Chapter Fifteen: The Longest Night

The next morning broke beneath a lid of grey. The sky hung low, clouded and restless, but the room itself was all calm—the soft crackle of the fireplace, the faint clink of china somewhere down the hall. For a long time he sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the pattern of frost forming delicate veins along the windowpane.

He rose and dressed, then crossed to the mirror. His reflection looked the same: the faint shadows under his eyes, the familiar tired lines. But there was something quieter in him now, a stillness left behind by fear that had burned itself out.

Downstairs, the sound of laughter floated faintly through the hall. The enormous Christmas tree they had set up two days earlier now dominated the far corner—its branches heavy with golden ribbons, hand-blown glass ornaments, and clusters of small white lights that shimmered like frost.

Julian was already seated, halfway through a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, teasing Reina about her meticulous coffee rituals. Naomi, at the other end of the table, was speaking softly with one of the attendants.

Elias paused at the doorway, letting the sight soak in. The fear from last night's dream receded when he saw their faces.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Julian teased with a smile. “We thought you’d gone into hibernation.”

Elias smiled faintly and took his seat. “Was considering it.”

Reina slid him the coffee pot. “You’ll need this more than we do. Mr. Rao made a special blend for Christmas week.”

Elias poured himself a cup. The smell—rich, spiced, almost chocolatey—was comforting in a way he hadn’t expected.

He helped himself to a generous portion of scrambled eggs and a croissant.

Naomi glanced up, meeting his eyes. “Rough night?”

For a heartbeat, he almost told her. The words sat there, heavy and waiting. But then he caught sight of the tree again, the soft light reflected in her eyes, and something in him refused to ruin the morning. “Just didn’t sleep well,” he said. “Guess I was too warm.”

Her expression softened. “That’s a first for this house.”

Mr. Rao appeared from the kitchen with another tray. “The scones are fresh, everyone. Please eat before they lose their soul.”

Julian grinned. “A man after my heart.”

The mood in the room was easy and bright; they all smiled and laughed, consciously leaving worries at the door.

Julian paused his eating, turning his attention to Elias. “Naomi mentioned your plan to visit Stonehenge. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m getting out of bed to stare at a bunch of rocks in the freezing wind.”

Reina didn’t even glance up from her tablet. “Go without us. I’ll stay here and make sure he doesn’t eat the entire pantry.”

Elias pushed his chair back and stood. He crossed to the coat rack and began pulling on his heavy gloves and long woolen coat. His excitement was barely masked by the quiet composure he had learned to maintain.

Naomi only smiled faintly, fastening the buttons of her own coat. “Suit yourselves. We’ll bring you back a souvenir. Maybe a pebble.” A wave of laughter passed around the table.

Elias and Naomi said their goodbyes and exited the house, getting into the waiting car. The drive west took hours—through fields dulled by frost and villages still half-asleep beneath the winter gloom.

The landscape shifted gradually, from London’s dense stone and glass to open countryside where the roads narrowed and the wind grew stronger. By the time they reached Salisbury Plain, the horizon had opened into vast, rolling emptiness—grasslands washed pale by the weak morning light, dotted with dark mounds of earth and occasional stands of bare trees bending against the wind.

The driver parked near the visitor entrance, though the area was deserted save for a distant security guard who nodded them through, already briefed by Mr. Rao’s “connections.” Naomi stepped out first, tucking her scarf against the wind. The cold cut through everything; it had a clean, almost metallic edge that stung her cheeks.

Elias followed, his boots crunching over the gravel. For a long moment, he just stood there, breathing. The air felt heavy and pure at once—ancient in a way that pressed quietly against the skin.

They began the slow walk toward the stones.

The path curved through the wide field, slick with dew, the wind pushing at them with steady insistence. The monument rose gradually into view, emerging from the mist like a memory made solid—colossal stones ringed against the grey sky, older than language, older than anything Elias could name.

