Chapter 12:

Chapter 10: The Son of Darkness

The Zodiac Covenant- Vol.1

The moment Richard’s eye flared red, the world fell away.

He awoke in darkness.

Surrounded by an ancient, hungry void—thick and echoing with a silence that felt deeper than death. He floated there, suspended in nothingness.

Then came a deep, layered and untraceable voice-it was as though thousands whispered in unison behind a veil unknown to man.

“Son of Darkness…”

Richard's breath caught in his throat. His body—or whatever form he now existed in—trembled, yet remained perfectly still.

“You have returned to the cradle of your birth. The realm from which all things begin and to which all things.”

A single pulse of dim blue light flickered in the distance, revealing strange geometric patterns in the darkness—spirals, sigil, constellations folding into themselves.

Richard opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was swallowed before it could form. The narrator continued.

“Before time as you know it began, there was only this: the Spiritual Realm. A sea of light and warmth. Spirits vast and unshaped drifted through it like stars across a boundless sky. Pure, radiant, infinite.”

A vision opened before him. Richard saw immense beings of light soaring freely, their forms incomprehensible—wings made of harmonies, eyes made of starlight, laughter that formed rivers of galaxies. It was beautiful.

“But then, one spirit changed. One… evolved. It saw itself as separate. Distinct. Above.”

The vision cracked.

From the sea of light emerged a figure darker than all the rest—burning not with warmth but with fire. It had no face, only a crown of shifting flame.

Rinka.

“It named itself. It claimed superiority. And it sought followers.”

Richard watched Rinka gather spirits near the central light. He shone, yes, but unnaturally—his glow was selfish, hungry. This made the others turned from him.

“Rejected, Rinka waged war. A war that scarred eternity. Until only he remained… with his guilt and pride.”

Richard saw the sea of spirits collapsed, consumed. Silence returned to the realm. Then… from Rinka’s hands, a new spark:

“To hide his shame, Rinka tore a hole in the spiritual realm and created another plane. The Physical Realm. Galaxies, stars, planets. Matter. Time. Life.”

Richard floated through the vision. Earth formed. Humanity bloomed. Civilizations rose and fell.

“And to protect the last sanctuary—the place where the remnants of rebellion might appear—Rinka created twelve Zodiacs. Beings of spiritual essence woven into flesh.”

Table Mountain appeared like a scar in the sky. A sacred convergence point, a wound between dimensions.

Richard blinked. “Why… why are you telling me this?”

The narrator’s voice gentled, but deepened.

“Because you are not one of them. Not one of the Twelve.”

Time slowed.

“You, Richard… are one of the two remnants. A Zodiac not of the earth, but of the original realm. One born of moonlight. A keeper of reflection. The one who must restore balance to Rinka’s corruption.”

Richard stumbled backward—though there was no ground. “I’m just a person. I’m not…”

The voice cut through his thoughts.

“The Sol Zodiac, shines with truth, her role is to illuminate what must be seen. But light alone is not enough. Your role, Lunar Zodiac… is to reflect what has been lost. To correct what has gone wrong.”

The void began to pulse—cold and blue and rhythmic, like a heartbeat.

“You were born in darkness so you could walk beside it and not be consumed. The world will burn from false light. You must balance it.”

Richard clutched his head. “I can’t… I don’t understand.”

He was shaking now—memories of his old life bleeding into the truth of who he really was. His reflection had always looked unfamiliar to him. The silence he carried as a child. The way mirrors sometimes cracked when he stared too long.

“You do not need to understand now,” the voice whispered, receding like the tide. “You only need to remember.”

And just like that—

He fell.

When the Sky Ripped Open

While Richard floated in the void of the spiritual realm—his soul trembling from the cosmic truth laid bare before him—the physical realm cracked under the weight of revelation.

All over the world, chaos bloomed.

News stations interrupted regular programming.

"…We repeat, unidentified entities have been spotted across several major cities…"

"…Tear-like distortions have opened in the sky, resembling what experts are calling ‘dimensional fractures’..."

"…Governments urge civilians to stay indoors and avoid major city centres—"

From Tokyo to Lagos, São Paulo to Johannesburg, the sky wasn’t just clouded—it was torn. Swirling ripples of colour, flashes of light, and monstrous figures that defied physics leaked into the atmosphere. Creatures emerged—some spectral and translucent, others dense like stone and flame, drawn to spiritual hotspots.

From Tokyo to Lagos, São Paulo to Johannesburg, the sky wasn’t just clouded—it was torn.

On the N1 outside Cape Town, cars stood abandoned mid-lane, their doors still open. A mother dragged her crying son into a spaza shop while the sky rippled like boiling glass.

Ordinary lives were over—caught in a myth they had no words to describe or process.

Cape Town—Table Mountain in particular—was the nexus. Its summit pulsed with energy like a beacon, both divine and cursed.

In a secure virtual meeting room deep beneath the Earth's surface, the World Emergency Command Council had convened. Twelve major world powers had logged in. Defence ministers, heads of state, and science advisors—all present.

