"Man’s deepest fear is not the darkness itself, but the unknown that lurks within it."
SPOKANE WA.
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The soft, familiar voice of the system echoed in Joel’s mind, smooth and dispassionate. “Essence accumulated: 150 points.” The words slid through him like a ripple of energy, and the charge spread through every nerve in his body. He heard Jamie gasp beside him—a quick, sharp sound of shock—as she reacted to the same notification.
Then the world shifted.
A sudden wave of dizziness swept over him, twisting his stomach into knots. His knees gave out beneath him, and he hit the ground hard, the impact jarring but distant, like he was falling through layers of water. His vision blurred, spinning wildly, and for one horrible moment, he felt as if he were floating outside of his body.
Then the sensation snapped into place, and he was somewhere else entirely.
Joel found himself sitting on a barren, rocky island surrounded by a churning black ocean. The wind howled across the jagged landscape, biting at his skin, and the sharp scent of salt filled the air. Waves crashed violently against the shore, sending cold sprays of mist over him. He clenched his jaw, the cold seeping into his bones as he slowly pushed himself upright. His fingers brushed against wet stone, rough beneath his skin.
When he looked up, his breath caught.
The sky above him stretched infinitely, an endless canvas of deep black speckled with stars. But it wasn’t the stars that held his attention. It was the orb of brilliant light floating directly overhead, radiating with the intensity of a small sun. Bronze, gold, and crystalline white hues swirled within its core, shifting like liquid fire. It pulsed in time with the storm raging around him—steady and rhythmic, as though it were alive.
The orb’s presence tugged at something deep within Joel, a connection he couldn’t explain. His chest tightened, not with fear, but with recognition. This wasn’t just something he was seeing—it was something he knew. This light, this core... it was his. It was him.
His hands trembled as he reached toward it, mesmerized. His body floated upward as if drawn by gravity in reverse, the ground slipping away beneath him. As his fingers brushed the orb’s surface, warmth spread through him—pure, electric, and all-encompassing. It was a wave of understanding, washing over him with absolute clarity.
This is me. My power. My strength. Everything I am. This is my soul.
The essence he had collected from the snake-like monster surged upward, tiny motes of light rising through the air like a thousand glowing fireflies. They danced toward the core, drawn into its brilliance, and as they merged with it, the orb burned even brighter. A surge of strength coursed through Joel’s body, setting his nerves alight. He could feel the runic symbols etched into his skin pulsing in sync with his heartbeat, each beat reinforcing the truth of what he had discovered.
This is the way forward. This is how I fight. This is how I survive.
And just like that, the vision shattered.
Joel's body slammed back into reality with the force of a hammer. His stomach lurched violently, and he doubled over on the ground, gasping for breath. The familiar world of dirt, pavement, and cold air rushed back around him, and for a moment, all he could do was lie there, feeling the nausea pulse through him. His muscles felt shaky, unsteady beneath him, as if he’d been running for miles without rest.
To his right, Jamie was on her knees, clutching the ground as if it might keep her from spinning away. Her blond hair clung to her damp forehead, and her breath came in short, shallow bursts. She dug her fingers into the dirt, desperate to ground herself.
“That—did you see it too?” Jamie whispered, her voice trembling.
Joel swallowed hard, forcing the lingering dizziness aside. “I did.” His throat was dry, and the words scraped out of him like gravel. His mind raced with the possibilities, with the promise of what they had just discovered. We finally have a way to grow stronger—a way to survive.
He met Jamie’s wide, uncertain gaze and gave her a weak, lopsided smile. “Jamie, this is it. This is how we grow.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, Joel felt the weight of fear begin to lift from his shoulders. The crushing doubt that their powers wouldn’t be enough faded into the background, replaced by a flicker of hope. A laugh bubbled up from his chest, shaky at first, but then stronger, spilling out in a way that felt foreign. He laughed—not from joy, but from relief.