He slowed, the first flicker of awe overtaking the cold. “I’ve seen pictures,” he said softly, “but this feels… different.”

Naomi smiled faintly, pulling her coat tighter. “It’s not just what you see. It’s what’s still here.”

The wind caught her words and carried them away.

They approached in silence after that, their footsteps muffled by the damp earth. Elias’s breath fogged the air before him; his pulse quickened, though not from the walk. There was something in the air—a current he could almost feel, like invisible threads running through the ground beneath his boots, humming just at the edge of hearing.

Kiran had warned him not to get his hopes up, but the warning barely held. Every step forward tugged at something inside him—something that had been sleeping and now stirred faintly in recognition.

When they reached the boundary rope, Naomi exchanged a quiet word with the guard posted nearby. He nodded once, unhooking the line for them to enter the circle. Elias stepped forward first.

The stones loomed above him—weathered monoliths, their surfaces carved by centuries of rain and wind. Each one felt impossibly deliberate, positioned with a purpose that outlasted everything built since. The air inside the ring was different—denser somehow, charged.

Naomi hung back a few paces, watching him.

Elias reached out a gloved hand but stopped just short of touching the nearest stone. The surface glistened faintly with moisture, the texture rough, ancient. The hum beneath his skin grew stronger. It wasn’t sound; it was presence.

Goosebumps ran along his arms.

He closed his eyes. The air felt alive. The whispers came then—soft at first, just on the edge of meaning. Not voices, but something deeper, older, like wind moving through hollow stone.

Naomi watched him carefully. “Elias?” she called, but her voice seemed to fade before it reached him.

Elias took another step, toward the center. The whispers grew louder, though he couldn’t tell whether they were around him or inside his head.

He felt a pressure building—not a steady welling but a volatile surge, pulsing against his chest. A wild energy straining for release.

And then, just as suddenly—

A crack of thunder tore across the sky.

The sound rolled through the plain, shaking the air. Elias staggered, eyes snapping open as the energy vanished, leaving only a hollow ache where it had been.

A single cold drop struck his cheek. Then another. Within seconds, the sky opened.

“Come on!” Naomi shouted, grabbing his arm. The rain came in sheets, hard and relentless, soaking them before they had crossed halfway back to the car. The wind lashed through the open fields, pushing against them with invisible hands.

They ran, half-laughing, half-breathless, until they reached the vehicle, slamming the doors against the storm. Inside, their breaths came in misty clouds. The driver started the engine, the wipers thrashing uselessly against the torrent.

They were quiet for a while. The rain drummed hard on the roof, drowning the world outside in a steady roar. Elias sat with his hands clasped loosely in his lap, his gaze distant.

Naomi glanced at him. “You’re quiet,” she said softly.

He blinked, as though returning from far away. “Just thinking.”

“About what you felt back there?”

He nodded once. “It was… familiar. Like standing at the edge of a dream I couldn’t quite remember. I thought maybe this place would help me see it clearly. But it’s all fragments.”

Naomi studied him for a moment, then reached out and took his hand. Her fingers were cold, but her touch was steady. “Sometimes remembering isn’t about seeing,” she said quietly. “It’s about feeling what you already know.”

He looked at her, and for a moment the distance in his expression softened. “You make it sound simple.”

“It isn’t,” she admitted. “But it helps.”

Outside, lightning flashed again, far to the west, illuminating the blurred horizon.

Elias exhaled, the faintest trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Kiran told me not to expect anything. I should’ve listened.”

Naomi shook her head. “You found something. Even if it wasn’t what you expected.”

Elias turned toward the window. The rain had begun to slow, streaking the glass with long, uneven lines. Beyond them, the distant stones stood shrouded in mist, their outlines fading against the grey.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Elias said with a low voice.

Naomi looked at him. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his thumb tracing the seam of his glove. “Last night… I had a dream. But it was not a memory like before; more like—a vision.”

