Canterbury Lab

Mapleview, North Carolina.
November 19th, 1988.
10:02 A. M.

Ever since that one fateful Halloween night during the early 1970s—an entirely new life had started and unraveled for Mapleview’s misfit three.

It created an all new routine within a facility of white and sky blue walls; Amory would never forget the first time he laid eyes on Canterbury Lab, walking up to the isolated building in the night alongside his friends and his new adult counterparts, gazing up at its many sectors and lit windows, brightening the nighttime woodlands. The place was surrounded by a ten-foot fence, and they strode through a gateway when they approached the thick double-doors, swiping a card in a strange machine before the doors unlocked and allowed them inside.

A long, widened hallway led past a thick glass window and through another pair of secured metal doors, where two armed guards stood—and then, they found themselves in the facility, a lobby directly in front of them, a long hallway to the left and another to the right, the lobby containing a window that seemed to provide a view to a recreational outdoors area in the center of all the lab’s buildings. Amory remembered glancing around and thinking the place looked ordinary enough, friendly in the same way that the lobby of a doctor’s office or a dentist might look, though the rest of the facility was much bigger, like a hospital or a community center.

The three children would come to familiarize themselves with the many rooms, sectors, and areas of the facility.

During their first night in the lab, before they would eventually grow older and get their own rooms—Amory, Crowe, and Raven were escorted into the south wing, and they ended up sleeping together in a room with two sets of bunk beds on either side, a single painting of a full moon on the wall in between them, and a plastic crate of toys sitting in the corner, looking like it had been lazily filled with hand-me-down toys and left in the room for whatever kids might next inhabit it. They didn’t care; they dropped their belongings, mainly candy, onto one of the lower bunks, then climbed onto the other three beds and chatted about their new situation for a while before they eventually fell asleep.

On that night—it took Amory the longest to drift to sleep, but near three in the morning, he did.

And—he found himself standing in the clearing near the clubhouse in his dream world, only now, it was daytime, unusually bright, as his dreams always were. He smiled when he spotted the angel standing opposite him.

Zyon returned the smile. He only said one thing to Amory before the dream faded away.

“I am always here.”

From then on—he silently prayed, sought out excuses to sleep in, and grasped for any free time he possibly could to see his dream world friend again. It was always easiest to see him when he fell into a peaceful, natural sleep—but whenever he’d go into the north wing for the procedure, he was always put into a deep, heavy sleep that did not allow him to dream of the angel.

The procedure—the weekly visit to the north wing—was something required of every patient of Canterbury. Amory, Crowe, Raven—and the other patients, friends they’d made within the facility—they all had to attend their own individual meetings with the doctors in the north wing, wherein they would lie flat on a metal sheet, allow a doctor to strap an oxygen mask over their face, and be put to sleep for a long while, dreaming of wild and insane things. Amory personally couldn’t clearly remember the dreams, though they always left him with a strange sensation lingering thereafter. He never found any needle marks on his arms, never seemed to be hurt or scatterbrained in any way, and they never even seemed to use an IV on him. He had no idea what the procedure actually entailed—aside from being fed some type of inhalant—but it seemed that it truly didn’t harm anyone when it was performed. Nowadays, he was fairly comfortable with the procedure—but he certainly didn’t feel that way when he first had to endure it as a child. He remembered being incredibly nervous about the ordeal. If not for Vincent lingering beside him and giving him reassuring smiles and remarks, he doubted he could’ve stayed calm.

Honestly, Vincent had been very helpful in helping the kids to adjust to their new lives, especially Amory. By nightfall, he liked to seek out Zyon in his dreams—but during the day, in his waking life, Vincent seemed to fill the role of a guiding force quite well.

Valek Hawthorn was the owner of the lab, and he wasn’t around the kids as often, but he seemed to like entertaining them with joking comments whenever he was. Still—for a reason Amory still couldn’t explain to this day—he felt more comfortable around Vincent than Valek. Something about Vincent’s father simply set him on edge.

Still—he was grateful to Valek for one thing, if nothing else.

Valek was the very first person to introduce Amory and his friends to the idea of real, genuine superpowers—and if not for him doing that on the very first night they met, then Amory may have had a much harder time of adjusting to the changes that fell upon him later on.

As time passed, as the trio grew older, and after they were moved from the south wing, given their own bedrooms in the west wing instead—they all slowly came to realize just what they were becoming capable of.

Crowe and Raven began having bizarre dreams—not of Zyon, but of things, places, events, and even songs that they’d never seen or heard before. Crowe soon became convinced that he could see into the future, but Amory wasn’t sure if he believed that idea. Still, it wasn’t as if he could compare their dreams; Amory never saw those sorts of things at night, as he was always seeking out Zyon whenever he entered into a dream world. Regardless, he found it a blessing that Crowe and Raven were undergoing their changes rather smoothly, because the same certainly couldn’t be said for everyone else in Canterbury Lab.

Once in a rare blue moon—a patient would have a psychotic break, rampaging through the hallways and shouting things that did not make sense. They would be forcibly restrained, heavily sedated, and taken off to the underground, the basement area of the lab, where the solitary patient rooms evidently all resided.

Amory couldn’t know why any of the people here would go insane—especially since he and his friends were going through the procedures with ease—but he counted them all lucky that they hadn’t reacted to the lab in the same way as the unfortunate few who had seemingly gone mad. He wasn’t exactly sure what happened to the patients who had meltdowns in the lab, but Vincent told him that those patients were usually released to a mental hospital, and that seemed to make sense, so he never really questioned it farther.

Besides—with everything that transpired after Raven’s twentieth birthday—he didn’t spare any time to think about anything else.

That was the day when many of the patients gathered in the cafeteria to celebrate her birthday, and she accidentally lifted the cake from the table—without ever laying a hand on it.

Amory remembered standing there alongside Crowe, both of them staring in awe as Raven’s cake simply floated a few inches from her face, her gazing back at it in awe.

From that day on—all of them began trying, experimenting, seeing what they could do with whatever their new abilities were. Crowe discovered that he, too, could lift things with his mind—and Amory levitated a basketball in the gym when he was there by himself. He would never forget the rush of euphoria that coursed through him the very first time he learned that he was—as he was promised—far from being helpless anymore.

He hadn’t the faintest idea of what he was being dosed with during the procedures—but whatever it was, it was certainly working, and working miracles, at that.

While he felt incredibly happy and grateful to no longer be helpless—he felt a powerful need to take things in stride, calmly, without ever allowing the power to influence his decisions too much. He knew full well what people behaved like whenever they allowed their power over others to run wild, after all. So, he resolved to keep it minimal; every now and then, he would lift a pencil from his desk and twirl it midair with his mind, or he would use his psionic ability change the channel on the television in the rec room, just to mess with everyone’s minds and choke out a cheap laugh or two. He used his power only for fun, and for occasionally helping him with his work around the facility, as he and everyone else all had jobs to do.

Still—with the trio discovering new abilities—Crowe and Raven seemed to react to them slightly differently than Amory.

While other patients sometimes came and went, and while some would periodically suffer a mental break and be sent elsewhere—no such plans ever seemed to be made for the misfits three. Vincent had told them they were free to stay as long as they liked, and for years, they didn’t question this—but when they became adults, Crowe and Raven demanded to be released, and Valek had refused to let them go. He mentioned something about them “being too much of a danger” to the outside world—but they did not want to hear it, especially not the young Evervale.

This was when Raven made her leave of Canterbury Lab, never to return.

Amory still recalled it clear as day; he’d woken up late, as usual, and when he stepped out of his room, several guards and men in suits were down the hall, interrogating Crowe and asking for Raven’s whereabouts. Crowe simply told them the truth—that he had no clue where she’d gone, and he would’ve gone with her if he did know—and then, Vincent was forced to have a talk with them, a talk that would settle very differently in either boys’ minds.