But Jamie’s fear hadn’t left her. It clung to her like a shadow, flickering in her bright blue eyes. “But doesn’t that mean we’ll have to fight more monsters?” she asked, her voice tight with panic. She stared at him, her hands trembling in her lap. “We barely survived this one. We don’t even know what it was—or where to find more.”
Joel’s smile faltered. She was right—it wouldn’t be easy. The road ahead was littered with dangers they couldn’t even begin to understand. The snake-like monster they’d killed might have been just the beginning. His thoughts turned dark as he imagined other creatures, drawn from myth and nightmare, slipping into this world.
“Look,” Joel said, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “I don’t think it’s the only one. I don’t know how it got here, but if there’s one, there’s probably more.” He ran a hand over his face, wiping away the blood and grime clinging to his skin. “People need our help. And we need to grow stronger. This has to be the way.”
Jamie bit her lip, her expression torn between fear and resolve. “I don’t like this, Joel,” she whispered.
“I know.” He let out a long breath, glancing toward the crowd gathering at the mouth of the alley. A frustrated scream escaped Jamie’s lips, startling the bystanders. They flinched, shifting uneasily, their expressions a mix of fear and uncertainty.
“Are—are you two alright?” a voice called out.
Joel turned to see a young man with thick brown hair and deep green eyes stepping forward cautiously. He wore a police uniform, the badge pinned just above his name tag: Officer Gregor. His eyes flickered between Joel, Jamie, and the remains of the monster.
Joel forced himself to stand, though his legs wobbled beneath him. He extended a hand to Jamie, helping her to her feet.
“Yes, we’re alright.” He gestured toward the mangled remains of the snake. “This thing... it attacked us, but we’re okay.”
Gregor scoffed, his gaze lingering on Joel’s forehead. “You don’t look okay.”
Joel touched his forehead, his fingers brushing against something cold and sticky. When he pulled his hand back, it was stained with blood and dirt.
“You need to get checked out,” Gregor said, though there was an edge of suspicion in his voice. “And while we’re at it, I’ve got some questions for both of you.”
Joel shook his head. “We’re fine. Honestly, we’d rather just get moving.”
Gregor’s expression hardened. “I’m not asking.” His hand drifted toward the grip of his gun, a clear warning.
Jamie shifted beside Joel, her unease evident in the way she hugged herself, her knuckles pale. “We wanted to warn you anyway,” she murmured.
“Warn us?” Gregor’s fingers brushed the latch of his holster as his gaze narrowed.
Joel spread his hands, palms open. “Yes. But it’s a conversation we need to have with someone in charge.” He nodded toward Gregor’s gun. “And there’s no need for that.”
A beat of silence hung between them, tension thick in the air. Then, slowly, Gregor’s hand dropped from the weapon. “Alright,” he muttered, the weight of uncertainty heavy in his voice. “Come on, then.”
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It took about half an hour of walking through the transformed streets of Spokane, the journey eerily silent except for the crunch of their boots on broken pavement. Towering trees loomed over them, casting shifting shadows that seemed to move on their own under the violet-tinted sky. Joel kept his eyes forward, but the surreal landscape weighed heavily on his mind. Roads and buildings he had known his whole life were now lost beneath ancient roots and gnarled trunks. What had once been an urban sprawl was now swallowed by a forest that felt as old as time itself. The asphalt had cracked under the pressure of creeping vines, and the husks of cars sat tangled in overgrowth, like forgotten relics of a different world.
The air smelled of moss and rain, damp and heavy, mixing with the sour stench of sweat and unwashed bodies. The distant hum of generators offered the only sign of technology still holding on. Soldiers, police officers, and first responders moved in and out of the command tent ahead, their faces drawn tight with exhaustion and barely masked fear.
Beside him, Jamie hugged her arms around herself, her gaze flicking anxiously toward the strangers they passed. Joel could feel the tension radiating off her like a coiled spring, though she said nothing. Officer Gregor led them across a narrow bridge spanning the river, his steps purposeful but hesitant, as if every noise and shadow set his nerves on edge.