He told her everything: the tunnel, the dripping walls, Reina’s cries, Julian pinned beneath someone's boot, the men whose eyes gleamed like glass, and Naomi—her defiance, her fear, the voice that ordered her taken.

As he spoke, his words slowed, the images surfacing again with painful clarity. “It felt utterly real. Like I was there, and I couldn’t move. Couldn’t help any of you.”

Naomi’s face had gone pale. Her hand, resting on her lap, trembled slightly before she stilled it. “You think it was a warning?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But it did feel like one.”

The air inside the car tightened. Naomi turned her gaze toward the window, her reflection caught in the glass—calm on the surface, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.

Finally, she said, “Dreams like that can happen after awakening. It could be nothing—just your mind trying to warn you of a danger that it fears.”

Elias gave a faint, hollow laugh. “You don’t believe that.”

She exhaled. “No,” she admitted. “I don’t. But I want to.”

Her voice was soft, almost lost beneath the drone of the engine. She reached over, her hand finding his again. This time, she didn’t let go. “We’ll watch for signs. Whatever it was, you’re not alone in it.”

He looked at her, the tension in his jaw easing just a little. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Naomi forced a small, steady smile. “Don’t thank me yet.”

The car rolled on through the rain-slicked countryside. The light shifted restlessly above the fields—pale gold breaking through grey, then vanishing again. Neither of them spoke, but the silence had changed; it carried something heavier now, a shared awareness neither wanted to name.

Outside, the last streaks of sunlight caught the mist, turning it to faint silver. Inside, the warmth of Naomi’s hand anchored him, even as a shadow of the dream lingered behind his eyes.

And somewhere between the fields and the fading horizon, both of them understood—the quiet they had shared was not peace at all, but the calm that comes before something breaks.

The drive back home was long, the silence between them longer still. Elias spent most of it staring through the window at the blurred lights of the city returning around them.

When they stepped into the hall of the London Chapter, warmth greeted them—the faint scent of pine from the tree in the atrium, the glow of firelight reflecting off polished oak. Everything looked peaceful, touched by the slow, golden rhythm of Christmas approaching.

But something was off.

Julian and Reina were nowhere to be seen.

Naomi slipped off her coat, scanning the hall. “Where are they,” she murmured.

Mr. Rao appeared from one of the side corridors, immaculate as always, a folded towel over his arm. “They went out earlier,” he said. “The Christmas market at South Bank. They mentioned dinner and said they’d return before dark.”

Elias glanced at the window. The sky outside had already fallen to ink. “They’re already late.”

“They might have stopped somewhere,” Rao offered, though the crease forming between his brows betrayed doubt.

They tried to wait. Naomi poured tea she never drank. Elias sat near the fire, staring into the flames. The ticking of the mantel clock filled the silence between them. Every now and then one of them looked toward the door, half expecting the familiar burst of Julian’s voice from the hall.

But it didn’t come.

Until it did—violently.

The front door slammed open, hard enough to shake the wreath from its hook.

Julian stumbled in, soaked through, mud on his trousers, one side of his face streaked with blood from a split nose. “They took her!” he shouted, breath ragged. “Naomi—they took Reina!”

Elias was on his feet in an instant. Naomi reached Julian first, gripping his shoulders. “What happened?”

He dragged in a shaky breath. “Al-Rashid’s people. His head of security—the bald one—he came with others. They ambushed us by the river, near the stalls. I tried to fight—” He clenched his fists. “But they had help. Not human. I could smell it.”

Elias’s stomach turned cold. “What do you mean, not human?”

Julian met his eyes. “They were demons. Three of them, at least. Big ones.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Naomi’s face drained of color, and the weight of the word demons hung in the hall like smoke.

“Where did they take her?” she asked quietly.

Julian pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket, its corner stained dark. “They gave me this. Said to bring the tablet to this address before midnight, or they kill her.”

