Meanwhile, on the other side of the White House, across the country, in a typical middle-class suburban home in New Jersey, a group of teenagers and their parents were gathered around a television.
They were at Frank's house, one of Sean's best friends. It was a heavy, tense night, filled with a sense of hopelessness that none of them dared to name out loud, as they instinctively felt it wasn't the right time.
The TV was showing blurry, distorted footage of what appeared to be a grotesque demonstration in front of the White House.
"Are you seeing this?" asked Daniel, another boy from the group, his voice barely holding under the weight of disbelief.Clearly, none of them had expected to witness anything as terrifying as what was now being broadcast on national television.
"That can't be real…" Frank's mother said, her hands flying to her mouth as tears started streaming down her cheeks. "Oh my God, please don't let it be Sean!"
But it was him.
Even though his face was deformed by the dark and shocking transformation he had undergone, his eyes were unmistakable to those who knew him. Eyes that once held dreams and belonged to a friend who always looked out for everyone and made sure the group stayed together until old age… were now consumed by a deep, unfathomable hatred, the origin of which no one could begin to understand.
On screen, the macabre symbol of the "new order" waved atop the White House, while hordes of disfigured zombies and hellish creatures stood guard at the entrance like loyal soldiers of their supreme leader. Some of them wore badges made of human bones.
"Is this real? What… what's happening?" sobbed Lucy, clinging to her father, who couldn't take his eyes off the screen.
Beverly, sitting silently in the farthest corner of the sofa, clenched her fists.
She didn't cry.
She didn't tremble.
Likewise, she didn't speak.
Not only that, but she just thought in silence, desperate to find a quick solution to this problem that obviously no one else dared to face—because they were afraid of Sean.
Her eyes scanned every image on the screen, as if trying to solve a hellish puzzle that made no sense.
She was the closest one to Sean.
Once, they had been more than just friends, though that had been buried under the rubble of a broken adolescence.
But she knew something the others didn't.Something no one else wanted to admit:
Sean hadn't been kidnapped…
He wasn't being possessed…
Sean had chosen this.
Could it have been his silent ambition, the one he kept to himself because he just wanted to be someone else in life?
Was it his obsession with escaping "poverty" and living without complications alongside his mother?
"He… he's aware," she finally murmured. "He's not a puppet. He's not a victim. He's the one in control of everything."
Everyone turned to look at her, stunned by what she was confessing so calmly.
"How can you say that? He's our friend!" Frank shouted.
"And that's why I know," Beverly replied, her gaze turning to steel. "Sean carried a rage inside him. He hid it well, but it was always there. And now… he's found a way to give it form. A monstrous one."
A thick silence fell over the room.
On the TV, the creatures were moving into formation like an army. A faceless reporter was trying to narrate through static and tears.
And then, the screen changed: Sean's face appeared in close-up, staring directly at them, as if he knew they were there, watching him—filled with curiosity and dread about what would happen next.
"I've been waiting for you, my friends. I know you're watching this. I haven't forgotten you. In fact… I need you by my side. I can't do this alone, and there's no one else in this human world I trust more than you."
Then the broadcast cut. The screen went black, filled with static, transmitting nothing but darkness.
"What… was that?" Daniel asked, shaking.
Beverly stood up, ready to take control of fate.
"It was an invitation."
"An invitation?"
"Yes," she nodded, looking each parent and friend in the eye, all gathered in Frank's living room. "There's still some humanity left in him, however small. And that might be our only advantage. He's challenging us. He's letting us enter his new life, and that's good for us."
"Enter where? It's a bloody war zone!" Frank shouted in fear, though he tried to hide it, so none of his friends would mock him.
"Into his hell. Into his new kingdom. But if we want to save him—or stop him—we have to act now. Before the little humanity that remains in him… is lost forever to whatever it is that's consuming him."
Sean's mother, who had been silent the entire time, overwhelmed by the horror her son was facing, finally stood up. Her eyes were red, but her soul was set with firm resolve.
"Then we have to find him. We have to bring him back. Remind him of who he really is, so he doesn't become that thing he wants to be."
"It won't be that simple," Beverly continued. "We need a plan, resources, and above all… we need to be ready to face things we've only seen in nightmares and horror movies."
"And do you have a plan?" Frank asked, desperate.
The other parents said nothing, listening intently, waiting for the right moment to weigh in after the conversation ended.
She nodded slowly.
"I do. But we'll need help. We can't go as mere humans. There's someone who owes me a favor. Someone who knows the other side."
"Who?" asked Lucy.
"My grandmother. She'll be useful now. She knows everything about that world."
"What? The one who lives in the woods? The one everyone says is a witch? The one you don't like visiting because she creeps you out?"
Beverly gave a dark, half-smile.
"They don't just say it. She is. And if there's anyone who can help us enter that world and survive… it's her."
Then, without another word, Beverly walked determinedly toward the door.
The war wasn't over.
It was just beginning.
Between Beverly and her grandmother, there was a dark bond of blood. Her mother had always forbidden her from visiting, but as a stubborn child, she had disobeyed, going to find her whenever she could. She always returned before nightfall, and her mother always knew—though she never scolded her.Sooner or later, those secret visits would prove useful.
And that moment had arrived.