Chapter Two
Crack!
Thunder split the sky as heavy rain hammered the streets. A thick fog rolled in, swallowing the city in a blanket of gray. Windshield wipers swiped lazily against the downpour, but inside the parked car, all was calm.
Jinn slept in the passenger seat, curled against the door, unaware of the storm raging outside. Raindrops pelted the windows in rapid bursts, but he remained still—peaceful, even. The world outside might as well not exist.
His father, however, was far from relaxed.
He sat behind the wheel, scowling at the fogged-up windshield, fingers drumming the steering wheel with barely restrained irritation.
He looked just like his son—messy black hair, sharp eyes, and that permanent furrowed brow that suggested he was always a few seconds away from cursing something out. In his thirties, he wore a slightly wrinkled button-up shirt and a loosened tie that matched his son's usual style. He didn't wear a beard, only faint stress lines carved by years of sleepless nights and unspoken worries.
"Great. First my kid passes out in the car again, and now this damn weather's trying to drown us," he muttered under his breath. "And what's with this fog? I can't see six feet in front of me!"
Beep. Beep. Beep.
His dashboard lit up in warning. The fuel gauge dipped close to empty.
"You've gotta be kidding me. I just filled up!" he snapped, slamming a fist on the dash. "These bastards are robbing us blind. Guess we're stopping for gas again."
Grumbling, he turned onto a side street leading to the station. But just as he merged into traffic, brake lights flashed ahead. Cars slowed to a stop. A traffic jam.
Perfect.
He sighed, fingers twitching on the gearshift—until something strange gripped him. A chill. Like someone had draped a wet cloth over his spine. He turned his head slowly to the right.
In the alley beside him, a red light pulsed to life.
It flickered unnaturally, swirling in the shape of a door—its surface shimmering like liquid fire. A doorway suspended in space, glowing brighter with each second.
His breath caught in his throat. Some instinct deep inside told him: Don't look away.
And he didn't.
Then, the light shifted. It flickered—then warped. Something was pushing through. The air around the alley vibrated with tension. Time slowed.
The honk of car horns finally pulled him back. The light had turned green. People were shouting. Cursing. But he barely registered them. He stepped on the gas.
That's when it happened.
A flash—blinding and red—shot out from the doorway. Something tore through the alley like lightning. The ground trembled as it struck the street with explosive force.
Jinn's father barely had time to turn his head before a shockwave blasted outward. Air pressure cracked the windows. Cars lifted off the ground. Including his.
Inside the car, Jinn jolted awake just as the vehicle flipped. He caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure, moving impossibly fast, its back turned to him. Then it was gone—soaring toward a towering building.
And it hit.
Glass shattered. Steel snapped. The building began to fall.
Screams echoed through the street as the structure groaned and collapsed, sending dust and debris into the sky. People on the sidewalk fled in all directions, but not all were fast enough. Drivers inside their cars stared in frozen horror, unable to move.
Jinn's car, thrown by the blast, landed hard on the far side of the street—torn and crumpled but spared from the worst of the collapse.
The building came down.
A thunderous roar drowned the world as the structure flattened cars, crushed the street, and buried those too slow to escape beneath rubble and steel.
Then—silence.
Rain fell. Dust lingered. And in the middle of it all, a mangled car sat smoking on the edge of destruction.
Inside, Jinn lay slumped against the door, blood smeared across his face. His chest rose and fell, barely.
Sirens wailed in the distance, drawing closer. Ambulances. Firetrucks. The city was waking up to the nightmare.
Jinn blinked slowly, his vision blurry. Pain radiated through his body like fire, each breath a knife. He tried to move but couldn't. His head lolled to the side.
A voice cut through the haze.
"Hey! Hey, don't clock out on me, alright?" a woman said, crouching beside the shattered window. Her uniform was damp with rain, her face streaked with soot. "Everything's going to be fine. Don't move. I'm going to assess your injuries, just stay with me."
She turned to shout, "We've got a survivor! Trapped in a vehicle—get the stretcher!"
She looked back at him and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "I'm right here. You're not alone."
Jinn struggled to focus on her. His heart was slowing. Something cold began to creep over him, pulling him downward.
Then—the amulet on his chest pulsed.
A soft, bluish glow emerged from the ancient inscriptions carved into the stone. The embedded clock began to tick—faster and faster—until the hands spun wildly and then froze.
Both landed on twelve.
Jinn's body stiffened.
Bones cracked and realigned. Torn flesh stitched itself together. His heartbeat surged once, then slowed again. The rain on the windshield froze in time. The world stood still.
Then—darkness.
Jinn's vision faded, and everything around him disappeared as his consciousness slipped into the void. Cold. Silent. Endless.
But something ancient stirred inside him.
Something that had only just begun to wake as pages flipped endlessly.