Rao stepped forward quietly. “Old maintenance shafts,” he said after glancing at the address. “Disused underground access beneath Clerkenwell. Dangerous—half the structure’s collapsed.”

Elias felt the words settle like stone in his stomach. The tunnels, the threat—the dream came flooding back with painful clarity. He didn’t speak; Naomi saw the look in his eyes and understood before he could say a word.

“Perfect place for a trap,” Julian muttered.

Naomi’s expression hardened. “We don’t have a choice.”

Rao sighed heavily. “I’ll contact the Order immediately. We’ll get support.”

He left for a few minutes, and in that small silence Elias heard the wind pushing against the old windows. The city outside glowed faintly through the glass, a wash of distant gold.

When Rao returned, his face told them everything. “They’ve ordered us not to act,” he said flatly. “We’re to stay put and wait for further instruction.”

Julian let out a low curse. “Wait? They will kill her!”

“They’re afraid of escalation,” Rao said, voice rising slightly. “Demons on London soil is no small matter. The Council doesn’t want open conflict—especially not without proof.”

Naomi’s tone sharpened. “Proof? We have a witness bleeding in front of us!”

Rao met her gaze. For a moment, his composure faltered. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I didn’t expect you to obey. I only thought you should know what you’re defying.”

A thin smile broke through Naomi’s frustration. “Then you know us well.”

Rao exhaled through his nose. “If you’re going to disobey orders, you’ll need help.” He hesitated, then nodded once. “Come with me.”

He led them down a side corridor none of them had entered before—a narrow passage lined with dark wainscoting that ended in a plain oak door. Behind it was a small armory, built more like a vault than a conventional room. Inside lay a narrow rack of weapons—sleek steel blades, short and balanced, their surfaces etched with faint sigils that shimmered when they caught the firelight.

Julian stared, the tension in his shoulders easing a fraction. “You’ve been holding out on us.”

“These aren’t toys,” Rao said, removing one and laying it on the table. “Iron and silver alloy, tempered with angelic symbols. They can wound or kill demons—but at a price.”

Naomi nodded grimly. “The hosts.”

“Yes. These demons inhabit humans. The blades sever both.”

Elias stared at the weapon, its mirrored edge reflecting the flicker of the fire. “So if we use them, we kill whoever they’re wearing.”

Rao gave a single nod.

Naomi turned to the others. “Then they’re our last resort. We talk first, fight only if we have no choice.”

Julian frowned. “Talk? You think they’ll listen?”

“They might,” she said. “Al-Rashid’s man isn’t stupid. He wants the tablet, not a massacre. If he’s resorting to this, he’s desperate. Maybe we can use that.”

Elias’s jaw tightened. “What if they don’t care? What if it’s a trap?”

Naomi replied, “What other choice do we have?”

Beside the blades sat a small case of metal canisters. “Flash grenades,” Rao explained. “Bright enough to blind a human—and slow a demon. Just long enough to move.” There was also a pouch of something that shimmered faintly like ground glass. “Salt and iron dust,” he explained. “Scatter it on the ground if you need to slow them. It won’t kill, but it’ll sting.”

He handed them three earpieces, “Short-range comms. It might work down there for a few hundred meters, no more. The deeper tunnels will block the signal. Use them sparingly.”

Naomi thanked Rao. He met her eyes and nodded: “Take what you need. I’ll prepare the car and keep the line open here. And, Naomi…” He hesitated. “Don’t underestimate them. I’ve seen demons fight. You won’t win by strength.”

She nodded once. “Then wish us luck; we'll need it.”

They armed quickly—each selecting a sigil-etched blade. A few flash grenades and a pouch of shimmering salt-and-iron dust followed, tucked securely into their coats.

The rain had begun again when they left the house, soft but relentless. The city’s Christmas lights turned to smeared halos against the windshield as they drove. Naomi sat forward in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the narrow lanes of Clerkenwell as the driver followed the coordinates in silence.

At last, Naomi spoke. “We don’t know how many there are.”

