#fanfic sequel

[bomberbomb]

Popewhit sequel fic sneak

[shaotie]

This Crazy Thing Called Life - Cover Art and Summary

Book 2 of Life: The Ultimate Sacrifice, coming to ao3 July 23 (My wrist is hurting so I didn't render the cover art)

Summary:

Leo's face lit up, his eyes glazed over, and he was the first one to rush outside onto the deck, spreading his arms out wide with a humongous grin splitting his face in half when a clawed crimson dragon flew through the portal on leathery reptilian wings.

"Chonky!" Leo excitedly greeted. "You grew into your wings!"

The dragon opened wide its mouth full of razor sharp teeth and let out a deafening roar.

"Leo! What did you do!?" Chloe yelled. He couldn't tell if she was happy or upset with the way he used his crazy powerful ninpo to add a little excitement to her boring party. But that didn't matter at the moment, because he rubbed his chin in contemplation, uttering the chipper words: "Oh. Nope. That's not Chonky. That's his mother." he playfully elbowed his girlfriend, jokingly telling her: "Beeelieve me when I tell you, you do not want to get on her bad side!"

"Let me guess," Chloe moaned, watching as the disgruntled dragon turned her head to look straight at her and Leo. "You already got on her bad side."

Resting his hands on his hips, Leo smiled up at the angry dragon, replying whimsically as though this whole thing was a joke: "Ooooh yeah!"

◾🔹◾🔹◾🔹◾

🔹This Crazy Thing Called Life Masterpost

[dlthedescent]

THE ASCENT - ONE: GOODBYE FOR NOW

The GRE helicopter had gone over the mountains days ago, never to be seen again.

Since then, the forest hadn’t made a sound.

Dawn brought along an eerie sense of repose the Palace had never seen in a long time. It made the walk disturbing, disdainful and disconcerting.

However, he pressed on. All the way to the hidden complex in the mountain.

By the time he reached there, the snowfall was gone. The icy wind didn’t carry the faint stench of rot and decay.

Again peaceful…

Too still. It was all deceivingly welcoming.The kind of calm long after a raging storm…

Almost too alien to him. That it was all too unbelievable to take in.

But once the dust had settled and the smoke had died down, it became a lot clearer that it was really over.

And yet…Crane still couldn’t accept it.

In fact, it was more like he wouldn’t.

Days, weeks. And here he was. Even when he tried to distract himself from that brittle feeling with the tasks he’d set himself. There was still so much to do after the big, bad boss was killed.

He did everything and anything until all the problems were cleared.

Until he had nothing else to do.

Again, that peace in Castor Woods just felt too deceiving.

Too comfortable.

So, one day, he returned to the complex up the mountain. Passed all the corpses he killed, some now unrecognizable by decay and some frozen from the chill.

All the way to the open cargo zone.

…

Nothing.

And he knew that coming here. Everything was where they should be when he last saw this place. The bullet holes, the scorches and dents, every trace of that fight.

The blood spills had been frozen up by now.

He continued on his path, all the way to the broken barrier.

On the cliffsides below him was the corpse. It was no longer human, but then again, that monster was never human to begin with.

The Baron — no, Marius Fischer…the very person who imprisoned Crane and everyone in Castor Woods, tortured and experimented him for thirteen years…lay dead on the shattered ledge with a pipe punched clean through his torso and into the stone beneath.

Broken limbs frosted up by the weather.

No movement. No breath. No mistaking it this time.

Exactly where Crane left him.

Making this trip all the more pointless.

Kyle heaved a heavy sigh, berating himself in silence as he agitatedly paced along the edge. What was he expecting to find here?

He didn’t know…

He remained there longer than he should have.

Looking for something.

As if the mountains might give him the answer — justify the climb, the doubt and the unease that had driven him back here in the first place.

But there was nothing.

Everything was finished. The Baron was dead. The valley was peaceful.

Over and over again, he’s been repeating those points in his head these recent days. And that should be enough.

That should be it.

The realization sat heavy in his chest, it was almost laughable. But after everything he’s gone through, he might as well be labelled as a madman.

How jagged he’s really become to want something.

There really was nothing keeping him here anymore.

He got his revenge. He sacrificed everything to stop the Baron.

This was the end of this story.

Crane could keep staring at the corpse down there for all he liked. That it actually would become like those Old World movies, where the dead refused to stay dead.

A terrible, awful nightmare if that was the case.

The more he bore his gaze down at the dead mutant, the more he thought he was seeing things, tightening his brow.

Like a talon twitching.

But that was a trick of the light. Maybe it was the cold. His paranoia getting the better of him again.

And yet…

“That body isn’t gonna move, you know.”

Crane stiffened, just slightly. He couldn’t hide the tension bottling up from the whole trip before he wheeled around to the last person he expected to be at the complex.

Aiden Caldwell.

“I know that,” Crane muttered back. “...You have a habit of sneaking up on people.”

The guy shrugged his shoulders. “Been good at it for years. You just aren’t exactly that hard to sneak on.”

