Chapter Two – System Initialization
"Serena?"
Sam's voice came out low, uncertain. He reached for her shoulder and gave it a gentle shake.
No response.
Her body trembled as she stared at the static-filled television. The pale light washed over her face, draining it of color, turning her into something fragile and distant.
"Serena," he tried again, firmer this time. "What happened? Talk to me."
Slowly, her lips parted. Her hand rose, unsteady, and pointed toward the flickering screen.
"T-that… I just saw…"
The words caught in her throat.
The terror etched across her face rooted Sam to the spot. His chest tightened, instinct screaming that whatever she'd seen, something was very wrong.
When she finally spoke again, her voice cracked.
"I-it came out… and ripped the woman in two. T-there was blood everywhere…"
The color drained from Sam's face.
His earlier unease from the call surged back like a flood, crashing through his chest until his pulse thundered in his ears.
"Tell me," he said, voice shaking despite his effort to stay calm. "What came out?"
Serena didn't answer. Her eyes remained locked on the screen, wide and glassy, as if she expected the thing to crawl straight through it.
He shook her more firmly now. "Serena!"
That did it.
She turned to him at last.
In her brown eyes—usually warm, playful, alive—there was nothing but dread. When she spoke, it was barely above a whisper.
"A demon."
Sam blinked. "A… demon?"
She nodded quickly, almost desperately, as if confirming it to herself.
Outside, two distant explosions rolled through the night—Booming echoes that seemed to confirm her words.
Sam's mind spun.
Demons? The word sounded absurd—something ripped straight out of fiction. But nothing about the last few minutes felt normal anymore. And if Serena's reaction was any indication… it clearly wasn't a joke.
"It was huge," she continued, forcing the words out. "Its skin was red. It had two horns. It came out of the rift and grabbed the reporter—it was so fast—and then…" Her voice trembled violently. "It tore her in two. Blood went everywhere."
Sam felt sick imagining the scenes she painted.
Still, he forced himself to breathe, aware of the fact that standing still wouldn't save them.
He turned sharply and headed for the kitchen.
Serena watched him with wide eyes as he grabbed the first thing within reach—a steel kitchen knife. The weight of it grounded him, even if just barely.
He hesitated, then grabbed two more. One of which was a heavy meat cleaver.
When he returned, Serena had calmed slightly, though her hands still shook.
"Here," Sam said, placing one of the knives into her hands.
She stared at it, confusion flickering across her face. "Sam…?"
"I don't think it's safe outside," he said quietly. He said quietly, locking the doors and drawing the curtains tight. "So for now, we stay inside."
He checked the windows again and even went to the rooms above—every instinct on edge. The air felt wrong, thick with a strange charge.
Serena broke the silence. "What about Mother… and Father?"
Sam's grip tightened around his knife.
The image of his mother's frantic call flashed in his mind—the panic in her tone, the gunfire, that roar.
"I don't know," he admitted, keeping his tone steady. "But right now, we must take care of ourselves and hope they are okay."
Her lips trembled. "What if they're not?"
"They'll be fine," he said, the firmness in his tone at odds with the flicker of fear in his eyes.
"But—"
"No buts." He met her eyes. "They'll be fine." He exhaled slowly, gaze dropping for a brief moment. Then, barely audible, he whispered to himself, 'They have to be.'
The house fell into a tense silence. Every tick of the clock felt louder than it should.
Then came the tremor.
It started deep beneath the earth—a low growl that shook the floorboards. Sam grabbed Serena and pulled her down, shielding her as dust drifted from the ceiling.
Another tremor.
Stronger.
The furniture rattled violently.
A third.
Then a fourth.
By the fifth, picture frames crashed to the ground. A thin crack split the wall in jagged fractures.
The house groaned.
Sam wrapped himself around Serena, pressing her head against his chest. His heartbeat thundered, steady and fierce, a shield against the chaos.
"Hold on," he muttered.
The sixth tremor slammed through the ground.
The seventh followed immediately after.
By the eighth, Sam was sure the house wouldn't survive another. But it did. Barely.
At the tenth, the earth stilled. The vibration faded, leaving behind a hollow silence that was somehow worse than the noise before.
Sam lifted his head, straining to listen. Even the wind seemed to have stopped.
The world had gone quiet.
Too quiet.
Then, from somewhere distant—but impossibly clear—came a sound.
DING!!!
A single, sharp chime.
It wasn't mechanical, nor unnatural. It resonated in the air like something alive.
Sam's pulse spiked.
Serena lifted her head slowly. "What… was that?"
Sam didn't answer.
Because even as the echo faded, a faint shimmer of light passed through the room—like invisible dust catching sunlight.
And somewhere deep inside him, he felt it.
Whatever that sound was…
Something fundamental had just changed.