—
The cathedral reeked of ash and rot.
It hadn't been a holy place in decades—just a mausoleum in disguise, where saints once knelt and sinners now ruled.
Celeste stood in the pulpit, her boots slick with blood, staring down at what used to be the boy's priest of information.
Now? Just ribs and regret.
"You scream better than you lie," she said, her voice low, breathless from the thrill.
Nathaniel stepped through the shattered doors.
"You always did like confessions."
Celeste turned, face lit by the flicker of firelight and madness.
"He told me something, Nate."
Nathaniel raised a brow. "Did he?"
She smiled, teeth red. "He said there's someone still alive. Someone we both buried."
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "Don't play with ghosts."
Celeste stepped closer, voice like velvet soaked in poison.
"What if I said it was Celia?"
Silence carved itself between them.
"You're lying," Nathaniel said flatly.
But his voice cracked. Just enough.
Celeste reached into her coat and tossed something at his feet.
A photograph.
Grainy. Recent. Dated three days ago.
Celia.
Older. Alive. Standing beside the boy.
Nathaniel's legs almost buckled.
"She died in my arms."
Celeste's gaze turned sharp. "Then whose heart stopped beating?"
—
Elsewhere.
Alfreda lit a cigar with the last embers of her last safehouse.
"Celia," she muttered.
The name stung.
If the girl was alive…
Then someone was playing god.
And the boy?
He was the only one with that kind of power left.
She took a deep drag and stared out at the burning skyline.
"I'm going to kill him," she whispered.
Not a threat.
A promise.
—
Meanwhile—
Deep beneath the city, behind reinforced steel and a biometric vault guarded by AI that answered only to screams…
Celia opened her eyes.
And didn't remember her name.
Just a white room.
Just needles.
Just him.
The boy stood beside her, hand on her cheek like a lover.
"You're doing beautifully," he murmured.
Her voice was hoarse. "Who am I?"
"You're mine," he said.
Her eyes were dull and empty—but they flickered.
For a moment.
For a second.
Something else moved behind them.
And then it was gone.
—
Back in the cathedral—
Nathaniel crushed the photo in his fist.
"She can't be alive," he muttered.
Celeste tilted her head. "Or maybe she was never dead."
Nathaniel turned away, rage rolling off him like thunder.
If the boy had faked Celia's death…
If he'd taken her, twisted her…
He would raze the world.
Celeste stepped beside him, her tone quieter now.
"If we're going after him, we need more than fire. We need the truth. We need what's left of the Vault."
Nathaniel glanced at her.
"I thought it was empty."
She smiled coldly.
"You only opened the first floor."
—
Later that night—
Vincent watched from a rooftop as Alfreda stormed the boy's second fortress with ten men and no mercy.
He chuckled to himself. "That girl's a weapon."
The man beside him—a hacker they'd dragged from a hellhole—flicked through surveillance screens.
"Got something," he said.
Vincent leaned over.
On screen: the boy. Talking to someone off-camera.
But the audio caught it:
"She doesn't know who she is.
She doesn't remember Celeste.
Or Nathaniel.
Or the fire."
Vincent's eyes sharpened.
"Play it back," he said.
They did.
This time, a faint voice followed the boy's:
"I remember… screams."
Vincent straightened.
"She's alive."
He cracked his knuckles.
"And she's going to remember everything."
—
Alfreda kicked open the vault beneath the fortress.
Behind it?
Not gold.
Not guns.
Children.
Dozens.
Eyes wide.
Wearing Widowmaker emblems.
"They're building a new army," one of her men whispered.
She felt bile rise in her throat.
"They're not building an army," she said.
"They're breeding replacements."
She turned.
"Burn it."
—
Nathaniel, Celeste, Vincent, and Alfreda met that night in the last untouched Widowmaker chapel.
Four demons at a funeral.
Four devils planning an apocalypse.
"We kill the boy," Alfreda said.
"We find Celia," Nathaniel added.
"We crack the rest of the Vault," Celeste finished.
Vincent just grinned.
"And if she's not who we remember?"
Nathaniel looked at the map again.
Then at Celeste.
Then at the flames flickering outside.
"Then we burn her too."