At the head of the feed, Commander Xulu, seated in a darkened control room beneath Worcester, appeared calm but stern.

The South African crest gleamed faintly behind him, dwarfed by the blazing digital map of global incursions. Red dots blinked faster by the second.

He began:

"This is not a localized incident. It's global. And it was triggered by the Solar Eclipse."

Some scoffed. Others leaned in.

"We have reason to believe that what you're witnessing are spiritual ruptures—tears between realms. Until now, the spiritual and physical worlds were parallel, layered, hidden. But something has weakened the veil."

A voice cut through—President Yamashita from Japan:

"Are you saying this was man-made? Or natural?"

"Neither," Xulu replied. "It was preordained."

Silence.

Xulu pulled up an image—grainy footage of Jordan and Richard, suspended mid-air above Table Mountain, surrounded by rings of energy.

"They are not just human. They are what we believe to be remnants of the original Zodiac Order."

"Zodiacs?" the Russian Defence Minister asked, half-mocking.

"Zodiacs, as in primordial regulators of spiritual balance. My agents at AZO—have confirmed two of them have awakened. But this awakening has caused imbalance. Creatures once sealed in the spirit realm are bleeding through."

A U.S. general leaned forward.

"And the Order? The ones you warned us about last year—do they have something to do with this?"

Xulu nodded grimly.

"Yes. They’ve moved. And if our intelligence is right, they have two of the Twelve under their control already."

"How do we fight something like this?” the British Prime Minister asked.

"You don’t," Xulu replied. "You trust the ten we've trained—the AZO. And you pray the ones who awakened… choose our side."

When the Sky Ripped Open

The Spiritual Realm

Richard stood still.

His feet didn’t touch the ground—there was no ground—only cascading strands of glowing threads, like constellations unravelling in slow motion. The afterimage of the truth still rang through his bones like an echo that refused to quiet.

He had been chosen.

Not because he was strong.

Not because he was worthy.

But because the realm was dying.

Or worse—starving.

And he was part of the offering.

Richard stumbled backward—though there was no ground. “I’m just a person. I’m not…”

His chest tightened. He thought of exams piling up, of Cape Town’s crowded taxis, of Jordan’s laugh on the varsity bench.

That was all he ever wanted—just a normal life. Not this. Not a destiny written before he was even born.

His voice didn’t carry far. It felt swallowed by the strange silence around him, like even the space had ears.

He clenched his fists, feeling the heavy press of his own heartbeat. The Zodiac Order, the eclipse, the rift... My body... it’s still in the physical world, isn’t it?

But something deeper clawed at him: Was he even human anymore?

A single whisper curved around his form, like a breeze that didn’t come from any wind:

“What do you choose, Richard?”

He turned—but no one.

His reflection wavered in the shifting threads beneath him. His spiritual form shimmered. He barely recognized the figure staring back. His eyes, once brown, now glowed crimson red. His veins pulsed with a soft gold light.

His soul had changed.

Elsewhere — Still within the Spiritual Realm

Jordan stood like a flame suspended mid-air, her body aglow in hues of sunrise and firelight. Her very presence fought against the unnatural stillness of this realm. Her illumination—pure and warm—pushed back the shadows, revealing pieces of a world that had been forgotten.

She remembered the blast.

She remembered her mother—
flying—
screaming—
disappearing beneath smoke and roof-beams. She remembered the blast.

The choking sting of smoke in her lungs.

The faint smell of her mom’s rose perfume swallowed by burning timber.

Cairo’s crayons scattered across the tiles, melting at the edges.

The heat had come from her.

And now, alone in a place where time and form unravelled, Jordan’s breath hitched.

“Did I kill her…?”

Her voice was soft. Afraid. The realm didn’t answer—but something else did.

A voice.

Distant, gentle & familiar.

Like an old lullaby on a broken radio.

“You were always meant to wake up, child.”

She froze.

Her body pulsed brighter, her aura reaching out across the void instinctively. She stepped forward, barefoot across light, following the voice. With each step, her radiance grew—and so did the truth of the realm.

It was not cold, nor dead.

Not entirely.

Her light carved through illusions like fire through parchment, revealing the spiritual plane’s true form.

Life.

Colour.

Roots from unseen trees reached into what was no sky at all, but a glowing sea of stars. Trees—towering, ancient, red as fresh blood—rose up around her, their leaves rustling with memories.

And then—she wasn’t alone.

A few steps ahead, backlit by the soft golden light of a memory unravelling—stood Richard.

His eyes widened.

So did hers.

Neither spoke, but the atmosphere shifted. Both of their lights overlapped, swirling into an aurora of pale gold, scarlet, and white.

They were not supposed to meet here.

Dual awakenings were never meant to overlap—the realm had always kept chosen souls apart.

Something was bending the rules. Or breaking them.

But the realm had brought them together.

And behind them, something older than logic stirred.

Jordan turned her head, her voice trembling:

“Richard… do you see it too?”