Lina POV

The airport was a graveyard frozen between fire and ash. Smoke curled upward in lazy spirals, choking the sky with its blackened weight. The gates hung on twisted hinges. Planes lay at impossible angles, metal like melted wax. Windows of the terminal shattered, shards catching the dying sunlight. Scorched bodies littered the tarmac, some whole, some twisted, grotesque.

And yet… no sirens. No engines. No signs of help. It was as if the world had been erased from this place—or Star had erased it herself.

I stayed behind, hood low, shoulders hunched, pretending to examine a burned suitcase. But I could hear them—faint whispers, cries for help just at the edge of perception. The souls pressed against my mind, their terror brushing my thoughts. I willed it away, forcing them down. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—show anyone. Not yet.

Kelo bent over a scorched luggage cart, shaking his head. “This… this isn’t real. How can this happen, and no one’s reported it?”

Asia knelt near a warped railing, fingertips brushing scorched metal. “Bodies… some burned, some… nothing left. And that plane,” she said, voice tight, “it’s like it… exploded from the inside.”

Jayla adjusted her binoculars, scanning the skeletal planes. “Star’s been here. She’s one step ahead. Everything we see is deliberate. A message… a warning.”

Jakari moved like a shadow, silent, shoulders stiff, jaw tight. He didn’t look at the chaos. He just walked. I knew why—Jess. His grief was a blade hidden beneath precision. Every step, every movement, radiated that pain. I could see the tension in his hands, the rigid straight line of his shoulders. Small cues, easy to miss—but I saw.

We moved slowly through the terminal, debris crunching underfoot. Every step felt heavier. I noticed little things: a child’s half-burned toy, a tipped-over purse, a single torn shoe. Trivial pieces of life scattered like clues, but meaningless here. Nothing made sense.

Kelo muttered again, voice tight with disbelief. “It’s like… like the world is pretending.”

Asia’s hands trembled slightly. “The fire’s gone, but the air smells… alive. It’s… wrong.”

Jayla’s voice cut through softly, analytical. “Star wants us afraid. Wants us unsettled. She’s already played her hand here. We’re… inside her world now.”

I stayed quiet. Fingers flexed around the pencil in my pocket. Whispers of dark energy nudged at my mind, pressing, asking for attention. I shoved them down. I couldn’t let anyone see. Not now.

We checked the security checkpoints, walking over melted badge readers, shattered monitors dangling on frayed wires. The conveyor belts were twisted skeletons of metal and rollers. Faint imprints of shoes suggested someone had passed moments before, but the scorched bodies told another story. On the baggage claim, half-burned suitcases sat like trophies, their contents spilling—clothes fused with plastic, wallets warped. Every piece screamed the presence of someone who had been alive… once.

I heard the souls whispering louder, fingernails of panic raking at the edges of my mind. I pressed my fingers over my ears, forcing the images down, forcing the voices away. I wasn’t ready for them to see this. Not yet.

Jakari stopped near a crumpled flight manifest. His jaw tightened. I saw his eyes flick to the cabin window of a plane, the way his hands flexed. Jess. It was always Jess. And I wondered how much longer he could carry it without breaking.

Outside, on the runway, the wind swirled ash and smoke into my face. A plane had landed wrong, metal twisted, engines silent. The tarmac bore the imprint of chaos: skid marks, burnt streaks, faint imprints of feet running. Star’s message wasn’t just destruction—it was deliberate, precise, terrifying.

Finally, we reached the cars. Engines roared as we pulled onto the road. The drive to the hotel was tense. Snow-dusted trees blurred past; shadows clung to the edges of the windshield. Occasionally, a flicker in the distance made me blink twice—but nothing remained.

Jakari drove with one hand on the wheel, jaw tight, shoulders squared. Silence filled the car, broken only by the low hum of the engine. I kept my hands folded, watching the road, sketchbook hidden in my lap. My pencil itched in my pocket. The urge to draw clawed at me unconsciously, every shadow on the roadside, every curve of a tree reminding me of what I had seen.

Jayla murmured, almost to herself, “Brazil… or Arkansas. Distance… but danger follows… predictable, but safer?”

Asia muttered, shaking her head. “Neither sounds safe. We’re cornered either way.”

Kelo sighed, jaw tight. “We just… have to keep moving.”

I traced the outline of shadows outside the window with my finger, thinking of shapes, doors, soldiers falling. My sketches formed themselves on the page in my mind, almost without me noticing.

The hotel appeared like a safe harbor—a low, angular building with two rooms for our group. Barely enough, but functional. Kelo ran inside, practically shaking from energy and frustration. Asia followed slowly, hand hovering near her holster. Jayla immediately began unpacking, spreading books and notes across the table, whispering to herself about sigils, patterns, and energy signatures.

I lingered outside a moment longer, pulling my notebook from my coat. I sketched rapidly: a man, arms chained above him, muscles carved like stone, scars weaving symbols across his skin, shadows twisting around him. I drew doors—massive, black, ancient—and the figures of soldiers falling at the base, swallowed by darkness. Every stroke tried to lock a vision I barely understood.

“Lina.”

I flinched. Jakari was there, silent as a shadow behind me, towering, unreadable. His eyes scanned the notebook. “What… are you doing?”

I swallowed. “Just sketching. Trying to… understand what I saw.”

He crouched slightly, reaching for the notebook. “Let me see.”

“No,” I said quickly. “It’s… nothing.”