When they reached the command tent on the far side, the chaos came into sharper focus. Men and women hurried past, their conversations clipped and urgent. Joel caught snippets about lost communications, missing civilians, and strange creatures spotted in the distance. A group of paramedics unloaded a stretcher nearby, their patient’s face pale and still beneath a blanket of thermal foil.
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Gregor slowed as they neared the tent, glancing back at Joel and Jamie with uncertainty. His hand drifted toward the radio on his belt, then away, as if the weight of the decision still troubled him. Finally, he squared his shoulders and approached a tall man stationed just outside the tent. The man wore a well-worn uniform, the creases soft from countless washings, but he carried himself with the weight of authority.
Joel read the name stitched above the man’s chest: Sergeant Thomas Bearden.
“Sir,” Gregor said, his voice stiff and formal. “I have a report to make.”
Bearden glanced up from the stack of paperwork cluttering the folding table in front of him, his expression flat and tired. The lines etched into his face deepened as he looked Gregor over, beads of sweat glistening on his brow. He didn’t seem fazed by the oppressive humidity, but the weight of too many problems bore down on his shoulders, and it showed in every deliberate movement.
“Gregor,” Bearden grumbled, “everyone’s got a report to make today. Be quick. What is it?” His voice carried the gravelly undertone of a man who had seen too much and slept too little.
Gregor straightened, though the motion looked forced, as if he were trying to convince himself of his own authority. “Sir, these two”—he gestured toward Joel and Jamie—“were spotted killing a monster. Several witnesses confirmed it. They used… unnatural abilities to do it.” His words were clipped, rehearsed, as if saying them aloud made them more manageable.
Bearden’s gaze drifted toward Joel, then Jamie, his expression unreadable as he weighed them both. Joel met his stare without flinching, though the weight of it felt like a cold hand pressing on his chest.
The sergeant’s jaw clenched, the muscle twitching beneath his skin. He leaned forward slowly, planting his hands firmly on the table. The papers beneath them crinkled under the pressure. Joel caught the faint scent of cigarette smoke clinging to Bearden’s uniform, mixed with the sour tang of stale coffee. The sergeant’s eyes stayed locked on Gregor, unblinking, as if daring him to blink first.
“I’ve had just about enough of all the weird shit today, Gregor,” Bearden said, his voice low and deliberate, like the scrape of steel on stone. “If this is some kind of joke, I swear to God, it better end right now.”
The air inside the tent thickened with tension, like the moments before a storm breaks. Bearden’s fingers curled slightly against the table’s edge, and for an instant, Joel felt as though the ground beneath them might crack under the sergeant’s simmering temper.
Gregor shifted, his shoulders creeping toward his ears, as if he wanted to disappear into himself. He dragged a hand through his hair, leaving it standing awkwardly on end, and swallowed hard. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight, like a rope stretched to its limit.
“Sir, I swear—this is real. I know how it sounds, but these two… they killed a huge snake-like monster. People saw them.” He glanced nervously between Joel and Jamie, then back at Bearden. “It—it was like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I wouldn’t report it if I wasn’t certain.”
Bearden’s gaze didn’t waver. He studied Gregor as if trying to decide whether the young officer was lying or simply out of his depth.
Before the silence could stretch too long, Jamie took a small step forward. Joel saw the nervous flutter of her hands, but she masked it with a soft, almost apologetic smile. The expression didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“It’s okay,” she said gently, her voice light and soothing, like she was speaking to a skittish animal.
She raised her hand slowly, palm facing upward. Joel felt the shift in the air before he saw it—the heat that radiated from her fingers as a flicker of flame sputtered to life. The fire danced just above her skin, a tiny ember swaying with the current of her breath. Its soft orange glow cast long shadows across the faces of the men around them, and for a moment, the tension in the room shifted from disbelief to uneasy acceptance.
Bearden’s breath hitched, though he kept his composure. His jaw tightened, and the muscle along his temple twitched, but he didn’t move. His sharp, calculating gaze remained locked on the flame, as if processing what it meant for the world around him.