After Raven ran away from Canterbury—Amory and Crowe were seated across from Vincent inside an isolated room, containing only a table and a few chairs. During this conversation—Vincent explained precisely why it was unfavorable for them to leave the facility, even when other patients were allowed to do so.

According to him—Amory, Crowe, and Raven had manifested abilities that surpassed anyone else in the lab, and because of that, it was simply better for them to remain in the safe and controlled environment that was Canterbury Lab.

Amory seemed to understand this sentiment to some extent, despite feeling immense worry for his now missing sister—but Crowe was seething in his seat, and he took this little talk as nothing more than a challenge to his freedom.

Later that night—Amory went to bed much earlier than usual, falling asleep on his twin-sized bed and searching his mind for the only man he could rely on for answers.

Eventually, he found himself back in the dream world, at the edge of the woods near the Mapleview park, sunny and shiny—and Zyon stood beneath the big oak tree, as if he’d been waiting there for him.

Amory strode up to him and asked where Raven was—and Zyon held up a hand, assuring him that she was perfectly safe right now, and she simply needed to break away and start her own life beyond Canterbury’s confining walls.

Then, Amory let a relieved smile spread across his face, a heavy sigh escaping him.

After Zyon confirmed that his little sister was all right—it became much easier for Amory to adjust to her no longer being a part of his daily routines, though he had to admit, he did feel a sad sort of longing whenever the cafeteria served her favorite food—pizza—or whenever the TV in the rec room would play one of her favorite shows.

Still—as time pressed on, and the patients came and went—Crowe developed a new routine of his own.

With great ambitions of being a successful artist—and inspired by Raven’s ability to breach the facility—he soon began to break out of Canterbury on a regular basis. In fact, it almost became commonplace for him; there were special spots in town he liked to visit, bars with regulars he knew, or clubs where he would arrange gigs and play his music. It was almost comical; he broke out of the lab without permission countless times in the next years to come, and it grew to be something that others expected of him. He would breach the doors and the fence whenever he wanted, and after he had his fun, made his money, or did whatever else he wanted to do in town, then he—unlike Raven—would always return to the lab.

By the time the end of the summer came around in 1988—the only one of the three to have never left the lab was Amory.

And—truthfully—it wasn’t because Amory didn’t want to see the outside world. It wasn’t because he didn’t feel strong enough to escape, and it wasn’t because he was simply instructed not to leave.

It was mainly due to Zyon—because, throughout all the years of visiting his dreams, the angel had made one thing very clear to him.

He needed to stay in the lab—at least until he was ready for whatever came next.

Amory always found it frustrating whenever Zyon would speak to him in such a vague way. Many of their dream-world conversations left him with more questions than answers whenever they visited the topic of leaving the lab. Zyon would always simply urge him to stay, and not tell him exactly why. Whenever Amory questioned this, the angel would simply reply with something like “You will be ready to know and to act before long.”

So, despite that he did feel a strong longing to leave, to start his own life, and to see how the world had changed in the past fifteen years—he merely stayed, because the man in his dreams wanted him to.

At times, Amory did question himself, wondering if he was being foolish, if he was stupid to entrust his life and future to someone he only ever knew in his dream world—but he couldn’t shake the feeling of importance attached to Zyon’s words, despite that the angel’s explanations never really seemed to explain anything at all.

It simply felt important to do what he said, and that’s all Amory knew as of now.

And on this day—the day of his weekly procedure appointment in the north wing—he lay in bed late into the morning, as usual, his small room illuminated by the lamplight on his nightstand. His personal bedroom here had many of the types of things that his old one once had—posters on the walls of his favorite musicians, though most of them were from the 60s and 70s, as he wasn’t very aware of the musicians who’d risen to fame since then—and his clothes hamper was in the corner, all the clothes clean, but in messy disarray.

Much to the contrary of how he was when he first arrived here—Amory was a tall, slender man now, with long black hair that reached past his shoulders, though he still liked to comb it back a bit in the front rather than letting any bangs hang directly over his eyes. He lay on his back in the bed, his blue comforters mostly kicked off of him, lost to a restful slumber—and to a deep conversation with the dream angel.

This time, in the dream world—Amory and Zyon stood on the side of an isolated back road in Maple County, the sun brighter than ever, though it was somewhat obscured by all the trees around them, leaves and branches shifting gently in the wind.

Amory strolled up and down the side of the road in this dream, folding his arms and peering into the only pathway near them—what appeared to be a long, narrow gravel stretch of twin tire tracks, leading deeper into the woods, off to parts unknown.

He gave the driveway a look, then squinted oddly at the angel.

“Where are we…?” Amory asked, approaching him again. “The last time I prayed to you, I asked you to show me where Raven was… didn’t I…?”

Zyon’s hands were pocketed in his dark overcoat, and he made a simple nod, glimpsing over at the edge of the hidden driveway.

“She’s been… soul-searching,” the angel mumbled. “But… she’s settled down here for now.”

Amory cocked his head at him, looking lost.

Zyon read his expression, sighing heavily. “I don’t want to alarm you. If I show you the building itself, then you might… jump to conclusions… but I assure you, she is perfectly safe and sound-minded. There is no reason to worry.”

Amory slowly took back, giving him another strange stare. “Okay… I wasn’t really worried, until you started talking like that …”

“Amory. She is safe ,” Zyon told him firmly. “You will have bigger things to attend to soon, anyway. I’d recommend not worrying about this particular issue.”

Amory’s brow hardened slightly. “What’s gonna happen soon? Because if it turns out to be something boring, I’d rather know ahead of time and not get my hopes up…”

“Amory,” Zyon said in a low, intense voice, taking a single step closer and giving him a serious stare. “I cannot see… or feel… with perfect clarity. But… I can see that they are finally beginning to suspect the obvious. They will find out… fairly soon… why their procedures are not working on you.”

Amory blinked, breathing out a laugh and shaking his head once. “What do you mean, not working on me? You realize I can move things with my mind , right? They’re definitely working, Zyon. They worked on all of us.”

“No… they didn’t,” Zyon knew. “Not in the way they intended.”

Amory fell silent, staring at him and sensing that something was amiss. This was not the usual vague dialogue that Zyon would usually share with him; it seemed that the angel was actually trying to tell him something important now.

Zyon’s mouth curled slightly, a trademark of his, the simplest and subtlest of smiles.

“Some of the children in the lab have let me into their minds… and some have not,” he told him. “Same with the adults. Some allow me to protect them… some refuse to let me in… and some… a rare few… not only open the door. They walk back through it as well.”

Amory’s expression seemed to deflate, and he tossed his head back and sighed. “Yeah, there’s the stock vague stuff again. That didn’t last long…”

“If you want some news that you do not call boring —then I suggest you pay attention,” Zyon stated, moving closer. “Because tonight is the night of both of our salvation.”

Amory paused, turning back to face him and giving him a long, surveying stare.

“You heard me correctly,” Zyon affirmed, as if reading his mind. “Tonight is the night… when you will find out everything, and you will be free to do with it what you will.”

“Ah-huh. Okay. What? ” Amory chided with a laugh, throwing up his hands. “Can you just give me a straight answer for once, Mr. Cryptic? Because I am really lost.”

“All right… a straight answer,” Zyon mumbled, scratching along his jaw and glancing to the side in thought, as if conjuring up a straight answer was as complex as solving a riddle. “Well… the most I can tell you plainly is… if you wait until the late hours, and you follow my voice… then you will… learn… more about me. And… more about them , too. What you do next will determine… well… it will determine quite a lot…”

“Wh… okay… wait a minute,” Amory chuckled, swatting the air. “Follow your voice? Tonight? As in… when I’m awake? ”

Zyon nodded.

