EKPOMA 9:47 PM
The darkness didn't fall. It converged.
Tessy stood over David, her one arm extended, her silver aura barely holding back the tide of shadow pressing in from all sides. Scotto's third eye glowed in the distance—not far, not close. Everywhere.
"David," she said.
"Yeah?"
"I'm going to show you my Gift now."
"Tessy, your arm—"
"Will still be missing after. Watch."
She closed her eyes.
Silver boots manifested over her white socks.
Not like armor. Not like shoes. Like liquid metal poured from nowhere, flowing up from her ankles, over her heels, around her toes. The sheen was impossible—soft and sharp at once, catching light that shouldn't exist, reflecting shadows that weren't there.
They fit perfectly. Seamlessly. Like they had always been there, waiting for her to remember them.
"Stride," she said.
Her aura didn't change color. It deepened. Silver became brighter, sharper, more present. The darkness around her feet recoiled—not much, just a little. Just enough.
Scotto's third eye pulsed.
"A Gift," he said. "Finally."
"You wanted to see my full cards." Tessy rolled her ankle, testing the boots' weight. They felt like nothing. They felt like everything. "Here they are."
She moved.
9:49 PM
David couldn't track her.
One moment, Tessy was beside him. The next, she was everywhere—her afterimages, silver and shimmering, filling the darkness with phantom Tessys. They ran left, right, up the walls, across the ceiling. Each one looked real. Each one moved like her.
Scotto's third eye spun, tracking Faith signatures.
"Trace," he said. "You leave pieces of yourself behind."
"You leave pieces of yourself everywhere too." Tessy's voice came from three directions at once. "Your sashes. Your shadows. Your little darkness puddles."
"Those are intentional."
"So are these."
She struck.
Not from the front. From above—one of her traces had climbed the wall, launched itself at Scotto's blind spot, and vanished at the moment of impact. The real Tessy was behind him, her fist—silver light, Stride-enhanced—slamming into his kidney.
Scotto grunted. His dark mass armor cracked.
He spun, faster than before, his tendrils lashing out in every direction. Traces dissolved. The real Tessy was already gone, already running, already accelerating.
"Blur," Scotto observed. "You get faster the longer you move."
"Perceptive."
"I'm always perceptive."
"Stop endorsing me phobia."
Amaka's sniper rifle cracked.
The dark green bolt—Agnes's Sanctite weapon—cut through the darkness, aimed at Scotto's third eye. He dematerialized, let it pass through shadow, and rematerialized three feet left.
The bolt hit the wall behind him. The wall crumbled.
"Your ally is persistent," Scotto said.
"She's injured."
"So are you."
"So are you."
He touched his chest. The green lines from David's Communions were still there—fading, but present. Still burning.
"Fair," he said.
9:52 PM
David stood at the edge of the clearing, his green aura flickering, his eyes straining.
He could see them. Barely.
Tessy and Scotto moved at speeds that shouldn't exist—blurs within blurs, strikes that landed before the sound caught up. The earth cratered where they fought. Walls collapsed. Windows shattered.
His Faith-enhanced vision couldn't track them. He saw afterimages. Traces. Shadows that moved like they had minds of their own.
She's fighting with one arm, he thought. And I can't even see her.
The thought made him angry.
The anger made him useless.
He forced himself to breathe. Forced himself to stop trying to see and start trying to feel.
The green light inside him pulsed. Not fighting him. Waiting.
Concentrate.
9:54 PM
"The barrier is a cage."
Scotto blocked Tessy's kick—her silver boot, Stride-enhanced, cracking his forearm. He countered with a dark mass spear. She traced away, leaving a silver phantom to take the hit.
We're all trapped here. No one can leave. Not me. Not them.
He pursued her, his Speed of Dark closing the distance. She blurred faster, her acceleration matching his approach.
If I can make a barrier...
His third eye pulsed.
Can I make a domain?
The thought was sudden. Unformed. Three days old, and he had never considered it before. He had watched the Vanguards fight. Had studied their Barrier techniques and the laws they gave it.
Can I make one of my own? Where my Truth is law
Tessy's fist caught his chin.
He stumbled—not from pain, from distraction.
"Focus," she said.
"I am focused."
"You're thinking."
"Thinking is focusing."
He caught her next punch—his massive hand closing around her fist—and held.
"Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"For the inspiration."
The darkness exploded outward.
9:55 PM
David felt it before he saw it.
The world didn't go black. It went deep. The kind of deep that pressed against his chest, filled his lungs, made him feel like he was standing at the bottom of an ocean with no memory of the surface.
His green aura flickered—not from fear, from pressure. The darkness was trying to swallow it. Trying to smother it.
"Tessy—"
She was already moving.
Not toward him—away. Her silver boots left trails of light that the darkness ate greedily, but she was faster than the hunger. She grabbed David by the collar of his uniform and threw him.
Not at Scotto.
Out of the domain.
He flew backward, through the barrier's edge—where the darkness thinned, where the light still lived—and landed hard on the ground outside. The trapping barrier was still there. He couldn't leave. But he wasn't inside anymore.
