Page 9

H.A.Z.E

T hey call it The Tearing, but the word doesn't even begin to capture the horror of it. It wasn't just the Earth cracking open; it was the world splitting apart, a wound so deep and raw, it felt like the planet itself was screaming.

Ricci's quest for power went too far. He tried to open a portal, but instead, he created a black hole.

I wasn't there, but everyone knows the stories.

How the sky turned red first; not the soft hues of sunset, but a violent crimson that bled across the horizon.

The ground trembled; the kind of shaking that steals your breath and turns your legs to jelly.

Creatures thought it was another quake at first, but then The Tearing began.

It wasn't a slow, creeping thing. The Earth was split wide open in a matter of seconds—a jagged, gaping scar that ran from one horizon to the other.

Entire cities were swallowed whole, their lights blinking out as though someone had snuffed out the stars.

Creatures tried to run, but where would they go?

The ground beneath them buckled and tore, and the air itself felt wrong—thick with heat and ash, and something heavier. Something ancient.

They say there's no bottom—that if you fall, you'll keep falling until you've hit the molten heart of the planet itself.

I don't know if that's true. I've stood on the wall separating the creatures within the dome from the monsters beyond.

I've stood on the edge, looking down into the blackness, and felt it staring back at me, alive and hungry.

It happened only seven years ago, and nothing has been the same.

Humanity was on the brink of extinction, and the Gods decided to bestow us their mercy by encapsulating the world in a dome—a dome powered by the floating castle and protected by the Saviour.

No one could enter; not unless the Gods or their Champion allowed them to. I didn't think I would see it. That I would one day stand in its walls, feel its power.

I was like everyone else; I thought it was just a floating building. But it's not—not even close.

It's alive.

The air cracks, thick with power, a charged storm waiting to break.

This castle… It feels me. Rejects me.

Shadows slither along the walls, writhing like wounded things, their hollow cries bleeding into the stone.

The golden veins pulse erratically, flaring too bright, too furious, as if trying to purge me from its core.

Then, the trembling begins; a deep, guttural groan, rolling through the floor like a beast stirring from its slumber.

The walls flex, the ceiling rattles, and a pulse of an unseen force slams into me, demanding I leave.

Another wave of power crashes through the space, knocking the air from my lungs—the weight of the Gods pressing against my ribs, my spine, my skull.

The castle—no, the Gods— loathe me.

The floor cracks beneath my feet, shadows clawing at my skin like they want to drag me out. A lesser creature would have collapsed. Yielded. But I'm not like everyone else. I'm not just a trespasser; I'm a Nightwalker . And I do not kneel.

The creature inside me stirs, her form shifting in the darkness. Her golden eyes blink open, sensing the danger around us.

"Shit!" Seth bends low to the floor to get his balance and looks to Riot. "We need to get her out; they've never been this angry."

Riot growls, deep and low—so low that the vibrations race through me. He storms across the room, his anger pouring out with each furious step he takes towards the doors.

Yes— doors.

They surround the cupola, standing unattached, suspended in a perfect ring. Each one identical—dark, unmarked, leading to the unknown.

Except for one.

A golden door hums with power, its surface shifting with intricate patterns. Divine energy pours from it, suffocating yet warm, pressing against the air like a silent command. It's not just a door; there is something different about it.

Riot storms through it, and in his panic, Seth follows him. The door slams shut behind them.

I tilt my head, analysing this so-called hero and his power. This is the creature I've only heard stories about. I knew he would be powerful, but I guess I just never expected him to be capable enough to enslave me. It wasn't even a possibility I entertained in my head.

The moment his venom sunk into my veins, my whole body went numb. Right down to my soul; a burning sensation so strong, I was sure my flesh would melt off my bones.

I thought I was going to die, and for a moment, I believed he wanted that, too. And now, because of my carelessness, I'm enslaved . I wasn't created to obey. My creator made sure of that. I'm a creature of chaos, destruction, and death.

The Saviour must be desperate. He knows binding me to him is like trying to catch a comet with a butterfly net.

He's insane.

I blink, staring at the sky through the glass dome and finding the moon.

It's huge—so big it almost engulfs the entire room. I wonder how far off the ground we are. The sheer amount of stars makes me think I'm closer to space than I am to the earth. I grit my teeth, glancing at one of the many doors surrounding the room, and walk to one of them.