Amory’s eyes narrowed. “But I can’t see you when I’m awake.”

“Oh… you can,” Zyon replied knowingly. “I don’t only exist in your dreams , Amory. I thought you knew and understood that by now.”

Amory ogled him, shooting him a double-take. “Then why have I never seen you in real life before in the past fifteen years? Where have you been …?”

Zyon didn’t answer, his mouth flattening into a forced sort of smile.

“Just be ready tonight,” he disclosed, raising a hand. “I think it’s about time you woke up now.”

The angel snapped his fingers—and Amory instantly awoke in his twin-sized bed.

He sighed for a moment, sat up, and stood from his mattress, straightening out his boxer shorts. Pondering on everything Zyon had just told him, he sauntered over to his hamper and dressed himself in a white, baggy shirt, one that hugged his torso while its long sleeves were roomy and left to freely flow, his pants slim, black, and wide around the bottoms of the pant legs, the bell-bottom style that he still enjoyed, even now.

With another sigh, Amory took a moment to replay everything Zyon said in his mind, feeling an excited flutter in his chest. After all this time—he might finally come closer to learning whatever the truth was about the angel in the dream world.

He felt as if he had been biding his time for years within these walls, waiting for the moment when this very opportunity would present itself—and now, it was finally just around the corner.

He smirked, glanced at his full-body mirror, and sauntered out of his room.

Amory strode down all the hallways of light blue, emerging in a white one and entering the cafeteria. He saw a few familiar faces seated at a couple of the tables, nodding at an older gentleman and giving the young woman down the table a wave, but he didn’t walk all the way to the food line. He simply flourished his wrist at it—an orange whizzing off of the end shelf and gliding through the air toward him. After catching it swiftly and tossing it up and down like a baseball, he sauntered out of the cafeteria and started toward the gym, his hand held upright, fingers craned up, the orange floating just above his fingertips, seemingly peeling itself.

By the time he’d left a long trail of orange peels from the cafeteria to the gym, the orange was ready to eat. He split it open, ate a slice, and swaggered into the empty gym by himself, glancing across the spacious room and seeing that the large radio on the table in the corner was powered off. So—he smirked and spin the orange around his entire hand midair, nodding once at the radio and instantly turning it on. He knew his own mix tape was likely still in the cassette slot, since the other patients in the facility rarely ever used the radio in the gym.

Music from his tape began to echo across the room, and he lightly danced in the center of the gym as he ate his small breakfast.

His morning routines usually went this way; he honestly enjoyed his adult life in the lab more than his childhood days here, because he had far more freedoms now. When he and his friends were kids, they still had to attend classes in the south wing, still underwent schooling, and still had a schedule and a long list of rules to follow—and the worst part of all was that he was not permitted to go out and celebrate his favorite holiday anymore.

But, now that he was an adult, he was free to do whatever he liked in the lab, so long as he tended to his job. Amory’s job in particular was easy; he was simply tasked with cleaning the cafeteria after dinnertime each night. It was a calm and quiet job that earned him a bit of money for spending at the shop in the east wing—and it also gave him plenty of free time during the day. His free time was sometimes spent helping patients or employees with some arduous project or another, but most of the time, he was free to do this, just enjoy some peaceful fun. The only thing he really deeply hated about it all was the fact that celebrating Halloween was still simply not allowed to happen…

Bob Segar’s song, Night Moves , continued to play—and Amory turned to the basketball rack in the nearer corner, raising his hand. One of the basketballs shot out of the rack and flew towards him—landing in his palm with a faint ponk noise.

For a while, he rolled the ball up and down his shoulders and arms, sometimes spinning it on his finger, other times letting go of it entirely and allowing it to spin midair on its own. Eventually, he started shooting hoops here and there, though he honestly had more fun simply playing with the ball and occasionally using telekinesis to enhance his tricks.

Not long ago, he did enjoy actually playing basketball, but that was when more of his friends were here. He and Crowe had befriended a number of people—people like the sweet and caring Donna, or space-case Iggy, or the funny and hard-working John—but those people were no longer here at Canterbury Lab, which effectively took Amory’s midday basketball games away. Now, he simply listened to music, danced a bit, and toyed with his power for a while before boredom would eventually creep up on him.

Amory stopped and glanced up at the clock above the basketball hoop, seeing that it was nearly noon. He knew Vincent would come looking for him around one o’clock for the procedure, and he tossed the basketball towards the rack, deciding to leave the gym and briefly considering playing a bit of hide-and-seek with Vincent throughout the facility again. It was actually quite fun to duck away from him and send him wandering all over the north, east, and west wings multiple times simply to delay and befuddle him.

In fact—he often wanted to sneak into the south wing to do this—but, now that he was an adult, he was not permitted entry to the south wing anymore. Vincent simply said it was “due to sensitive areas of the lab with dangerous compounds,” but Amory had once lived in the south wing, and he knew there was nothing resembling a laboratory there. There were just children.

Amory guessed that Vincent simply wanted to keep adults and the children entirely separate from each other in this facility, perhaps for the kids’ safety. He couldn’t be sure.

The large metal doors of the gym swung shut behind him, and Amory glanced up and down the hall, flashing a smirk and thinking of the first place he’d go to hide from Vincent—just when a distant slamming noise caught his ear.

He turned to his right—toward the end of the hall, and the corner that led toward the front lobby, where the noise had echoed from—and his smirk vanished, his expression deflating. He sighed and tilted his head, shaking it once before breaking into a brisk stride.

“Oh, not again…”

Amory reached the end and emerged around the corner, staring down the elongated hallway before him; it was the hall that spanned into the rest of the facility far ahead, but to the left was the front lobby with its two couches, its window, and its corner TV. Across from the front lobby was the main entryway—one of the metal double-doors that led out toward the front gate, supervised by two security guards.

It all looked the same as always—except for the fluorescent lights beginning to flicker in unison.

Seconds later—a security guard was sent flying into his view—smashing into the wall at the end of the adjacent hallway.

Then—the familiar dark figure of Crowe marched out from around the same corner with a brisk stride in his thick black boots, walking past the felled security guard without a glance. He wore tight black pants and a leather jacket to match, complete with silvery studs on the arms and small spikes along the shoulders, a dark Ozzy Osbourne t-shirt on underneath. His face was as pale as Amory’s, but with black makeup around his crystal-blue eyes, his hair straight, jet black, combed partly over, and long enough to drape down along either side of his face, styled in a perfectly punk way, as usual.

Amory watched, biting his lip; Crowe marched halfway down the opposite hallway before two more guards emerged behind him, racing after him and shouting for him to stop.

Just when Crowe reached the lobby—he turned halfway around and stared coldly at the two guards approaching—making a single nod upwards and sending them both flying back down the hall from where they’d come.

Amory inhaled sharply.

The three guards down the far hall staggered to their feet, and Crowe turned away disinterestedly, making a single wave and sending one of the lobby couches skidding away from the TV; it raised partially upright and blocked the end of the hallway at a crooked angle, wedged firmly and awkwardly in place.

The guards reached the couch and began trying to worm their way around it, still hollering after Crowe, who acted as if he could no longer hear them. He simply turned to his friend—Amory ogling him as if he’d never seen anything quite like him before.

“What? I’m going out,” Crowe said simply, as if he’d done nothing out of the ordinary. “I’ve got a gig tonight.”

Amory shot him a double-take. “It’s noon .”

“Yeah? So? I want lunch first,” Crowe smirked, pocketing his hands. “And I’ve gotta meet up with my mates beforehand. Gotta set everything up, y’know.”

Amory gaped at him, glimpsing past him at the crooked couch and the struggling men behind it, then giving his friend a look.

