes, heart pounding, until I was sure they were gone. Their footsteps faded into the distance, crunching on the gravel path.

When all I could hear were grasshoppers chirping, I slipped out quietly into the dark park. The shadows felt deeper tonight.

"Avoid the streetlamps, and you can't climb the park's walls. Go back the way you came and circle around. It'll take longer, but it's safer," Bagley advised.

I nodded and headed toward the park's entrance. It was far, and the path twisted and turned through clusters of trees. I sighed, annoyed at how far I'd wandered in.

The park was mostly empty; an occasional jogger passed by, then silence. It felt eerie. Sticking to the shadows, I finally spotted the entrance. Relief washed over me. I broke into a sprint, eager to get out.

Suddenly, a hand yanked me back. I slammed into the ground.