The front door slammed shut behind Isaac as he stepped into the dimly lit living room of his apartment, exhaling sharply. The weight of the night clung to him—blood, adrenaline, and the sickening aftertaste of survival. The three remaining teens stood near the entrance, their eyes darting toward the windows, restless, searching.
"You can crash here till morning," Isaac said, tossing his keys onto the counter. "By then, hopefully, this whole thing will die down."
Carlos scoffed, arms crossed. "We need to get home. Our families—"
"Are in the same place those things are," Isaac cut in, his voice even but firm. "You really think running back there changes anything? This is the safest place you've got."
Silence stretched. The tension in the air was almost suffocating.
Sophie turned then, her voice sharp, trembling. "Carlos—"
He met her gaze, and for the first time all night, his bravado cracked.
"We're done."
The words hit harder than any wound.
Carlos bit his lip, his hands clenching into fists. "Sophie, come on—"
"No." Her eyes burned with something raw and unforgiving. "You threw Lexi to them." The weight of it settled between them, heavy and final. "She was your friend, our friend, and you left her."
Carlos took a step forward, anger flashing across his face, but Isaac's presence at her side made him stop. His hand brushed his jaw, teeth grinding.
"Fine," he muttered, turning away.
Carlos lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. His hands were still balled into fists, nails digging into his palms.
She was wrong. She had to be.
Lexi was dead, sure. But it wasn't his fault.
Was it?
He forced his eyes shut, but the image of her—crumpled on the pavement, eyes wide, mouthing that one word—Why?—played like an old movie behind his eyelids.
His fingers twitched. His breath came slower, heavier.
He felt warm. Too warm.
Isaac didn't say anything. he just moved to Natalie, who sat on the couch, silent and pale. Blood crusted around the wound on her arm, her fingers twitching slightly as she stared ahead, unfocused.
"You're burning up," Isaac muttered, kneeling beside her. "This'll sting."
Natalie barely reacted as he cleaned her wound, her breaths shallow. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of alcohol-dampened gauze dragging over torn skin.
Sophie retreated into Isaac's room, slamming the door behind her.
Natalie turned onto her side, curling into herself. Her body trembled, an unnatural heat settling under her skin. The rain outside began tapping against the windows, soft at first, then growing heavier.
For a moment, the sounds around her felt distant—Isaac's voice, the hum of the refrigerator, even her own breathing. Like she was slipping underwater.
Then, in the dark reflection of the TV screen, her eyes flickered.
Red.
The early morning air smelled of citrus and pavement, the scent mingling with the dampness of the rain. Lila leaned against the railing of Rowan's apartment balcony, staring at the street below.
1:07 AM.
The city felt quieter than usual. Too quiet.
Rowan sat on the couch inside, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. "Lila, it's past one in the morning. You need to get some sleep. If not for you, then for the baby."
Lila hummed in response, but her attention was elsewhere.
A chill crawled up her spine, the same unsettling sensation that had plagued her since she got back.
A whisper of something familiar. Something wrong.
Rowan sighed, shaking her head as she flicked on the TV. "If you're gonna stay up, at least sit down and relax. I just made us some garlic nacho fries. Might be your kind of thing."
Lila finally stepped inside, tucking herself into the dining room chair next to Rowan. The flickering screen played an animated Netflix series—one about a goblin king of a labyrinth who retires, hands his kingdom to a human child, and marries her sister before going off to live as a human.
The scene on screen was bathed in warm golden light, a stark contrast to the cold rain outside. The former goblin king, now dressed in a plain sweater and jeans, stood at the edge of a suburban street, watching his old kingdom disappear into mist. His wife—the new kings sister—squeezed his hand, smiling softly.
"Was it worth it?" the queen asked, staring lovingly into the goblin king's eyes.
The goblin king hesitated, then chuckled. "I suppose we'll find out."
Rowan smirked, side-eyeing Lila as she watched lost in the drama. "You and Sylva really do have the same taste in TV shows."
Lila let out a small, tired chuckle. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Rowan shrugged, stretching out on the couch. "Near the end of pur journey, slyva shared some interesting detials. Like snooping on timelines to watch the laybrinth."
"Haha, like it was her personal netflix no way," she let out a snicker for a brief second. Lila watched the screen, her fingers tracing slow circles on the wooden table. "Maybe I like the idea that people can change."
Rowan's smirk softened. "Yeah… maybe."
The show continued, the new king giving a final wave as the goblin king and his bride stepped away, vanishing into a world where no one would know what he used to be.
"You think Sylva's watching it with us?" Lila asked, her voice quiet.
Rowan exhaled through her nose, a wry smile on her lips. "If she is, she's probably yelling at the screen. 'A real ruler wouldn't abandon their throne just for love.'"
Lila laughed under her breath. "You think? he kind of reminds me of Aiden though."
Rowan leaned back, folding her arms behind her head. "You're so right. But maybe she'd say he made the right call."
The rain tapped harder against the windows.
The credits started to roll, music swelling, the names of animators flickering across the screen. But Lila's mind was somewhere else now.
Rowan's phone rang, the sudden vibration cutting through the quiet. She sighed, glancing at the screen. "It's the manager at the arcade. It's probably another broken simulator."
But Lila barely heard her.
She turned toward the window, eyes narrowing at the shadows pooling beyond the glass.
The darkness pulsed, pressing against the walls of reality itself.
A phantom sensation brushed against her skin—the same suffocating weight she remembered from when the Core took over her body all those years ago.
Her throat tightened.
"Rowan," she started, stepping back. For a second, she hesitated.
Maybe she was wrong.
Maybe she was just being paranoid.
She blinked, trying to shake the feeling—
CRASH.
Glass exploded inward, shards catching the light as they scattered across the floor.
Rowan shot up, her phone slipping from her fingers.
The wind howled through the shattered doorway, cold rain seeping in, turning the floor slick. The storm had arrived.
A figure stepped through the shattered door, the night clinging to him like a second skin.
They didn't know this teen, but his friends knew him as Carlos.
His eyes burned red, but not with the chaotic hunger of the Core. No, something steadier, more calculated, lurked behind his expression. His body, though grotesquely twisted, moved with intent, a creature leashed to a master's will.
Then—he stopped.
His grin faltered.
His head tilted slightly, as if something unseen had yanked his attention elsewhere.
Mephisto, through his slave, hesitated.
Lila felt it—a flicker of recognition, of astonishment bleeding through Carlos's corrupted gaze.
You.
The word wasn't spoken aloud, but she felt it, reverberating through the unnatural stillness.
Carlos's posture tensed, as if something within him was receiving new orders. Adjusting. Calculating.
Mephisto hadn't expected her to be here.
And worse—he hadn't expected the lingering stain of the Core to be clinging to her like a forgotten scar.
Carlos's lips curled again, slower this time, almost thoughtful.
Then, with quiet amusement, he spoke.
"…Well, now. This is interesting."