“Definitely more than we're prepared for,” Julian murmured.

“They’ll sense us,” Naomi said, looking at Elias. “Demons always recognize what we are. Julian, they might not notice you—use that to your advantage. Sneak in, find Reina, and get out before anyone notices you.”

Julian nodded. “And if they notice me?”

Naomi gave a thin smile. “Run fast.”

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Good plan.”

It was almost eleven when they arrived. The driver stopped abruptly at the kerb, right beside a rusted gate that opened onto a narrow lane.

“This is it,” Naomi said. “We go on foot from here.”

The entrance was in a forgotten service yard.The smell of damp earth and metal rose up from the stairwell. Naomi went first, blade concealed beneath her coat. Elias was close behind, and Julian followed them at a distance.

At the bottom, the air turned cold and close. Brick walls beaded with moisture. Old pipes lined the ceiling, dripping steadily.

Then—they saw movement.

Two figures emerged from the gloom, stepping into the reach of a weak light. They looked almost ordinary—work jackets, boots—but their eyes caught the light in a wrong, reflective way. The taller one smiled without warmth.

“You’re expected,” he said, voice hollow, slightly echoing as if two tones overlapped.

Naomi nodded once. “Lead the way.”

The plan was simple. She and Elias would go in openly, draw attention, negotiate if they could. Julian, keeping low in the dark, would follow, find Reina, and get her out.

The tunnel opened wider ahead, the air thick with heat and the faint reek of sulfur. Their footsteps echoed as the guards led them through twisting corridors.

They entered a chamber lit by weak industrial lamps strung along the walls. The glow was uneven, revealing shapes in clusters—ten, fifteen, maybe twenty of them—men and women who didn’t move quite right, their stillness too perfect. None spoke.

Reina was nowhere in sight.

At the far end of the space stood the bald man—Al-Rashid’s security chief, immaculate even here. And beside him, something worse.

A tall figure, lean and pale, eyes entirely devoid of white.

The bald man smiled thinly, hands clasped behind his back. “You came,” he said, almost pleasantly.

Naomi’s expression didn’t change. “We came to talk.”

The creature beside him tilted its head, slow and deliberate, the way an animal studies prey. “Search them,” he commanded. The sound wasn’t a normal voice but a layered vibration—words formed as if through a mouth practicing human speech.

​At his command, four of the guards immediately moved to search them. One pair roughly pulled Elias’s blade and flash grenades from his coat; another pair rifled Naomi’s pockets and confiscated her gear.

The creature’s lips peeled back into a slow smile, giving them the creeps.

Behind them, hidden in shadows, Julian was slipping through passages, the soft scrape of his boots lost beneath the hum of the tunnels.

The tall figure studied them for a moment, motionless, except for the faint twitch of his jaw. The air in the chamber felt thick. Elias could sense the heat rising off the walls, a low thrum of energy that prickled against his skin.

“You came to talk,” the demon repeated, voice still layered, resonating strangely in the space between words. “Talk, then.”

Naomi’s voice was steady. “I didn’t think Al-Rashid would stoop this low. Selling his soul for a tablet he doesn’t even understand.”

A thin, rippling sound—half laugh, half growl—escaped the demon’s throat. “Sell? No. He was ours long before this.”

His smile widened, showing too many teeth. “Your kind has always been easy to tempt.”

Elias felt the words cut like ice. The demon’s gaze turned to him, as though measuring something deeper than flesh. For a fleeting second, Elias thought he saw a flicker of recognition in those black eyes, something like curiosity—or hunger.

Naomi broke the silence. “We don’t have the tablet,” she said. “Even if we did, you wouldn’t get it this way. Let Reina go, and we’ll talk about terms.”

The bald man—Al-Rashid’s head of security—took a single step forward, his polished shoes scraping the stone. “You think you have leverage,” he said softly. “You don’t.”

At that moment, a faint crackle sounded in Elias’s ear.