“Do you really have to hurt people like that…?” he said softly.

Crowe laughed. “No, I don’t have to… but I wouldn’t bother if they’d just quit trying to stop me. I’m not anybody’s prisoner. They oughta know that by now.”

Amory sighed.

“Speaking of,” Crowe uttered, his tone lowering, glimpsing around before leaning closer. “ You’re not a prisoner, either… and I’m honestly getting pretty tired of coming back here.”

Amory stared, swallowing roughly. He glanced over at the metal double-doors, feeling a spark of nervousness inside.

“We do have other options, y’know,” Crowe told him quietly. “I know of where we could both go for a while… same place your sister is now.”

Amory’s mouth drifted agape again, staring at him in surprise.

“Oh yeah. I found her ages ago. Did I not mention?” Crowe added. “Sorry… been busy. But that’d be a good place to go for a bit until we figure something else out.”

Amory tried to reply, failing and sighing again, giving another wary glimpse to the doors. In all honestly, he wasn’t entirely against the idea of breaching Canterbury and fleeing it for good, and he truly enjoyed the idea of all three of them finally being together and free out in the world again—but he simply couldn’t leave the lab yet, and he couldn’t explain why.

After all—Crowe and Raven didn’t entertain frequent and routine dreams of Zyon the way that Amory did. Amory was the only one who truly knew him, and—for whatever reason—Zyon needed Amory to be in this lab, at least until whatever he was planning tonight could unravel.

“I can’t,” Amory told him regretfully.

Crowe made a face, then turned around, seeing that the guards were making progress in pushing the couch out of its lopsided position in the hallway. He nodded once at it—shoving it deeper into the hall and wedging it fully again—then he turned back to Amory.

“Why can’t you?” Crowe uttered, moving closer and narrowing his eyes at him. “Because you’re afraid? Or because Feathers doesn’t want you to?”

Amory took in a heavy breath, his expression flattening. Crowe often found the idea of Zyon to be fanciful and even delusional at times, and he seemed to think it was silly that Amory had so much faith in a man he’d only known in his dreams.

“Look—I know there’s a lot more going on in this place than just science, but that doesn’t mean you should just blindly bow to all of your dream friend’s wishes,” Crowe stated. “Especially since that dreamed-up angel bloke is the reason you never went after Raven. He talked you out of going after her.”

“No… he just told me she was safe,” Amory corrected. “And that’s all I needed to…”

“You can call it whatever you want—but it looks the bloody same to me,” Crowe snapped. “Just think about where your loyalties really are , mate—because I’m sick of coming back just because you’re here, and I might not come back at all this time.”

“Crowe,” a familiar voice called out.

Vincent strode out of the hallway from behind Amory, wearing a tan suit and a hat to match it; he raised a stun gun and fired it instantly.

Crowe shot him a glare—and he halted the projectile midair, making it hover only a foot away from his own face.

Then—he jerked his head up—and the projectile blasted back towards Vincent—hitting him squarely in the chest and zapping him full of electricity.

Amory swallowed a gasp, watching as Vincent winced and staggered backward—and Crowe reached out, extending a hand in front of Vincent and pulling him swiftly out of the hallway without touching him.

With a heavy grimace, Crowe cocked his head—jutting his arm to the side and sending the man flying into the lobby—smashing into the window and instantly snapping the glass, the entire window crackled now.

Crowe’s hand remained outright—holding Vincent in place against the broken glass and glaring daggers into him, frowning grimly as a gentle trickle of blood began to ooze from his eye.

“You… are not… my God,” Crowe glowered, the blood rolling gently down his cheek, his teeth beginning to grind. “So I’ll be damned if you’re gonna act like you can Lord over me. The next time… the next time you act like you’re in control of my life … I will bloody well end you .”

“Crowe— stop! ” Amory yelled—swatting at him.

He shoved Crowe away with his power—Crowe staggering and reeling his arm back—and Vincent instantly fell to the lobby floor.

Barely catching his footing after stumbling toward the metal doors, Crowe straightened up and gave his friend a look as if he’d just slapped him across the face.

Amory stepped to the side, standing directly between Crowe and Vincent now. He frowned, giving his friend a look and gently shaking his head at him.

“If you wanna go—just go,” Amory stated. “But you’re not killing anybody.”

Crowe took in several rushed breaths, his expression hardening, grimacing and pocketing his hands in his jacket.

“So much for your fuckin’ loyalty,” he growled, giving him a final, disapproving glare before he stormed toward the metal doors.

Crowe jerked his head upright again—and the locked doors were ripped violently from their hinges—soaring across the wide hallway beyond and clattering loudly to the floor. He tore the second pair of doors off as well—and he sent them flying even farther, shooting above the gravel and grass outside and ripping a clean split into the corner of the chain-linked gateway.

Amory released a stressed cloud of breath, watching Crowe thunder away and vanish into the sunny woodlands outside. An alarm sounded—and a large metal wall appeared in the front hallway, sealing off the outside from the lab and removing the sunlight from sight; it was a security failsafe that always activated whenever the existing doors and locks were compromised, and it wasn’t the first time Amory had seen or heard it kick on, as Crowe had escaped from here countless times before.

Sparing his friend a troubled thought, he turned to the lobby and hunched beside Vincent, who lay on his side beneath the crackled window, his hat having fallen off, and the back of his head seemed to be bleeding. It had left a small smear of blood on the window’s broken glass, and it also stained his sandy blond hairs.

“Vincent,” Amory breathed, grasping his arm and giving it a shake. “Vincent…!”

Vincent blinked himself fully conscious again, propping up on one arm and glancing around until he spotted his hat. He groaned and sat upright, planting the hat back onto his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, that was productive…” he grumbled.

Amory choked out a laugh. “Y’okay…?”

“Yeah… more or less,” Vincent moaned as he lumbered back to his feet, pausing and glancing around at everything.

The lobby window was a shattered mess, the largest couch was wedged crookedly into the adjacent hallway with its cushions scattered amok, and the metal doors leading outside had been ripped from their frame.

Vincent sighed and shook his head. “The amount of property damage he causes… just by himself… is unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry… he’s in a mood today,” Amory mumbled, his eyes landing on the crooked couch. “Here, hang on…”

He strolled forward and raised a hand—and the couch began to jerk and twist itself free, sliding out of the hallway and slowly spinning around to its proper position in the air.

Then, Amory faced the corner of the lobby, lowering his arm, and the couch gently sank back down in its proper place, the cushions floating off of the floor and neatly landing themselves atop the couch just after.

When he finished, he turned back to Vincent, who was merely staring at him, his eyes slightly narrowed, and his mouth just barely agape.

“I’ll never get over how you all can do that,” he uttered.

Amory snickered—just when the intercom system sparked to life.

Seconds later, they heard a familiar scratchy voice echo out of every speaker in the lobby.

“Get. Here. Now .”

Amory and Vincent both frowned, then faced one another.

“Well’p… come on,” Vincent said with a definitive sigh, starting down the hall and waving for him to follow. “This’ll be fun…”

Amory, huffing out a disdainful cloud of breath, reluctantly followed suit.

During the time when Amory’s weekly appointment was supposed to be taking place—several men were at work in the main lobby, working to remove the broken window and sectioning off the area from the patients—and Amory found himself seated in the large, elegant office of the north wing, two cushioned chairs in front of a mahogany desk, the room filled with bookshelves, a stuffed deer’s head above the window, and a Victorian-styled mirror on the wall.

While Vincent stood leaning on the wall with folded arms, and while Amory sat glumly in one of the cushioned chairs, his hand resting on his face—Valek was behind his desk, pacing back and forth and repeatedly tapping his cane to the floor.

