This one lives in a human space.
With human fear. Human arrogance. Human consequences.
Power is present here, but restraint matters more.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The night refuses to settle.
Stars burn too brightly above the hall, sharp and cold, as if the sky itself is paying attention. The wind toys with my hair, gentle in its attempt, but it does nothing to quiet the chaos beneath my skin.
I am counting threats when his arm circles my waist.
No announcement. No hesitation.
Just Seth.
"How are you holding up?" he asks quietly.
I lean back into him, fingers curling around his wrist as if anchoring myself to something solid. His presence hums beneath my skin, steady, familiar, divine in a way that does not need spectacle.
"Functional," I say. "Which is not the same as calm."
A breath of a laugh brushes my ear.
"I was afraid you'd say that."
I tilt my head, eyes still on the sky. "If we are choosing our next move, I need to know where we bleed least. The human world or the Hanged Man."
His body stills just enough for me to feel it.
He turns me toward him, lifts my chin with two fingers, and presses a kiss to my forehead. It's warm and just what I needed.
"I think they are the same problem," he says. "Just different masks."
Before I can respond, boots scuff against stone.
Alec stops beside us, Ethan asleep against his shoulder, one small fist twisted into his collar. He shifts slightly, checking that the movement hasn't disturbed him, then looks back at me.
"He's right," Alec says. "You pull one thread, the other tightens. Whatever's happening is looping."
Gabriel approaches more quietly, Elara cradled against his chest as though she is something sacred and volatile all at once. He lowers his voice instinctively.
"Mankind needs us first," he murmurs. "They're louder when they're afraid."
Samuel joins us mid-call, phone lowering as he exhales. "Farm's secured. Twenty kilometers out. It's secluded and defensible... with enough space for a hundred people."
He pauses, glances at my face, then softens.
"And before you argue," he adds, "it has beds."
Elizabeth steps closer, Israel balanced on her hip. Samuel takes him without ceremony, the child settling instantly.
"I think we've had enough prophecy for one day," Samuel says. "So unless the sky plans to split again, I vote food and sleep."
I start toward the cars.
"Agreed," I say. "If anyone asks me to lead one more meeting tonight, I'm resigning and letting Heaven sort you out."
A familiar weight drops onto my shoulder.
Jamey.
He slings an arm around me like he owns the concept of personal space.
"I respect the confidence," he says, a little louder than necessary. A few heads turn. "Threatening Heaven with unemployment. I give Them twelve minutes before They hand the job straight back."
I twist just enough to dislodge him.
"I have just purged three souls and survived a theological tantrum. Wake my children and you're on night duty. Alone."
"Copy that," Jamey says solemnly. "No noise. No breathing. I will communicate exclusively through vibes."
Jamey glances at Leah. "She means it."
Leah nods once. "I'll enforce it."
For the first time tonight, I smile.
Not because things are lighter.
But because they are still ours to face.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
The farm is nothing like what I expected.
A cobbled driveway winds upward toward the main house, stone worn smooth by age rather than neglect. The structure itself opens easily into layered spaces, a reception area that flows into a long dining hall, then opens further into a vast interior chamber built for gathering rather than storage.
This is no simple farmhouse.
Wooden walkways stretch outward from the central structure, suspended just above shallow water that reflects lantern light in slow ripples. Walking across it feels like stepping over glass. The pathways branch into tiers of private quarters, five rooms per level, each tucked behind sliding wooden doors and soft light.
Quiet. Intentional. Old.
Victor leans over the railing and peers into the water below. "Are we sure this is a farm?" he asks. "Because I feel like I could get lost here for a week and still be circling the same pond."
Alec scans the perimeter, eyes already mapping angles and blind spots. "Plenty of places to disappear," he says mildly. "Plenty of places to watch from."
Seth nods once. "I'll set sentinels," he says. "Afterimages on rotation. Just in case."
The twins make their displeasure known before we reach the rooms.
Hungry. Awake. Unwilling to wait.
We planned for that.
Elizabeth offers to bathe them, Israel already perched on her hip, watching the world with his usual quiet intensity. I hand the twins over without hesitation. Two afterimages peel away from me and settle into the room with them, unobtrusive but absolute.
Then I head for the dining hall.
The smell of food hits first. Warm bread. Meat. Something fried. I nearly sag with relief.
Seth meets me halfway and presses a mug into my hands.
Coffee.
I take one sip and close my eyes. "I love you," I say immediately.
He smiles like he expected that exact response.
The table is already occupied. Some familiar faces. Some missing.