“This is real,” Jamie said, her voice steady and calm. She tilted her hand, allowing the flame to stretch taller before closing her fingers around it. The fire vanished without a trace, leaving only the faint scent of smoke in the air.
Gregor exhaled sharply, the tension bleeding from his frame like a deflated balloon. “See, sir?” he whispered, almost to himself. “I would never lie to you.”
Bearden leaned back slowly, folding his arms across his chest. His sharp eyes flicked between Joel and Jamie, lingering on her for a moment, as if trying to peel back the layers of everything she hadn’t said. His lips pressed into a tight, unreadable line.
“All right,” he muttered, as if the words tasted bitter on his tongue. “Looks like you’ve got my attention.”
He rose from the table with a groan, his movements slow and deliberate, like a man carrying more weight than just his own. He called over two nearby officers, their faces still slack with disbelief after witnessing Jamie’s display.
“Calloway! Renner! On me!” Bearden barked.
The two officers snapped to attention and hurried over, their eyes darting between Bearden, Jamie, and Joel with a mix of confusion and wariness.
“Sir!” they said in unison, standing stiffly at his side.
Bearden turned to Joel, his gaze hard and unyielding. “Well, come on,” he said. “We need to report this to Captain Vance and Colonel Radford.”
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Captain Samuel Vance stood near the command table, his compact frame tense beneath a spotless, neatly pressed police uniform. The creases were razor-sharp, a desperate attempt to cling to structure in a world that no longer made sense. His black hair was slicked back with care, though a few rebellious strands clung to his damp forehead, betraying the long hours of command. Vance’s dark eyes darted constantly, sharp and restless, scanning every corner of the room as if disaster lurked just beyond the edges of his sight—and after everything, it just might. His mouth was a grim, unyielding line, carved deep from years of suppressing smiles that never came. Even with the chaos outside, Vance exuded the air of a man who believed in rules, and more importantly, in punishing those who dared break them.
Beside him stood Colonel Ethan Radford, a man built like an oak tree—solid, broad-shouldered, and rooted deeply in practicality. Mud stained his rolled-up fatigues, and veins bulged from the muscular forearms crossed over his chest. A jagged scar ran from his temple to his jawline, a reminder of battles fought long before this strange new reality. His face carved from stone, every feature radiating both command and exhaustion. Unlike Vance, Radford wasn’t concerned with appearances—he measured people by what they did, not how they looked. His piercing blue eyes locked onto everything with quiet scrutiny, missing nothing. He was a man accustomed to control, though Joel could sense it slipping, fraying at the edges with each passing moment.
Sergeant Bearden gave a curt nod toward the two men. “Captain Vance. Colonel Radford.”
Vance’s sharp gaze snapped toward Joel and Jamie, narrowing in suspicion. "Who the hell are they?" His voice was clipped, each word carrying the weight of irritation, as though every second spent standing still was another second wasted in an unraveling world.
Bearden folded his arms across his chest, his posture stiff as iron. “I haven’t gotten their names yet, sir, but I needed to bring them to your attention immediately.” He inhaled deeply, steadying himself, then continued. “Witnesses reported these two killed a large snake-like monster—and used… unusual abilities to do it. I’ve confirmed with my own eyes that they possess—” He hesitated briefly, his gaze flickering back to Jamie before returning to the officers. “—powers.” The word came out flat, devoid of humor or embellishment, as if spoken aloud made it all the more absurd.
Radford arched a brow, his face betraying nothing. "Powers?" His voice was calm but heavy, a rumble of distant thunder on the horizon.
Bearden turned toward Joel, giving him a sharp nod. “Show them. It’ll be easier than explaining.”
Joel straightened instinctively, muscle memory drawing him into attention. Radford’s cold blue eyes bored into him, waiting—testing—daring him to prove his claim. The weight of the colonel’s gaze felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, every second daring Joel to falter.