Julian’s whisper came through, ragged but alive. “I see her. Two of them guarding. I can take one—maybe both. Buy me a few minutes.”

Naomi kept her expression perfectly still, the tiny earpiece hidden beneath her short hair. “You won’t win anything by killing us,” she said, voice calm but firm. “Al-Rashid knows what happens when he crosses the Order. You’re risking far more than you can gain.”

The bald man smiled without warmth. “Do you think he cares about your rules anymore?”

Before Naomi could answer, a loud bang echoed through the tunnels—a deep metallic thud followed by a flare of white light in the distance. The guards flinched instinctively, snarling. Elias felt the pulse of it, sharp and blinding even from here.

The demon boss’s head snapped toward the sound. “Find the source,” he snarled. Several of the creatures moved instantly, their movements unnaturally swift.

Moments later, heavy footsteps returned. Two demons hauled Julian and Reina into the chamber—Julian half-dragged, his cheek bruised, Reina bound and struggling, her muffled cries filling the air.

“We caught a rat,” one of them said, shoving Julian to the floor.

Al-Rashid’s man gave a satisfied nod. “Search the tunnels,” he ordered curtly. “Make sure no one else is with them.”

But the guards didn’t move immediately. They looked toward their demon master for confirmation. The pale creature tilted his head slowly, then gave a single nod.

Most of them dispersed, their footsteps fading down the adjoining corridors. Only six or seven remained behind—watching, circling.

The bald man turned back to Naomi. “It was a mistake coming here empty-handed,” he said. “And an even bigger one bringing them.” His gaze flicked toward Elias and Julian. “You could’ve walked away.”

Naomi’s hand slipped into her pocket. “Maybe,” she said softly. Then, in one smooth motion, she pulled out the pouch Rao had given them, and hurled its contents into the faces of the nearest guards.

The air hissed—the salt and iron dust igniting in the damp air like powdered flame. The demons screamed, clutching their eyes and faces as smoke rose from their skin. Naomi struck fast, driving her elbow into one, twisting to knock another off balance. The force behind her movement was far from human—fluid, precise. The nearest demon crashed into the wall with a crack that echoed through the tunnel.

Elias reacted on instinct. The moment the nearest creature lunged at him, something deep inside him shifted—heat and pressure rising like a tide breaking loose. His fist met the demon’s chest, and the impact threw it backward into the brick wall with bone-shaking force. It slid down, motionless.

Another came at him from the side. He spun and drove his boot into the attacker's knee, sending it stumbling. He didn’t feel strength so much as inevitability, as if the motion belonged to someone else entirely.

Across the chamber, Julian scrambled to his feet, grabbing one of the flash grenades from the ground and flinging it toward the oncoming pair. The explosion of light turned the whole space white for a breathless instant. The demons screamed, reeling.

Naomi was already moving, her blade flashing in her hand. One swing, then another—precise, nonlethal cuts, driving her opponents back.

“Elias, go!” she shouted. “Get Reina!”

He turned—just as the demon boss raised his hand.

The air rippled. An invisible force slammed into Elias, lifting him from the ground and hurling him backward into the wall. The impact drove the breath from his lungs. He tried to rise, but another wave pinned him there, crushing, immovable. The world dimmed around the edges.

Naomi saw him fall. She fought harder, but two demons pinned her arms, dragging her to her knees. Julian was on the ground again, kicked hard across the ribs.

Reina, still bound, tried to scream through the gag, eyes wide and wet with terror.

The bald man stepped closer, brushing dust from his sleeve. He turned his head toward Naomi. “Kill the rest,” he said quietly. “She's the one we keep.”

“Let her go!” Elias tried to shout, but the sound was only a whispered croak.

A sudden, breathless pressure seized the space. A deep, grinding reverberation echoed up from the hidden depths.

