Carlos turned slightly, his eyes sweeping the gathered crowd. "I doubt he came alone. Not after what happened at the apartment."
Sophie stepped forward, her gaze sharp. "You think someone else is here?"
Carlos gave a small nod, his voice calm but commanding. "Old man or not, he wasn't stupid. Find whoever's with him. End it."
She bowed her head without hesitation. "Yes, sir."
The stale air thickened. The flickering candlelight trembled as Sophie broke from the crowd. She slipped into the side hall, her footsteps brisk, her shadow stretching long across the cracked walls.
Several enforcers followed her, moving in eerie, synchronized silence. The door creaked shut behind them the remaining members—to witness what was next to come.
Carlos lingered, his boots clicking slowly over the worn floor as he approached Marisol.
She hadn't moved.
The remnants of Mephisto's passing still clung to the room—smoke and ash and the bitter tang of something final.
Carlos smoothed his shirt, breath steady, face composed.
He held out his hand, palm open like a peace offering.
"Marisol," he said smoothly. "Come now. We don't have to fight. You can still help us. Help your children finally go home."
His voice oozed charm, confidence.
For a heartbeat, Marisol remained still.
Then.
Her fingers, trembling at her sides, slowly clenched into fists.
The golden glow of her left eye sharpened—
and her right, once dull, sparked to life, its amber light snapping into brilliant focus.
Carlos faltered a half-step back.
The air bent around her, an invisible wave rippling from her skin.
"'You lied to me," Marisol whispered—but the words hit like a hammer.
"'I didn't lie about anything," he said smoothly, raising an eyebrow. "What did you mean by that, Mari?"'
She stared at him, trembling. "Garrison… is he really dead?"
Carlos's smile didn't fade. "He must have died from his injuries. I gave him a chance to walk away. But you know how he was—stubborn to the end. What I said was true... from a certain point of view."'
She let out a long sigh. That calm, dismissive tone. The twisting of truth.
Her hands curled into fists. Her pulse hammered against her ribs.
She wanted to scream. To hit him. To make him pay.
She wanted answers.
She wanted justice.
But more than anything—she wanted to get away.
""You took the last of my family from me, Carlos..."
The words fumbled out, raw and uneven.
The ground cracked at her feet, jagged lines spiderwebbing outward.
Heat surged through her, unbearable, searing from within.
Her eyes blazed.
"How would you like a taste of your own medicine?"
Carlos's smirk twitched—nervous now.
He raised his hand, signaling the others to hold.
"Wait—think this through," he murmured, his voice tightening.
But it was too late.
A blinding gray light erupted from Marisol's body—raw and wild—slamming into the walls and ceiling with the roar of a hurricane trapped in a jar.
Her hair whipped and writhed against the force.
Her skin shimmered like moonstone.
And her eyes—both amber—blazed with endless, ancient fury.
Carlos stumbled back, shielding his face. His people followed suit, recoiling like a tide pulling away from a storm.
A sphere of energy unfurled from Marisol's chest growing, thickening—
the fabric of reality peeling back as it expanded.
Inside, the world blurred, fractured by strands of shadow and searing light
And in the heart of it all—at the eye of her own storm—Marisol's voice echoed through her bones.
"This is my story, and I will decide how it ends."
The sight of her—the true her—vanished behind the swirling maelstrom.
"Pull back!" Carlos barked, stepping back in fear.
But it was already happening.
The ground rumbled as shapes moved at the edge of the sphere—
her loyal shadows, summoned by instinct, will, or rage.
They knew it was time for their seedling to bloom.
The first to emerge was the wolf—once a loyal pup.
Its shape rippled as its body expanded, taking on its true form.
A giant dire wolf, its fangs dripping tendrils of red mist, let out a low, vibrating growl that rolled across the room like thunder
Beside it, a new shadow emerged—
dragging long, clawed arms against the stone, its body swaying with slow, predatory grace.
A crocodile-shaped beast, ready to lunge at any who dared cross its path.
Next came a silhouette they might've mistaken for a unicorn—until it stepped into the light, its jagged horn curving like a blade, its many legs skittering over stone, cracking it into dust.
Finally, the gorilla caught the familia's eye—
once a monkey, now reborn into something monstrous.
It beat its chest once, sending shockwaves through the dust and debris,
red eyes locking onto Carlos's enforcers with brutal intent.
Carlos's followers hesitated, fingers tightening around weapons they no longer believed could save them.
Carlos forced a grin, but it slipped at the edges.
"Witness... the burning light of our goddess," he said, voice cracking.
"This will surely dissipate. Her guardians will surely guide us... once she is reborn."
But the way the wolf positioned itself between Marisol and the rest of them—head low, tail rigid, eyes blazing—said otherwise.
In a heartbeat, the familia stepped back. Fear overtook them before they could even fathom what it meant.
They weren't attacking.
They were guarding.
And within that cocoon of radiant fury—Marisol didn't burn. She bloomed
Carlos lowered his hand, letting it fall to his side in defeat, as the blinding light swallowed the last glimpses of her.
"She's not burning out," whispered one of the enforcers behind him, voice cracked with awe.
Carlos didn't answer.
Couldn't.
Not as the last of the light curled upward like smoke from a burned-out stage and left only silence behind.
Around him, the familia shifted. One by one, the awe on their faces curdled into uncertainty. Their eyes turned—not to the sphere—but to him.
Carlos.
Their leader.
Waiting for his next command.
And he had none.
For the first time, Carlos felt it: the ground slipping beneath his feet, the warmth of control bleeding out of his body like smoke through cracked glass.
Where the hell is Sophie?
She should've been back by now. If there was someone else out there—someone capable of finishing what the old man started—
He shoved the thought down, forcing his shoulders to square.
He just needed one more moment. One breath to steady the shaking. One word from Sophie to anchor the room again. To remind them who still held the reins.
Come on, Soph... get back here. I need you.
His smile returned, slow and strained. He raised his voice—just enough to scrape the silence.
"Prepare for the next phase," he said evenly. "She's almost ready."
But even as he said it, Carlos couldn't tell who he was trying to convince—his familia, or himself.