Crane grimaced. “So, I’m just lucky today?”

Aiden instead took a moment with a stern glance at the old man. Like he would get him talking on the spot if he looked hard enough.

“...You look a little distracted these days.”

Crane huffed a quiet “hm” at that before he glanced back at the unmovable corpse.

It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it. Olivia noticed. Everyone noticed.

“...Just got a lot on my mind,” he admitted.

Without looking back, he knew the kid was studying him for a moment longer than necessary. Anyone would ask, “what was on your mind”? And Crane would actually be fumbling over the answer.

Or dodging it.

Aiden, however, didn’t ask. Rather, he simply joined him on the sightseeing.

“Hell of a view out here,” Aiden uttered.

Really? But Crane chuckled.

If it weren’t for the Baron’s damn corpse…it would have been a nice view to observe. Clear skies, breathtaking snow-covered peaks, and lush forests stretching for miles. Something like this rarely existed anymore.

All the more, it reminded Crane that the world outside Castor Woods was a different story…

Everything he once knew was no longer the same.

“So,” Crane started, still a little guarded around Aiden. “...What’s the occasion?”

At first, he didn’t reply. The steeled sternness in his blue eyes had softened — as if readying himself to say it.

And he did.

“Everything’s ready,” Aiden said. “Just looking for some kindling to start the fire."

Right… So it was time.

It didn’t hit Crane the first time. He even held in a deep sigh before looking over to him. “Alright… Why are you here?”

The muscular, tall guy shrugged his shoulders. “You were on the way. Figured we could find some scraps of paper in this place while I check on you.”

Crane held back a grumble. That was a bad excuse.

But…the consideration in Aiden’s lie was appreciated.

“So I’m included.” He let that hang… Then furrowed his brow. “Did you run all the way here through that tunnel?”

Aiden shrugged. “I needed something to stretch my legs. Makes for good practice.”

Practice?

That was a long-ass train tunnel. Even by vehicle, it took five, maybe seven minutes for Crane to reach the end. And the bastard in front of him didn’t look winded. But he kept those inner thoughts inside.

Aiden was just someone Crane had only met weeks ago. And the one thing that kept Crane from treating Aiden like just another stranger was his connection to Spike.

He was with him from the start when they snuck into the complex to try and break Crane out.

And failed.

The result: completely changed, thanks to the Baron experimenting on him.

Because of Crane…

And yet, within the few weeks prior, Aiden adapted faster than he expected. In fact, he learned a few things about the kid. Other than his whole physique changed, Crane could tell the man — younger than him by two decades — had survived as many battles as he had.

Every scar on him told him a story Crane didn’t need to hear. Kid moved with confidence, unscathed, because he knew what he was doing.

Whatever he had faced before…perhaps paled to what happened to him here.

That resolve showed. The man before him didn’t hesitate to join the fight against the Baron and didn’t question him to go save another life.

He knew he had his back just as he did with his.

Since then, a lot of things have happened since then. Very little was ever talked about between them. But, they didn’t need words.

The understanding was already present between them.

That said, he could be a little impatient sometimes.

Aiden was already turning away from the view, his boots crunching the snow.

“Well, shouldn’t keep everyone waiting,” he started his way towards the entrance, hands in pockets. But not before he glanced back.

The old man didn’t budge.

“You coming?”

Crane inhaled the cool air deeply, lingering on the scene for another second before he pushed off the railing and followed.

It didn’t take long before he stopped in his tracks; his gaze drilling a hole at the entrance.

Just now, there was a faraway low thump. Inside.

“Did you come here alone?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Aiden replied, as if that should have been obvious. “Never asked anyone to tag along.”

The familiar, foreboding feeling rooted deep into Crane’s gut. He’s always been used to it, and never has he second-guessed his instincts. Moreover, the kid’s answer cemented his suspicion.

Seeing that in his expression, Aiden now understood the reason for that question.

They turned to the doorway.

Someone else was in the complex with them.

Story continues on at this link: AO3.

[kkcosplayproductions]

IT HAS BEGUN LOVELIES! I HAVE BEGUN WRITING PARTNERS IN CRIME AKA THE SEQUEL TO MY OH MY! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!

I hope to get this first chapter out before Tuesday! I’ve already written 700 words! Whoo! Y’all, please bless me to not lose motivation or be cursed by anything! I want to get this sequel started on a good note!

Anyway, that’s all for now, lovelies! Stay amazing!

[felixcrowwrites]

The sequel to "Of Snakes and Stags" is here! Say hello to "The Innocent's Sin"

The sequel is finally here! :D

Tbh I didn’t think I would be so early, but then life was a bitch in the past two days (my father was hospitalized after fainting and the doctors found out he has cancer) and my hands itched to write something, so here we are. I don’t know how often I’m going to update, since I need to follow the situation and also study. I'm sure that I’m not going to post everyday- maybe every week tho!