I reach for food before sitting. "Where's everyone else?" I ask.
"Resting," someone answers. "Some are settling in, some are taking in the place. They'll be along soon."
Good.
I sit and finally eat.
For a few minutes, no one pushes conversation. Plates scrape softly. Cutlery clinks. The simple act of chewing steadies something in me that power never does.
About ten minutes in, once the sharp edge of hunger dulls and the room settles into a quieter rhythm, I speak.
"This isn't a skirmish anymore," I say. "What we're seeing isn't isolated. It's coordinated."
I glance around the table, meeting eyes as I continue.
"The human world and the spiritual one are being dragged into the same conflict."
Alec leans back in his chair. "So we stop pretending we can handle it alone."
"Exactly," I say. "Who do we bring in?"
Jamey doesn't hesitate. "Judicars," he says. "And the Cindervows."
I look at him. "Why the Cindervows?"
He shrugs. "Because the Judicars still scare me."
That earns a few quiet laughs.
Alec's gaze stays on mine. "I want Master Dan."
The room stills for a heartbeat.
I hold his look, then nod once. "Call him in the morning."
Gabriel sets his cup down. "I'll contact my people," he says. "Judicars first. I'll reach the Cindervows' leader as well."
Movement draws my attention.
Samuel enters carrying Ethan, who looks deeply offended at being awake again. Samantha follows with Elara tucked against her shoulder. Elizabeth trails behind them, Israel already calm, already watching.
Samuel takes a seat as if he's been part of the conversation the whole time. "I'll contact the top five sects," he says. "The ones still standing."
I nod. "Do it carefully."
"I always do."
I glance around the table. Tired faces. Focused eyes. People who stayed.
"This is a war," I say quietly. "And humanity is standing in the middle of it."
No one argues.
Outside, the water reflects the lantern light without a ripple.
For now, at least, we have somewhere to plan.
------------------------------------------------------------------
The garden settles into something close to peace.
Lanterns glow low along the stone paths. Water murmurs beneath the wooden walkways. The late morning air smells of damp earth and cut grass, a rare pocket of peace after everything that came before.
We sit near the small play area, close enough to watch the children without hovering. Samantha and Elizabeth push the swings in gentle rhythm while Seth stands between them, one hand guiding Elara, the other steadying Ethan as he laughs himself breathless.
For a moment, the world behaves.
Then the air changes.
Thirteen figures emerge from the far path, boots silent against stone, cloaks catching lantern light just long enough to reveal structure beneath restraint. They move as one without marching. Measured and deliberate.
The Judicars.
Jamey leans closer to me, lowering his voice. "Ooh. The Judicars. And they have a woman among them. No wait. Two."
He inches even closer. "Did we unlock an achievement?"
I turn my head slowly and give him a look that promises a short and creatively unpleasant future.
"Do you have an issue with women in sects now?" I ask sweetly.
He holds up his hands at once. "Absolutely not. For the Judicars maybe. But look at us. Our leader is beautiful and a woman. Clearly I support progress."
I do not blink.
Jamey's shoulders sag. His head dips once, like a man accepting an unjust sentence. "I will be quiet."
The Judicars stop several paces away. All thirteen incline their heads in unison, respectful but restrained.
I incline mine back.
Seth approaches then, Elara and Ethan walking on either side of him, each gripping one of his fingers like anchors. The Judicars shift immediately and bow again, deeper this time.
Seth nods in greeting.
He takes a seat beside me, settling onto the grass without ceremony. I hand the twins a small bundle of toys and they drop down in front of us, immediately absorbed, blissfully unconcerned with the weight of Heaven standing ten feet away.
Only then do I turn my full attention forward.
My gaze finds Gabriel.
"You gave them the breakdown?" I ask.
He nods once. "Everything relevant."
"Good," I say. "You're welcome to settle in. We'll meet properly after lunch. Once the rest arrive."
They incline their heads again and move off, already dissolving into the space as if the garden were built to hold them.
Footsteps approach from the opposite path.
Samuel leads the way, expression focused, followed by nine others. One of them stands slightly ahead of the rest.
Tall. Broad shouldered. Calm in the way of someone who understands angles and consequences.
Green eyes meet mine without flinching.
He bows.
I return it.
Then he turns to Seth and bows again, just as precisely.
His gaze flickers briefly to the twins playing at our feet. Something like calculation passes over his face, followed by respect.
"I'm Nathan," he says, voice steady, measured. "I lead the seven behind me."
The group shifts as one. Seven step forward in acknowledgment. Disciplined. Trained.
