# **BITE OF DESTINY**
## Chapter 18: The Art of Righteous Destruction
---
"So let me get this straight," Jade said, staring at the assembled group crowded into the community center's back office. "You want to use shadow magic and celestial intelligence to commit what is essentially the largest white-collar crime exposé in Millbrook's history."
"When you put it like that, it sounds almost mundane," Demri replied. "I prefer to think of it as 'cosmic justice served with a side of financial devastation.'"
Jade pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is not what I signed up for when I agreed to help run a neighborhood community center."
"To be fair," Aylin offered, "none of us signed up for any of this. The supernatural apocalypse prevention aspect kind of snuck up on all of us."
It was late afternoon, the day after the celestial gathering. The community center was technically closed—a consequence of Derek Thornton's latest maneuver, which had resulted in a surprise "health inspection" that had discovered violations no one could quite explain appearing overnight. The building was empty except for their strange coalition: Demri, Aylin, Jade, Kael (who kept to the shadows and made everyone uncomfortable), and Helena (who had arrived with armfuls of research and the manic energy of someone who'd survived on coffee and revelation for forty-eight hours).
"The good news," Helena said, spreading documents across a folding table, "is that Thornton's network of corruption is actually quite well-documented—if you know where to look. Bank records, shell companies, offshore accounts. The problem has always been accessing the information and proving the connections."
"Which is where I come in." Kael's voice emerged from a particularly dark corner, making Jade jump. "The shadows remember everything. Every secret meeting, every whispered deal, every handshake that sealed someone's fate. I can retrieve the memories of darkness itself."
"That's either incredibly useful or profoundly creepy," Jade muttered.
"Both," Kael confirmed. "Definitely both."
*I like him,* the curse observed. *He has an appropriate appreciation for the unsettling nature of power.*
"The plan is straightforward," Demri said, taking control of the conversation. "We gather evidence of Thornton's corruption through conventional and unconventional means. We compile it into an undeniable package. And we release it in a way that makes it impossible for his connections to suppress."
"And the supernatural angle?" Aylin asked. "Maria saw him meeting with something that had golden eyes. If he's made bargains with celestial forces..."
"Then we expose those too." Demri's smile held no warmth. "Not to the general public—they wouldn't understand. But to the supernatural community. To the Covenant, to our new celestial allies, to everyone who operates in the spaces between worlds. We show them that Derek Thornton sold himself to Azarion, and we let them draw their own conclusions about what that means for his usefulness."
Kael emerged from the shadows just enough for his scarred face to be visible. "The Covenant will be particularly interested. They despise mortals who bargain with celestials—it disrupts the natural order of predation. Makes things untidy."
"I'm uncomfortable with how casually you said 'natural order of predation,'" Jade noted.
"Would you prefer I euphemize? I could say 'the established ecosystem of supernatural interaction' if that helps you sleep better."
"It does not."
*Your mortal allies are entertaining,* the curse commented. *This one in particular seems to have a healthy survival instinct that manifests as sarcasm. Very relatable.*
"Focus," Aylin interrupted before the bickering could continue. "What do we need to do, and how do we do it without getting anyone killed, arrested, or consumed by eldritch forces?"
"Ah." Demri's expression shifted to something approaching sheepish. "About that third one..."
---
The first phase of Operation Righteous Destruction (Jade had insisted on naming it, claiming that if she was going to participate in supernatural vigilantism, she wanted a properly dramatic title) began at sunset.
Kael led Demri through the shadow pathways to Derek Thornton's downtown office building—a gleaming tower of glass and steel that represented everything wrong with modern development. It was beautiful in the way that predators were beautiful: efficient, dangerous, and utterly without conscience.
"His office is on the forty-second floor," Kael murmured, his form more suggestion than substance in the gathering darkness. "Private elevator, biometric security, armed guards. For a mortal, he's remarkably paranoid."
"Paranoia suggests awareness of enemies." Demri studied the building's shadow-patterns, noting the places where darkness pooled and pooled naturally. "He knows he's made bargains that come with consequences."
"Speaking of which—there are wards on his office. Celestial wards. Designed to detect and repel beings like us."
*Offensive,* the curse huffed. *As if mere wards could stop primordial chaos.*
"Can you bypass them?"
"I can try. But if I trigger them, every supernatural sensor within a mile will know we're here." Kael paused. "Including whatever agent of Azarion installed them in the first place."
Demri considered for a moment, then smiled. "Then we don't bypass them. We walk straight through."
"That's... the opposite of what I just recommended."
"The wards are designed to repel and detect, yes? To keep out unwanted supernatural intrusion?"
"Correct."