With a thought, the runes etched into his arms began to glow, their golden light bright against the dim interior of the tent. Joel inhaled slowly, steadying his pulse. The world seemed to shrink around him, focusing down to the beat of his heart and the energy coiled within him.
“Im.”
The word slipped from his lips like a breath, and the air around him shifted.
A ripple of invisible force rolled outward, and Joel felt the atmosphere thicken, heavy with static. The hairs on his arms rose as electricity danced along his skin, crackling in the still air. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered, buzzing as if they were struggling to hold onto the current. Joel could feel the energy building within him, spiraling outward, filling every inch of the space like the charged air before a storm.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the soldiers muttered under his breath, shifting on his feet as unease spread like wildfire.
A snap of blue-white static leapt from Joel’s fingertips to the metal edge of the folding table. The sharp crack echoed through the tent, making the papers scatter and flutter like leaves caught in the wind. Several soldiers flinched, their hands instinctively hovering near their weapons. The room buzzed with tension, an unspoken threat lingering just beneath the surface.
“Stand down!” Radford barked, his voice sharp as a whip. The soldiers hesitated, their hands still twitching toward their holsters, but they obeyed. Even so, the energy radiating from Joel’s body remained, palpable and dangerous, coiling through the air like a live wire.
The radio equipment in the corner crackled to life, sputtering with garbled transmissions and bursts of static. The flickering lights stuttered, pulsing in time with the energy flowing through Joel. A metallic taste coated the back of his mouth—ozone and copper—and the tension in the room thickened, pressing down like the weight of a brewing storm.
Radford’s jaw clenched, the scar on his face pulling taut. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Joel’s, unwavering. He’d stared down countless threats before, but there was something different about this—something unpredictable, uncontrollable.
"Enough," Radford growled, his voice low and firm, carrying the weight of command.
Before Joel could respond, a soldier lunged forward with the swift precision of well-honed instinct. The man’s hand clamped around Joel’s arm, twisting it behind his back with practiced ease. Joel felt the cold pressure of a knee against his spine as he was forced to the ground.
“Joel!” Jamie cried, and instinctively, her flame flickered to life at her fingertips.
“She’s got powers too!” another soldier shouted, panic creeping into his voice as they rushed to contain her.
"Hands where I can see them!" Vance barked, his voice sharp as he drew his sidearm and leveled it at Jamie.
“Wait—!” Joel tried to shout, but the words barely left his mouth before Jamie’s arms were wrenched behind her back. The zip ties cut into her wrists as the soldiers pinned her down, extinguishing her flame.
"Easy! Easy!" Jamie gasped, her voice trembling, her wide eyes darting from Joel to the soldiers. The brief flicker of fire had vanished, but the fear lingered, hanging heavy in the air like smoke.
Radford held up a hand, silencing the frantic movement with a single gesture. "Enough," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
The soldiers froze, though their grips remained tight. Radford crouched down, bringing his scarred face inches from Joel’s. His blue eyes drilled into Joel’s with a weight that felt like gravity itself, heavy and unrelenting.
“That,” Radford said quietly, his voice a low rumble, “was a very interesting thing you and your lady friend just did, son.” His gaze didn’t waver. "You have my attention."
He straightened slowly, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the encounter. His eyes flicked to Bearden. "Get them on their feet. We’re not shooting anyone—yet."
Bearden gave a curt nod and hauled Joel upright with a sharp tug. Jamie stumbled as the soldiers dragged her to her feet, her wrists still bound behind her back.
Radford exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face. "I don’t know what the hell kind of power you have, but this changes things from an ecological disaster to something entirely different." His gaze shifted toward Vance, who still gripped his pistol with white-knuckled intensity. "Put the damn gun down, Sam."
Vance’s jaw twitched, but after a tense beat, he holstered the weapon with a sharp click. "They make one wrong move, Ethan, and you know where this ends."
Radford didn’t flinch. "We’ll cross that bridge when we get there." He turned back toward Joel and Jamie, his voice rough as gravel grinding underfoot. "But for now—" He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. “You two are mine."