“Now… would you like to explain to me exactly how my entire front lobby is destroyed?” Valek grumbled, stopping and leaning on the desk, perking his brow at Amory. “Or how Crowe Quintrell just happened by the area… right around the same time you did?”

Amory stared, lowering his hand and giving him an incredible sort of look.

“Oh… I love a rebel, me,” Valek rumbled. “But this whole thing has gotten a bit old… especially since it’s really starting to look like you’re helping arrange his little getaways.”

“Are you kidding …?” Amory breathed in astonishment. “I didn’t know he was gonna do that. I didn’t even do anything.”

“Right… well… exactly,” Valek replied curtly. “He had quite the easy time swanning off right past you… and right back out those front doors again. No… you didn’t do anything… certainly not to stop him.”

“Well—I’m sorry I don’t control people the way you do,” Amory griped angrily. “I’m not gonna try to cage him up like an animal—I just didn’t want anybody fighting anymore.”

“Ahm.” Vincent held up a finger, pushing off the wall and marching closer to them. “It has to be said… Amory was very much enacting some damage control, there… and I honestly think letting Crowe go was a practical choice on his part, not an emotional one.”

Amory turned to him, Valek straightening up behind his desk and giving him a look of intrigue.

“Crowe nearly crossed a line this time,” Vincent said seriously. “And if he hadn’t separated himself from the rest of us, then he might’ve started killing people here today. He nearly did me, until Amory stepped in and stopped him.”

Valek made a slow, curious nod, poking his jaw out and looking to Amory.

“Is that true…?” he asked.

Amory made a nod and a halfhearted shrug.

Valek sighed, falling expressionless and saying nothing. His eyes shifted between the two—Amory sitting fully upright in his chair, and Vincent now standing right beside him, his hands in his pockets, and his differently-colored eyes intense.

He seemed to stare intently at both of them for a moment, then nodded sideways and thumped his cane gently to the floor again.

“All right… Amory, go on to the doctor’s office and let him prep you for the procedure,” Valek dismissed, swatting him away. “Better late than never…”

Amory rolled his eyes and leaped up from the chair, muttering under his breath as he marched briskly out of the room. The moment the office door swung shut—Valek and Vincent met eyes.

“Well?” Valek said, cocking his brow at him. “Aren’t you going to follow your little friend? ”

Vincent blinked, making a face.

Valek shot him a coy look, shaking his head and marching around his desk.

Vincent continued to stare at him. “Are you gonna explain that, or…?”

“Why? Are you blind? You don’t see it?” Valek chided with a raspy little laugh. “Special bedside treatment, from his childhood to now… little chess games in the game room, little TV marathons in the lobby… and I think I’ve even heard a bit about… hide and seek? ”

Vincent remained silent.

“Not like you to grow attached to your pawns , my boy,” Valek said, wagging a finger at him and making a tut-tut noise as he sauntered closer. “I raised you… in a very specific environment, around a very specific clubhouse, and made sure to endow upon you a very specific set of skills. We are aging with slow, steady grace… we are accustomed to things most ordinary people can scarcely imagine… and you had finally gotten to the point where you could be an unquestionable right-hand man to me, right before we uprooted everything and brought it all to America.”

He eased to a stop directly in front of Vincent, eyeing him closely.

“Now… is not the time,” Valek said in a soft, cold hiss, “for the human side of you… to suddenly try to claw its way out.”

The two of them were silent for several seconds.

Vincent sighed. “We don’t play hide and seek. He just hides from me.”

Valek tilted his head at him, staring at him caustically.

“I can’t imagine why it would matter, in any case,” Vincent added. “If the aim of the project brings all of these people onto our side by nature, then any of us being supposedly ‘attached’ to one another shouldn’t matter in the slightest.”

“Oh… see, but that’s just the issue , son,” Valek said knowingly, raising a finger and glaring severely into him. “Because that boy is not coming to our side at all .”

Vincent gave him a long, strange stare. “How could that be possible? The procedure gave him abilities. That means it’s working.”

Valek made a slow, angry shake of the head.

“No… that means something is working,” he said flatly. “But I’m really starting to think that it’s not us that’s going into him.”

Vincent’s brow hardened. “How could that be…?”

Valek huffed out a hot, frustrated breath, his dark eyes flickering over to the office door.

“I have a hunch,” he growled, striding toward the door at once. “And I believe our little pet may need a higher dose of his medication now.”

Vincent followed him out of the room—and by the time the two of them reached what they called the doctor’s office, Amory was already lying down on the metal sheet in the center of the mostly-empty room, an oxygen mask over his face, his long black hairs flown back on the cold metal surface, his eyes closed as he lay in a peaceful, drug-induced slumber.

Mr. Jacobs, the man who operated as Canterbury’s only medical professional, stood nearby the door and gently reached over, turning the deadbolt.

Vincent and Valek shared a look, then Valek moved over to the middle of the room, stopping beside the unconscious Amory and staring down at him.

“All this time… and it’s done precious little good for you,” he mumbled, slowly raising his head and staring at the ceiling. “Well… let’s see if we can’t arrange a bit of an overdose this time.”

Suddenly—the ceiling began to open, a rounded sliding mechanism shifting aside and revealing a large, blackened void. It resided in a place where one might expect to see the daylight on the other side of the opening—but instead, there was only sheer and absolute nothingness inside.

Vincent folded his arms and leaned against the door as he watched, Mr. Jacobs doing much the same beside him.

Valek gazed into the darkened rift—and his large, black eyes sparkled with a swirling red light, swimming ominously around either of his pupils.

“Omnem daemonem qui me audire potest invoco,” he said in a grating, powerful voice, speaking directly to the darkened void. “In mente eius ianuam invenire debes. Voluntatem eius nos admittendi invenire debes. Ianuam illam invenire et eam frangere debes.”

Then—the fluorescent light in the room started to darken, and it seemed that the bizarre, endless blackness in the ceiling slowly began to spread.

“Valek sum. Imperator vester sum ,” Valek said intensely, raising his hand as the red spiraling lights in his eyes grew brighter and quicker. “ Tibi impero ut hunc puerum aggrediaris donec tenebrae solae sint quae scit! ”

He planted his other hand to Amory’s forehead, and the procedure transpired the same way it always had—only harder and faster than ever now.

Darkness flooded out of the rift in the ceiling—funneling rapidly into Valek’s hand and traveling directly through him—and he transferred every ounce of it into the man on the metal bed, demons racing and coursing through him at a pace he’d never embodied before, his eyes glowing brighter than Hades itself now.

Then—a bright blue thunderclap exploded over Amory from head to toe—and the darkness erupted out of him and whizzed off into every direction—some of it seeming to shatter like black glass on the air.

“ Agh …!” Valek growled and winced—reeling his hand back as if Amory’s skin suddenly burned to the touch.

Darkess shot and spiraled out of Amory’s glowing body—shooting and flying all around the room like haywire fireworks—then he suddenly gasped and grabbed his chest, sitting bolt upright on the metal bed and ripping the mask off him.

The darkness vanished from the room, the void in the ceiling having fallen still and silent rather quickly—and everything fell still.

Amory—no longer glowing, unconscious, or lying down—sat crookedly upright on the metal platform, panting and clasping his heart, glancing around the room and looking alarmed.

Valek merely stared at him in angry bewilderment. Mr. Jacobs had retreated to the corner of the room—and Vincent still stood against the door, his mouth having drifted slightly open, ogling Amory with surprise.

“What the h… what the hell just happened?” Amory choked, glancing between the three of them. “I just felt like I was drowning…”

No one answered him, everyone else simply exchanging strange, subtle looks with one another. In all the years of performing this very procedure on countless people, countless times—none of them had ever produced an explosion of light, and none of them had woken themselves up halfway through the process before.