"But they're not designed to contain." Demri's smile widened. "We're not trying to break into Thornton's office quietly. We want him to know something is coming. We want him scared, desperate, making mistakes. Let the wards scream—let every sensor light up. By the time anyone responds, we'll have what we need and be gone."
Kael was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly: "You've become disturbingly comfortable with chaos."
*That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about us,* the curse preened.
---
The shadows deposited them directly in Derek Thornton's private office, and the wards went insane.
Alarms—both audible and magical—shrieked through multiple frequencies. The lights flickered. A security camera in the corner sparked and died. And Derek Thornton himself, who had apparently been working late, fell backward out of his ergonomic chair with a scream that would have been embarrassing under less apocalyptic circumstances.
"Evening," Demri said pleasantly, as reality stabilized around him. "I believe we have some things to discuss."
Thornton scrambled backward until his back hit his desk, his face a mask of terror. He was older than Demri had expected—silver-haired, distinguished, the kind of face that looked trustworthy on campaign posters. But his eyes held the desperate cunning of a cornered animal.
"Security—" he gasped.
"Won't be responding." Kael emerged from a shadow behind the desk, making Thornton flinch violently. "I've dealt with them. Temporarily. They'll wake up with headaches and mysterious gaps in their memories. Very disorienting."
*Can I eat his fear?* the curse asked hopefully. *It's practically radiating off him in waves. Seems wasteful to let it go to unused.*
"Not now," Demri replied silently. Aloud: "I'm not here to hurt you, Mr. Thornton. Though I understand if that's difficult to believe."
"You're—you're him." Thornton's voice cracked. "The thing the golden-eyed one warned me about. The cursed creature."
"That's one way to describe me. I prefer 'misunderstood supernatural entity with legitimate grievances and an excellent support network.'" Demri moved closer, letting shadows trail behind him like a cloak. "But I'm curious about this 'golden-eyed one.' What exactly did they promise you?"
Thornton's jaw worked, fear warring with defiance. "They said... they said I would be protected. That no supernatural force could touch me as long as I served the cause."
"The cause being?"
"Order." The word came out almost reverently. "Perfect order. A world where everything makes sense, where chaos is eliminated, where there's no more uncertainty or change or—"
"Free will?" Demri finished. "Where no one can choose anything unexpected because unexpected things are inherently chaotic?"
"It sounds beautiful when you put it that way." Thornton seemed to regain some of his composure, drawing on the faith that had been sold to him. "A perfect world. A world without suffering."
"A world without life," Demri corrected. "A world without growth or evolution or anything that makes existence worth experiencing. Azarion's vision isn't paradise—it's a cage made of crystallized perfection, and everyone trapped inside will be too paralyzed by order to even scream."
*Poetic,* the curse observed. *I'm impressed. Have you been practicing that speech?*
"I may have rehearsed a bit."
Thornton's composure cracked further. "You don't understand. They showed me the alternative—the chaos that's coming if their plan fails. Monsters rising from the depths. Reality tearing itself apart. The end of everything humans have built."
"Ah yes, the classic 'accept tyranny or face apocalypse' false dichotomy." Demri pulled a chair from beside the desk and sat down, casual as if this were a business meeting. "Let me offer you a third option. Help me destroy Azarion's plans, and I'll ensure you survive what's coming. Refuse, and I'll destroy you financially, socially, and professionally before leaving you to face your celestial patron's disappointment."
"That's... not a great set of options."
"I never claimed to be a great person. I'm a cursed fallen celestial with a primordial chaos fragment where my soul used to be. 'Moral flexibility' is somewhat unavoidable at this point."
Kael made a sound that might have been a laugh. "He's actually being generous. The shadow-kin wanted me to offer you a choice between cooperation and having your consciousness extracted and used as a lantern fuel for the next three centuries."
Thornton turned greenish. "That's... that's a thing that can happen?"
"The shadow realms are full of creative consequences. You'd be amazed what beings with eternity on their hands can come up with when they're feeling spiteful."
*I like the shadow-kin's style,* the curse said approvingly. *Very imaginative.*
"What exactly," Thornton asked weakly, "would 'helping' look like?"
---
The extraction of information from Derek Thornton took approximately two hours and generated enough evidence of corruption to make a federal prosecutor weep with joy.
Bank records showing payments to city officials. Emails detailing plans to manipulate housing codes. Contracts with shell companies that existed only to launder money. And most importantly—records of his supernatural dealings, including detailed notes about the "investors" who'd promised him protection in exchange for serving their mysterious agenda.
"You kept *notes*?" Kael asked incredulously as they copied files from Thornton's private server. "About your bargains with celestial forces?"
