I'm barely conscious for ten minutes before reality decides to kick me in the teeth again.
The crystal Lucifer gave me is burning against my palm like a piece of molten metal, and every pulse sends fragments of impossible memories flooding through my mind. I see glimpses of a time before—before the realms were separated, before angels and demons were enemies, before humans existed in isolation from the supernatural. It's beautiful and terrifying and completely overwhelming.
"Kamen?" Elara's voice sounds like it's coming from underwater. "Your eyes are doing that glowing thing again."
I blink, trying to focus on her face. We're in what used to be the medical tent, though half of it got flattened during the battle. The scent of antiseptic mingles with the lingering ozone from celestial fire, creating a cocktail that makes my already queasy stomach lurch.
"I'm fine," I lie, then immediately contradict myself by dry-heaving into the dirt.
"Yeah, you look fantastic," she says dryly, but her hand is gentle on my shoulder. "What's that thing doing to you?"
I look down at the crystal, which has somehow embedded itself partially into my transformed skin. The edges of it disappear into my palm like it's growing there, pulsing with that same tricolored light that flows through my veins.
"It's... integrating," I manage to say between waves of nausea. "I can feel it connecting to the other essences."
Inside me, the three merged consciousness are in chaos. Estingoth's ancient memories are colliding with whatever knowledge the crystal contains, creating a feedback loop that feels like my brain is being rewired with a rusty screwdriver. Azazel's presence is resonating with something in the crystal's depths—recognition, maybe, or remembrance of what she once was. And Caleif... her divine spark is singing, actually singing, like it's found some long-lost harmony it's been searching for.
"This is bad," I whisper, feeling my grip on individual identity starting to slip. "I think I'm losing myself."
"No, you're not," Elara says firmly, gripping my shoulders. "Look at me, Kamen. Focus on my voice."
I try, but it's like trying to hold water in my hands. The memories from the crystal are so vivid, so real, that I can barely distinguish them from my own experiences. I see myself—no, not myself, someone else who looks like me—standing in a garden that exists in all three realms simultaneously. The sky above shifts between human blue, demonic crimson, and angelic gold, and it's the most natural thing in the world.
"Kamen!" Elara's voice cuts through the vision like a blade. "Tell me something only you would know. Something that anchors you to yourself."
I force my eyes open, though the effort feels like lifting a mountain. "I... I used to be afraid of butterflies," I gasp out. "When I was seven. Not spiders or snakes or anything normal. Butterflies. Because they changed too much, too fast, and I thought..." I swallow hard, the memory grounding me slightly. "I thought if I touched one, I might change too."
"That's the most ridiculous phobia I've ever heard," Elara says, but she's smiling. "Tell me more."
"My mom used to make pancakes shaped like animals," I continue, using the mundane details of my human life as an anchor. "She was terrible at it. They all looked like abstract art. But she'd make up stories about each one, and I'd pretend they were delicious even when they tasted like cardboard."
The crystal's pulsing slows slightly, and I feel the chaotic swirl of memories beginning to settle into more manageable patterns. I'm still me. Changed, transformed, carrying the consciousness of three other beings and now the memories of cosmic history, but still fundamentally Kamen Driscol.
"Better?" Elara asks, and I can hear the relief in her voice.
"Getting there," I admit. "Though I think I'm going to need therapy. Like, a lot of therapy."
"Yeah, well, get in line. We're all going to need therapy after this." She helps me sit up properly, then glances around the makeshift medical area. "Speaking of which, we've got wounded to tend to, and some of them are asking for you specifically."
I follow her gaze and see them—academy students, some barely older than teenagers, lying on stretchers with injuries that range from minor burns to missing limbs. They're all looking at me with expressions I can't quite read. Not fear, exactly, but something close to it. Awe, maybe. Or hope.
"They saw what I became," I realize, my stomach sinking. "During the fight with Samael."
"They saw you save them," Elara corrects. "They saw you stand up to something that wanted to erase them from existence and tell it to go to hell."
"Literally," I mutter, then wince as the crystal pulses again. "God, this thing is like having a migraine made of cosmic knowledge."
"Can you control it?"
I close my eyes, focusing on the crystal's integration with my other essences. It's not fighting them, exactly—more like it's trying to find its place in the hierarchy of power that flows through me. I can feel it settling, creating new pathways of understanding that connect to memories I've never lived.
"I think so," I say after a moment. "It's not trying to take over. It's more like... a library. All this information about how things used to be, how they could be again."
