"What did you just say?" He asked, taking a step closer, face darkening, shadows pooling in his eyes. "What does that mean? And who did you mean by 'she'?" His expression twisted, anger flickering through the emptiness.
"Salvera. She's the one twisting you, isn't she? Tell me, Dad. Tell me." Alan's breath hitched, ragged and sharp, like glass scraping lungs.
His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles bleaching white, face twisting—rage boiling up through the hollow shell, eyes flashing wild before cracking wet.
"You..." His voice splintered, low thunder. "How do you know her name?" A step closer, towering, but his shoulders trembled—fury warring with something broken underneath.
Dave held ground, heart slamming, but chin lifted. "Answer me, Dad. Did she tell you to kill my baby? My family?"
Alan's laugh barked out—hollow, alien, like a man strangling on his own throat. "Your baby." He spat the word, face contorting, veins bulging at his temples. "That thing inside you—it's not a miracle, Dave. It's the end. Her end. And mine, if I don't stop it."
Alan's chest rose and fell violently, each breath uneven, like his lungs were fighting him.
"You think you understand what you're carrying?" he snarled. "You think that thing inside you is just flesh and blood?" His hand trembled as it lifted, hovering midair before clenching into a fist.
"That child is a key. A curse. A beacon she's been waiting for."
Dave's stomach tightened instinctively, his hand pressing over it. "You're lying," he said, though doubt clawed at his chest. "You're saying this because she poisoned your mind."
Alan's lips peeled back in a grimace. "Poison?" he scoffed, then abruptly choked on the word, his body jerking as if something yanked hard from inside him. He staggered back, crashing into the table behind him.
Dave rushed forward. "Dad!"
"Stop!" Alan roared, slamming his palm into the wall. The sound echoed through the house, sharp and violent. He stood there shaking, head bowed, fingers digging into the plaster like he was anchoring himself to reality.
For a moment, the room felt wrong. Too quiet. Too heavy.
Then Alan laughed again—quiet this time. Broken.
"She showed me everything," he whispered. "What happens if that child is born. What it awakens. How many will die because of it." His head tilted slowly, eyes unfocused.
"She said this was the only way to save you."
Dave froze. "Save… me?"
Alan looked up, and for the first time since Dave walked in, his eyes softened—just a little. Pain flickered there, raw and unguarded.
"You think I want to do this?" he rasped. "You think it doesn't tear me apart?" His voice cracked, then hardened again just as fast.
"But I won't let her use you. I won't let you become what she wants."
"What she wants?" Dave demanded. "You're already doing exactly what she wants! Look at yourself!"
Something snapped.
Alan surged forward, grabbing Dave's shoulders. His grip was tight—too tight—but shaking.
"If you leave here with that child still alive," he growled, breath hot against Dave's face, "you will bring ruin down on everyone you love. Kelvin. His family. That commander friend of his." His eyes narrowed. "All of them."
Dave's blood ran cold. "How do you know about Sebastian?"
Alan flinched.
There it was.
His grip loosened immediately, like he'd touched fire. He staggered back, horror flashing across his face.
"…I didn't," he whispered. "I didn't mean to say that."
The air rippled.
Not visibly—but Dave felt it. A pressure settling over the room, heavy and suffocating, like invisible hands pressing against his chest.
Alan's pupils dilated.
"No," he said again, voice breaking. "Get out. Dave, please—go. Now."
"Dad—"
"GO!" Alan screamed, clutching his head as he dropped to his knees. "Before she takes the rest of me!"
That was enough.
Dave stumbled back, heart pounding so hard it hurt. He took one last look at the man kneeling on the floor—this fractured, haunted version of the father he loved—and turned for the door.
Outside, the moment Dave crossed the threshold, the weight vanished.
Kelvin was already moving.
The instant Dave stepped onto the porch, Kelvin caught him, arms wrapping tight around him as Dave's knees gave way.
"She's involved," Dave breathed, gripping Kelvin's shirt like it was the only solid thing left in the world. "It's her. And my dad—he's not himself. He's trapped."
Kelvin's jaw clenched, fury simmering beneath the calm. He looked past Dave, toward the house, eyes dark.
"Then we stop her," he said quietly. "Before she finishes what she started."
Behind the closed door, Alan's scream echoed once more—raw, agonized.
And somewhere far away, something ancient and patient smiled.