But he ignored me, flipping it open. His eyes scanned each page—twisted shadows, chained figures, symbols, energy lines I had tried to hide. Concern flickered in his gaze, the first real emotion I’d seen since Jess died.

“Who are these?” His voice was low, dangerous.

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just… see them sometimes. Draw them. That’s all.”

Jakari’s jaw clenched. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I… I couldn’t. I didn’t know if it was real. Or if it was… me.”

Silence stretched. Then he spoke again, voice quiet but firm. “We need to know. Now.”

Inside, the group clustered around a table filled with maps, books, and notes. I laid my notebook on the table. Jayla leaned over, eyes sharp.

“These… these aren’t just drawings. There’s… energy here. Dangerous energy. Dark energy,” she said.

Kelo froze. “Dark energy?”

I exhaled, voice trembling slightly. “I can feel it. Always have. My family… we’ve protected, contained, and studied it. Long before anyone recorded history. My sketches… my visions… they’re a part of that. A part of me.”

Jayla’s eyes widened. Asia’s hand gripped hers. Kelo’s jaw tightened. Jakari’s dark stare met mine, unreadable but calculating.

Jakari finally spoke. “If this is true… whatever you’re drawing, it isn’t just imagination. And it’s coming. We’re not just running from Star. Something else is coming.”

I nodded. “There are relics, weapons… ancient, scattered. They can weaken… maybe even destroy it. But we have to act fast.”

Jakari leaned over, brushing my hand. “Then we move. Together. Now.”

Asia exhaled sharply. “Worldwide? We can’t even leave this town safely.”

Jayla studied my sketches, tracing lines and patterns. “Start with what’s closest. Lina, where?”

I picked up my pencil again, sketching a mountain, massive black doors, shadows curling along the base. “Here… something’s close. I feel it.”

Jakari’s eyes hardened. “Now?”

I didn’t answer. The air thickened. A subtle vibration beneath our feet. Shadows stretched along the walls.

“Lina… what is it?” Jakari asked, voice low.

“I… I don’t know,” I whispered. “But it’s here.”

The room stiffened under the weight of the unseen. The whispers coiled in my mind, urging, warning, demanding attention.

The heater clicked faintly. Its hollow sound echoed against the walls, dragging me back from the visions. Outside, a truck passed on the highway, tires hissing against wet pavement. Normal sounds—but they felt wrong now, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Jakari stood near the window, arms crossed, watching reflections instead of the street. Maybe he was listening—or remembering Jess. Maybe both.

Jayla shuffled papers, her voice low but constant. “If we stay in Arkansas, we have access to back roads, old shelters, places Star wouldn’t expect us to use. But it also makes us predictable. Brazil puts distance between us and her—but distance doesn’t mean safety.”

Kelo leaned against the wall. “So either we hide and hope, or we run and pray.”

Asia shook her head. “Neither of those sounds like a plan.”

I kept my notebook closed on my lap. The sketches felt heavier now, pressing back like something alive.

Jakari turned suddenly. “Lina.”

I looked up.

“You’ve been drawing more than just places and symbols,” he said. His tone wasn’t accusing—but it wasn’t gentle either. “At the airport. In the car. Just now. You keep stopping yourself.”

I swallowed. “I’m trying not to see.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Jayla glanced between us but stayed quiet. She was watching—calculating.

Jakari stepped closer. “You feel things before they happen. You know more than you’re saying. And if we’re deciding where to go next, I need the truth.”

The room seemed to shrink.

I exhaled slowly. “The drawings… they aren’t random. They’re tied to power. Authority. Structures that keep things in place.”

“Like Star,” Asia said softly.

“Yes,” I nodded. “And… the ones above her.”

Jakari’s eyes sharpened. “The Seven.”

The word hit the room like a dropped blade.

Kelo straightened. “The Seven Masters? The ones running this whole thing?”

I hesitated—and that was enough.

Jakari noticed. “What about them, Lina?”

“They’re not invincible,” I said quietly.

Silence.

Jayla’s pen froze mid-note. Asia leaned forward. Even Kelo stopped breathing.

“They can die,” I continued. “But not by just anyone.”

Jakari didn’t blink. “By who?”

I looked at him.

“The Marked.”

The air shifted.

Jakari let out a slow breath. “You’re saying… me.”

I nodded once.

Kelo cursed under his breath. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Asia looked between us. “How? What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know how,” I admitted. “I just know it’s true. The Mark reacts to them. That’s why you scare Star. That’s why she keeps escalating instead of finishing you.”

Jakari looked away, jaw clenched. “So I’m a key I don’t know how to use.”

“Yes.”

Jayla finally spoke. “But someone does.”

I looked down at my hands. “My grandmother.”

All eyes turned to me.

“She’s… old-world,” I said. “Knows things that aren’t written down. She helped seal things away long before I was born. She understands marks, bloodlines, contracts—especially the Seven.”

Jakari turned fully toward me. “Where is she?”

“Little Rock.”

Kelo blinked. “That’s four hours.”

“Through territory we don’t know is clear,” Asia added.

Jayla began already calculating routes. “But it’s not Brazil. It’s controlled. Reachable. And if she really knows how to stop the Seven…”

Jakari nodded once. Decision settling in his posture. “Then that’s where we start.”

I felt something ease—and something else tighten.

“This doesn’t end it,” I warned. “It just gives us direction.”

Jakari met my eyes. “That’s enough for now.”

Outside, the wind picked up.

And somewhere—something listened.