"And what does it tell you?"
I open my eyes, looking around at the aftermath of our battle. The stone labyrinth I created is already beginning to crumble without my power to maintain it. The wounded are being treated by academy healers whose magic is running low. The survivors are exhausted, traumatized, and probably wondering what comes next.
"It tells me we're doing everything wrong," I say quietly. "The separation of realms, the constant conflict, the fear and mistrust—it's all artificial. Imposed. The natural state is..." I struggle to find words for concepts that don't exist in any human language. "Integration. Harmony. Not sameness, but cooperation."
"Sounds nice in theory," Elara says skeptically. "But in practice, you've got angels who want to purge everything, demons who want to conquer everything, and humans who just want to survive everything. How do you reconcile that?"
Before I can answer, Valen approaches our makeshift shelter. His crimson robes are torn and bloodstained, and his usually perfect composure is cracked around the edges. But his burning eyes are alert, focused.
"Kamen," he says, his voice carrying the weight of exhaustion. "We need to talk. All of us. There are... developments."
"What kind of developments?" I ask, though I'm pretty sure I don't want to know.
"The kind that suggest today's battle was just the beginning," he replies grimly. "Roshan's contacts in the human world are reporting unusual activity. Mass disappearances. Entire cities going dark. And the barriers between realms..." He pauses, studying my transformed appearance. "They're weakening. Everywhere. All at once."
I feel the crystal pulse in response to his words, and suddenly I understand. The battle, the power I used, the reality manipulation—it's all connected. By becoming a Nexus Being, by demonstrating that the barriers between realms can be bent, I've destabilized the entire cosmic structure.
"It's me," I whisper, horror creeping into my voice. "I did this. When I fought Samael, when I closed the portals and reopened them... I weakened the barriers globally."
"Not weakened," Valen corrects, though his tone doesn't make it sound like good news. "Synchronized. They're all fluctuating together now, following the pattern you established here."
"Which means what, exactly?"
"It means," a new voice says from behind us, "that every supernatural being on Earth is about to have their existence revealed to humanity. Whether they want it or not."
I turn to see Azazel approaching, her silver-white hair disheveled and her perfect features marked by exhaustion. She's no longer glowing with celestial power, but there's still something otherworldly about her that makes my skin prickle.
"Azazel," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. "I thought you'd left with your exiles."
"I sent them to safety," she replies, her silver-shadow eyes fixed on me. "But I stayed. We need to talk about what comes next."
"Let me guess," I say, feeling the weight of cosmic responsibility settling on my shoulders again. "More apocalyptic consequences of my existence?"
"More opportunities," she corrects, moving closer. "The barriers are weakening, yes. But they're not collapsing. They're becoming... permeable. Controllable. And you're the only one who can control them."
I look around at the faces surrounding me—Elara with her practical skepticism, Valen with his academic fascination, Azazel with her ancient agenda. All of them looking to me for answers I don't have.
"I don't want to control reality," I say, the words coming out more forcefully than I intended. "I just want to protect the people I care about."
"Then you're going to have to learn," Azazel says simply. "Because whether you want it or not, you're now the focal point for supernatural activity across three realms. Every angel, demon, and human touched by magic is going to be affected by what you do next."
The crystal pulses again, and I feel a flood of new information—not memories this time, but possibilities. Potential futures spreading out like branches on a tree, each one dependent on the choices I make in the coming days.
In some futures, I see harmony—humans and demons and angels working together, the barriers between realms serving as bridges rather than walls. In others, I see chaos—reality itself tearing apart under the weight of conflicting forces. And in the darkest possibilities, I see myself transformed into something so powerful and alien that the original Kamen Driscol ceases to exist entirely.
"How much time do we have?" I ask, though I'm afraid of the answer.
"Days," Valen replies. "Maybe less. The synchronization is accelerating. Soon, the barriers will be thin enough that crossing between realms will be as easy as walking through a door."
"And when that happens?"
"When that happens," Azazel says, her voice soft but implacable, "everything changes. Forever."
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of impossible choices pressing down on me. The crystal embedded in my palm pulses with warm light, offering knowledge I'm not sure I want to possess. Inside me, four distinct consciousness swirl in complex harmony—Estingoth's ancient wisdom, Azazel's celestial perspective, Caleif's divine warmth, and underneath it all, my own stubborn human determination to protect what matters.
When I open my eyes again, I've made my decision. Not about the cosmic implications or the future of reality itself, but about the next step. The only step I can take.