Similarly to everyone else—Amory was also confused, still incredibly dazed and lightheaded, swaying slightly, his vision bleary, and his head feeling heavier than ever. Every time he’d ever undergone this procedure, he always awoke an hour or two later, with only Mr. Jacobs and Vincent in the room. Now—the two stood here along with Valek, and all of them were ogling him as if he had changed colors before their very eyes.

“You see,” Valek growled, his eyes having returned to their normal color, homing in on Vincent. “What did I say…?”

Vincent glanced at him, choosing not to reply.

Valek adjusted his grasp on his cane and thundered past Vincent, unlocking the door and ripping it open. He stormed out without another word.

Amory stared dazedly at the door after he was gone, wobbling and disoriented, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

Seconds later, he absentmindedly tried to slide off the table and stand, and a rush of lightheadedness swept over him, heartbeat pounding dully in his ears, his vision fading more, staggering and falling forward…

“Whoa—okay,” Vincent said, taking a wide step forward and just barely managing to catch him before he could hit the tiled floor. “Come’ere. Come on.”

He draped Amory’s arm around his shoulders and stood, then began guiding him to the door.

“But wha’appened…?” Amory mumbled weakly.

“You still have a lot in your system, bud,” Vincent replied, nudging the door open with his foot. “You woke up a lot earlier than you were supposed to this time. You need to sleep it off.”

He strode out of the room—and after a long, difficult walk across the facility—they finally arrived at Amory’s bedroom.

Vincent walked inside, moved past the mirror, and slowly levered Amory down onto his bed, allowing him to rest on his back with his arm draped over his stomach, his eyes fighting to close, and his hairs messily askew atop his pillow.

Just when Vincent turned to leave, he spoke again.

“Vincent,” Amory mumbled groggily, trying to wave for his attention and barely managing to raise his hand.

Vincent turned back around, standing by the door and raising his brows at him. “What?”

Amory gazed tiredly across the small room, his eyes mostly closed.

“Would you be mad at me if I left…?” he moaned.

Vincent said nothing for a moment, then sighed and gently closed the door.

“You ought not talk like that,” he told him. “You’re gonna give him even more of a reason to hyper-focus on you.”

“We could just both leave,” Amory yawned. “You could come with me…”

Vincent scoffed out a laugh. “Okay, buddy. Whatever you say.”

He moved to reach for the door.

“You can do things too,” Amory said.

Vincent then paused, slowly withdrawing his hand and perking his brow at him.

“You can do things like… your father can do,” Amory murmured. “You could… you could leave if you wanted to…”

Vincent gave him a long, unreadable stare. “And how would you know something like that…?”

“My friend told me,” Amory exhaled.

Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “What friend…?”

Amory flashed a wide, sleepy smile.

“Zyon,” he breathed.

Vincent fell silent, standing eerily still by the door and doing nothing for what felt like an eternity. He merely stared, devoid of an expression, watching Amory until he drifted into a heavy sleep—and he continued to stare thereafter.

Zyon was not a name that Amory should have known. In fact—the angel was subdued and put out of commission long before Amory Evervale was born.

But—if Amory was aware of Zyon, even claiming to have spoken to him somehow—then it seemed that Valek’s suspicions likely rang true.

The angel was not as subdued as they believed.

Vincent remained still for a moment longer, considering telling his father what he had just heard from Amory, as it was prudent information—but, for a reason he didn’t know, and did not care to decipher, he simply dismissed the idea, opening the door and quietly leaving the room.

Hours later—Amory awoke with a dull headache, wincing as he sat upright.

He barely remembered awakening during the procedure, or speaking with Vincent before he fell back to sleep. He simply stood and left the room, quickly marching off to the cafeteria in the hopes of getting water for his parched, dry throat.

After rehydrating, sitting at a table, and eating his dinner, he waited for the small amount of people in the cafeteria to disperse before he opened the janitor’s closet and began sweeping, then mopping. By the time he was done with everything—it was nearly eleven at night, and he left the now clean and empty cafeteria, switching the lights off before walking out the doors.

Being fed, hydrated, and active seemed to help the headache slightly, but it was not yet gone, and the thought of lying back down made him feel as if it would worsen again. So, he thought of a few options—TV in the lounge or the rec room, or perhaps playing on the arcade game for a while. Anything to remain up and active for a bit longer.

He strolled down the vacant halls, sliding his hands into his pockets and sighing.

Half the lights in the facility were powered off, everything was still and quiet, and nearly everyone was in bed. On the days when Crowe would run away—this would be about the time he came staggering back inside at night, forcing a doorway or a window open and stumbling off to his room with the smell of liquor following him.

Perhaps he really wasn’t coming back this time.

Amory huffed out another breath, pondering on everything Crowe had said…

But—another thought, a soft, familiar rasp of a voice—caught his attention at once.

Basement.

Amory slowed to a stop in the middle of the dimly-lit hall, making an odd face. He recognized the voice at once—but he’d only ever heard it while he was awake once before in his life, and it was on the very day when his life was set upon an entirely new path fifteen years ago.

Yes—it seemed that Zyon was prepared to start him on a new path yet again, and whatever he had planned for tonight would begin before long.

“Okay,” Amory mumbled to himself, nodding and resuming his pace. “Okay. Basement…”

He walked farther, passing by his bedroom and turning the corner. He found himself emerging at the front lobby and the entrance, the entryway blocked off by fencing, the emergency security door still shut, and the window having been covered up by tarp until the glass could be replaced, the gentle hint of late summer air breezing into the building from behind the tarp’s poorly-fastened flaps. The TV was off, as were the lights, and everything had a gloomy, eerie atmosphere, devoid of feeling.

It wasn’t long ago that this lab played host to more patients, and many of them—especially John and Iggy—would be awake into the later hours, sitting in this lobby and watching their late-night television shows. Donna often enjoyed reading, and she would sometimes be in the corner of the large couch this time of night, hunched beneath the lamplight of the end table and quietly flipping through one of her books, though she did not like to be alone, and preferred to enjoy her reading in the lobby where she could be near her friends. Now, however, the faint hum of the static wasn’t on the air when he approached the room, the subtle sound of the television being on around the corner now fully absent, and the lamp in the corner was powered off and laying on its side, the room dark and vacant, no sound or life at all.

It was strange, how this comfortable, welcoming prison had become such a home over the years—but, as of late, there were hardly any other adult patients remaining in the walls, and the reality of the grim, lonesome nature of this place simply grew harder to ignore.

As Amory meandered slowly past the lobby, his dark, translucent eyes traveling over everything around him, he felt even more certain that change was in the air. For whatever value he held in this place—namely the comfort and camaraderie—it seemed clear that those things were now fading away, life was moving on, and it was nearing time for him to do the same.

Perhaps Crowe was right to go—and perhaps Raven was, too.

Maybe it was finally time for Amory to say his farewells to Canterbury Lab as well.

Still, the thought of Zyon entered his mind, and he took a deep breath, staring at the distant light of the adjacent hallway and resuming his pace towards it. Yes, maybe it was nearing time to leave the lab—but not before he uncovered whatever the angel wanted to lead him to now.

He rounded the corner and strode down another dimly-lit hall, slowing to a stop at the top of a narrow stairway, the stairs metal, reaching down to the basement floor—and he gazed down at it, at the single, rustic door below him, a place he’d never visited. He knew what was down there—the solitary rooms. It was an area he had never been forced to go, and he was not permitted to simply wander into it like most other places in the facility. He’d never actually seen any part of the lab’s basement before.

Amory inhaled and took his first step, walking quietly down the stairway and slowly reaching out to the old door. The knob would not turn—locked from the other side—so, he huffed out a breath and cocked his head to the side, turning the lock with his mind with a faint click .