I didn’t make any outline for the story (just like with Of Snakes and Stags lol), I can just see a vague plot idea in the horizon, so I’m going to find out the story along with you hahaha I do think this is going to have a few darker tones here and there, but it will still either have a happy ending or have a suspended ending in case I end up writing a trilogy (and the very hypothetical third book will have a happy ending for sure).

BE CAREFUL! Tom and Harry won’t be magically happily married at the beginning of the book. This is because Harry is traumatised + seventeen and though Tom is very traumatised too, he isn’t (mentally) as young. Since our Dark Healer actually loves Harry, he will step back for a few years when Harry asks him to. They will still see each other and be really damn close, but there will be explicit mentions of both of them seeing other people. They will obv end up back together, but they will do so when they are able to maintain a healthy relationship. I think this will all happen very early in the book, but I haven’t outlined anything and I’m too lazy to do it, so keep in mind it may last for a few chapters or even more. I also plan on them having a bit of healthy angst in their relationship, so keep that in mind too!

Also, I put a tag for minor character death. Keep in mind I consider everyone besides Tom, Harry, Delphini and Teddy to be minor characters. Consider yourself warned hehe

Also also, I usually write my books in the present tense, but I’m going to try and write this one in the past tense. Several mistakes may occur until I get used to it.

With all that out of the way… are you ready? :D

[vakariansyndrome]

Are You Mine?

Sequel to I Wanna Be Yours

Rated: E Summary:

Two years of shared mornings, quiet evenings, and a love Astarion thought was unshakeable, gone in an instant. When he and Tavitha are ripped from their modern life and thrust into the world of mind flayers and medieval horrors, he remembers nothing of the life they've built together. As familiar strangers navigate an unfamiliar world, Tav must help the man she loves survive experiences neither of them was ever meant to live through. And while Astarion struggles to reconcile fragments of an impossible past with the nightmare he now inhabits, Tav deals with revelations of a past completely foreign to her.

Read it here on AO3: Are You Mine?

[sable-simp]

Radiant Diamond

Jotaro/Josuke | M-Rated | Sequel

10k Words

Summary:

The arch opened to more sand - a smaller beach, obscured by cliffs and water alike. Private. Well, Josuke would be lying if he claimed beach sex wasn’t on his bucket list. But before that… “Now will you tell me what’s up with you? ‘Cause something’s clearly going on.”

For an insultingly long moment, Jotaro didn’t react. Left Josuke to fidget in place, dig his prized loafers into the ground and pretend the cool evening breeze and the crashing of the waves eased his mind.

When Jotaro answered a small eternity later, he didn’t sound like himself at all. Jotaro Kujo’s voice didn’t waver, period. And yet.

“How can you still act like you want my attention after what I did to you?”

After the life-changing events of the past afternoon, after finally experiencing the intimacy Josuke has been craving with Jotaro for months, one can’t blame him for floating on cotton candy clouds. Actually, the comparison doesn’t even begin to describe the sheer extent of Josuke’s elation.

How foolish of him to assume Jotaro feels the same.

Part 2 of Shades of Diamond

[rhoeysama]

Echoes of the Planet: Chapter 16

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Word Count: 4926 (Chapter 16/~40)

Rating: T

Pairing: Aerith(Aeris)/Vincent Valentine

Chapter summary: Aeris and her friends gain unlikely allies and uncover the true danger of Old Joe’s materia. With the mayor’s help, they set out to confiscate it—but things go awry, and Corel plunges into chaos.

Notes: Divergent timeline/parallel reality (inspired by FFVII Remake & Rebirth). Inspired by and written as the sequel to I Know What's Beneath the Snowfields.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 16: Delirium

Five strange boys stood before them, ranging from twelve to maybe nineteen. A ragtag band of misfits in sun-bleached, dusty clothes; the kind worn by those who’d spent too long under a desert sun. Bandanas and scarves hung loose around their necks, leather boots scuffed to the sole, their faces chapped and sunburnt. 

The oldest stood at their center, dark-haired with a mullet, and sharp eyes. His clothes were patched like the others’, but a few details set him apart: a woven bracelet at his wrist, a vest stitched with faded geometric shapes, the kind of thing that looked handmade. It gave him a curious, almost folksy air, a little out of place among wanderers.

Wherever they’d come from, Aeris thought, they looked like wanderers with no place to call home. So young to be living like vagabonds. Perhaps orphans. The thought pricked at her heart; she was one too.

A grin broke across Barret’s face upon seeing them. 

“Well, if it ain’t the lost boys themselves,” he greeted. 

“Hi, Mr. Barret!” the youngest piped up.

Yuffie smirked in amusement and elbowed him. “Wow, look at you. Corel’s Mr. Popular. What are you now? The mayor?”

He let out a low, growling sound and scowled at her. “Nah, I ain’t. The mayor is…whatever. Don’t matter.” The edge in his voice carried more than a hint of annoyance, which caught Aeris’ attention, but he made no further comment on the subject.

He shifted his weight, and his gaze settled on the dark-haired one who looked like the leader of the boys. “Kieran…what’re y’all doin’ here? Don’t tell me you’re in trouble again.”