"Then we'd better get started," I say, rising to my feet with effort. "Because I'm not facing this alone, and I'm sure as hell not letting anyone else make these choices for me."
The first thing that hits me as I stand up is how different the world looks now. Not just through my transformed eyes, but through the lens of the crystal's ancient memories. I can see the invisible threads connecting everything—ley lines of power that flow between realms, the way every person here glows with their own unique supernatural signature, the places where reality is worn thin like fabric rubbed too many times.
"Kamen," Elara says, her voice cutting through my expanded perception. "You're staring at nothing again."
"Not nothing," I reply, blinking to focus on her face instead of the swirling energies around her. "Everything. Too much everything."
She studies me with those sharp green eyes, and I can see her calculating whether I'm still the person she's been fighting alongside or if I've crossed some line into cosmic otherness. It's a fair question. I'm not entirely sure of the answer myself.
"We need to move," I say, pushing down the overwhelming flood of sensory input. "If the barriers are synchronizing globally, then other supernatural communities are going to be dealing with the same chaos we are. Some of them won't handle it as well."
"Handle it how?" Valen asks, his burning gaze intense with academic curiosity even in the midst of crisis.
I close my eyes, letting the crystal's knowledge flow through me. Images flash through my mind—vampire covens suddenly exposed to sunlight as the barriers shift, werewolf packs losing control as lunar energies fluctuate, human mages finding their carefully contained power suddenly amplified beyond their ability to control.
"Badly," I say, opening my eyes. "Really, really badly. We're talking about mass exposure events, power surges that could level city blocks, and that's just the beginning."
"The beginning of what?" Azazel asks, though something in her expression suggests she already knows.
"The return of the Age of Wonders," I say, the words coming from some deep well of inherited memory. "When magic was common, when the barriers between realms were gossamer-thin, when humans lived alongside creatures they now consider myths."
"That sounds..." Elara pauses, searching for the right word. "Chaotic."
"It was," I agree. "But it was also..." I struggle to find human words for concepts that exist beyond language. "Alive. Reality was more flexible then, more responsive to will and emotion. Magic wasn't something you learned—it was something you breathed."
The crystal pulses, and I feel another wave of information crash over me. This time, it's not memories but awareness—a sense of what's happening right now, across the globe, as the barriers continue to weaken.
"Tokyo," I gasp, the vision so vivid it feels like I'm actually there. "There's a dragon waking up beneath the city. It's been sleeping for centuries, but the barrier fluctuations are disturbing its rest."
"A dragon?" Valen's eyes widen. "Are you certain?"
"I can see it," I say, my voice distant as I experience the vision. "Ancient, powerful, confused. It doesn't understand why its realm is suddenly accessible to humans. It's... angry."
The scene shifts, showing me other crisis points around the world. A fairy court in Ireland finding their glamours failing, revealing them to startled human tourists. A demon market in Morocco suddenly visible to the mortal world, causing panic in the streets. A coven of witches in Salem losing control of a summoning circle as the barriers between realms fluctuate wildly.
"This is happening everywhere," I whisper, the scope of it making me dizzy. "Every supernatural community on Earth is being affected."
"Can you stop it?" Elara asks, her practical mind cutting straight to the heart of the problem.
I want to say yes. I want to tell her that I can fix this, that I can put reality back the way it was before I broke it. But the crystal's knowledge is clear on this point.
"No," I admit, the word tasting like ash. "I can't reverse what's already begun. The synchronization is too advanced, too widespread. But I might be able to..." I pause, trying to translate cosmic concepts into human language. "Guide it. Shape how it happens instead of letting it happen randomly."
"Shape it how?" Azazel asks, moving closer. I can feel her presence now, not just physically but through the blood bond we share. There's something different about her since the battle—a warmth that wasn't there before, as if fighting alongside me has changed her perspective.
"By becoming what I was always meant to be," I say, the truth of it settling over me like a weight. "Not just a Nexus Being, but a living bridge between realms. A focal point that can stabilize the chaos instead of amplifying it."
Inside me, the four consciousness stir with different reactions. Estingoth's ancient pride, pleased that his power will be used for something greater than personal conquest. Azazel's complex satisfaction, seeing her centuries of planning finally coming to fruition. Caleif's warm approval, her divine spark recognizing the rightness of this path. And underneath it all, my own human terror at the magnitude of what I'm proposing.
"What would that mean?" Elara asks, though I can tell from her tone that she's already guessing.