He peeked back over his shoulder, swallowed his anxiety, and gently pushed the door open with his fingers, cautiously walking into the darkened basement.

He blinked, adjusting his eyes to the heavier darkness around him, and he realized that he had emerged in the center of a long, dingy hallway, the floors here gray and concrete. There were no doors on either side of the hallway—only two doors in sight at all, one at the far end to his left, the other at the far end to his right.

“Two…?” Amory mumbled, glancing back and forth between the distant doors. “There’s only two solitary rooms…?”

His eyes fixated on the one to his left, and he marched toward it, approaching the door and seeing that it had a small glass window on it. So, he pressed his face closer, cupping his hands around his eyes and gazing into the glass curiously.

Inside this room, he did not see any white padding along the walls or sleeping patients in straightjackets like he expected; instead, it was a large, practically massive room submerged in mostly darkness, the size of a gymnasium inside, and the only things occupying the room were several black bags stacked and aligned along near either wall—long, crinkled body bags, some of them full-sized, others strangely small.

Amory inhaled sharply and reeled back from the door, staring at it with apprehension and wondering if he’d actually seen the room correctly, a slow, grave nausea beginning to churn in the pit of his stomach.

He couldn’t understand why such a grisly room would be here—a place that was meant to function as solitary confinement, a place meant to house all of the patients who’d suffered from a psychotic break of some kind.

Unless— all of those patients were in that very room .

Amory took in a deep, shaking breath, glaring at the door and taking a meager step back from it, the sickness inside him seeming to grow.

All this time, he thought the solitary area was something like what would exist in an insane asylum, a place where the manic patients were simply separated from everyone else for their own safety—but it seemed something far darker was beginning to unfold now, and perhaps the unfortunate patients who went mad here were not just being confined.

They were being disposed of.

He stood rooted to the spot for a long while, his mind racing, thinking of Vincent, wondering if he knew about this place, and if he did, why on earth he would partake in it—and he thought of Valek, pondering on whatever sick, bizarre motives the man could possibly have for arranging so many silent murders within his facility.

Then—the faint, gentle whisper of Amory’s angel friend murmured in his mind again.

Come here.

Amory swallowed, his thoughts vanishing, turning around and gazing back down the darkened hall—his eyes landing on the opposite door.

Forcing down his every morbid feeling, he marched on, striding down the hall and stopping at the other door—this one with no window, only a long metal handle with a lever, which would not move or budge when he tried to pull it.

Sighing and making a face, Amory held his hand out over it, making a twisting motion—and he heard the locking mechanism turn. Then, he grasped the handle, pulled the lever, and pushed the heavy door open, leaning inside and peering around the mysterious room.

This room seemed far stranger than the previous one, and it was nowhere near as large; along the walls were several machines, like gigantic computers, all with screens and buttons like nothing he’d ever seen before—and in the center of the room was a large, single object, a huge pod-like chamber with several wires, pipes, and cords connecting it to the machines.

Amory’s brow hardened, and he slowly moved toward the pod, eyeing it strangely.

The pod stood horizontally in the middle of the room, its lower half mostly pipes, cords, and thick white metal. The upper half, however, was largely comprised of thick, strong glass—and as he drew closer, he was just able to see a human being lying inside it.

Amory hunched over the pod, staring through the glass at the man inside.

And—much to his surprise—it was someone he recognized, someone he had only ever known in his dreams until now.

He placed his hand to the glass, leaning closer and giving the man inside it a double-take, feeling as if his eyes must have been lying to him—but, no matter how long and how deeply he stared, the sight of Zyon remained there, lying still inside the pod, wearing the very same black overcoat he always wore in the dreams, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly agape, not moving an inch, not stirring whatsoever, looking as if he hadn’t moved in quite a long time.

Amory choked out a breath, straightening up and shaking his head once at the pod, now utterly shocked and befuddled. He glanced back at the door, then faced the pod again—reaching out and making a sudden lifting motion with his hand.

Then—the upper half of the pod ripped cleanly off of the lower half, popping open like a lid and raising upwards from the hinges at the base of the pod.

Amory approached it again, gathering a much clearer view now that the pod was open—and he scanned Zyon up and down, old, thick trench coat, a dark tie and a white button-up beneath it, every inch of his clothes looking like they had garnered a layer of dust somehow. Zyon himself remained unconscious, not alert and attentive the way he was in the dreams; his eyes remained shut, his face paler than ever, and along the side of his neck was a single darkened circle, a reddish-black spot that looked something like a bruise.

Amory felt a palpitation in his chest, gently reaching down and gliding his fingers over the darkened spot, a pained sense of empathy strewn across his face.

“Takes more to keep him down than a bull elephant.”

Amory swallowed a gasp and wheeled around—seeing that Valek was now standing just behind him, wearing his hat, hand atop his cane, simply staring at him with a smirk.

“And how did I know,” Valek rumbled, taking a slow stride closer. “That our little pet… was talking, and connecting, with you? Oh, I might’ve suspected Crowe, or Raven… but with you? It’s bloody obvious. Undeniably so. Can’t believe I never noticed it before.”

Amory inhaled shakily, backing up against the pod and clasping onto it from behind.

“I should’ve known when the little birdies flew the coop, as they did,” Valek remarked, taking another step toward him. “Raven disappears… Crowe makes a scene and disappears… and then… of course… there’s you. The only one of the three that never seemed to want to leave… despite that you very well could have by now.”

He eased to a stop in front of Amory, perking his brow and raising a finger.

“And that’s the interesting bit,” Valek added. “Because Crowe and Raven seemed insistent on leaving here… and they really shouldn’t have been. Not if everything I’d done to them had actually worked the way it was meant to. It made me start to wonder why they felt so strongly convicted to leave… and why you seemed to abhor me more and more with every passing day, with no visible rhyme or reason at all… but… then… it came to me.”

He slowly lowered his hand, aiming his finger at the sleeping angel.

“It’s the same way… the same way… that he looked at me,” Valek stated. “Because we’ve all got a sense about each other, you see… a deep, primal instinct that warns us of danger whenever our natural enemy is nearby. He felt that the moment that he crossed my path forty-four years ago… and now… you feel that very same thing when you look at me, don’t you?”

Amory gulped roughly, his heart pounding, saying nothing.

“And more and more, over the years… the longer you’ve been here… the more I’ve started feeling that with you ,” Valek rumbled, his smile diminishing. “With all three of you, honestly… but, most intensely… most noticeably… with you.”

Amory gazed into his distant, unfeeling expression, still remaining silent.

“I’d started to suspect something other than us was becoming a part of you,” Valek growled. “And today… oh, today bloody well confirmed it. My son never seemed to have noticed… doesn’t have the full faculties that I have… but you really wouldn’t get it past me.”

Amory stared, his eyes narrowing at him.

Valek raised his brows at him, motioning to his own eyes. “What, did you never notice my son’s mismatched peepers? Didn’t you ever wonder why he’s got the Bowie eyes? One light, and the other one dark? I know you’ve never seen him do any of the things that you’ve seen me do, but believe me… he’s not fully human. Doesn’t know his own potential yet, that one.”

Amory slowly began to gnaw his bottom lip, giving a glance to the machinery along the wall.

Valek noticed, and he scoffed out a laugh. “Confused? Well… let me simplify it for you to the best of my ability. Do you remember what I told you the day I first met you?”

Amory met his eyes again, meekly nodding.

“Mapleview… truly is … a special place, a place where the walls between the worlds are… deeply… and fundamentally… broken,” Valek told him. “Now, a powerful man like me could strengthen the rifts to the extradimensional, allowing all my brothers and sisters to bleed into this world with much greater ease… but nothing… nothing compares to the power of an angel. So… if I was going to do what I originally set out to do, here… then I would need a source of limitless ethereal energy, something that can only come from… one thing… one remaining angel in the entirety of the modern human world.”

