Chapter 2- Shadows Beneath the Eclipse

Two Months Later

The United Nations Security Council Chamber was unusually full—rows of translators, aides, and press officers lined the walls, their eyes fixed on the central projection screen.

 The room buzzed with a low hum of headphones, quiet translations, and the restrained tension of people who’d rather not believe what they were hearing.

At the far end of the curved table stood Given Xulu.

He adjusted his collar once, calm and composed. At forty-four, he was the youngest Head Director in the African Astronomical Zenith Organization’s branch history—and perhaps its most respected. His reputation wasn’t built on charisma or fear, but precision. When he spoke, the world listened.

“We are seven months away from a total eclipse,”

 Given began, tapping the tablet before him. A simulation flickered to life—an eerie golden ring sweeping slowly across the Earth’s surface like a closing eye. 

“It will span multiple continents. From the African Confederation to Neo Asia, from the Pacific Islands to South America. This pattern has not occurred in our lifetime.”

He paused. Then: “The last time a convergence of this scale occurred was in 1999. We called it the Cataclysm.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

“That year, 100,000 lives were lost. Reality cracked open. Spiritual Essence—what we once dismissed as myth—was exposed as a scientific force. Monsters appeared. Some cities never recovered. Others adapted. And from the ashes, the AZO was formed to maintain global stability. We succeeded—mostly.”

He tapped again. A new display appeared—maps showing spikes in spiritual energy. Red clusters glowed along fault lines in Southeast Asia, South America, and parts of Northern Europe.

“These are essence surges. Over the past six years, we’ve seen exponential increases in spiritual activity across the globe. It is no longer isolated. Something is building.”

A diplomat from Brazil raised her hand. “Are you saying this eclipse will trigger another Cataclysm?”

Given didn’t answer immediately. He stepped forward, his voice firm:

“I’m saying we don’t know what it will trigger. But we’ve seen this before. After 1999, that’s when no one could deny it anymore. But we’ll have to be ready.”

A French representative leaned forward. “And what of the recent anomalies? The mass hysteria in Johannesburg, the explosion in Krakow, the spirit flares in Malaysia—are they connected?”

“We believe so,” Given said. “The post-pandemic world has been shifting. Quietly. Unpredictably. COVID-19 was not just a global health crisis—it may have been the first warning sign. Something is destabilizing. Spirit, mind, and matter are overlapping in ways our science cannot yet predict.”

He tapped once more.

A black-and-red symbol appeared on the screen—a fractured ouroboros, its tail split and bleeding.

“The Order,” Given said simply.

Now the tension turned to dread.

“This rogue faction has resurfaced. They’ve claimed responsibility for several recent attacks. One of our research labs in Malaysia was destroyed. Key operatives have gone missing. Two years ago, they orchestrated a mass panic that nearly crashed global markets. They also assassinated the Chinese president two months ago, destabilizing Neo-Asia”

The U.S. diplomat asked, “What are their objectives?”

“We don’t know yet. What we do know is that they thrive in uncertainty. They worship instability. And they’ve grown bolder since the surges began.”

“And what are you asking of us, Director Xulu?” asked the UN Secretary-General.

“Support. Access. Trust.”

He met the eyes of every leader in the room.

“The AZO will monitor the eclipse. We will track the surges. And we will respond to the Order. But make no mistake—something is coming. We may not be ready. But we will not be blindsided again.”

 Somewhere beneath Geneva

The hallway was sterile, lit by pulses of soft violet that hummed from the walls like a living artery. Deep within the AZO’s European branch, behind seven layers of clearance, The 10 convened.

John Miloslav, Director of The 10, exhaled smoke from a slim cigarette and leaned against his reinforced desk. He wasn’t supposed to smoke in here, but no one told Miloslav what to do. Not even Given. The door opened with a whisper. She stepped in, silent as always.

Ava Sefina. Rank 01. Age: 25. Origin: Albania. Status: Active.

Her coat was unzipped just enough to reveal the sealed bandage beneath her collarbone. A reminder of Malaysia.

“You’re late,” Miloslav said, not bothering to look up.

“I’m alive,” Ava answered.

He glanced at her. That was enough.

“Well?”

Ava activated her holo-pad. A 3D projection displayed a forested zone—burnt trees, craters, blackened stone. 

“The Order has developed essence-reactive tech. Our Malaysian base was compromised before we could destroy all the data.”

“Tech?”

“It's like nothing we’ve seen before. Spiritual Essence is usually connected to the soul— it’s channelled through training, meditation, trauma. They’ve bypassed all of it. They’ve found a way to store and weaponize spiritual energy.”

Miloslav swore.

Ava continued, her tone flat. “We engaged briefly. Two members of The 10 died. I had to use Probability Fold just to survive.”

That made Miloslav sit up.

“You warped the outcome?”

“Yes. Only for 14 seconds. Any longer and I would’ve…. But their weapons… it’s not humane anymore. Not entirely.”

She didn’t add how she saw a child’s face through one of the masks. She didn’t say how they moved like they had no soul left to corrupt.

Miloslav folded his hands. “Still dreaming?”

Ava paused. Her voice, quieter: “Yes.” “About your sister?”

“Yes.”

“…And Aries?”

Her silence confirmed it.