"It means I stop running from what I'm becoming," I reply, looking around at the faces surrounding me. "It means I accept that I'm no longer just Kamen Driscol, human college student who happened to find a cursed gauntlet. I'm something new. Something that needs to exist for the world to survive what's coming."
The crystal embedded in my palm grows warm, responding to my acceptance. I can feel it integrating more deeply with my other essences, creating new pathways of power and understanding. The transformation that began with Estingoth's gauntlet is accelerating again, but this time I'm not fighting it.
"And the rest of us?" Valen asks, his voice carefully neutral.
"The rest of you help me figure out how to do this without losing my humanity entirely," I say, managing a weak smile. "Because if I become some cosmic force of nature, I'm going to need people who remember who I used to be to keep me grounded."
"That's assuming you survive the transformation," Azazel points out, her silver-shadow eyes studying me with clinical interest. "Full integration of four distinct essences plus cosmic knowledge has never been attempted. The mortality rate is... theoretical."
"Encouraging," I mutter, then look at each of them in turn. "I need to know—are you with me on this? Because once I start, there's no going back. For any of us."
Elara is the first to answer, her response immediate and characteristically blunt. "You saved my life more times than I can count. If you think this is the way forward, then I'm with you. But if you turn into some kind of cosmic tyrant, I'm going to be really pissed."
"Noted," I say, grateful for her unwavering pragmatism.
Valen inclines his head formally. "The Academy exists to prepare demons for a changing world. It appears the world is changing more rapidly than we anticipated. We will adapt."
Azazel's response is more complex, filtered through centuries of careful planning and cosmic perspective. "I have been working toward this moment for longer than human civilization has existed. But I want you to succeed as yourself, not as some idealized version of what you might become."
I nod, feeling the weight of their trust settling over me. Then I close my eyes and reach out with my enhanced senses, feeling for the pulse of the weakening barriers. They're like a vast web spanning the globe, each strand vibrating with instability.
"I need to go to the source," I realize suddenly. "The original point of separation. Where the barriers were first established."
"And where would that be?" Elara asks, though I can tell from her tone that she's already dreading the answer.
The crystal pulses, flooding my mind with images of a place that exists at the intersection of all realities—a nexus point where the realms touch, where the original architects of cosmic order made their fateful decision to separate what was once unified.
"The Threshold," I whisper, the name carrying weight beyond mere words. "It's... it's not exactly a place. More like a concept made manifest. The point where all possibilities converge."
"How do we get there?" Valen asks, his academic mind already working on the logistics.
"We don't," I say, opening my eyes to meet his gaze. "I do. Alone. The Threshold exists outside normal space-time. Only a fully integrated Nexus Being can reach it."
"Absolutely not," Elara says immediately. "We're not letting you face this alone."
"You don't have a choice," I reply, more gently than the words might suggest. "But I'll need you here, holding things together while I'm gone. The synchronization is going to get worse before it gets better. People are going to need guidance, protection, hope."
The crystal embedded in my palm suddenly flares with brilliant light, and I feel a new presence touching my consciousness—not one of the four essences already within me, but something vast and ancient and impossibly patient.
"It is time" the presence whispers directly into my mind, bypassing my ears entirely. "The convergence approaches. You must choose—allow chaos to consume all realms, or become the bridge that holds them together."
I recognize the voice with a shock that runs through my entire being. It's The Creator—not speaking to me directly, but through the echo of divine power that flows through Caleif's essence within me.
"Did you hear that?" I ask the others, though I already know the answer from their confused expressions.
"Hear what?" Elara asks, concern creeping into her voice.
"Never mind," I say, understanding that this communication is meant for me alone. "I need to begin the final integration. Now."
I look at the faces surrounding me—Elara concerned, Valen curious, Azazel calculating—and realize this might be the last time I see them as just Kamen. The person I'm becoming might perceive them differently, might relate to them in ways I can't even imagine now.
"I need space," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "And time to focus."
"The central chamber of the valley," Valen suggests. "The energies there are... conducive to transformation."
I nod, already feeling the crystal pulling me in that direction. It's like a compass needle pointing toward magnetic north, except the north is a metaphysical concept rather than a physical location.
"I'll take him," Elara says, stepping closer to support me. "The rest of you should coordinate our forces. If the barriers are weakening globally, we need to prepare for whatever comes through."