​Naomi struggled, the weight of the demons holding her fast. Elias bellowed against the unseen force, his fury a sharp counterpoint to his terror. Underneath it all, the phantom weight of his nightmare seized him: that crushing, familiar helplessness—the unbearable certainty of loss.

Against the tide of despair, a command echoed in his mind—No. Not this time. I will not watch them die.

A low sound built in his chest, not quite a growl, not quite a word. The pressure inside him became unbearable, a dam straining against something primeval and endless. His vision blurred, the air thickened, heavy with anticipation, as if the world itself had held its breath.

Then everything shifted.

The light didn’t vanish—it folded. The air turned viscous, reality thinning like water over glass. Elias gasped as shadow poured from the edges of his sight, not blotting out the world but revealing it.

He saw them—truly saw them. The demons’ borrowed flesh shimmered and peeled away, exposing what writhed beneath: beings of once-radiant light, now twisted and suffocated under eons of torment. Their wings—if they could still be called that—hung in shreds of flame and tar. They screamed soundlessly, reaching toward him not in hatred, but in yearning, as if the darkness itself carried a memory of home they’d long forgotten.

Naomi shone faintly, a subtle grace threading through her form like dawn behind mist. Around her, and around the others, the world glowed with muted lights—every living soul a candle, fragile but steady.

He looked down at his hands, and what he saw shocked him.

His hands weren’t simply wrapped in darkness—they breathed with it. Beneath the shifting black, faint veins of pale light stirred, like distant stars beneath deep water. The light was there, quiet, persistent, but held deep within the greater shadow.

For an instant, Elias felt something vast and familiar staring back at him from within—ancient, whole, calm, and yet... terrifying.

The pressure in the air released. The force that bound him dissolved without struggle, soothed into silence. The demons’ shrieks faltered, their corrupted essence unraveling like smoke drawn back into a deep, waiting sea.

Then, the veil lifted.

The lights flickered, fizzling back to life. The chamber stood exactly as before, only quieter—too quiet. Naomi was kneeling, blinking as though waking from a deep sleep. Julian groaned softly, rubbing his head—not in pain, but as if recovering from a heavy dream.

Around them lay the bodies of men and women—unconscious, breathing evenly, their faces emptied of the anguish that had twisted them moments ago.

Elias stood at the center, chest heaving, his skin damp with sweat. The memory of what he’d seen still clung to him—shadow and light interwoven—though no one else seemed to notice.

Naomi looked up at him, frowning faintly. “Elias… what happened?”

He swallowed hard. “I… don’t know.”

The bald man’s composure shattered. His lips trembled as he stared at Elias, confusion written plain on his face.

From somewhere deeper in the tunnels came a sound—a low rumble, like distant thunder rolling closer. Then, the sharp rhythm of boots against stone.

Naomi turned toward the noise, blade still raised, uncertain whether it meant more enemies or worse.

But when the figures came into view, she exhaled sharply.

​Kiran led the way, his coat dark with rain, a long sword cane in his hand. Behind him moved several armed men—Order soldiers, silent and purposeful, their eyes sweeping the chamber.

“Stand down,” Kiran ordered. His voice carried across the space, calm but commanding. The few demons who remained conscious recoiled at the light of his presence, but most were already retreating, their hosts collapsing in their absence.

Elias dropped to one knee, the strength leaving him as quickly as it had come. Naomi was beside him in an instant, her hand on his shoulder.

“You’re all right,” she said softly. “It’s over.”

Julian crawled to Reina, cutting the ropes with shaking hands. She fell against him, sobbing quietly but alive. He laughed once, half in relief, half disbelief. “You’re safe,” he murmured, holding her close.

Kiran crossed the chamber, eyes moving over the bodies. “Check them,” he told his men. “Make sure none of them are still possessed.”

They moved quickly, efficient, dragging the unconscious humans into a line, inspecting each one.

Naomi rose and faced the bald man—Al-Rashid’s head of security. He tried to retreat, but two soldiers blocked his path. Fear flared openly across his face.