I count anyway.
My gaze slides past them.
I tilt my head slightly.
"And the ninth?" I ask.
The effect is immediate.
Nathan stiffens. Certainty fractures. His eyes move without hesitation, sweeping his line with a precision that comes from command rather than doubt.
Seven.
He turns fully.
There is someone standing there.
Or rather, someone who has been standing there long enough to feel wrong.
A prickle crawls across my skin, sharp and instinctive, like my body has noticed a lie before my mind can name it. Whatever he is doing, it is well practiced.
I rise smoothly to my feet and walk forward, each step deliberate and unhurried. The space ahead of me clears without instruction. People shift aside before they understand why. My attention never wavers.
Gold and silver push outward.
They spiral.
Thin at first, then widening, threading the air around me in slow, measured arcs. Flame and Breath stir together, alert and responsive, coiling like twin instincts that have been awake far longer than I have.
The reaction is immediate.
Those nearest step back. Then another step follows. Chairs scrape softly as distance forms without discussion. No one interferes.
Behind me, something familiar sharpens.
I do not turn. I do not need to.
Seth.
His presence tightens the space the way gravity tightens a storm. The air behind my shoulders warms, steadies, deepens. Every sense aligns with mine. Breath stands ready to answer Flame without being summoned.
Alec appears beside me a heartbeat later.
Close enough that his arm brushes mine. His fingers rest briefly against my forearm.
"Max," he murmurs. "Easy. Look at his aura."
I nod once.
Nathan and the others have gone completely still.
I focus on the man fully now.
Shielded. Folded inward with obsessive care. Layered so precisely it creates absence rather than signature. Power turned inward, muted until it chills instinct rather than announces itself.
"Remove the camouflage," I say.
He obeys.
At a glance, he appears ordinary. Brown hair. Neutral expression. A posture designed to vanish into crowds. The kind of face the mind struggles to hold onto once it looks away.
I stop an arm's length from him.
Gold and silver shimmer faintly around him, visible only to the Twenty-Eight. Slow. Controlled. Unmistakable.
"What's your name?" I ask.
His eyes lift to mine.
Something flickers there. Calculation. Awareness. The understanding that concealment has failed.
"Justin," he says.
Around us, my team does not move closer.
They do not need to.
Seth stands firm at my back. Alec holds position at my side. The others complete a quiet perimeter, seamless and unquestioned, a line drawn in loyalty rather than command.
Nathan sees it then.
This is presence under control.
This is readiness without threat.
This is what it looks like when Heaven's chosen stop observing and begin weighing what stands before them.
I glance back at Nathan.
"How did you miss him?"
Justin turns toward Nathan and exhales slowly. "It wasn't his fault. I stayed close for protection."
He steps toward me.
I lift a hand.
"Stop right there," I say evenly. "You get trust after truth. Start talking."
He freezes at once.
"I was being followed," he says. "Three men. Large. Organized."
He pauses, jaw tightening.
"I managed to lose them briefly. While I was moving, I came across his group." He nods toward Nathan. "I stayed hidden and listened. When I heard you had summoned them, I stopped running."
His eyes flick to me, then to Seth.
"That was when I decided it was safer to stay close than to disappear again."
My gaze sharpens.
"If you can hide your presence," I say, "how did they stay on you?"
He swallows. Sweat beads at his temple.
"They were using something. A device. It kept tracking me no matter how I shifted my field." His voice tightens. "I was alone. I knew I couldn't lose them. I also knew if anyone could help, it would be you." He nods once toward Seth. "And him."
Seth steps forward, placing himself slightly ahead of me.
"Then explain your ability," he says calmly.
Justin turns to face him and inclines his head in respect.
"I'm Shield class," he says. "Camouflage. Passive concealment. I can suppress my presence and reinforce others at the same time. You won't sense me or anyone under my cover unless I allow it."
I step forward to stand beside Seth.
"A shield that hides itself," I say, studying Justin closely, "and protects others simultaneously."
He nods once. "If necessary."
The Flame and Breath withdraw, settling back beneath my skin. Seth's presence eases with mine.
Justin's eyes widen just slightly.
Relief crosses his face before he reins it in.
Then he bows.
Deeper this time.
I turn to Samuel. "Get him settled with the others. Same instructions. We meet after lunch."
Samuel nods and gestures for Justin to follow.
The perimeter relaxes.
But my attention does not.
-----------------------------------------------
Lunch stretches across the yard in uneven rectangles of wood and stone, tables pulled together wherever space allows. Plates are passed. Bread torn. Cups refilled. People sit where they land, alliances loose, conversation overlapping in low, ordinary ways that almost pretend the world has not cracked open.