Miloslav didn’t press. He lit another cigarette and walked to the wall, gazing at the digital readout. Surge markers were still blank.

“Do you still think she’s out there?” he asked, quietly.

“I don’t think,” Ava said. “I know.” Miloslav nodded once.

“Good. Let that rage carry you a little longer. But don’t forget… belief is not the same as clarity.”

She met his eyes. “I don’t believe in anything anymore.”

He gave a grim smile. “Then maybe you’re finally ready.”

The lights in the recovery ward were dimmed to a warm gold, flickering ever so slightly—faux sunlight to simulate comfort. But even that couldn’t soften the antiseptic sharpness in the air, or the hush that hung over the place like a shroud.

Ava moved quietly through the sterile corridor, boot steps muffled on polished tile. Outside Room B-7, she paused. A biometric scanner blinked red at the corner of the frame. She pressed her palm to it without hesitation. The door hissed, then slid open with a low sigh.

Inside, machines pulsed and beeped softly. Keith lay reclined in an upright position, shirtless beneath a white sheet, his torso wrapped in layers of bandages and synthetic muscle tape. A stark violet scar stretched over his sternum, still raw—faintly glowing under the fluorescents.

 His soul threads—once radiant—now flickered faintly like fading embers around him.

But he smiled when he saw her.

“Ava,” he rasped, voice dry. “Didn’t think they’d let you in with the halo still on.”

She closed the door behind her. “I don’t wear halos, Keith. Just targets.”

“Same difference,” he muttered, shifting with a wince. 

“You look worse than I feel.”

“You always say that.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it.”

Ava crossed to the side of the bed, letting silence settle between them. Outside the windows, the simulated skyline flickered—another glitch in the base's failing systems. The war had drained more than just resources.

She reached out and brushed a bit of dust off the IV monitor. “Miloslav said you’ll be discharged in a week.”

“That optimistic bastard,” Keith muttered, exhaling through his teeth. “Malaysia wasn’t a mission. It was a trap.”

“I know.” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “They’re not just reactive anymore. They’re building toward something.”

Keith looked at her. “You think it’s Aries?”

She hesitated. “Maybe.”

“You saw him again, didn’t you?”

Ava nodded, jaw tightening.

Keith leaned back slowly, letting the machines whir around him. “I thought he was mere myth.”

“We both did.”

“Beings like him exist.” Her hands clenched at her sides. “They’re things we could never fathom.”

Keith studied her for a long moment.

 “You never told the others what you told me.”

“No.” Her voice dropped. “I can’t.”

“Not even Miloslav?”

A shake of the head. “He’d bury me in a black site.”

Keith chuckled, then coughed. “And they call me reckless.”

“They’re not ready to hear it,” she said. “Aries is one of them. I think the Order is using them to tear into dimensions we’re not meant to touch.”

“That sounds... biblical.”

“It feels biblical.” Her eyes met his. “They want to make gods out of monsters. And I think they already have.”

Keith exhaled deeply, gaze flicking to the ceiling. “So where does that put you?” Ava didn’t answer right away.

She crossed to the far wall and looked out the window. The simulated stars were beginning their programmed ascent—digital pinpricks scattered across a false atmosphere. But Ava had seen real stars once. Before everything. Before her power had a name.

“Did they tell you what they labelled me?” she asked quietly.

Keith raised a brow. “No.”

“SS-level threat,” she said. “If I lose control… I could open a Blackhole.”

He stared at her. “Ava—”

“I’m not afraid of dying, Keith,” she said, still watching the stars. “I’m afraid of my own abilities. Of tearing a hole into somewhere we can’t come back from.” He let the silence linger, digesting the weight of that.

“I still remember the first time you used your power,” he said gently. “You were thirteen. You cried for an hour afterward.”

“I cried because the lake disappeared,” she said. “And I didn’t know where it went.”

“You’re still that girl,” he said. “You just don’t believe it anymore.”

Ava turned back to him, eyes darker now. “Don’t make me into something good, Keith. You’ll only disappoint yourself.”

He gave a tired smile. “Still dramatic as hell.”

She looked down. “And you’re still the only one I trust.” A pause. Then, quieter: “But, you shouldn’t trust me.”

Keith’s hand twitched beside the sheets. “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be alive. That cannon—whatever the hell it was—it didn’t just injure me. It absorbed my essence.”

“I know.”

“It drained my essence and fed it into something else. That’s not war anymore, Ava. It’s an abomination.”

Her shoulders stiffened.

“They’re preparing something for the eclipse,” she whispered. “I can feel it. Something’s waking.”

Keith nodded faintly. “Then promise me one thing.” “I can’t.”

He sighed. “Let me finish.”

She waited.

“When the time comes—when you stand in front of Aries again—don’t let it be about revenge.”

Her lip trembled, just slightly. “Why not?” “Because he already took too much of you,” Keith said. “Don’t let him take what’s left.”

Ava blinked once, as if that stung more than she expected.

She turned to go, but paused at the door.

“Do you think she’s still alive?” he asked.

“My sister?”

He nodded.

“I don’t know,” she said, voice barely audible. “But I’ll find out. I have to.”

Then, without looking back, she stepped through the door and let it seal her into the cold white hallway again.