1

Moonlight shone from one of the large windows on both sides of the room. This room, and there was only one room, had only two doors: the front and the back. Both are thick and strong. It was wide and sparse, with wooden floors and doors. There was a large round marble table in the centre of the room, with chairs surrounding the table. In front of each chair was a strip of parchment. Next to the parchments were sharpened knives. Thick candles were dotted around the room, and twelve thinner candles were around the table.

On the back wall of the northern section of the room, there was a large wooden box that thin smoke puffed out of.

The front door opened, and ten men walked in. The men were all dressed in dark grey cloaks with hoods, only their bodies visible. The men each pulled the chair in front of them out but didn't sit down. They stood still and waited. No words were exchanged between the men. The chair in the middle was larger and felt almost throne-like. It was thicker wood, probably made of the finest Pennsylvanian Oak. At the top of the chair, two snake heads were carved. It made it look much more menacing.

A door suddenly appeared on the back wall, and a man walked in. His hood and cloak looked longer and thicker and were embroidered with what looked like ancient symbols—a lot of lines and curled symbols, almost like Latin—but this felt older, like this was one of the first languages that advanced linguistics hadn't discovered yet. The words were embroidered on the sleeves and sides of his cloak. He walked to his chair, pulled it out, and sat down. Then the others likewise.

They all then picked up the knives and sliced across their dominant hands; most of the men sliced on their right hand, and only two of the men sliced on their left. These were slow, methodical slices, and as soon as each blade left the skin, blood was drawn. Each man clenched their bloodied fist and then opened it; the open wounds all throbbed, They all felt pain, but none showed it. The blood spread across their hands, and they then placed their hands on the roll of parchment in front of them. The placement turned into a hard plant, and the parchment glowed yellow in the room. They all said it in a quiet murmur.

'The blood to the dark. The blood given to the Master Rogue and The Lord Mount. The blood given is from our vessels, ready to be nurtured, ready to be freed, and ready to be powerful. We give our blood for a greater purpose. The purpose and fealty to our lords to the true power of all worlds.'

'It is done.' The man at the centre of the table stated.

'It is done.' The rest of the men repeated.

Each man lifted their hands from where they had been placed. There was no blood and no wounds, as their hands looked the same before the men entered.

'Light to the dark.' The man affirmed as he had his face covered by a hood, but his chin with a four-day stubble could be seen. 'We have lost our brothers, taken from us by a monster. We mourn, but we move on. It is what is required of us, and it is what our fallen brothers would have done and what they have died for. Our plan is gaining momentum, but we always knew that he was going to come for us. We must prepare.'

'May I speak freely?' said a man to his left.

'Go on.'

'These agents, I don't know that you know. The ones who came into town, he attacked them, threw them high in the air, and they are both still alive.'

'I do now.' The man at the centre of the table boomed with a heavy, deep voice 'They do not know what is going on, nor do they know. They will not be John McClane in this situation.'

'We have to factor in that he, the man who is hunting us, who we are trying to hunt, may speak to them and try to get them on his side.'

The man at the centre of the table shook his head. 'This is a mission for him and him alone. He is more likely to kill them to get to us than to seek help. This mission is his suicide.'

'I am glad you feel so confident. I'm sure that we all agree that your assurance that we will achieve our goal is true to us.'

The man at the centre leaned forward, and his pale hands were hit by the moonlight. An iron bracelet with the same markings that were on his cloak could be seen on his pale wrist. 'That is why I am sitting here, Morton. To make sure this happens. That those deaths were for nothing.'

'Lambert's murder will bring talk. You will have to answer some questions.' A man to the right questioned.

'They are keeping this silent for now. By the time any blowback comes, it will be too late.' The man at the centre of the table said He lifted the arm that wore the iron bracelet, and it glowed purple—a soft, not oppressive, but dominant glow. The wooden box behind him flew open, and scrolls of maps landed on the tables. The man waved his arm across the maps, and they opened, unfurling with elegance that belied this moment. 'I have managed to find the caverns and received the parts of importance for us to open the way to the worlds beyond. The plan is coming together.' The maps showed land on the outskirts of Greater Preston, bordering a nearby city called Patterson.

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'What if he ruins our plan? Morton asked. 'He is not here. His body is not dead; he is alive and looking to conduct plans of pure nefariousness. Plans that his hand will not waver. He killed them with ease.'

'He killed them with biology, Morton. We have magical arts. Pure power from our realm—power people could only dream of Power he will not be able to comprehend and won't be able to deny. Once we have his dead body, once I deliver his dead body to you all, you will truly believe in this and me.' The man at the centre answered with cold confidence and clasped his hands together. 'If you remember the summoning spells and utter them each day, he cannot get you.'