"I keep notes about everything," Thornton replied miserably. "It's called due diligence."
"It's called self-incrimination, but I appreciate the thoroughness."
*This mortal has all the survival instincts of a lemming with a death wish,* the curse observed. *I almost respect it.*
"The golden-eyed being who contacted you," Demri said, scrolling through files. "They must have had more specific instructions than just 'cause chaos in low-income neighborhoods.' What was the actual goal?"
Thornton hesitated, then seemed to deflate entirely. "The building. The community center. There's something beneath it."
Demri went very still. "Explain."
"They showed me... maps. Old maps, from before the city existed. There are tunnels under that neighborhood—ancient ones, predating human settlement in the area. And at the center of the tunnel network, directly beneath where the community center now stands, there's a chamber."
"What kind of chamber?"
"They called it a 'convergence point.' A place where the barriers between realms are naturally thin. They wanted the building demolished, the ground excavated, the chamber accessed." Thornton's voice dropped to a whisper. "They said it was essential to 'the great restructuring.'"
*Well,* the curse said into the following silence. *That's not ominous at all.*
"Why didn't you mention this earlier?" Kael demanded.
"You didn't ask! And frankly, I thought you'd kill me once you had what you needed!"
"The night is young," Kael replied darkly.
"No killing," Demri said firmly. "We need him alive to testify once this evidence becomes public." He turned to face Thornton directly. "You're going to voluntarily surrender yourself to authorities tomorrow morning. You're going to provide full cooperation with all investigations. And you're going to loudly and publicly renounce any association with the mysterious 'investors' who guided your criminal activities."
"They'll kill me."
"They'll try. But you'll be in federal custody by then, surrounded by very human authorities in very human facilities—places where celestial agents have difficulty operating openly. You'll be safer in prison than you would be free."
"That's not exactly reassuring."
"It's the truth. I've found that uncomfortable truth is more useful than comfortable lies, even when both parties would prefer otherwise." Demri stood, stretching muscles that didn't really need stretching but appreciated the motion anyway. "We're done here. Kael, prepare for extraction. Mr. Thornton—I suggest you get your affairs in order. Tomorrow, your life changes dramatically."
"And if I refuse? If I warn them, try to run?"
Demri smiled, and let the shadows in the room deepen just enough to be threatening. "Then the uncomfortable truth becomes 'you died mysteriously and your body was never found.' I'm trying to be better than I was, Mr. Thornton, but I'm still a monster at heart. Don't test the limits of my newly developed conscience."
He stepped into the shadows Kael had opened, leaving Derek Thornton alone with his dying alarms and the wreckage of everything he'd believed in.
*That was almost heroic,* the curse observed as reality folded around them. *In a deeply threatening, morally ambiguous way.*
"Progress," Demri replied. "We make it where we can."
---
They reconvened at Nene Hazal's shop at midnight, the entire coalition gathered around the old woman's reading table. The evidence from Thornton's files was spread across the surface, sorted into categories of corruption.
"This is extensive," Helena said, paging through documents with scholarly fascination. "The web of shell companies alone would take investigators months to unravel. And these notes about his supernatural contacts—they're practically a confession."
"The question is how to release it," Aylin said. "If we just dump it online, his lawyers will claim it was hacked, obtained illegally—"
"It was obtained illegally," Jade pointed out. "Very, very illegally."
"Supernaturally obtained," Demri corrected. "I'm not sure human laws have explicit prohibitions against using shadow magic to access private files."
"That's a technicality I don't think will hold up in court."
"It won't need to. The court of public opinion works on different rules." Demri pulled out his phone—a device he'd finally learned to use with something approaching competence. "I've been in contact with a journalist. Someone who specializes in investigating exactly this kind of high-level corruption."
Everyone stared at him.
"What? You don't think supernatural beings can have media contacts?"
"I'm more surprised you know how to work a smartphone," Kael admitted.
"Aylin taught me. The trick is not to let the curse get frustrated and accidentally fry the circuits." Demri scrolled through his contacts. "Marcus Webb, investigative reporter for the Tribune. We met last month when he was researching stories about unusual activity in Millbrook. I may have saved him from an encounter with a minor shadow-creature in exchange for his contact information."
*I remember that creature,* the curse said fondly. *Very chewy.*
"I try not to think about what you do when I'm not paying attention."
"Marcus is... colorful," Helena said carefully. "But his reputation for breaking corruption stories is impeccable. If he publishes this—"
"If he publishes this, it becomes legitimate news. The evidence speaks for itself. How it was obtained becomes less important than what it reveals." Demri pocketed the phone. "I'm meeting him tomorrow to hand over the files. Once the story breaks, Thornton's empire crumbles, the neighborhood is saved from development pressure, and we've demonstrated to the Covenant that we're capable of surgical strikes rather than indiscriminate destruction."