He looked up.
Tessy stood alone in the dark.
The domain was absolute.
Not the darkness of a room with the lights off. The darkness of the ocean floor. The darkness of a cave that had never seen the sun. The darkness of the space behind your eyelids when you're afraid to open them.
Tessy's silver aura flickered—a candle in a storm. Her boots still glowed, but the light struggled to hold its shape.
Scotto stood in the center of it all, his three red eyes glowing, his sashes flowing like they were underwater. His third eye spun slowly—the eclipse marking, the ring within a ring.
"I called it The Unlit Cathedral," he said. His voice was everywhere. In her chest. In her bones. "Not complete. Not yet. But enough."
"Enough for what?"
"To see you clearly."
He moved.
She traced.
His dark mass tendrils filled the space she had occupied—four of her silver phantoms dissolving at once. The real Tessy was behind him, her fist—Impact-charged, Stride-accelerated—slamming into his spine.
He didn't fly.
He absorbed.
"Inside my Cathedral," he said, turning to face her, "darkness is absolute."
"I can still see you."
"Can you?"
He disappeared.
Not moved. Not blurred. Disappeared. The darkness swallowed him whole, and Tessy was alone, spinning, searching, her silver aura guttering.
"Your law doesn't have a sure-hit," she said, her voice steady despite the panic clawing at her chest. "It's incomplete."
"It doesn't need a sure-hit." His voice came from everywhere. "It needs to slow you down."
Her next step was heavy.
Her boots—Stride—felt like lead. The darkness was pressing on her, weighing her. Not stopping her. Just... slowing her.
"Your Conviction," Scotto observed, appearing ten feet to her left. "Your truth. 'I am still moving.'"
"You heard that?"
"I feel it. Your Faith pushes back against my law. Not much. Just enough."
He stepped closer.
"How long can you sustain it, Tessy Ogbe? How long before your truth bends? How long before the dark swallows even your certainty?"
She didn't answer.
She ran.
9:57 PM
Her silver truth wrapped around her like a second skin.
I am still moving.
The darkness tried to freeze her. Her boots—silver, Stride—refused.
Your darkness cannot hold me.
She ran faster. Traces filled the Cathedral—dozens of silver phantoms, each one a copy of her, each one moving, each one real enough. Scotto's tendrils lashed out, dissolving them one by one, but she was already somewhere else, already accelerating, already breathing.
"You're persistent," he said.
"You're repetitive."
"I'm three days old. Repetition is how I learn."
He caught her.
Not with a tendril. Not with a barrier. With his hand—his massive, dark-compressed fingers closing around her ankle as she blurred past.
She twisted, kicked at his face with her free foot—silver boot, Impact-charged—and felt his nose crack.
He didn't let go.
"Your speed is remarkable," he said, swinging her into the ground. The earth cratered. She bounced, rolled, came up bleeding, still moving. "But speed without space is just vibration."
"That doesn't even make sense."
"I'm trying to be poetic."
"Stick to fighting."
She lunged.
9:58 PM
David pressed his hands against the barrier.
It was cold. Not temperature-cold. Absence-cold. Like touching the memory of warmth.
He couldn't see inside. The darkness was absolute—even the edges of the domain absorbed light. But he could feel Tessy's Faith. Flickering. Steady. Flickering again.
She's alone in there.
One arm.
No backup.
Against something that killed five Vanguards.
His green aura pulsed.
I can't just stand here.
He looked at his hands. The green light was steady now—not fighting him, not flickering. Waiting.
I need to get back in.
I need to help her.
He pressed harder against the barrier.
It didn't budge.
9:59 PM
Tessy was running on fumes.
Her Conviction was holding—barely. Every step was borrowed time. Every breath was a prayer. Her left arm was gone. Her right arm was trembling. Her boots—Stride—were still accelerating, still pushing, but the darkness was pushing back harder.
Scotto stood in her path.
Not moving. Not attacking. Just... there.
"You're slowing down," he said.
"I'm not slowing down."
"Then I'm speeding up."
He moved.
She traced.
He caught her phantom. She struck from behind. He absorbed. She retreated. He advanced.
The dance was exhausting. Beautiful. Endless.
"You haven't asked for help," he observed.
"There's no one to ask."
"The boy is outside the barrier."
"He's not ready."
"He landed six Communions."
"He's still not ready."
Scotto paused.
"You're protecting him."
"I'm doing my job."
"Your job is to exorcise me."
"My job is to keep people alive." Tessy's voice was quiet. Certain. "That includes him."
Scotto was silent for a moment.
Then he smiled—the first real smile David had seen on his face, though David wasn't there to see it.
"You're not of my ilk," Scotto said. "But you're not beneath it either."
He raised his hand.
The darkness condensed.
"Show me your Conviction one more time, Tessy Ogbe. Show me that you can still move."
Tessy planted her bare feet—silver boots gleaming—and met his gaze.
"Watch me."
She ran.