Ethan bangs a spoon against his tray with fierce concentration. Elara watches him like she is taking notes. Israel kicks his feet against the footrest, humming softly to himself.
Jamey leans back in his chair, one arm hooked over the backrest, chewing with theatrical care. Leah sits beside him, elbows on the table, counting something on her fingers.
"I'm just saying," Jamey says around a mouthful of food, "if we're all going to die in a holy war, I would prefer to do it after dessert."
Leah squints at him. "You've had three rolls and half my chicken."
"Strategic carb loading," he replies. "I'm thinking long-term."
She nudges his knee with hers. "You think long-term like a goldfish."
Across the table, someone snorts. A few others smile despite themselves. The tension loosens, just a fraction.
Seth stands behind the twins, hands resting lightly on the backs of their chairs. His presence is quiet but constant, a steady gravity that people unconsciously orient toward. I sit a little apart, watching the spread of faces, the easy familiarity forming between people who have never met and somehow already trust one another with their lives.
Samuel's phone rings.
He glances at the screen, frowns, then turns away from the table as he answers. His posture changes instantly. Shoulders tight. Head tilted as if listening through more than sound.
"Yes," he says. Then, sharper, "Slow down."
He listens for another breath, then presses the screen and brings the phone back toward us.
"Hold on," he says, already moving. "You're on speaker."
The voice that comes through is ragged. Too loud. Too close.
"I don't know how many," the man shouts. "They came out of nowhere. We were moving through the town and then the air just… shifted."
A scream cuts through the line. High and sudden.
Then silence.
Too long.
"James, get back," the voice yells abruptly. "Watch the…"
Another scream follows. Closer this time. Wet. Cut short.
Samuel steps away from the table, gripping the phone hard. "Ashton?" he snaps. "Ashton, talk to me. Are you still there?"
Static crackles.
Breathing returns, uneven and fast. "We're pinned," Ashton gasps. "Two teams. Mine and Carter's. Ten of them with him. We split to cover ground and that was a mistake."
Chairs scrape softly as people lean in.
"They're running along the walls," Ashton continues. "Along the air itself. Built wrong. Like wolves stretched too thin. Claws digging into nothing and somehow holding."
My stomach drops.
"They've got torn wings," he says, words tumbling now. "Bones and skin smashed against their backs. They circle like it's play."
A crash sounds in the background. Someone shouts Ashton's name.
"And their eyes," he pants. "Obsidian. Shifting. One second slitted, then wide, then sideways. The whole eye changes. It never settles."
I meet Alec's gaze across the table.
His jaw tightens.
"We've got wounded," Ashton says. "James is down. Carter's team is still fighting but they're being pushed back. Sam, they know how to hunt us."
The line shrieks with interference.
"Sam," Ashton says urgently. "If you can hear me, we need help now."
The call cuts out.
Silence slams into the yard.
Ethan drops his spoon. It clatters against the tray, sharp and small.
My chest tightens. Two worlds collide inside me at once. The leader. The mother.
I feel Seth shift behind me before he speaks.
"I'll go," he says calmly.
No hesitation. No glance at me for permission.
"I'm coming," Alec says immediately.
Justin steps forward, hands already lifting. "I can shield the group. Hide movement. Break line of sight."
Victor nods once. "You will need my type of shield for this one."
Marcus pushes back his chair.
"You'll need power."
He does not raise his voice.
The beads respond anyway.
A soft clatter. A pressure shift. The unmistakable sense that something has just woken up.
I stand.
The conversations stop. Every face turns toward me.
I look at the twins first. At Elara's wide eyes. At Ethan's sticky hands and stubborn grip on the edge of his tray. I breathe once. Deep. Measured.
"Seth," I say. "Alec. Marcus. Justin. Victor."
They hold still, waiting.
"You move fast and you move quiet," I continue. "No heroics. No splitting up. You get them out."
I turn to Samuel. "Coordinates. Now."
He is already moving.
I look back at Seth. Just once.
He meets my gaze. Steady. Certain.
"I'll bring them back," he says.
I nod.
Then I straighten, voice carrying across the yard.
"The rest of you stay put," I say. "This farm holds. We prepare for what comes next."
Because it will.
And this time, it is already close.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
This chapter matters for reasons that will only become clear later.
What was confronted here was not just possession, but blasphemy spoken without understanding its weight.
The demons learned something.
The humans did too.
And Heaven was listening the entire time.