"What about the tunnel network?" Nene Hazal spoke for the first time, her ancient eyes troubled. "The convergence point beneath the community center. If Azarion's forces know about it—"
"They do know about it. That's why they wanted the building demolished." Demri's expression darkened. "We need to explore those tunnels. Find out what's down there that's so important to them."
"That sounds dangerous."
"Everything is dangerous now. The question is which dangers we choose to face and which we leave for others." He looked around the table at his strange coalition of allies—the traumatized scholar, the pragmatic social worker, the shadow-kin assassin, the ancient mystic, and the mortal woman who somehow looked at him with love despite everything. "We've made progress. Real progress. But the larger threat remains—Azarion is still out there, still planning something catastrophic, and we still don't know his timeline."
"Actually," Helena said, pulling a particular document from her pile, "I might have some insight on that."
Everyone's attention snapped to her.
"I've been cross-referencing historical accounts of the primordial fragments with astronomical data. Every major event involving the fragments—their discovery, their use, their binding—coincides with specific celestial alignments." She pointed to a diagram covered in calculations. "There's an alignment coming. Two weeks from now. The kind of convergence that happens once every several thousand years."
"And you think Azarion is planning something for that date?"
"I think he'd be foolish not to. The alignment creates optimal conditions for large-scale reality manipulation. If he's planning to 'restructure' existence, that would be the perfect time."
Two weeks. Fourteen days to prepare for a confrontation that would determine the fate of reality itself.
*No pressure,* the curse observed dryly.
"Then we have a timeline," Demri said, surprising himself with how steady his voice remained. "Two weeks to gather allies, explore those tunnels, discover what Azarion's actually planning, and find a way to stop him."
"When you put it like that," Jade said weakly, "it sounds almost manageable."
"That's the spirit."
*I feel I should mention,* the curse interjected, *that I have no idea how to stop someone from restructuring reality. That's somewhat above my pay grade.*
"We'll figure it out. We don't have a choice."
Aylin reached across the table to take his hand. "Together."
"Together," he agreed, and despite the impossible odds, despite the cosmic stakes, despite the primordial chaos lurking in his soul, he found himself believing it might actually be true.
---
The night wasn't over. While the others dispersed to rest and prepare, Demri and Aylin walked through the empty streets of Millbrook, enjoying a rare moment of peace.
"You know," Aylin said as they passed the darkened community center, "when I first met you, I thought you were just another troubled soul wandering into our orbit. We get a lot of those—people looking for help, community, connection."
"I was looking for somewhere to hide from my own darkness."
"And instead you found a neighborhood to save and a cosmic conspiracy to unravel." She laughed softly. "Life never goes according to plan."
"Is that a complaint?"
"An observation." She stopped walking, turning to face him in the glow of a streetlight. "I should be terrified. Everything I've learned in the past few weeks—shadow realms, celestial politics, primordial chaos, the possible end of existence—it should have sent me running for the hills. Instead, I feel..."
"What?"
"Alive." Her smile was complicated, mixing joy and fear and wonder. "More alive than I've felt in years. Like I finally found something that matters. Someone who matters."
Demri reached out to cup her face in his hands, marveling at her warmth, her courage, her impossible capacity to see beauty even in broken things. "I spent centuries believing I was beyond redemption. That the curse had consumed everything worthwhile about me. And then I met you, and you looked at me like—"
"Like you were worth saving?"
"Like I was already saved. Like the redemption I'd been searching for wasn't some distant goal but something I was experiencing moment by moment, just by trying to be better."
*This is very touching,* the curse interrupted, *but I feel compelled to point out that you're standing directly beneath a streetlight, which is basically a supernatural spotlight announcing 'target here' to anyone watching.*
Demri sighed. "Romantic moments are difficult with an eldritch passenger offering tactical commentary."
"Does the curse have opinions on our relationship?"
"It finds our interactions 'sickeningly romantic' but has developed a begrudging respect for your ability to threaten it."
Aylin laughed. "Tell it I said thank you. And that if it ever lets anything bad happen to you, I meant what I said about making its existence unpleasant."
*Noted,* the curse said with something like nervousness. *I continue to find her disturbingly formidable.*
"It remains appropriately intimidated."
They resumed walking, hand in hand, through streets that should have felt dangerous but somehow felt like home. The community center rose beside them—solid, stubborn, full of history and hope and apparently built over a convergence point between realms.
"When this is over," Aylin said quietly, "what do you want?"
