Danny sat at the edge of the broken altar, his fingers trembling as he reached toward the golden thread wrapped around his wrist. His face was pale, jaw tight, and sweat beaded at his temple as if simply breathing had become a war.
Claire stood a few steps away, arms wrapped tightly around their child, her expression a storm of disbelief, fear, and aching hope.
Danny didn't meet her eyes.
He couldn't.
His hands were already turning grey at the edges.
Ash.
He had made it back.
He'd crossed the Veil.
But every second he stood here… something inside him cracked.
The "thing" that followed—it wasn't a demon. It wasn't even a god.
It was everything fate had been hiding.
And now, it had anchored itself inside him.
He felt it whispering.
Not in his ears… in his blood.
His veins pulsed like wires trying to carry lightning through a drowning man, each beat threatening to rip him apart.
The world around him looked the same—but the colors had shifted, just slightly off—as if reality was a painting someone had left in the rain.
And behind every shadow, every flickering candlelight, something watched.
Waited.
Hungered.
Claire took one hesitant step forward.
"Danny… what's happening to you?"
He finally looked up, eyes glowing faintly gold, then black—then gold again.
His voice came out as a whisper—his and something else's.
"I'm not sure who came back… me, or it."
Then the child spoke again.
Only two chilling words:
"It's awake."