Birmingham – One Week Later
The church was gone. Burned down to the bones. Nothing left but charred stone, twisted iron, and scorched earth. People whispered about it, of course—talked of a gas leak, of IRA sabotage, of divine punishment. No one knew the truth.
Not really.
But the Blinders did.
Especially James.
He stood on the edge of the ruins now, coat pulled tight against the cold, staring into the blackened skeleton of what had once been a sanctum of stolen souls. His hand still bore the spiral-shaped mark, but the glow had faded. The spirit blade, too, was gone—vanished the moment Vale's soul unraveled into dust.
It had served its purpose.
But he still felt it. In his blood. In his bones.
Power doesn't leave. It just changes shape.
Behind him, footsteps approached.
Tommy.
Cigarette in one hand, a flask in the other.
"You've been coming here a lot."
James didn't look back. "I hear things when I'm near it. Echoes."
Tommy raised a brow. "Of Vale?"
"No. Older."
A silence passed between them. The wind stirred the ashes.
Tommy finally spoke. "The newspapers said a group of police were found in the tunnels. All dead. Eyes burned out. No wounds. No signs of struggle."
James's voice was quiet. "Their souls were bound to Vale's. When he fell, they unraveled with him."
"And Campbell?"
"Gone," James said. "Not just dead. Gone. Nothing left. I made sure of it."
Tommy nodded slowly, then took a swig from the flask. "You're different."
"I had to be."
"You worry me, brother."
James turned then, finally meeting his gaze.
"Good."
Tommy didn't flinch, but something in his eyes shifted.
"I need to know," he said, "are you still with us? Still with the Blinders?"
James looked back at the ruins. "I don't know if I'm with anything anymore."
"Do I need to keep an eye on you?"
James stepped forward, closing the distance.
"You already do. Everyone does. But none of you see the right thing."
Tommy's jaw tightened. "And what's the right thing?"
James's voice was low. Heavy.
"There's something beneath the veil. Something Vale feared. Something older than spirits. It watched us. Watched me. And now it's curious."
Tommy frowned. "You're talking riddles, mate."
"No," James said. "I'm giving you a warning."
Then he walked past his brother and disappeared into the fog.
—
Elsewhere…
The world beyond the veil did not sleep.
Deep within it, in a place where light could not reach, something ancient stirred.
It had watched the duel. Had seen James Shelby bleed will into steel. Had felt the mark on his soul resonate like a bell struck in the dark.
And it was hungry.
It had many names.
The Gypsies once called it Velakar. The Old Blood named it the Ash-Eater. It was not god, not demon, but something far worse.
It was interested now.
And it had marked James as a door.
A crack in the barrier.
Soon, it would come knocking.
—
Back in Birmingham…
Polly stood outside her home, watching the crows gather on the rooftops again. It was the third day in a row. Always in threes. Always staring east.
She lit a cigarette with shaking hands.
Whispers filled the air.
And in the ashes of a church long dead, something pulsed.
Something alive.
Something waiting.