Josh

Present- Ohio, US

“Hey, look at me,” I said, tilting Isaac’s head with my fingertips. His skin radiated heat, his body burning up as if it were on fire. Sagging against the seat, he seemed to drift in and out of consciousness. The fever had set in hours ago, and nothing I’d given him seemed to bring it down.

His cheeks were flushed red, and discoloration was spreading. His lips and nails had turned a faint purple, sending a deep chill through my gut. We made sure the Espers we hunted never made it out alive. We learned enough to track them, to kill them—but that didn’t mean we knew everything. In the Black Hand, we were the underdogs. So I’d never seen this stage. Whatever this was, I was in unfamiliar territory, and it scared the hell out of me.

Fuck.

Isaac mumbled something, but it came out slurred. His eyes opened slightly, his breath hot against my fingers.

“Where are we?” he asked, straining weakly against my grip. “Take your hand off.” His touch was feather-light, but somehow, it lit a fuse. I knew I shouldn’t be mad—Isaac was sick, disoriented—but damn it, the fear was getting to me. Fear for him, for us.

With a sigh, I let my fingers slide away, shoving the irritation down and forced the words out calmly. “We’ve been stuck in traffic.”

I should’ve known this would happen. The sun was rising, casting a harsh glare over the sea of cars ahead. We were stuck in the middle lane, hemmed in by trucks and sedans, bumper to bumper. We hadn’t moved in hours, and I had no idea how long we’d be here. We made it only twenty miles west into Ohio on I-70, on our way to California to get Will, before getting stuck in this mess. The emergency broadcast had warned everyone to turn back if they weren’t from here.

The air inside the car was getting stale, and the A/C struggled to counter the increasing heat. Sweat soaked into my shirt, sticking it to my back.

Outside, a few drivers had gotten out of their cars, pacing alongside the highway. Someone honked a few cars back, the sound sharp and angry. It hardly cut through the drone of engines. I hadn’t told Isaac about the guns stashed under the seat. I hadn’t seen any signs of Espers, but they were there just in case.

Farther ahead, the checkpoint’s flashing lights blinked. I thought this route would buy us time, but I hadn’t expected things to lock down so quickly. Something told me this was spiraling out of control faster than the government could handle.

Isaac’s focus returned slowly, his brain catching up through the haze. “What? Oh no,” he groaned, trying to straighten in his seat. “We haven’t moved?”

I leaned in, helping him sit up, but he hissed. “For fuck’s sake, can you just stop pushing for a second and let me help you?” I said.

Tension simmered under my skin, tightening every muscle in my body. Keeping Isaac in the dark was driving that wedge deeper. He’d been pushing all night for answers about the gods, even if he wasn’t saying it outright. I refused to give him anything. His silence was his way of fighting back. I let it stretch between us until exhaustion finally pulled him under.

But it wasn’t just his silence that bothered me. It was what he’d finally said. Isaac told me what happened at the airport, how he blacked out and woke up in a dream with Chronos. He explained how the burns appeared, how they felt like chains searing into his skin, marking him. Isaac said Chronos left something behind, an essence, wandering the Earth like a shadow, and somehow it had found him. But even then, I knew he hadn’t told me everything.

It was hard to believe there was so little information on a god so powerful that even a fragment of him could latch onto someone. And somehow, Chronos’ essence had fused with Isaac. If that was true, it confirmed that Chronos was dead, and Isaac wasn’t a descendant, contrary to my initial belief, which was something I had never heard before, not on Unit 9.

I was starting to suspect the government was keeping something from us. That changed everything, and what it could mean unsettled me.

There hadn’t been time to think about it—the seven days, the chance of the world being purged again. Learning about the sadistic gods was one thing. But the idea that we might have to experience it… it was beyond comprehension.

When I first heard Aldragoth’s voice in my head, I didn’t flinch. I reacted the same way I always did when Unit 9 was given orders: get ready, go head-on, don’t think twice.

But, sitting in the car, stuck in traffic, the silence was unbearable. The weight of it was finally sinking in. And the more I thought about it, the worse it got. I couldn’t stop thinking about Mom’s tearful face when I told her I was going with Isaac to California to find Will. And my father, staring at me, disappointed, as if he knew this decision would lead to a point where there would be no way out. No way to fix this. Me leaving, and this time, it could mean forever.

Isaac stirred, his half-lidded eyes sliding to me, unfocused, his pupils dilated. “I’m sorry. I feel… uncomfortable. Stuffed.”

He shifted in his seat. His hoodie was damp from sweat and stuck to him. He reached for the A/C, cranking it higher, but it wouldn’t help. The fever had Isaac shivering uncontrollably, his teeth chattering as if standing in the middle of a snowstorm. He was only making it worse.

Isaac winced, bringing a shaky hand to his ear. “Do you hear that?” he muttered, his brow furrowed. I frowned, listening, but there was nothing. “A tick, tick… can’t make it stop.”

I glanced at him. “Isaac, you’re not thinking clearly.”

