The Oakhaven Clock Tower loomed over the city center, a gothic behemoth of granite and iron that hadn't chimed the hour in fifty years. At its base, the plaza was a ghost town, sealed off by Oakhaven PD tape—another favor Sal had managed to pull, citing a "structural instability" risk.
Caleb, Mara, and Sal regrouped in the shadow of the tower at 11:45 PM. The air wasn't just cold anymore; it was unnaturally still and heavy with suppressed energy. The fog swirled around the tower's base, held at bay by some invisible force field.
"He's already started," Mara whispered, her eyes wide as she looked up at the tower. The clock face, long dark, was glowing with a faint, pulsing purple light. "The energy flow is massive. He’s pushing the ley lines to their breaking point."
They were loaded for bear. Sal had industrial-grade rock salt strapped across his chest in bandoliers, a dozen small vials of silver shot, and his sawed-off shotgun. Mara carried a satchel overflowing with herbs, candles, and jars of holy water. Caleb held the Stone, its cold hum intensifying with every step closer to the tower’s base, and the diary tucked into his coat.
They entered the base of the clock tower through a service tunnel Sal knew about, emerging into the massive, open chamber at the tower’s core, where the clock machinery should have been.
It was a nightmare scene. Julian’s Society members—perhaps twenty people, wealthy-looking men and women in fine suits—stood in a perfect circle around a central dais. They chanted in the same ancient, guttural language Mara had used, their faces ecstatic and eyes rolled back. In the center, Julian stood, hands raised, the brass focusing device fixed atop a pedestal pointing directly at the ground, where the red circle on Caleb's map indicated the Nexus Point.
A chasm of churning blackness, smelling of absolute nothingness, had already ripped open in the stone floor. It was a wound in reality. The Void.
Silas stood guard by Julian, his face partially healed from the holy water but a picture of raw rage, holding a wicked-looking ritual blade.
Julian noticed their arrival, but didn't break his concentration. A sneer touched his lips. "You're late, Mr. Thorne. The end of Oakhaven waits for no man."
"It doesn't have to end, Julian!" Caleb yelled, holding up the Stone. "This is a governor! It closes the gap, not opens it!"
"Lies!" Julian roared, the power of his voice shaking the dust from the rafters. "The world is due for cleansing! Power belongs to those strong enough to take it!"
"Now, Mara!" Caleb shouted.
Mara instantly began her counter-chant, pulling candles from her bag and throwing them to the ground in a protective circle, igniting them with a snap of psychic will. Sal raised his shotgun and fired.
The blast of rock salt hit the chanting society members, who screamed in pain, their concentration broken. The circle faltered. The black void in the floor wavered.
Silas charged Sal, the massive brute ignoring the salt shot peppering his chest. Sal met him head on, swinging the shotgun like a bat.
Caleb ran for the dais where Julian worked the ritual. Julian turned the brass focusing device toward him. "You won't interfere!"
A beam of dark, pure energy shot out, but Caleb was ready. He held up the Stone as if it were a shield. The gray rock flared to life with a blinding white light, intercepting Julian’s attack. The white and black energies met in the center of the chamber in a deafening crash of sound and light.
Caleb pushed forward, the Stone burning his hand with cold energy. He had to reach the nexus point and bind the breach.
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