All was still. The kind of stillness that presses into your ears, makes your breath feel loud, and turns the faintest movement into thunder. Cal sat in the guest bedroom, one foot resting on his opposite knee, the Fangbite sword propped lazily against the nearby wall. His eyelids drooped as sleep tried to drag him under. He'd stayed up too long—watching, waiting, listening for a danger he couldn't name.
The lamp cast a soft pool of amber light across the polished floor, and the creak of wood from the rafters overhead was the only real sound. Outside, the wind didn't howl. The night seemed to sigh.
And then it happened.
CRASH.
Glass exploded inward with an earth-shaking roar, shards spraying like daggers through the air. The wall-mounted light burst into sparks as a massive shape hurled itself into the room. Cal barely blinked before a monstrous fist tore straight through the center of his torso. He didn't even have time to scream.
The punch launched him like a ragdoll, his body smashing through the drywall and wood of the guest bedroom and skidding into the hallway beyond. Blood sprayed across the walls. Pain flooded his senses like a red tide. The wind had been driven from his lungs. His ribs cracked. Bones shrieked.
The thing stepped forward through the ruined frame of the window, glass crunching beneath its heavy, inhuman feet. It was tall, nearly seven feet and grotesquely muscular, its pale skin blackened in splotches like burnt flesh stitched over with iron. Golden sigils twisted and pulsed across its skin like a sick language carved in light. Its eyes were hollow pits of animal instinct, and something worse—intent.
The monster from Kaela's image projections, but in realest form and was walking straight toward Cal, who tried to move but couldn't.
Every nerve screamed, but his hand moved anyway, shaking, drenched in blood. He reached toward his belt. Toward the signal device Selene had given him. He had to call her. He had to—
It was gone. A shattered mess of twisted plastic and sparking wire. Destroyed in the impact. The beast didn't run. It didn't need to. It stalked forward slowly, dragging its clawed fingers across the walls as it came. Each step was like a countdown to Cal's death.
But then a sound echoed behind the monster—down the hallway. A door creaked open.
Mr. Grant Mason stood frozen in place, his daughter Lily clutching his leg, her face half-hidden in a pink bunny plush. They must have heard the crash and come to see what happened. Behind them, Elena Mason stepped out as well, her face pale, her mouth opening in a silent scream.
Cal's heart turned to ice. The monster paused. Then, like a switch had flipped, it turned its head, right eye twitching toward the family. Without hesitation, it changed course, lumbering down the hallway toward them.
"No—no, no, no," Cal gasped, coughing up blood, choking on the weight in his chest.
Grant Mason, snapping out of shock, suddenly pulled his wife and daughter backward. "Downstairs! GO!". They turned and bolted.
Cal forced himself to his knees. His legs trembled, barely responsive. Every movement felt like he was dragging concrete limbs through molasses. But he reached for Fangbite. Wrapped bloodied fingers around its hilt. And stood.
As the monster passed him, Cal's vision tunneled. His instincts screamed.
Move!
He lunged, closing the gap between them in a breath, driving the short blade straight into the beast's spine. It screamed, a horrible, garbled noise like metal grinding bone, and spun to strike.
Cal yanked the blade free and ducked low just as the beast's arm scythed through the air. Wind whipped past his head. He rolled under its massive legs and came up on the other side, slashing a sharp diagonal line across its torso.
The monster howled, swiping wildly. A blow caught Cal square in the chest and flung him down the staircase. He tumbled like a ragdoll, crashing into the dining set below. Wood exploded around him. Plates shattered. His ears rang.
Blood poured down his temple. He could barely breathe and if he wasn't an arbiter with some form of training to his body, that would have been enough to spell his death.
But when he looked up—his eyes snapped wide. The beast was walking toward the front door, toward the Mason family, who were scrambling with panicked hands at the bolt lock, trying to open it fast enough to get out.
They wouldn't make it. Cal's vision blurred. His hand trembled as he reached out and screamed:
"GET BACK HERE!"
And just like that, they swapped places.
Cal blinked.
He wasn't at the bottom of the stairs anymore. He was standing in front of the Masons, just a few feet from the door.
And the monster—the monster now stood where he'd been, halfway across the room, confused.
Cal looked at his palm. A cold pulse of power throbbed through it. Voidreach. He'd done something with it. Stolen… something.
He didn't have time to think. The creature snarled and charged.
Cal charged back.
The beast lunged with both fists. Cal twisted mid-sprint, just barely dodging to the side—and plunged Fangbite directly into its chest, right where a heart should've been. The sigils along the monster's body flared. It spasmed violently. Light flickered from the blade like glass breaking underwater.
The beast choked once. Then collapsed. And slowly, it began to disintegrate into ash.
Cal collapsed to his knees, breath ragged. He couldn't believe it. He'd actually...
A scream tore from outside the house. Cal's head snapped up. The family had made it out.
Or so he thought.
He bolted out the door, nearly stumbling down the porch steps. And what he saw—froze him in place.
Mrs. Elena Mason lay in the middle of the lawn. Her throat had been slashed open. Blood soaked the grass beneath her. Twenty feet ahead, Mr. Grant Mason crawled toward his daughter, dragging his mangled body inch by inch. Four-year-old Lily was lying still, her abdomen cut open, gasping like a fish out of water.
Standing over them were two more monsters—identical to the one Cal had just killed. Their arms and claws were dripping with blood. Their golden sigils glowed in the moonlight and behind them; the corpses of the armed guards lay strewn across the lawn and driveway. Every man who had come with Cal—slaughtered. Their rifles snapped in two. Their bodies dismembered in places.
The beasts had been downstairs this entire time—tearing through trained men like paper.
Cal's voice caught in his throat.
One of the monsters turned. Its mouth moved, and a harsh, alien voice rasped out:
"A good death is its own reward."
Then it lifted its hand and drove a claw straight through Mr. Mason's chest.
Grant's body slumped forward—over Lily's.
"No," Cal whispered.
The other monster leaned down. Opened its jaws.
"NO!" Cal screamed, lunging forward.
But the deed was already done.
Before he could reach them, the beasts vanished; swallowed by a swirling distortion in the air. A dark spiral of space twisted into existence, then blinked out like it had never been there.
Cal dropped to his knees beside the dying girl.
Lily's eyes fluttered.
"Please," he whispered, hands trembling as he lifted her small body into his arms. "Please, no, no—"
She blinked once, looking at him. Her lips moved.
He didn't hear the words.
Then—
She stopped breathing.
Cal screamed.
"NOOOOOOOOO—!"