Kieran propped his hands on his waist and shot him a sideways glance. “Guess you could say that. We were promised two thousand Gil to clear out some pests outside town…but a bunch of bounty hunters cut us off. Left Wyatt with a knife in his shoulder for standin’ his ground,” he said, voice edged with resignation. He let out a sharp sigh. “So much for that reward.”

Barret folded his arms. “Damn. I’m sorry, kid. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. Gil makes people meaner than monsters.”

Kieran exhaled through his nose. “No kidding.”

Aeris studied the young man for a moment.

“I saw you in the infirmary,” she said gently. “How’s your friend? I hope he’s alright.” 

She searched his guarded face for a flicker of emotion. But he only crossed his arms defensively and narrowed his hazel eyes in suspicion. “Depends on who’s asking. And why.”

Barret lifted a calming hand. “Easy, Kieran. She’s a friend. They’re with me.”

Kieran watched the three strangers in Barret’s company, and his shoulders sank. He sighed, his tension easing.

“Our friend’s fine. He’ll recover,” he said, glancing at Aeris, then turned back to Barret. “But it’s not him I’m worried about. I came for my grandpa. Heard he’s sick and needs help.”

Barret muttered, “Figured as much when I saw ya.”

“How bad is he, really?”

Barret rubbed at his stubbly chin, and his gaze darkened. “Bad enough. But I dunno if ‘sick’ is the right word for it.”

Aeris tilted her head toward Kieran. “Who’s your grandfather?”

Barret fell silent. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then his eyes met hers.

“...Joe.”

She exchanged an uneasy look with Yuffie, the weight of the name settling heavily between them. Kieran caught it and bristled.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong with him?” He demanded, looking between them. 

Aeris drew in a quiet breath, her gaze turning sorrowful. “I’m sorry. He’s…not well.”

His eyes flashed with fury, and his tone grew sharp. “And? Isn’t anyone helping him?”

Yuffie crossed her arms. “We tried, but your gramps nearly turned us into target practice. I don’t think a regular doctor’s gonna cut it.”

Kieran cursed under his breath, rubbing at his face. “This day just keeps getting better and better. Feels like a damned omen.” He straightened then, the weariness hardening into resolve as he met Barret’s eyes. “I’m going to see him.”

To that, Yuffie raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I vote ‘bad idea’. Unless you like dodging bullets.”

“Tch. Try stopping me, Wutai,” he snapped.

She scowled at the nickname. “Name’s Yuffie, not Wutai.”

Kieran held her gaze a moment longer than necessary before looking away. “Whatever,” he muttered.

“We ain’t gonna stop you,” Barret said. “But you’re gonna need backup, in case things go awry.”

Aeris stepped forward, her calm cutting through the tension. “Then we’ll go with you. You’re not alone in this.”

Vincent stood silent, crimson gaze fixed on her, the stillness of his frame taut as a drawn bow. His hand rested near the holster of his gun, quietly preparing for their next move.

Kieran consented with a nod. “Then let’s not waste any more time,” he said, starting forward, and the other boys fell in line behind him without question. Barret and Yuffie exchanged a glance before following. Aeris moved to join them…but Vincent’s clawed arm barred her path before she could take another step. She looked up at him, taken aback. “Aeris…I need you to stay behind and rest.” Though his voice was gentle, the weight in it left little room for argument. “We’ll handle this.”

She knew he meant well. Of course he did. He spoke out of concern, she could see that. But the words still stung far more than she expected or wanted them to. Stay behind? And what? Do nothing? A frown tugged at her lips, and she shook her head sharply, lifting her chin to meet his eyes in open defiance. “No. I’m coming.”

The words came out sharper than she meant them to. More nettled. But she didn’t take them back. Nor did she wait for his reply. Ducking under his outstretched arm as though it were just another obstacle, she hurried after the others. Only when she felt his gaze on her, heavy with unspoken conflict, did she slow her pace. She didn’t turn, though, afraid that if she met his eyes now, she might waver.

He knit his brows and said nothing, only drew a long breath as if weighing the risk against the resolve in her eyes. The memory of what had happened only hours ago still burned in him, and every instinct screamed to hold her back; to stand between her and whatever lay ahead.

But he also knew her too well to waste words; once Aeris set her mind on something, nothing he said could sway her.

So he walked ahead in a deliberate stride, and his cloak brushed against her as he slipped in front. Every line of him braced to shield her. He cast a glance over his shoulder, only half his face visible, his expression carved in stoicism. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Although his words carried no cruelty, they cut all the same. Regret. The syllable snagged at her, tugging at every doubt and fear she fought to keep buried. What stung most was the thought that she might be a liability; a distraction, or worse still, an obstacle. “I won’t,” she murmured back, forcing firmness into her voice even as the word twisted inside her. 

“Don’t leave my side. Understood?” His words were quiet, meant for her alone, but the gentleness in his tone only made the command feel heavier.