Naomi closed the distance between them. With one hand, she lifted him effortlessly by the throat and pinned him against the wall.

“You tell Al-Rashid this,” she said, her voice low and cold. “If he tries this again—if he even thinks of sending his men after us—I will come for him myself. And not even an army of demons will save him.”

The man’s face reddened as he struggled for air. She let him drop, and he crumpled to the floor, gasping for air.

Kiran’s men began clearing the chamber, guiding the surviving humans toward the exit. The last remnants of sulfur still hung in the air.

“Let’s go,” Kiran said quietly. “This place is done.”

They moved quickly through the tunnels, following the flicker of portable lamps. The deeper they walked, the lighter Elias felt, though his muscles trembled with exhaustion. Naomi stayed beside him, steady and silent. When they finally emerged into the cold night, the rain had stopped. The city lights shimmered off wet pavement, and the air hit them—sharp and cold—cleansing the stale mustiness from their lungs.

Mr. Rao was waiting by the car, his face pale but relieved. “Thank God,” he said as soon as he saw them. “I was worried sick.”

“We’re fine,” Naomi said, sliding into the seat. “Mostly.”

Reina clung to Julian’s arm as they climbed in after. Elias took the last seat, his head leaning against the window as the car pulled away from the empty street. None of them spoke. But the silence wasn’t heavy this time—just tired, and full.

It was near dawn when they reached the London Chapter again. The lamps in the hall burned low, casting soft halos across the polished floor. The scent of pine and smoke still lingered from the fire earlier that evening.

Kiran stood in the center of the room, cloak hanging damp around his shoulders, his walking staff resting against the table beside him. His blade—now hidden within it—gleamed faintly where the metal met the wood.

“I was already on my way back,” he said quietly, glancing toward Elias and Naomi. “I meant to surprise you. But when I arrived, Mr. Rao told me what had happened.”

Naomi smiled faintly, exhausted but grateful. “You came back at the perfect time.”

He gave a slow nod. “You would have managed either way,” he said, eyes flicking briefly toward Elias. “But I’m glad I didn’t have to find out.”

Reina sat curled in an armchair near the fire, wrapped in a blanket. Julian hovered beside her, a bruise darkening one cheek but a grin stubbornly fixed in place. “Next time,” he said, “we’re bringing a flamethrower.”

Reina snorted softly. “Next time, let’s hope there isn’t one.”

Kiran stepped closer,his voice calm. “Are you all right?”

Elias looked at him, his expression clouded with confusion. “I don’t know what happened to me tonight.” His hands still trembled slightly, though not from the cold.

Kiran squeezed Elias’s hand once, hard enough to anchor him, and said, “I can see why you are confused. Something in you answered when you needed it most—unexpected and fierce. You don't remember it yet, so whatever it was can feel overwhelming.”

Elias held the silence for a moment, then met Kiran’s gaze. “Whatever that was down there—it wasn’t me. Not really.”

Kiran studied him for a moment, unreadable. “Maybe not,” he said. “But sometimes the line between who we are and what wakes inside us is thinner than we think.”

Elias didn’t answer. The fire crackled softly, filling the quiet.

Outside, the first light of morning broke through the London fog—grey, soft, and almost unreal. The Christmas tree in the atrium glimmered faintly, ornaments catching the dawn. For a brief, fragile moment, everything felt still.

Naomi leaned back in her chair, eyes half-closed. “We should all rest,” she said. “We’ve earned at least a few hours.”

Julian yawned. “I vote a few days.”

Even Kiran smiled at that. “Agreed.”

They lingered there for a while longer—the survivors of a night too long and too dark—surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the quiet peace that followed chaos.

But Elias couldn’t shake the unease. Now he understood why Naomi had sensed something strange in his aura. There was a darkness in him—calm, vast, ancient. It didn't feel evil. It felt like truth. And yet, that terrified him. Not because he feared what it might do, but what it made him.