As we make our way through the battlefield, I notice how the survivors look at me—a mixture of awe, fear, and desperate hope that makes my stomach twist. I never asked to be their savior. I never wanted to be anyone's messiah. But here I am, literally glowing with otherworldly power, about to attempt something that will change reality itself.
"You're brooding," Elara observes as we pick our way through the debris.
"I'm contemplating the cosmic implications of my existence," I correct her. "It's different."
She snorts. "Sure it is. Look, I know this is all..." she gestures vaguely at my transformed appearance, "a lot. But remember what I told you before—just make sure you stay you."
"That's the problem," I admit as we reach the central chamber. "I'm not sure who 'me' is anymore. There's so much in my head now—Estingoth's memories, Azazel's knowledge, Caleif's divine perspective, and now this crystal with its cosmic history lesson. Where does Kamen Driscol fit into all that?"
She stops at the entrance to the chamber, her green eyes serious in the shifting light. "Kamen Driscol is the stubborn jackass who refused to give up even when a celestial being was trying to unmake him. He's the guy who fights for people he cares about, who makes terrible jokes at inappropriate moments, and who somehow manages to be human even when he's clearly becoming something else."
Her words hit me with unexpected force, cutting through the cosmic noise in my head. "That's... actually kind of beautiful, Elara."
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it." She shoves me gently toward the center of the chamber. "Now go do your reality-bending thing before I say something else embarrassingly supportive."
I step into the chamber alone, feeling the energies shift around me. The battle has left its mark here—scorch marks from celestial fire, cracks in the stone floor from demonic power, the lingering scent of ozone and blood. But underneath that, I can feel the natural power of this place, the reason Valen suggested it for what I'm about to attempt.
The Threshold may exist beyond normal space-time, but this chamber is a thin spot—a place where the barriers between realms have always been weaker. A good jumping-off point for what comes next.
I sink to my knees in the center of the chamber, placing both palms flat against the stone. The crystal embedded in my right hand pulses with increasing urgency, and I can feel the four essences within me stirring in anticipation.
"Okay," I whisper to myself, to them, to whatever cosmic forces might be listening. "Let's do this."
I close my eyes and turn my attention inward, visualizing the four distinct energies that flow through me—Estingoth's crimson power, Azazel's silver light, Caleif's golden warmth, and the crystal's prismatic knowledge. They swirl around my core self, my human identity, like planets orbiting a sun.
The integration that began during the ritual at the Convergence was just the first step. Now I need to take it further, to allow these separate essences to merge not just with each other but with my fundamental self.
It's terrifying. Each essence carries memories, perspectives, powers that could easily overwhelm my human identity. But the alternative—letting the barriers collapse chaotically, watching as three realms tear each other apart—is worse.
"I am Kamen Driscol," I say aloud, anchoring myself in that truth as I begin to lower the mental walls I've maintained between myself and the essences. "I protect what matters. I stand between worlds. I am the bridge."
The first to flow into me is Estingoth, his ancient consciousness carrying memories of demon wars and cosmic upheavals. I feel myself expanding to contain his experiences—the rise and fall of demonic civilizations, the bitter wars with angelic forces, the complex politics of the infernal courts. But most importantly, I feel his evolution from conqueror to protector, the slow realization that power without purpose is meaningless.
Next comes Azazel, her angelic essence colder but no less vital. Through her, I experience the celestial realm before her fall—its perfect harmony, its rigid hierarchy, its inability to adapt or evolve. I understand her rebellion now not as defiance but as necessity—someone had to question, had to suggest that perhaps perfection wasn't worth the cost of stagnation.
Caleif's essence flows in like liquid gold, carrying with it not just her memories but the touch of divine purpose that brought her back from death. Through her, I glimpse something I can barely comprehend—The Creator's perspective, infinitely vast yet intimately concerned with individual choice and free will. The resurrection wasn't just about Caleif or even about me; it was about what we might become together.
Finally, the crystal's knowledge integrates fully, filling in the gaps between the other essences. I see the cosmos as it once was, before the separation of realms—a single reality where magic and mundane, divine and demonic, human and other all existed in complex harmony. I see the cataclysm that led to the separation, the fear and pain that drove the architects of cosmic order to divide what was once whole.
And I see what might be again, if I can complete this transformation without losing myself in the process.
The pain is indescribable. It's not physical—or not just physical. It's the agony of a human mind trying to contain cosmic understanding, of a single identity attempting to integrate four distinct consciousnesses. Every nerve ending feels like it's on fire, every synapse overloading with information never meant for mortal comprehension.