Her frown deepened, indignation rising to cover the bruise his words left behind. She drew her arms in close, voice low but edged all the same. “I get it. Just…stop treating me like I’m fragile.”

He offered no reply, only turned and moved forward. The silence he left her with pressed heavier than words.

Out of the corner of her eye she thought she caught Yuffie glancing at her, as if she’d overheard their conversation, but the ninja quickly turned her attention back to the road ahead before she could be sure.

The group set off, with Kieran and the boys at the front. Aeris and Vincent followed close behind, while Yuffie and Barret with Marlene trailed just behind the pair. They threaded their way through Corel’s bustling streets, pressing past merchants closing up stalls and miners lingering outside the saloon.

Above, heavy dark clouds had begun to gather, muting the sun’s last light. The air carried a charged stillness that warned of rain.

Ahead on the road, Aeris caught sight of three men in bulky protective suits, the kind you’d expect in a poisoned place, not the middle of town.Their helmets were off, exposing their faces, but the thick suits and reinforced gloves still made them look insulated, apart from everyone else. They stood out starkly against the dust-streaked clothes and patched uniforms of the crowd. One of them looked barely past twenty, his posture nervous beside the two older men. 

“Who are they?” She asked.

Barret hesitated, as if bracing himself. “Some men with the WRO. And…the mayor.”

“Which one?” 

“The kid. Believe it or not,” Barret muttered.

Yuffie raised a brow in disbelief and slowed her steps. “You’re kidding. That’s the mayor? He doesn’t even look mayor-y.”

“Tell me ’bout it,” Barret grumbled and looked at her. 

Aeris’ gaze lingered on the three men. They murmured in low tones, their expressions taut. One carried a device that looked like some kind of scanner. It ticked and crackled in uneven bursts. 

“When the folks here couldn’t agree who should run the place, some wanted me,” Barret explained. “Ironic as hell. Can you imagine? Me cuttin’ ribbons and smilin’ for the cameras?” He snorted, shaking his head. “’Sides—” he waved a dismissive hand, “I ain’t no damn paper-pusher. Ain’t cut out for that bureaucratic crap. So, WRO sent us this kid, ‘cause no one else wanted the job. Figures. But…he means well, I’ll give him that.”

Aeris couldn’t take her eyes off the man that fiddled with his scanner, which kept crackling angrily. Its yellow light blinked with each pulse like it was detecting something invisible all around them. Another scribbled quick notes, while the mayor stood with his hand on his chin, brow furrowed in thought. He looked more anxious than official. Less like a man in charge than someone desperate for answers.

“What are they doing?” Aeris finally ventured.

“They’ve been pokin’ around the old reactor,” Barret explained, his voice dipping into a growl. “Damn thing’s been nothin’ but a curse on this town. A blight. Nothin’ grows right no more, people fallin’ sick without reason. And the monsters…they been showin’ up worse than ever. Tore up half the town just the other day. So the mayor figured maybe it all ties back to that rustin’ hulk.”

He jerked his chin toward the far side of the street. “Anyway. Let’s keep movin’ before they see us.”

Too late.

“Mr. Wallace!” the mayor called when he saw him, already waving them over. His voice carried more relief than formality, as though he’d just spotted a long-awaited ally.

Barret muttered under his breath, then strode reluctantly toward him. Up close, Aeris saw the mayor looked even younger. Barely twenty-two, if that — with an earnest face and eyes that didn’t miss much.

“Friends of yours?” The mayor asked, nodding to Aeris, Vincent, and Yuffie.

“Yeah. Not just friends. Been through hell together, and we’re still standin’,” Barret said, his gaze shifting to Yuffie and Vincent before settling back on the mayor.

“I see,” the young man said. He straightened and nodded with stiff formality. “Liam Hawthorne,” he declared, “Mayor of Corel.” He cleared his throat as though trying to give the title more weight than it carried. For all his rehearsed authority, the youth in his eyes betrayed him: earnest and eager to be taken seriously.

Aeris nodded in acknowledgment, with a soft smile. 

“Any news?” Barret asked gruffly.

The mayor’s tone shifted to business. “We’ve just returned from the reactor,” he said. “The readings we picked up…well, they’re not coming from there after all.” He glanced toward the agents with him. “As it turns out, the source is here. Somewhere in Corel.”

One of the WRO investigators came forward, his expression grave. “We recovered remains from the attack. Our scans showed the creature was saturated with unstable mako; the kind of contamination we’ve seen when the Lifestream’s been disrupted. If this is environmental, it could spread. And if it spreads, we won’t just be looking at one incident. We’ll start seeing more animals and monsters driven berserk.”

Aeris tensed. Somewhere in Corel. She felt it in the marrow of her bones: that same pulse she’d touched in Joe’s stone, and the same corruption that stained her dreams. It couldn’t be mere coincidence. She knew it.

