Sarah was waiting in the campus coffee shop when Dario and Marcus arrived the next morning. She'd chosen a corner table away from the other students, and her expression was serious but calm.
"You've made your decision," she said as they sat down. It wasn't a question.
"How did you—"
"I know you, Dario. I've been watching you struggle with this for weeks. And I know what conclusion you'd have to reach if you were thinking clearly."
Her composure was heartbreaking. Dario had expected tears, anger, accusations. Instead, Sarah sat with her hands folded, looking like she was discussing the weather.
"Sarah, I'm sorry. I never wanted—"
"Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't apologize for something that isn't your fault. You didn't choose to be bonded with an ancient god. You didn't choose to have your destined soulmate walk back into your life. And you didn't choose to be caught up in some cosmic conflict that could end the world."
"But I am choosing to leave you."
"No," Sarah said firmly. "You're choosing to accept your responsibilities. There's a difference."
She pulled out a folder from her bag and set it on the table.
"I've been doing research since our conversation yesterday. Real research, not just academic curiosity. I wanted to understand exactly what we're dealing with."
Dario opened the folder and found printouts of news articles, police reports, missing person cases—all dating back several years.
"Unexplained deaths in cities where Alex's group has been active," Sarah explained. "People who were investigating supernatural phenomena, asking the wrong questions, getting too close to the truth. The pattern is clear once you know what to look for."
"Sarah..."
"They're not vigilantes, Dario. They're eliminators. Anyone who poses a threat to their secrecy disappears. And I'm betting they have plans that go way beyond just protecting themselves."
Marcus leaned forward. "What kind of plans?"
Sarah pulled out another set of documents. "Property acquisitions, shell companies, financial transactions that don't make sense unless you're planning something big. They're positioning themselves for some kind of major operation."
"How did you find all this?"
"I'm a psychology student who grew up with two parents in law enforcement. I know how to research, and I know people who can access databases that aren't open to the public."
She closed the folder and looked directly at Dario.
"This isn't just about your personal safety anymore. If these people are really planning something catastrophic, then stopping them is more important than any individual relationship."
"It doesn't make it hurt less."
"No," Sarah agreed. "It doesn't. But it makes it necessary."
She stood up, and for the first time, her composure cracked slightly.
"I need you to promise me something," she said. "Promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you won't get so caught up in being a hero that you forget to survive. And promise me that when this is over, if you're still alive, you'll find me and tell me how it ended."
"I promise."
Sarah nodded, then surprised them both by reaching out and taking Marcus's hand.
"Take care of him," she said. "Both of him. He's stubborn and reckless and he thinks he can save everyone by himself. Don't let him."
"I won't," Marcus promised.
Sarah kissed Dario's forehead—a gesture so gentle and final that it nearly broke his composure—then walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.
They sat in silence for several minutes, watching her disappear into the crowd of students.
"She's remarkable," Marcus said finally.
"Yeah. She is."
"Are you okay?"
Dario considered the question. His heart felt like it had been carved out with a rusty knife, but underneath the pain was something else—a sense of rightness, of pieces finally falling into place.
"I will be. Eventually." He looked at Marcus. "What happens now?"
"Now we contact the others in our network. We share what Sarah discovered and figure out how to stop Alex's group before they can implement whatever they're planning."
"How many others are there?"
"Maybe a dozen active members worldwide. Not many, but each one is powerful," Marcus continued, pulling out his phone. "There's Elena in Prague—she hosts Sophia, the former Goddess of Wisdom. David in Tokyo with Prometheus. Maria in São Paulo with—"
"Wait," Dario interrupted, his blood running cold. "Did you say Elena?"
"Yes, why?"
"Alex mentioned an Elena. Said her people had been watching Dr. Webb's routine."
Marcus's face went pale. "That's impossible. Elena would never—" He stopped, realization dawning. "Unless she's not Elena anymore."
The implications hit them both simultaneously. If Alex's group had already compromised members of Marcus's network, then nowhere was safe.
"We need to warn the others," Marcus said, fingers flying over his phone.
"It might be too late."
As if summoned by their fears, Marcus's phone rang. The caller ID showed Elena's name.
"Don't answer it," Dario said quickly.
But Marcus was already swiping to accept. "Elena?"
"Hello, Aurelius." The voice was Elena's, but the intonation was wrong—too formal, too ancient. "Or should I say Marcus? I confess, keeping track of all these human identities grows tiresome."
"Who is this?"
"Oh, come now. Surely you recognize the voice of an old friend? We served together in the celestial courts, after all. Though I suppose I've changed somewhat since then."
Marcus put the phone on speaker, his hand trembling slightly. "Nyx."
Laughter like breaking glass came through the speaker. "Very good. Yes, poor Elena lasted longer than most. Nearly three months before her consciousness finally dissolved entirely. Remarkable willpower for a mortal."
Dario felt sick. They weren't just dealing with possession—they were dealing with murder on a spiritual level.
"What do you want?" Marcus demanded.
"I want to extend an invitation. Maloch—though he prefers to be called Lucian these days—would very much like to meet with you. Both of you. A chance to discuss terms before things become... unpleasant."
"We're not interested."
"Oh, but you should be. You see, we have something that belongs to you."
The line went quiet for a moment, then another voice came through—younger, frightened, but unmistakably familiar.
"Dario? Marcus? Please don't come. It's a trap, they have—"
The voice cut off abruptly, replaced by Nyx's cruel laughter.
"Sarah," Dario whispered, his world tilting.
"Indeed. Such a lovely girl. So intelligent, so determined to help. She made the mistake of continuing her research after your touching farewell. Discovered one of our safe houses, actually. We couldn't have that."
Rage unlike anything Dario had ever felt began building in his chest. Cassius stirred, responding to the emotion.
Let me have control, Cassius urged. Let me show them what happens when they threaten what we love.
"Where is she?" Dario said aloud, not caring that his voice had dropped into Cassius's deeper register.
"Safe. For now. Whether she remains so depends entirely on your cooperation."
"What do you want?"
"Midnight. The old cathedral on Elm Street—you know the one, where reality grows thin. Come alone, both of you. And Cassius? Do try to control your temper. We'd hate for poor Sarah to suffer because of your... emotional volatility."
The line went dead.
Marcus and Dario stared at each other, the weight of the situation crushing down on them.
"It's a trap," Marcus said.
"Of course it's a trap. But we can't leave her with them."
"Dario, think about this rationally—"
"I am thinking rationally!" Dario exploded, standing so abruptly his chair fell backward. Several other coffee shop patrons looked over nervously. "They have Sarah. They're going to kill her if we don't show up."
"And they're going to kill all of us if we do show up. Plus capture Cassius and use his power for whatever they're planning."
You know he's right, Cassius said gently. This is exactly what they want—for emotion to override strategy.
"Then what do you suggest?" Dario asked, both aloud and internally.
Marcus was quiet for a moment, then his expression hardened with resolve.
"We don't go alone."