The air was thick with dust and heat.
The sky wasn't just dark ، it looked torn open, bleeding shadows onto the earth.
Thousands stood in a circle around me, chanting in a tongue older than memory.
Black-robed priests moved like ghosts, their golden masks glowing, their eyes pulsing red like dying stars.
I—Mike Arshur—stood at the center.
Every muscle in my body trembled, my veins humming with the last scraps of a power I barely understood.
My hands were lit with energy—pure, blinding light—but it was fading fast.
Faster than I could hold it.
I looked up at the heavens, knowing this was the end...
But not before I saved him.
"Run, Adam!"
My voice cracked like glass.
He stood just outside the ring of fire, screaming my name,
tears cutting paths down his dusty face.
He didn't want to leave me.
But I couldn't let him stay.
The priests began to chant louder—
One of them raised his arms to the sky, calling down something ancient.
The earth beneath us rumbled.
Adam's scream vibrated, almost shattered the air—his hypersensitive ears were picking up the black frequency, the death song of the harvest.
I dropped to my knees and slammed my palms into the ground.
Heat surged through my bones.
The last of the sacred energy burned its way out of me.
"I started this," I whispered,
"And I'll be the one to end it."
And then
light exploded.
And in aslight tiny break of second my memory took me back, at the time before this started to happen