The mayor, however, remained oblivious to the conflict brewing inside her. “I’m afraid we’re stretched thin on resources,” he said. “Some of our men are still recovering from the attack. I’ve called for backup and a shipment of supplies. They should arrive any day now.” His gaze returned to Barret, and Aeris thought she caught a fleeting sadness in his eyes. “In the meantime, I’m considering a town hall meeting. Bring everyone together, start narrowing down possible sources. We can’t afford oversights. Too many lives are at stake.”

But Barret merely shook his head. “Meetin’ might not be necessary. We think we know the source.”

Hawthorne’s eyes lit up with curiosity and alarm. The two agents exchanged a glance; the kind that said they didn’t like being left out of the loop.

“If you know anything, Mr. Wallace, then please, tell us,” Hawthorne said.

Barret ground his teeth and looked away for a moment. He confessed, “Joe Holloway. He’s been sittin’ on somethin’. A piece of materia. Not the kinda thing you can use for anythin’. It’s dangerous. Folks’ve been whisperin’ it’s cursed, and…hell, I’m startin’ to think they’re right.”

The mayor frowned, his gaze shifting briefly to the scanning device, then settling back on Barret. “Materia? You’re saying that materia…could be causing this?”

Barret grunted. “I can’t prove it. But I know damn well what materia’s supposed to be like. And that ain’t it.”

Hawthorne hesitated, falling quiet as he ran a hand over his jaw. “I’ve heard the rumors about Joe,” he admitted. “Folks said his ‘rock’ was cursed. I thought it was just gossip, nothing more.” His voice dropped, weight pressing into each word. “I can’t pretend I understand materia like you do, Mr. Wallace. But if you’re right…then we may have no choice. It needs to be confiscated.”

Barret’s gaze hardened, the metal of his gun-arm catching the light. “Then we best see for ourselves. Ain’t no sense wastin’ time talkin’ when the truth’s sittin’ in his hands.”

“Right,” Hawthorne agreed. “Then let’s go.”

He started forward, but Barret moved in front of him, meeting his puzzled look with a hard stare that stopped him cold.

“I think you’d better sit this one out, Mr. Mayor,” Barret said, his tone grave. “Let us handle it.”

Hawthorne’s jaw clenched. He let out a slow breath through his nose, then nodded once before replying, as if he understood the situation perfectly. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m young. An outsider. Maybe I don’t deserve your respect.” His voice wavered, but his eyes steadied with resolve. “But I didn’t come here to shuffle papers. I came because I want Corel to have a future. If that means standing on the front lines, then that’s what I’ll do. It’s my duty.” 

Aeris looked between the two men; one world-weary, the other stubbornly idealistic. Hawthorne stood tall, his jaw set, conviction blazing where doubt had lingered only moments before. Barret studied him in silence, weighing the man’s resolve as though deciding whether to press the point or let it go.

At last Barret gave a grunt of defeat. “Alright then. But you’d better be ready for what’s comin’.”

Vincent straightened where he stood, the shift in his stance was enough to draw their attention. His gaze fixed on the hill above, his words were measured and precise. “Be cautious,” he warned. “Joe is unstable. He won’t relinquish that materia peacefully. If pressed, he may turn violent. He’s already tried to shoot us once.”

One of the WRO agents cut in, “Then we subdue him. Disarm his gun first, then secure the materia.”

Barret shook his head and frowned. “We ain’t just gonna dogpile an old man.”

The other agent moved closer, weighing in with quiet authority. “If that materia’s unstable, rough handling could trigger a surge. A fight risks more than bullets.”

“Once we get it off him, we’ll lock it down in containment,” the first agent added. “Standard protocol.”

Kieran, who had been quietly listening to their exchange, could no longer curb his outrage. “That’s my grandfather you’re talking about,” he protested, voice sharp with anger. “And you’re acting like he’s some rabid animal. He’s a sick old man, not a monster! If you treat him like one, he’ll never trust you.”

Aeris’ fists curled unconsciously at her sides. A sense of foreboding settled over her, the air seeming to grow heavier the longer the conversation dragged on.

Barret exhaled hard and conceded with a short nod. “Then you talk to him first, kid. Maybe he’ll hear you out. We’ll back you up, but if he raises that gun again…”

“…we act,” Vincent added, his voice flat. “No hesitation. No mistakes.”

Hawthorne stiffened when he looked at Vincent’s cold crimson eyes and the way his gloved hand hovered near his gun. But he inclined his head in agreement. “If words don’t work, we’ll contain him. But the boy’s right: we owe him a chance to come willingly.”

Barret gave him a short nod, his expression hard as stone. Hawthorne fidgeted uneasily, his gaze lingering on the house up on the hill before returning to the uniformed men at his side.

As if steeling himself, he slipped a hand into the pocket of his uniform and drew out an object just enough for Aeris to glimpse the cold metal of a gun. Her stomach knotted at the sight.

All this tension, the weapons, the gathering crowd…all just for a lonely old man. A frightened soul clinging to a stone he should never have held in the first place. “...Alright,” the mayor said at last, the word coming out heavy and reluctant. “Let’s move.”