Neither was I, not after thinking all night about the kiss too, the darkness, and losing him. I was drunk after that, and I acted like an animal.

The heat. The closeness. The kiss.

The slow burn built under my skin and hardened between my legs before I could stop it. At that moment, all I could think about was saving Isaac. Some part of me had wanted him more than I ever had before; I didn’t want him gone. How I wanted to press harder into him, feel every inch of him as if it might make the pain go away. Or it was something more. It was like his suffering called to me, dragged me under until I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Just wanted.

I wanted to take it from him. Absorb it. Absorb him.

That is what happened. A life without him… Shit.

I dragged my hand over my face, rubbing hard. My fingers dug into my temples. That darkness had always been there, but now, after what happened with Isaac… it felt different. I wasn’t an Esper. Or… was I?

The Black Hand had made sure of that before they ever recruited me. They checked your entire family tree—mapped out every branch—just to ensure there wasn’t even a hint of Esper bloodline. They couldn’t risk their soldiers turning into liabilities. And in my case, there was nothing. No records of anyone in my family ever being awakened.

But now, with Aldragoth awakening all the gods’ descendants, it changed everything. Even someone like me could be awakened. What if I was the first in my family?

I wasn’t sure of anything.

Isaac didn’t respond; he stared ahead with a blank expression. The cold air hit me like ice, making the sweat on my neck freeze, but he leaned into it, shivering even harder. His body wasn’t making sense anymore.

Isaac’s fingers clawed at his arm, right over the burn, even through his hoodie.

“Can I check? It’s time to change the bandage,” I said, reaching back for the first aid kit. He nodded, too tired to argue, extending his arm.

I peeled the bandage away with caution, bracing myself. As the fabric lifted, Isaac’s arm tensed under my hold. The chains’ burns had spread farther than I’d expected. They curled around his arm, now more intricate. They shimmered, reflecting that strange prism of colors I’d seen yesterday. It was unnatural as if his skin had been branded. A permanent scar, or something worse.

Isaac’s breath hitched, his eyes squeezing shut for a second. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at it. His fingers twitched, curling into a fist on his lap.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It’s spreading,” I muttered.

Isaac gave a faint nod, moving his head with minimal effort. He had not fully seen it yet. He’d been asleep the last time I changed the bandage. Now awake, he seemed too drained to face what his body was becoming.

Frustration flared in my chest, mixing with something heavier, colder. What the hell did Chronos do to you, Isaac?

Isaac’s small, trembling voice drew my attention back to him. “Josh…”

I glanced up at him, startled by the sound of his words. Isaac’s eyes opened just a fraction, and my heart skipped a beat. His irises glowed the same deep gold.

“I’m not… feeling well…”

My skin prickled. A slow, crawling sensation spread over my arms and neck, like static electricity before a storm. The air grew heavier, thicker.

Dun-dun.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the dark clouds gathering again, creeping at the edges of my vision, curling into the car like smoke.

My pulse raced. “Isaac, I need you to trust me, okay? Just… shut your eyes. Close them.”

Isaac blinked at me, his golden eyes widening, panic flashing across his face as he looked past me, into the darkening corners of the car. “Fuck… It’s happening again. I wasn’t crazy. I saw it before, didn’t I?”

His skin grew even hotter under my touch. “Shhh… Just trust me. Please. Close your eyes. Don’t look at it.”

He flinched as another pulse of heat came from his skin, stronger this time.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath as Isaac hissed in pain. “Hold on. I’m going to try something.”

“Josh… what the hell…? Why are you…?” Isaac’s voice was a weak slur, barely forming the words.

“Just trust me,” I insisted. I tugged at the edges of his hoodie without giving him time to argue. “This isn’t helping,” I said as my fingers fumbled with the fabric, trying to get a grip on it. “Let me get this off.”

I finally pulled the hoodie over his head, tossing it to the side. The second it was off, the heat coming from his skin hit me harder, like standing too close to an open flame. I swallowed, feeling my nerves spike, but I couldn’t stop now. Isaac was barely holding on.

Before I could second-guess myself, I slid my arms under him, lifting him from his seat. Isaac protested, his body limp. With a grunt, I maneuvered him awkwardly, pulling him across the center console and into my lap, settling him into the driver’s seat with me.

“Josh?”

“Just hold on.” I reached for the lever under the seat and slid it back, giving us more space. Isaac collapsed against me, his head resting against my chest, his breathing shallow but fast.

I cradled him in my arms, adjusting him so his head rested against my shoulder, and leaned back in the seat to support his weight. His skin was too hot, dangerously so, and I could feel the heat seeping into me like the fever was trying to spread.

“I need you to close your eyes, okay? Please. You have to shut them.”

He stirred weakly and whimpered but didn’t respond right away. “Please, Isaac,” I urged. “I know you’re scared. I know it’s happening again. But trust me. Close your eyes.”

Isaac’s hand twitched against my chest. He was fighting it—fighting the pain, the fear, whatever was happening inside him. Then, finally, his eyes fluttered shut.