I scream, the sound echoing through the chamber and beyond, carried by energies that transcend normal acoustics. In my mind's eye, I see Elara flinch at the entrance to the chamber, see Valen and Azazel look up from their preparations, see Caleif's physical form—still somewhere in the sanctuary—reach out as if to comfort me across the distance.
The crystal embedded in my palm flares with blinding light, and suddenly I'm no longer in the chamber. I'm nowhere and everywhere, floating in a space between spaces, a non-place that exists at the intersection of all realities.
The Threshold.
It appears to my transformed senses as a vast, impossible architecture—pillars of light stretching infinitely in all directions, connecting at angles that shouldn't exist in three-dimensional space. Between these pillars flow currents of pure possibility, the raw stuff of creation before it solidifies into any particular reality.
And at the center, a structure that defies description—not quite a building, not quite a living thing, but something that partakes of both natures. The original point of separation, where the architects of cosmic order decided to divide what was once unified.
"You have come," a voice says, though 'voice' is a poor description for what I perceive. It's more like a concept unfolding directly in my consciousness, bypassing language entirely.
I turn—or the equivalent of turning in this non-space—and find myself facing... nothing. Or rather, everything. A presence that exists everywhere and nowhere, that permeates the very fabric of the Threshold.
"Who are you?" I ask, though I already suspect the answer.
"I… am god," the voice replies.
I blink, struggling to process what I'm hearing. Did the voice just claim to be God? The actual Creator? Part of me wants to make a sarcastic comment about cosmic beings and their flair for the dramatic, but something about this presence silences my usual defense mechanisms. It feels... familiar, somehow. Like I've always known this entity, even before I knew myself.
"You're The Creator," I manage to say, my words appearing as pulses of light in this strange non-space. "The one who brought Caleif back. The one who... planned all this?"
There's something like amusement radiating from the formless presence. "Planned? No. Anticipated, perhaps. Creation thrives on choice, Kamen Driscol. On possibility. Planning negates both."
I try to get a fix on the entity, but it's like trying to locate the source of the air I breathe. It's everywhere and nowhere, part of the very fabric of this impossible place.
"So what am I doing here?" I ask, gesturing around at the vast architecture of light. "Why am I becoming... whatever I'm becoming?"
"Because the separation has served its purpose," the presence replies. "The walls between realms were never meant to be permanent. Only... educational."
"Educational?" I repeat, incredulous despite the cosmic weight pressing down on me. "Millions have died in the wars between realms. Demons, angels, humans—all suffering because of these barriers. And you're calling it a lesson?"
The crystal in my palm pulses, feeding me understanding that my human mind struggles to process. I see eons compressed into moments, the evolution of three realms in isolation from each other. Angels becoming rigid in their perfection, demons chaotic in their passion, humans caught between extremes, developing in ways none could have predicted.
"The lesson was necessary," the presence continues, unperturbed by my outburst. "Each realm needed to develop its unique strengths, to understand its essential nature. Angels learned order. Demons learned power. Humans learned adaptation."
"And now?"
"Now they must learn from each other, or perish separately."
The bluntness of this cosmic ultimatum sends a chill through me, despite the fact that I no longer have a physical body to feel cold. "And I'm supposed to make that happen? One guy with a fancy gauntlet and some hitchhiking souls?"
"You are the bridge," the presence says simply. "The first of many, perhaps. But the catalyst, certainly."
I feel the weight of this responsibility settling over me, heavier than anything I've experienced before. The crystal continues to feed me visions of possible futures—some beautiful beyond imagining, others horrific in their chaos. All dependent on what I do next.
"I don't know how," I admit, the confession feeling like it's being torn from the deepest part of me. "I don't know how to be this... this Nexus Being. This bridge. I'm still trying to figure out who I am with all these essences inside me."
"That," the presence says, "is precisely why it must be you."
Before I can ask what that means, the architecture of light around us shifts. The pillars rearrange themselves, creating what looks like a path leading deeper into the Threshold. At its end, I see something that makes my non-existent heart skip a beat—a shimmering curtain of energy, like the northern lights condensed into a single vertical plane.
"The Original Barrier," I whisper, the knowledge coming to me through the crystal. "The first division between realms."
"Yes," the presence confirms. "Created in a moment of fear and necessity. Maintained through eons of belief and expectation. Now weakening as those beliefs change."
I move closer to the barrier, drawn by a pull I can't explain. As I approach, I see that it's not a single sheet of energy but countless individual threads woven together, each one pulsing with its own rhythm. Some glow with angelic light, others with demonic fire, still others with human vitality.