Amory gave a quick glimpse down at the pod, then faced Valek again, frowning and feeling truly disturbed.

“You’re draining him,” he breathed.

Valek smirked again. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. So long as he’s kept alive, his energy always crawls its way back, in that holy, unbelievable, ‘limitless’ sort of way. But, he did have to be put into a coma. That aspect was, ah… nonnegotiable. Combining the basic elements of a human sedative with a frankly over-complicated chemical compound of a supernaturally-effective sin concoction made for the only mixture in existence that could put a human-form angel down like an animal. I like to call it ‘Devil’s Venom.’ Got a nice ring to it, I think…”

“Why…?” Amory exhaled, glancing around at everything and tossing up a hand, shooting him an aghast look. “Why would you do… any of this?!”

Valek’s mouth curled, wearing a coyer and cunning sort of smile.

“Think very hard about it, boy,” he said in a soft, scratchy voice, slowly motioning past him, gesturing again to the comatose angel. “If I… am the opposite of him… then, what does that make me…?”

Amory fell silent again, his stomach contracting as a deep sense of dread festered inside.

“It’s no wonder the patients of mine who actually let an angel into their minds are the ones who harbor such disdain for me,” Valek determined. “And I suspect… no one… no one allowed him into their minds as much as you have. You felt it right from the very beginning… and looking back, it seems as obvious as ever. You’ve felt it in your gut, this whole time. You always knew what I was, even if you didn’t know you knew.”

He inched steadily nearer, and—in the darkness of the lonesome room—Valek’s eyes began to shine, a faint red light swimming through either one of them.

“Yes. I am a demon,” he stated. “And why does a demon do anything , boy…?”

Amory inhaled, hunching back as his heart began to hammer behind his ribs.

“To make… more… of us ,” Valek said definitively. “We fight tooth and nail for these people to let us into their minds. Takes a bit of drugging and sedation to get them to reach a place of agreement, but their precious free will always falters in the end, always gives away to anything and everything that promises to relieve them of their burdens. Maybe it’s a bit too much for them sometimes, and they shatter under the pressure of it all, but that works perfectly well, all the same… because those broken children make us our Adrenochrome, and those broken adults make us a good bit of organ money to keep all systems go. It all works together, and it all carries on, no matter which way the bloody wind blows. Do you see, boy? Do you understand now? Life is a business, and morality is a fantasy. The bottom line is simple. We will take your souls. We will build our Legion. We will dominate this entire bloody world… and you will all either become us, or die to us. And there is no alternative in sight.”

“No,” Amory mumbled, shaking his head and reeling farther back, feeling a striking terror shooting through him.

“Don’t you know it’s already over , boy?” Valek laughed nastily. “This world is ruled, guided, propagated, steered, and controlled by everything that is darkness and sin. It’s my job to create more of us, to perfect them, and to slot them into positions of power, just so we maintain that very same control we’ve always had. You people all think that you have free will, but it’s quite easy to determine what you’ll all choose if we’re the ones guiding your society in the first place. Don’t you know that your little side in all of this is hopeless? Don’t you know how worthless and pathetic the lot of you are…?”

“Stop,” Amory choked, eyes filling with tears.

“Why do you think… there are millions of us… and only one of him? ” Valek rumbled, jutting a finger at Zyon again. “Because hate, and greed, and self-fulfillment, and pleasure, and success are all rightly more important to humanity than just doing some chores for your sky daddy . There is no hope in playing the wayward little good boy. Give it up already .”

Amory shook his head and faced away, sealing his eyes shut and feeling incredibly miserable and stressed.

“I am telling you now, boy,” Valek grumbled, treading even closer and glaring daggers at him, his eyes a brighter red glow. “This is… the last time… that I am even going to entertain the possibility of giving you a chance. You… will come to us… or you will end, right here and now. Choose… and choose very wisely where your loyalties ought to lie.”

Suddenly—Amory stopped, his eyes easing open, tear rolling down his cheek, and something clicked in his mind.

Loyalty—that was the word Crowe used when he left Canterbury Lab. It was the very thing that kept him so insistently leaving and looking for Raven, and it kept him coming back here because of his friend—and, it was the very reason Amory was still here, the loyalty he felt for Zyon.

But he certainly felt no loyalty toward the wicked demon standing before him now.

He slowly turned back, staring at Valek—this time with no fear, sadness, or anxiety, only apprehension and resolve.

“Did you say… chance?” Amory exhaled, tilting his head interestingly at him. “Did you just talk to me like you have the power to give me a chance …?”

Valek breathed out a laugh. “As opposed to what? You’ve been under my thumb and inside my walls for a long time already, boy.”

“Yeah… and even after all that time, it turns out you had no power over me,” Amory replied, narrowing his eyes at him. “Is that interesting…?”

Valek stared, his smile waning again.

“Drugged, asleep, sedated, whatever… you could still never get inside my head, and you never will,” Amory knew. “I don’t care how many of you there are, or how much of the world is full of you. You are never gonna control me.”

He reached back, placing a hand on Zyon and coiling it around the fabric of his coat.

“And you won’t him , either,” Amory glowered, feeling a great rising power inside like he’d never known before. “ So why don’t you just go back to Hell? ”

Valek fell expressionless, his every façade of charm or charisma entirely gone without a trace, his eyes burning a wicked crimson.

“Fine,” he snarled, reaching out to Amory. “ Have it your way .”

Then—an incredible blue light spiraled around Amory’s eyes as he glared into the demon unwaveringly—and Valek was launched across the room with the velocity of a cannonball—smashing into the door and crumbling to the ground.

At once—the power overtook him—not moving a simple object—not making something float—no, this power was entirely new and utterly overwhelming, something that consumed every fiber of his being and made him burn from head to toe, though it didn’t hurt at all.

Valek staggered to his feet and looked on in awe—nearly blinded by the grand blue light—that same light—

Hair flown back and eyes glowing brighter—Amory stood before the pod with a hand clasped tightly onto Zyon—and his mind went a total blank, white hot energy overtaking every ounce of his mind and soul, though one deep, core sensation seemed to guide it all—the desire to end everything Valek was doing forevermore.

Everything faded—everything white—and at once—

Canterbury Lab shook—every wing and building ripping, and quaking, and tremoring, and brightening—slices shooting through the air and the atmosphere—rips and tears of both darkness and light—slashing pieces of the walls—collapsing chunks of the roof—blinding light overtaking each and every bedroom—each and every patient, child and adult alike—people beginning to disappear from the facility—flickering out like lights—

Crowe was only just strolling back toward the lab, sauntering through the darkened woodlands and snacking on a corndog—then he slowed to a stop, gazing at the lab in the distance and seeing incredible streaks of light and power striking over the scene, the corner of the roof flying off, the entire ground trembling.

Valek glanced around the room, one of the oversized computers falling and smashing loudly to the floor as everything shook, the ground vibrating beneath his feet. When he looked to Amory again—an expression of sheer hatred spread across his face, and his eyes shone an even brighter and sinister red.

“Oh… he wasn’t just protecting you,” Valek hissed. “He was changing you.”

Amory maintained his severe glare, despite that the very building around him was beginning to tear itself apart in great quakes and rifts.

“Well… I s’pose there’s no holding back with you then, is there?” Valek snapped, cocking his head and baring his teeth, a pair of sharp canines emerging from his furious grimace. “Very well, kiddo. Time to die …!”

Just when the demon lunged—preparing to unleash his full power—

Amory let out a powerful scream—and a great white blast consumed the world.

The lab shook violently—blasts through time and space tearing it to absolute shreds—Crowe watching from afar in fascination—and Valek was thrust away—everyone—everything—

Gone.