"Peace. Simplicity. A life where the biggest crisis is deciding what to cook for dinner." Demri squeezed her hand. "And you. Always you."
"That's convenient. Because I was planning to keep you regardless of what the cosmic politics decided."
"How determined of you."
"I'm a social worker. We're trained to deal with difficult cases." Her grin was bright in the darkness. "You're just my most challenging client."
"I think I've evolved beyond 'client' at this point."
"Hmm, true. Partner? Co-conspirator? Supernatural significant other?"
"I'll answer to any of them, as long as you're the one using them."
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the night quiet around them. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. A car passed on a parallel street, its headlights briefly illuminating an alley before moving on. The world felt almost normal, almost peaceful.
*Enemies approaching,* the curse announced suddenly. *Two o'clock, moving fast. Not shadow-kin—something else.*
Demri's entire posture changed, shadows rising around him like an instinctive shield. Aylin, sensing the shift, gripped her blessed poker—she'd taken to carrying it everywhere.
Two figures emerged from an alley ahead, moving with supernatural grace. For a moment, Demri tensed for combat—and then he recognized them.
"Seraphiel," he said, relaxing slightly. "And... I don't believe we've met."
The second celestial was smaller than Seraphiel, more compact, with features that seemed designed for speed rather than power. Their light had a bluish tinge, suggesting an affinity for truth and clarity.
"This is Veritas," Seraphiel said quickly. "They serve as a messenger between the opposition factions. We have news."
"News that required a midnight ambush?"
"News that couldn't wait." Veritas's voice was high and clear, like crystal chimes. "Azarion has accelerated his timeline. The alignment Helena predicted—it's not in two weeks. He's found a way to artificially create the necessary conditions. The restructuring begins in five days."
The words hit Demri like a physical blow. "Five days?"
"Less, actually. The preliminary rituals begin in three days. By the time of the false alignment, his power will be at its peak." Veritas's expression was grim. "The opposition is mobilizing, but we're scattered, disorganized. Azarion has spent centuries preparing for this. We have... days."
Aylin's grip on Demri's hand had tightened to the point of pain. "Can we stop him?"
"Honestly? We don't know." Seraphiel's golden eyes were troubled. "But we know we have to try. And we know that Demri—that the fragment he carries—is key to any chance of success."
"Because the fragment can counter Azarion's power?"
"Because the fragment is the only thing in existence that's equal to what Azarion wields." Seraphiel stepped closer, his voice dropping. "The other fragments he's acquired—they're powerful, but they're tools, objects he can direct without resistance. Yours is different. Yours has consciousness, will, the ability to choose. That makes it the wild card in his otherwise perfect plan."
*I'm a wild card,* the curse said, and for once its voice carried no sarcasm. *I suppose that's true. I could choose to side with Azarion if I wanted. He's offered, you know. Through intermediaries. Power, purpose, a place in the new order.*
"You never mentioned that," Demri said silently.
*It wasn't relevant until now. I rejected the offers. His vision is... boring. Perfect order lacks the interesting complexities of existence as it is.*
"So you're staying with me because you find chaos entertaining?"
*I'm staying because partnership with you offers more interesting possibilities than servitude to him. Is that selfish? Probably. But I never claimed to be altruistic.*
Demri found himself smiling despite the desperate situation. "I'll take enlightened self-interest. It's more reliable than forced loyalty anyway."
"We need to accelerate everything," he said aloud. "The evidence against Thornton—it needs to be released immediately, not tomorrow. The tunnel exploration—tonight, if possible. And we need to gather every ally we can, from every realm, and coordinate a response to something that's supposed to be three days away."
"That's a lot to accomplish in a very short time," Aylin observed.
"Then we'd better stop wasting darkness." Demri turned to Seraphiel. "Get word to the opposition. Everyone needs to converge on Millbrook—this is where the convergence point is, this is where Azarion will make his move. If we're going to face him, we face him here."
Seraphiel nodded sharply. "And the mortals? Your human allies?"
"They're part of this too. They've earned the right to stand with us, whatever comes." Demri looked at Aylin, at the determination burning in her eyes. "Besides, I've learned something important about humans. They have a way of accomplishing impossible things when everything they love is on the line."
"Flattery will get you everywhere," Aylin said. "But right now, it's getting you back to the community center. If there are tunnels under that building with a convergence point at the center, we need to know what we're dealing with before Azarion's forces come knocking."
Demri nodded. "Seraphiel, Veritas—spread the word. Rally everyone you can. We make our stand in three days, and we're going to need every ally we can get."
The celestials dissolved into light, their message delivered.
And Demri, Aylin, and the primordial chaos that lived between them set off to explore the darkness beneath their feet.
---