"It's beautiful," I say, surprised by my own reaction.
"It is a masterpiece of cosmic architecture," the presence agrees. "But like all structures, it has a lifespan. A purpose. And that purpose is nearing completion."
I reach out toward the barrier, not touching it yet but feeling its energies respond to my proximity. The threads closest to me begin to pulse in time with the crystal in my palm, as if recognizing something kindred.
"What happens if it falls completely?" I ask, though I already suspect the answer.
"Chaos," the presence replies. "Not the end of existence, but a painful rebirth. The three realms colliding without preparation, without understanding. Countless lives lost in the adjustment."
"And if I... what? Reshape it? Rebuild it?"
"You cannot restore what was," the presence says. "The separation is ending, whether you act or not. But you can guide how the realms reconnect. You can create... doorways instead of collapse."
The crystal pulses again, and I understand. The barriers don't need to be walls or nothing—they could be membranes, filters, allowing controlled passage between realms. Places where the different realities can touch without completely merging.
"I would need to stay like this," I realize, looking down at my transformed self. "A Nexus Being. A living bridge. For how long?"
"Until others learn to maintain the balance," the presence says. "Until the transition is complete."
"And how long is that?"
There's something like a cosmic shrug from the formless entity. "Time is... flexible. From your perspective, perhaps a lifetime. From mine, the blink of an eye."
Great. Cosmic beings and their cryptic non-answers. Some things are apparently universal.
"Will I still be me?" I ask, the question that's been haunting me since this transformation began. "Or will Kamen Driscol disappear into whatever I'm becoming?"
"That," the presence says with what feels like genuine compassion and a sigh. "Yes, you'll be you;but you will no longer be the nexus being. After it is complete, you will go back to how you were. A half human, half demon man with Estingoth. Caleif will turn back into her old self as a demon."
The relief that floods through me is so intense it nearly knocks me over, even in this impossible space between realities. "I'll still be me," I whisper, the words feeling like a prayer answered. "After all this cosmic responsibility, I get to go back to being just... me."
"Not just you," the presence corrects gently. "You will be you, but with the knowledge of what you've experienced. The understanding of how the realms connect. The wisdom of having stood at the intersection of all possibilities."
I think about Caleif, about the chance to love her without the weight of cosmic destiny hanging over us. About Elara, who won't have to worry about me turning into some abstract force of nature. About having a life that's more than just preventing apocalypses.
"How do I begin?" I ask, stepping closer to the Original Barrier. The threads of energy pulse brighter as I approach, responding to something within me.
"Touch the barrier," the presence instructs. "Let the essences within you flow into it. Not to destroy, but to reshape. To create passages where there were once walls."
I take a deep breath—or the equivalent in this non-space—and place my palm against the shimmering curtain of energy. The moment I make contact, everything explodes into sensation.
The barrier's threads wrap around me like living things, pulling at the four essences within me. But instead of the violent tearing I expected, it's more like... unraveling. The energies flow out of me in controlled streams, each one finding its place in the cosmic architecture.
Estingoth's crimson power spreads through the demonic threads, not changing them but enhancing them, making them more flexible, more responsive. Azazel's silver light flows into the angelic portions, introducing concepts of adaptation and growth where there was once only rigid perfection. Caleif's golden warmth suffuses the human elements, adding compassion and creativity to the mix.
And the crystal's knowledge—that flows everywhere, creating new connections between threads that were never meant to touch, establishing pathways that will allow the realms to interact without destroying each other.
I feel myself changing as the essences flow out of me, becoming less than I was but somehow more complete. The cosmic awareness dims to manageable levels, the overwhelming flood of sensation and knowledge settling into something I can actually process.
"It's working," I gasp, watching as the Original Barrier transforms before my eyes. The rigid wall of separation becomes something more like a membrane, permeable but controlled. Doorways form at regular intervals—not physical doors, but conceptual ones, places where beings from different realms can meet and interact safely.
"The synchronization will stabilize," the presence explains as I work. "The random fluctuations will settle into predictable patterns. The barriers will become bridges."
I can feel it happening, not just here at the source but everywhere. The weakening barriers around the globe stop their chaotic fluctuations, instead forming stable passages between realms. The dragon beneath Tokyo settles back into slumber, but now there's a pathway for it to emerge safely when it chooses. The fairy court in Ireland finds their glamours restored, but with new options for revealing themselves to humans who are ready. The demon market in Morocco stabilizes, becoming a place where supernatural beings can trade openly without fear of exposure.