The murmurs of the townsfolk swelled into a current that carried them forward. Together the group hiked up the steep dirt road, winding steadily toward Joe’s house perched at the top of the hill.

When they arrived, an eerie stillness settled over the porch. The house sagged against the desert wind, its shutters rattling weakly as if even the boards themselves had grown weary. In the hush, the faint crackle of the Mako detector filled the air. The needle rattled violently, its readings spiking off the charts, and its light blinking red.

The two uniformed men stiffened, exchanging a sharp glance. Hawthorne caught it, and when he looked back to Joe’s house, his expression settled into something sterner, a resolve drawn tight across his features.

Kieran was the first to step onto the porch, with the other boys crowding behind him. Aeris, Vincent and the rest of the group stayed off the porch and waited.

The young man froze. Something wasn’t right. From beyond the door came the muffled sound of Joe’s voice; it was low and strained, with a solemn weight to it, as though speaking to someone of great importance.

“Is someone in there with him?” One of the boys whispered.

Kieran didn’t reply. His hand balled into a fist, then he knocked firmly against the weathered wood.

The muttering inside ceased at once. For a long moment, there was only silence, and then the door creaked ajar just enough to reveal the old man’s haggard face and suspicious eyes.

“What do ya want?” Joe croaked when he saw the crowd gathered outside his house.

“Hey, Grandpa. It’s your favorite grandson,” Kieran greeted carefully with a strained smile, his voice tight but steady. He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I know it’s been a while. You’re probably surprised to see me. I heard you weren’t feeling so well…so I came as soon as I could. Let me help you, okay?”

Joe stared at him for a long, unnerving moment. His gaze narrowed as though he were studying a stranger. Then, his expression hardened. “‘Grandpa’?” he spat. “I never had grandkids. My son died in the mines years ago. And the dead don’t come back.”

Kieran stared at him in complete disbelief, agape, as if the words had punched him in the chest. Aeris felt a pang of sympathy as she glimpsed the hurt beneath his anger.

“Now get lost, brat!” Joe barked, lifting a hand to slam the door. 

But the slam never came. 

Instead, Joe went rigid, his cloudy eyes sliding past Kieran to fix on something else.

A confused Kieran followed his gaze, and looking behind him, he saw what he was staring at. 

Aeris.

The air seemed to contract. His face slackened, and his voice dropped into a low murmur, full of awe, as if he were no longer speaking for himself.

“The prodigal child…she’s here...” 

Aeris let out a sharp, involuntary breath, fists curling at her sides and a chill raced down her spine. That poisonous thrum stirred again in her skull, threading through her senses until a familiar sharp ringing filled her ears. The crowd around her blurred, receding as dizziness clawed up from her chest. Then she saw green veins of light slithering across the sky. She blinked and rubbed her eyes—and when she looked again, they had vanished as quickly as they came.

Vincent, as though sensing her inner turmoil, moved without hesitation and placed himself in front of her like a shield. The boys and the mayor cast uneasy glances at Aeris, their expressions a mix of confusion and doubt. 

“Oh, great. More creepy dramatics,” Yuffie commented sarcastically. “Newsflash, gramps: you met her just hours ago.”

But Joe didn’t blink. He didn’t even seem to hear her. His reverence soon curdled into a bitter smile. His voice carried like a curse. “All roads end at his feet. And you…” he emphasized, his eyes never leaving Aeris, “you’ll walk to him willingly.”

The words spilled out with the certainty of prophecy, like something whispered into him from elsewhere. Vincent shifted subtly, cloak falling into place as his hand hovered near the grip of his gun. 

Kieran stared at the old man, bewildered and desperate, looking between him and Aeris. “Grandpa…who are you talking about??” 

Aeris felt everyone watching her, but her gaze remained locked on Joe. Her stomach clenched. She didn’t need to ask who he was. She already knew.

Mayor Hawthorne, who hitherto had been quiet, watched the scene unfold in mounting worry. He exchanged an anxious glance with the other two men in suits, who stood rigid, waiting for his cue. Drawing in a breath, he stepped forward cautiously, his voice measured but gentle.

“Mr. Holloway,” he said, using Joe’s name with deliberate respect. “It’s Mayor Hawthorne. You know me. You’ve been part of this town longer than most of us. You’re not alone here; we’re your friends, and we’re here to help you.” His words came slow and steady, each syllable softened at the edges, as though he feared a sharper tone might break the fragile man before him.

Joe’s gaze flicked to him, and for an instant Aeris thought she saw clarity: a glimmer of recognition breaking through the haze.

Encouraged, Hawthorne swallowed, then pressed on, his tone firmer now, threaded with quiet insistence. “That materia in your possession isn’t safe. Please, give it to us. We’ll see it’s kept secure.”

For an instant, Joe was completely quiet, studying the mayor. 

But then his eyes clouded again. The bitterness returned, and his posture stiffened into something defensive; his lips curled back, baring teeth, as he clutched something in his coat. “You won’t take it from me,” he hissed. “It’s my property.”