The shadows try to hold onto me, and even the air tries to hold me back… but the goddamn castle feels more like an annoying fly I can't get rid of.

After seeing the General’s memories, I have a sense of what's happening here. Though, I'm more curious about that presence; the empty pocket of space even Aether avoids. I know what it is—a Nightwalker. One that shouldn't exist. Someone the Saviour is protecting.

I glide across the room, grabbing the door handle, eager to find this creature. But it disappears. I frown, staring at the door and flick my gaze to the sky.

Those damn assholes.

"Come on now," I say, slowly, deliberately, staring up at the sky, knowing the Gods can hear me just fine. "I already hate you; do you really want to stand in my way?"

The gold in my eyes reflects off the glass dome above my head in warning. As if sensing my intentions, a door handle appears a moment later; the shadows back off and the castle walls stop shaking.

I smile, knowing damn well I'll pay for my insolence when they send another useless creature to kill me.

They always fail, yet the Gods’ hatred of me is intense enough that they can't allow themselves to give up. Their pride won't let them, and one day, it'll be their downfall.

The void harbouring the Nightwalker begins to move like oil floating through water; it doesn’t belong. I reach for the silver handle, but it opens before I can touch it, and a small body bumps into mine.

I raise an amused brow to hide my surprise. That void. That Nightwalker. It's… a boy.

He was two floors down; I know he was. My senses have never been wrong. How did—

I glance behind the boy, staring into a kitchen. I managed to see its black marble island, huge chandeliers, dark-grey cabinets, and white-and-gold tiled floors before the door slammed shut behind him.

"Watch where you’re going!" his small voice snaps, and my attention shifts to the boy who has fallen on his ass. His dark curls sit in a wild tangle, framing a face still soft with youth. Piercing grey eyes glare into mine, sharp with defiance. He's small and slight; probably no older than seven.

So, Damien managed to do it… He actually managed to conceive a child.

He momentarily forgets he's annoyed, and an expression close to 'awe' adorns his innocent face. It intrigues me more than it annoys me. Usually, no creature can look into my eyes for more than a second.

Well, 'usually' is the key word. This kid is the second to find my eyes, the annoying Saviour being the first.

The kid snaps out of his daze as he realises why he's annoyed.

"When a door opens, it usually means someone is walking through it," he mutters beneath his breath. I smile. He's a brat. Great.

"Do you know who I am?" I perch low, crossing my arms over my knees so our eyes stay connected.

His brows brush together, obviously confused. But then his eyes drift to the mix of red and black blood painting my face, these clothes, and my hands. His eyes snap back to me, and I smile. From how his eyes widen and his body stiffens, I know he's witnessing gold bleed into my irises.

I chuckle. "I guess I don't need to tell you what I am, right?"

"Nightwalker," he murmurs, and my smirk only widens at the fact this kid openly acknowledges what I am, when grown men twice his age would rather piss their pants and stutter like fools than face the truth of my existence…

And their looming death.

This kid is different; I see that in his eyes. A fire licks across his irises, telling me he won't cower, that he isn't afraid, even though I know—deep down, he's terrified.

Despite that, his posture straightens, and he lifts his head defiantly, holding my gaze as if daring me to do something.

Silly, stupid boy.

He picks himself up off the floor, but I snatch his neck before he can get too close. The moment my fingers touch his skin, I hear his name. And I hear all the ugly things he says to himself in a place he thinks no one can hear— his mind.

Eden Adam; that's his name. I'm not sure why, but I like the sound of it.

His artery throbs beneath my fingertips as I forcefully pull him closer. And his heartbeat, so incredibly slow—like mine. Like all Nightwalkers.

"Now, Baby Flame, you were so rude." My lips tilt at the corner in the most sinister way, and I demand, " Apologise."

"Hell no!" he snaps, those pale eyes burning with defiance. Why I have this urge to destroy that flame, I don't know. But I'm tempted to rip his eyes out, so I don't have to see it again.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, you don't have to act so brave around me, Baby Flame." I chuckle, running a bloody finger down the side of his face, smearing a line of black blood on his skin. I pull him closer and whisper, "I can taste your weaknesses."