"How long will this take?" I ask, feeling the last of the essences flow out of me into the transformed barrier.
"The major work is already done," the presence replies. "The rest will happen gradually, over the course of months and years. The realms will learn to interact again, slowly, carefully. There will be conflicts, misunderstandings, growing pains. But not the catastrophic collapse that would have occurred otherwise."
I step back from the barrier, marveling at what it's become. Instead of a wall, it's now a living interface between realities, pulsing with controlled energy and infinite possibility. Through its translucent surface, I can see glimpses of all three realms—the human world with its cities and technology, the demonic realm with its stark beauty and primal power, the angelic realm with its crystalline perfection and ethereal light.
"And me?" I ask, looking down at myself. I'm still transformed, still glowing with residual power, but I can feel the cosmic forces beginning to recede. "When do I get to go back to being human?"
"Now," the presence says simply.
The Threshold begins to fade around me, the impossible architecture of light dissolving into something more familiar. I feel myself falling—not physically, but conceptually, dropping back into normal space-time, back into my own body, back into the stone chamber where this all began.
I hit the ground hard, my fully human form no longer sustained by cosmic energy. The crystal embedded in my palm has gone dark, its knowledge integrated into the very fabric of reality rather than contained within me. The gauntlet on my arm still pulses with crimson light, but it's Estingoth's power alone now—familiar, manageable, mine.
"Kamen!" Elara's voice reaches me as if from a great distance. "Are you—oh god, you're bleeding."
I try to sit up, but my body feels like it's made of lead. Every muscle aches, every nerve ending feels raw and oversensitive. But I'm alive, I'm human, and most importantly, I'm still me.
"Did it work?" I croak, my voice barely above a whisper.
"See for yourself," she says, helping me to a sitting position.
I look around the chamber and immediately notice the difference. The air itself seems lighter, less oppressive. The shadows are softer, more natural. And there, in the corner where nothing existed before, is a shimmering doorway—not to another room, but to another realm entirely.
Through it, I can see a familiar figure approaching. Caleif, but not the transformed version I've been carrying within me. This is the original Caleif, the demon woman I fell in love with, her ember-red hair catching the light as she steps through the doorway between realms.
"Kamen," she says, her voice carrying all the warmth and concern I remember from before the cosmic complications began. "You did it. You actually did it."
I try to stand, but my legs aren't cooperating yet. She kneels beside me, and I can see that she's changed too—not physically, but in her eyes. There's a depth there that wasn't present before, a wisdom that comes from having been part of something larger than herself.
"Are you okay?" I ask, reaching out to touch her face. She feels solid, real, wonderfully mundane after all the cosmic abstraction.
"I'm perfect," she says, leaning into my touch. "I remember everything—being part of you, the visions, the divine spark. But I'm myself again. Just... more."
"The barriers," I manage to say, my throat still raw from the transformation. "Are they stable?"
"Stable and permeable," Valen says, appearing in the doorway. His burning eyes are bright with academic excitement. "The synchronization has settled into predictable patterns. We have controlled access points between realms, just as you intended."
"And the rest of the world?"
"Adjusting," Elara says dryly. "There's panic in some places, celebration in others. The supernatural communities are revealing themselves gradually, using the new pathways to make contact with humans who are ready. It's going to be messy for a while, but it's not the apocalypse we were expecting."
I let out a long breath, feeling the weight of cosmic responsibility finally lifting from my shoulders. "So what now?"
"Now," Caleif says, helping me to my feet, "we figure out how to live in a world where the impossible has become possible. Where humans and demons and angels can actually talk to each other instead of just fighting."
"Sounds complicated," I observe, testing my balance.
"Everything worthwhile is complicated," she replies with a smile that makes my heart skip a beat. "But at least we'll be facing it as ourselves."
I look around at the faces surrounding me—Caleif with her warm determination, Elara with her pragmatic concern, Valen with his scholarly fascination. My friends, my family, my anchor to humanity in a world that's about to become far more interesting.
"Well then," I say, managing a grin despite my exhaustion, "let's go see what this new world looks like."
As we make our way out of the chamber, I catch a glimpse of the doorway. Through it, I can see other figures moving—demons, angels, even what might be humans, all gathered at similar crossing points throughout the interconnected realms.
The Age of Wonders has begun again, but this time, we're ready for it.