The resistance's rooftop garden exists because Marcus believes in unlikely havens. "Everyone needs a place to breathe," he told me once. "Somewhere that doesn't remind them of what we're fighting."
It's well past midnight, but I can't sleep. The revelations about the knife, the growing sense of something massive approaching – it all swirls in my head like storm clouds gathering. Up here, among the carefully tended plants and soft lighting, I can almost pretend I'm normal. Almost.
The door opens behind me. I don't need to turn to know it's James – his footsteps have a distinctive pattern, something the Church drilled into all its enforcers. Quiet, measured, always ready to switch from stealth to action.
"Thought I might find you here," he says, coming to lean against the railing beside me. The city spreads out below us, a maze of lights and shadows. "You always did prefer high places."
"Harder to get cornered." I give him a sidelong glance. "Shouldn't you be back at the Church? Maintaining your cover?"
"They think I'm tracking a lead on some resistance activity in the warehouse district." His scarred hand drums a quiet rhythm on the railing. "I've got time."
We stand in comfortable silence for a while, watching the city's pulse of traffic and late-night activity. A siren wails in the distance, then fades. The darkness behind my eye is quieter up here, as if the height and open air somehow dampen its hunger.
"Something's changing," I finally say. "Not just the Church's plans, but... everything. Reality itself feels different. Thinner somehow."
James nods. "They're getting bolder with the seeding attempts. Less careful about witnesses. Three days ago they did one in broad daylight – shopping mall food court. Sixteen dead before anyone knew what was happening."
My hands tighten on the railing. "That's not their usual pattern."
"No. They're rushing things." He turns to face me. "The Convergence they keep talking about? It's not just coming – it's accelerating. The Church elders are in a constant state of emergency meetings. Something's got them scared."
"Scared enough to make mistakes?"
"Maybe." He hesitates. "Or maybe they're past caring about secrecy. If they really believe reality is about to... change fundamentally, then maybe hiding doesn't matter anymore."
A cool breeze carries the scent of the herb garden Marcus insisted on planting. Rosemary, thyme, little islands of normality in our sea of cosmic horror. I find myself telling James about the knife, about Dr. Chen's discoveries. He listens without interrupting, his expression growing more troubled.
"Living metal," he says when I finish. "They've been trying to create something like that for years. Had a whole division dedicated to it – Project Metamorphosis. But they could never get it stable."
"This isn't exactly stable either. It's... evolving. Becoming something else."
"Like you did?" His voice is gentle, but the question hits like a physical blow. "Sorry. That was..."
"No, you're right." I stare out at the city, not really seeing it. "Every time I use my power, every time I touch that other reality, I change a little bit too. Sometimes I wonder if there's an endpoint – some final form I'm evolving toward."
His hand moves toward mine on the railing, stops just short of touching. "You're still you, Vesper. Still human."
"Am I?" I turn to him. "You've seen what I can do. What I'm becoming. The things in my dreams..."
"Are just dreams."
"They're not, though. They're memories – not mine, but my mother's, my ancestors'. A whole bloodline of women touched by Them, changing little by little, generation after generation. Leading to what? To me? To whatever I'm turning into?"
He's quiet for a long moment. "When I was with the Church," he finally says, "I saw what real monsters look like. People who'd gladly sacrifice children to their gods, who'd break minds and bodies without a second thought. The fact that you're worried about losing your humanity? That's the most human thing I can imagine."
Something in his voice makes me look at him more closely. "Is that why you left? The sacrifices?"
"Partly." His scarred hand flexes unconsciously. "There was a girl, younger than you were. They thought she might have the gift, might be another potential gateway. What they did to her..." He trails off, lost in memory.
"What happened to her?"
"What do you think?" His voice is bitter. "She broke. They all break, eventually. Except you." Now he does touch my hand, his fingers warm against my skin. "You got out. You stayed human. And every time you stop one of their seeding attempts, every person you save – that's not just resistance, Vesper. That's you choosing humanity over power. Over destiny. Over everything they said you were meant to be."
I look down at our hands, so close to intertwining but not quite there. Like us – always almost something more, held apart by duty and danger and the weight of what we're fighting. "And if choosing humanity means failing? If we can't stop what's coming?"
"Then we fail as humans, not as monsters." He starts to say more, but his phone buzzes. The moment breaks as he checks it, his expression shifting to professional concern. "There's movement. Church vehicles heading toward the industrial district."
My own phone vibrates a moment later – Marcus, calling us all in. "Another seeding attempt?"
"Looks like. But the pattern's different – more vehicles than usual, and they're not trying to be subtle." He straightens, professional distance returning to his posture. "I should get in position, try to feed you intel from the inside."
"James..." I catch his arm as he turns to go. "Thank you. For... understanding."
Something flashes across his face – longing, maybe, or regret. Then he gives me that half-smile that always makes my heart do uncomfortable things. "Just stay human, Vesper. Whatever else happens, whatever you become – hold onto that."
He leaves me on the rooftop, the herb garden's peaceful atmosphere shattered by the approaching storm. Below, I can see movement in the HQ parking lot – teams gearing up, vehicles being prepped. The darkness behind my eye pulses with familiar hunger.
My phone buzzes again – Dr. Chen this time. Knife's energy signature is spiking. Something's happening.
I take one last look at the city, at all the normal people living their normal lives, unaware of what's coming. Unaware of the battle being fought in their streets, in their reality itself. Then I head down to gear up.
Time to be human in the most inhuman way possible – by standing between innocent people and the horrors trying to break into our world.
The changed knife hangs heavy at my hip, its patterns swirling faster now, more urgent. Like it knows what's coming. Like it's eager to evolve further, to become whatever it's becoming.
Like me.
Just stay human, I tell myself as I step into the elevator. Whatever else happens, stay human.
The darkness pulses, hungry and aware, and doesn't answer.