'That is what killed the twelve.' The man to the right also replied, and nods of agreement went around the table.

'We are close, gentlemen." Brothers. My brothers. We will endure and see the light in the darkness. We will be remembered as heroes. True believers to this righteous cause. A mission of trial and of triumph.' The man at the centre said this and raised his arms. The bracelet glowed again, but this time with a warmer brown glow. Cups appeared in front of each man, coated in gold with red stones on each side. 'Live to the light. Live in the dark. For our Master Rogue and for our Lord Mount.'

They all repeated the words and drank. The thunder and lightning erupted around them.

2

Daniel Bridgwater lay down on his bed with the same thunderstorm playing its symphony outside. His brain remained active despite his body telling him to do the opposite. This was the usual routine for him. He was so fearful of the unconscious that on purpose, he gave himself notions and thoughts to deal with. Details that were missed or ignored. He neither thought about the man in black nor the close shave of death for Erica. Daniel's mind was focused on the warehouse.

What did he miss? Was there anything to miss?

Daniel ran out of the warehouse without a care in the world; he smelled blood, and for good reason, but because of a series of events that had stopped him from going back, there was this weird, annoying feeling that something was lost. That he missed a detail. That he had missed something.

A part of him knew that deep down, this was just not a good enough reason not to go to bed, not to face his imagination or deepest memories. It was bad enough just thinking about his mother earlier.

He had this, Wallace, and a past he could barely think of in his brain, and that was it. He couldn't do anything about Wallace right now, and that was true for the near future, so his choice was to head back to the warehouse.

Now, it was his mind and heart that made that happen, but his body, tired from the long day in three different countries, the portal lag, and yes, the fall from the heavens, was not in agreement.

That must have meant a part of him wanted to stay.

'Fuck it.'

That utterance from his mouth powered through the tiredness and physical doubt in his body for a moment. He slowly got up, and neither his body nor a thunderstorm were going to stop him.

3

A portal opened right in the car park as the thick, beating rain, angled from the west, came down hard. Daniel came out of the portal and put up his hood. He looked around, and the colour of his irises went from oak brown to grey. The whole world in front of him went grey. He could see past the darkness. He could see everything around him. Some animals darted in and out of the forest, scampering across the open roads. A barn door that was large and wide but also open was slammed shut and then opened, back and forth, back and forth. He heard wind chimes clang and ring from a mile away. He then saw a car park up in the same area as the wind chimes. This was a nineteen-ninety-three maroon Chevy; well, he guessed it was a maroon colour, but it was a Chevy.

A man and a woman were in the car. The man unbuckled his belt. So did she, and then she ungracefully mounted the man's lap. Daniel figured that was all he needed to see.

He took out some green plastic gloves and put them on. He left his boots as they were and walked to the warehouse. Daniel looked around. He could see the various footprints of himself, Erica, Royce, that prickly Russo and his thicker but less prickly partner Sampson, and what he assumed were other police officers, EMTs, and other valued public servants. He crept under the police line and walked in.

There was a real smell coming from the warehouse. Not the smell of death that was here before, but of some liquid, some strong chemical cleaning agent. The stench of bleach and peroxide was almost overpowering. Certainly, some enzyme solutions were used to make sure to re-liquefy blood and other bodily fluids that had dried in order to make it easier to clean and remove these substances from surfaces.

Daniel was surprised that it happened as quickly as it did; perhaps that is how they did it in Preston, or perhaps it was something else.

He walked through and took considered steps; his world was grey with a radar wave that passed through walls and saw behind them. The clean-up smell grew ever more prominent as he got to the main warehouse floor. No matter how many crime scenes Daniel has been to, that smell was something he could never get used to internally. He could see the twelve spots cleaned with great effort. Some residual blood markings were still there. Daniel made sure he avoided those spots. He looked through each table and draw. He searched each shelf. Every spot Daniel never saw at his first visit, he looked at but found nothing suspicious.

Daniel looked around, and his frustration brimmed a little. 'Fuck.' He said, thankful that no one else was here to see him just flounder around.

Then something caught his eye—his left eye, in fact. Something Daniel did not expect. He was surprised, and that was this whole experience's theme. It was time to get surprised again. Daniel, and it was truly the common theme, and it is not entirely surprising that this is still here. A card, a business card, lodged into the wall. Daniel pulled it out, and it had made a hole in the wall. A sleek grey business card that was made of graphite. Daniel wiped away the brick dust from the card and saw that the card belonged to T. Lambert for Dale and Lange Gun Club membership, Greater Preston. He took an evidence bag he'd stolen from Royce's office, put the card in it, and sealed it.

Daniel smiled. Finally, a clue He knew his instincts were right, but sadly, there was no one to brag to about it. The smile did not drop. This was a start.