Hawthorne faltered, his composure wavering. He stepped back, reaching into his own pocket by instinct.

Barret moved in, stepping on to the porch. His voice carried a weight that didn’t bother with formality. “Old man, listen to me. You holdin’ on to somethin’ you can’t control. You and I both know it. Hand it over before it eats you alive, or somebody else gets hurt.”

Joe only chuckled; a broken, hoarse sound. Defiance burned in his eyes. “I’ll never give it up,” he spat. “It’s all I got left!”

Something in Hawthorne’s face hardened. When he spoke again, the previous warmth was gone, replaced by the firm cadence of office. “Mr. Holloway, that materia is a danger to you and everyone in this town. I can’t allow it to stay with you. Hand it over. Now.”

In the same instant he uttered the words, Joe pulled out a battered shotgun and leveled it at the porch. Barret reacted and aimed his gun-arm at him. 

“Get back,” Joe barked, his eyes wild. “Back away real slow now…and we won’t have any problems.”

The mayor froze, hand still hovering near his pocket. Barret squared his shoulders, refusing to retreat. Marlene, who had been at Barret’s side, ran and found refuge behind Aeris instead.

She clutched at Aeris’ skirt, her voice a hushed whisper. “Why’s Uncle Joe so mad?”

Aeris didn’t respond. She didn’t let the old man out of her sight even for a second.

Barret’s jaw set. He shot a look back at Vincent, Aeris, and the mayor; a silent acknowledgment that words weren’t going to cut it. Another approach was necessary.

Aeris looked over at Kieran, who had watched the scene quietly, but she saw that despite trying to put on a brave face, he was actually trembling. 

Barret moved in closer to Joe, his voice steady but edged with the weight of old familiarity. “Joe! Look at me, damn it! That thing’s twistin’ your mind, but I know who you are. You ain’t no puppet. Put down the gun. You’re better than this. Please…don’t make me be the one to hurt you.”

Joe’s expression softened, as if Barret’s voice had reached some hidden place. But the moment passed, and his features contorted again, the haze swallowing whatever clarity might have flickered there.

“You don’t understand. None of you can see it,” Joe rasped. “But she can.”

All eyes were on Aeris. 

She felt every stare pierce into her. Breathing became a desperate, stuttering effort. The air itself felt suffocating. 

“It’s already begun,” the madman raved on. “Despair. Ruin. Oblivion. None can stop it. And her…” he hissed, his cracked lips curling into an unnatural grin. “She’s the one chosen to walk that path. And the rest of you will follow…willingly or not.”

The silence that followed was stifling. No one moved, no one spoke. The words clung to the air like smoke, choking the space between them.

But Yuffie wasn't having it. She grit her teeth and planted her feet, one hand drifting toward her shuriken. “Ugh. Enough with the spooky doomsday crap, old geezer. Leave her out of it, and hand over the materia!”

Joe’s thin smile widened, a rough laugh scraping from his throat. He leaned in, his eyes catching Aeris’ and holding fast — so sharp it was as if he could see straight through her. His voice dropped to a harsh murmur meant only for her:

“The sand’s running out, girl.”

A violent shiver coursed through her.

But before she could move, her gaze flicked to Vincent. He stood in front of her, cloak stirring faintly in the breeze. From where she stood she saw only half his face, and she thought—no, she was sure—there was a sheen of sweat at his temple. She noticed his claw twitching at his side, the metal catching the dim light. His eyes weren’t on Joe but fixed beyond him, unfocused yet piercing, as though he sensed a presence the rest of them could not.

Then, with sudden purpose, he tore his gaze from Joe and turned, scanning the horizon with intent.

Aeris’ stomach twisted. She swallowed, her breath stalling in her chest. She knew that look, that silence. She knew what it signified. His eyes swept the landscape like a man bracing for what hadn’t yet arrived.

She looked at him, alarmed. “What is it?” she asked softly.

But he didn’t answer. His eyes stayed on the distance, narrowed and watchful.

Almost as if in reply, a shrill scream split the air, high and terrified. Shouts followed, men’s voices tangled in panic.

Yuffie, the mayor, and his men rushed to the ledge overlooking the town.

Then it came: a sound rolling through Corel like a sickness. First a low, rattling snarl, then the noise swelled into a roar that climbed, higher and higher, until it split the air in a shriek that rattled windows and shook the ground beneath their feet.

From the streets below, people scattered in panic; merchants abandoning their stalls, miners spilling from the saloon, all of them running as one from something surging out of the valley. Shouts and screams tangled in the dusky air, rising to meet the monstrous cry.

Barret hurried to the ledge, his eyes widening. “You gotta be shittin’ me!!”

Vincent’s hand slid to his holster. Yuffie froze, confusion draining from her face, replaced by dread.

Aeris’ heart leapt into her throat. She pressed a hand to her chest, as though she could cage its frantic pounding.

“Oh God…” The words escaped her in a broken whisper.

Corel was under attack.