The air outside the church shuddered —a low, sickening vibration that rolled through the streets like a dying heartbeat. Dust danced in the aftershock, the world itself trembling under the surge of power.
Aiden stepped forward first, one hand shielding his face from the debris. "She's close," he said, voice tight, the Ring of Vows pulsing faintly around his wrist.
Rowan and Eri flanked him, their shadows stretched long and distorted under the storm-lit sky. Lila, calm and steady despite the strain in her breath, held her conjured sword loosely at her side.
Together, Aiden and Lila stepped forward, pressing against the heavy church doors. The old wood groaned under their combined weight before swinging open, revealing the dim glow within.
Inside, Sophie stood waiting.
She stood poised just beyond the threshold, tactical gear pristine, helmet tucked under one arm. Her stance was sharp and unflinching, a silent dare. Behind her, filling the pews and lining the narrow aisles, the remainder of Carlos's familia bristled with weapons—grinning, eager, certain of their victory.
Rowan spat to the side. "Great. A welcome party."
Aiden glanced down at the ring. "We move fast. Get to Marisol. No distractions."
Lila's hand brushed his briefly—steadying. "Right behind you."
The moment they stepped forward, the horde moved.
The ground shook with boots and howls. Sophie pointed at them with a lazy smile, shouting something they couldn't hear over the roar—and then the world exploded into violence.
Rowan surged ahead, her spear twirling into a blur. She cut down the first enforcer that rushed her, feeling the thrum of power in the weapon—but it wasn't seamless. The shaft sang against her palms, burning her fingers as if it were rejecting her.
Gunfire cracked across the chapel.
Rowan spun, catching the flash out of the corner of her eye—bullets ripping toward Eri, who was too tangled in her own fight to react.
Instinct took over.
She snapped her spear up, channeling everything she had through the weapon. The air rippled, and the bullets struck the tip—melting into slag midair and falling in hissing droplets at her feet.
The recoil from the power slammed up her arms. The wood seared her palms like live coals. She gritted her teeth against the pain.
And then, she heard it.
"Rowan..."
A whisper, featherlight in the back of her mind.
"Why are you doing this?" The voice slipped through the ringing in her ears—soft, familiar, sharp as broken glass. "Is it really for them—for your new family? Or are you just dragging your grief forward, letting it cripple you?"
Rowan gritted her teeth, driving the butt of her spear into another enforcer's gut, sending him sprawling.
"You let me die, remember?" the voice breathed. "You let all of us die."
Her vision blurred. The spear jolted in her grip, twisting awkwardly. She hissed in pain as the wood seared her skin.
Phoebe...
Was it an accusation?
Or was it the lesson Phoebe had tried to teach her all those years ago—before Rowan twisted it into a blade against herself?
"Shut up," Rowan snapped aloud, breathless, her voice cracking against the weight of memory.
Aiden shot a look her a concerned look, but Rowan forced herself to focus, biting down hard on the creeping panic.
It's not the Core. It's not.
Still, the doubt burrowed in.
At the center of the fray, Lila moved like water. Her shadow-forged sword cleaved through the enforcers with brutal grace, her stance low and efficient. Even pregnant, she moved more smoothly than any of them, the blade responding to her like it was an extension of her will.
Not once did she falter.
Not once did she miss.
Aiden caught himself staring, awe and fear tangled tighly in his chest.
Which was exactly when claws raked across his jacket.
Aiden flinched instinctively, the Ring of Vows flaring on his finger. He tried to conjure a chainmail vest beneath his shirt—anything to blunt the impact—but his concentration broke mid-formation. The protection shattered like brittle glass, fragments of would-be armor scraping against his ribs.
The partial shield had saved him from being gutted, but only just.
Before he could recover, the enforcer tackled him low, slamming him hard onto the cracked floor. Razor-tipped fingers gouged into his side, pinning him.
Aiden grunted, struggling—he had gotten careless.
Before he could twist free, a boot slammed into the enforcer's ribs, sending him skidding across the marble.
Lila.
She pivoted, standing between Aiden and the horde, breathing hard but steady, her sword already flickering back into guard position.
"Babe, focus," she said sharply—not unkind.
Aiden didn't waste the second chance. He thought hard about the materials for his next creation.
He clenched his fists. The Ring of Vows pulsed once—and a machete bloomed into his right hand, a heavy tactical knife into his left.
Classic form.
A familiar surge of balance steadied him as he rolled to his feet beside Lila, nodding once.
The next wave hit them like a wall.
Lila moved first—slashing low, forcing the enforcers to stagger back. Aiden followed, blades flashing. The machete crushed through one helmet, the tactical knife slipping under another's ribs with brutal precision.
They moved together, an unspoken rhythm guiding them—Aiden cutting high, Lila sweeping low, a dance of death that left bodies crumpled in their wake.
For a moment, it almost felt easy.
But Aiden knew better.
This was just the first breach.
And Marisol was still waiting beyond it.
Eri, meanwhile, collided with Sophie.
Roots erupted from the concrete, snaring Sophie's legs in a sudden, violent snap. Eri moved in a blur, her gauntleted fist crashing forward—but just before impact, her vision wavered.
More petals fell from her bracelet—thin, weightless—and when she blinked, the world spun.
Her kick missed.
Sophie's snarl twisted into a grin. She ripped free, snapping the roots like brittle twigs. "What's the matter, not feeling well, princess."
Eri staggered, one hand clutching her temple. Only two petals left.
"Dammit..." she gasped, barely dodging Sophie's knife swipe. She could see it in Sophies eyes. The girl scanned the room and instantly could tell they were losing. She took the chance to spin on her heels and make a run for it.
Exhausted, Aiden conjured a pistol in his hand—quick, sloppy.
He pointed it at Sophie's retreating form and pulled the trigger.
Click.
Nothing.
He looked down, heart sinking—the bullet had collapsed in on itself, warped, useless, and turning to dust in the chamber.
"Idiot," he cursed under his breath.
Sophie didn't wait. She slammed into two of her own enforcers, shoving them aside, and bolted toward the exit at the edge of the church. A few others followed, scattering like rats through broken windows.
The horde cracked.
The tide broke.
But Aiden, Lila, Rowan, and Eri still stood.
Breathing hard.
Bleeding.
But alive.
The church loomed ahead, the last stronghold before they could reach Marisol.
And inside, her light still pulsed—waiting.