Chapter 12: A Celestial Zodiac Awakens

The alarms had already been blaring for ten minutes when Luna and Kevin stepped out of the University’s Library.

Above, the sky was no longer blue. It was streaked with black tears and celestial gold — as if the heavens had been butchered open.

The eclipse was completed. The Celestial Convergence was now fully underway.

Kevin checked his phone again. “AZO just issued a Level Omega threat. Underground safe-houses—now.”

Luna nodded, hugging a textbook to her chest. The air felt… dense. Like the sound itself had grown heavy.

They sprinted, joining the flood of civilians rushing through the city's core. Sirens, helicopters, & screaming children. Security agents shouting commands.

But the world came to a halt when the shadow fell.

Kevin grabbed Luna’s arm. “...What is that?”

Over the Atlantic, a tide rose — not like any natural wave.

It loomed at least 25 meters high, spanning nearly two kilometres in width. It hovered in the air as if held up by invisible hands. And then, it dropped.

People screamed.

Kevin pulled Luna close, shielding her body with his own.

But Luna didn’t move.
A distant memory flickered — one she couldn’t place.

She was small again. A little girl, her hand wrapped in the warmth of a woman’s fingers.

The woman’s face was blurred, lost to light, but her voice was gentle, steady.

“Look, Luna,” she said, pointing toward the frozen lake.

The ice shimmered. Cracks speared outward, soft at first, then bursting wide as the frost melted into rippling water.

Luna blinked. Her tiny hand mimicked the gesture — and the lake came alive.

She shut her eyes and stretched out both hands, trembling.

The moment the wall of water should’ve hit them—

Silence.

When she opened her eyes, the world was frozen in sapphire.

A massive glacial wall towered over the city.
The CBD was blanketed in shimmering ice.
Birds hung mid-flight, trapped in crystal droplets.

Her breath fogged the air.

Kevin turned to her slowly, wide-eyed. “...Luna… what did you do?”

Kevin’s arms were still around her, but now they trembled. He wasn’t shielding her anymore—he was holding on, like if he let go she might vanish with the frost.
“I... I don’t know,” she whispered. Her hands were still glowing, pale frost lacing her fingertips.

 “I didn’t mean to. I just—reacted.”

AZO HQ- Geneva

All screens had gone red.

Miloslav burst into the situation room, coat still half-on. “Talk to me.”

An agent turned. “Sir—we’ve confirmed two Zodiac awakenings near Table Mountain. A third signature just manifested. The Cape Town CBD is frozen. The epicenter is near the library.”

“Three Zodiacs… in one day?”

“It can’t be!.”

Miloslav stared at the display.
Readings of Jordan. Richard.
And now this.

He muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else:
“No one said anything about a third. Not even the ancient texts.”

He turned to his team. “I’m going down there myself. And tell the 10 to stay sharp. Something worse might still be coming.”

Signal Hill- Cape Town

The 10 had regrouped just west of Signal Hill, keeping Table Mountain and the city in full view.

Above them, the sky fractured like glass—reality still adjusting to the Convergence.

Keith dropped to one knee, sweat clinging to his brow.

“Another surge?” Maya asked, steadying him.

He nodded. “It’s different this time. Heavier. It’s like… someone just punched the planet’s core.”

His fingers twitched involuntarily. “My energy control is starting to fracture.”

Maya looked over the horizon. Her eyes sharpened.

“Keith,” she said, voice oddly calm.

“What now?”

She pointed.

Cape Town was freezing.

From their vantage point, it was unmistakable: a glacier blooming across the CBD like a slow explosion. Entire buildings shimmered in ice.

“No way,” Ava whispered. “That’s not from the first two. That’s new.”

A sharp buzz hit their earpieces. Miloslav’s voice cut through.

“Listen closely. A third Zodiac has awakened. Estimated epicenter: central Cape Town. Orders: Keith, Maya, Ava—watch over Jordan and Richard. Keep them from engaging. I’ll handle the third.”

“But sir—” Ava began.

“That’s an order.”
The line cut.

Keith exhaled. “Three Zodiacs… That’s never happened before, right?”

Maya kept watching the city. “Not in our recorded history.”

Ava crossed her arms. “We should’ve expected it. The symbols. The eclipse. The resonance spikes. This isn’t random.”

Just then—
A flicker of blue.

And then—he appeared.

The air shimmered like oil on water, and from within it stepped a lone figure. Cloaked. Silent. Engulfed in soft, ethereal blue flame.

No heat. No sound. No movement from the earth or sky.

He didn’t walk—he slid into existence, as if reality made space for him.

Ava’s eyes widened. “Wait—”
She barely had time to whisper:
“Aries—?”

But then came the light.

An overwhelming surge of blue radiance consumed the field—no force, no impact, no chaos.
Just silence.
Like someone had hit mute on the entire world.

The 10 stood frozen, weapons still at their sides, caught in the light.

A voice—not from the flame, but from somewhere deeper—echoed in Keith’s head:

"You are children, playing with matches. The fire was never yours to wield."

And just like that—
The blue light disappeared.

The figure was gone.
The air felt thin.
And they were left with nothing but silence and frost forming on the edges of their vision.

The Frozen City

Miloslav stepped onto the edge of the city, his boots cracking against the sheet of ice that coated the pavement.
What used to be bustling streets now resembled a frozen museum of terror.

Cars hung mid-motion, their drivers preserved in sudden stillness. Trees bent backward, mid-sway. Shop windows caught frost in floral patterns. Every corner of the CBD was encased in silence.

He took another step. The ice didn’t just cover the city.
It claimed it.

He reached for his earpiece. Static.
His spiritual link felt distant. Disrupted.

Then—
A sound.

Faint.
A voice.
Crying.

He followed it, stepping cautiously past a frozen taxi.
Another sound—gentler—someone comforting the sobbing.
The sound echoed oddly, as if the city itself was unsure whether it should carry it.

He turned a corner and froze.

Two figures. Beneath a thick dome of translucent ice.
Luna and Kevin.

Luna sat on the ground, arms around her knees, trembling. Kevin knelt beside her, whispering something over and over.

Miloslav approached slowly. The ice around them was unusually smooth—unnaturally formed. Not by temperature, but by force.
He reached out, touched it. His fingers recoiled slightly.

Not ice. Not entirely.
It was something… spiritual.

"Did one of them do this?" he asked aloud, unsure who he meant—Jordan? Richard? The Third?

A presence stirred behind him.

He turned.

A man stepped out from the misted frost between two buildings.

Black coat. Silver trim.
White gloves. Balding, grey hair pulled back.
Eyes like stone.

John Smith.
Elite of the Order.
Age: 66.
Status: Unknown.
Power: Classified.

Miloslav didn’t move. “John.”

The older man nodded, voice as calm as falling ash.
“Miloslav. I’d hoped it would be you they’d send.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I’ve died before,” John said with a faint smile. “It didn’t stick.”

Miloslav glanced at Luna and Kevin. “Was this your doing?”

John shook his head. “No. This was the work of a Celestial Zodiac.”

Miloslav stood in shock. “As in one of the twelve?”

John smiling faintly

“You’ve seen it yourself, Commander. The one book we discovered years ago. .”

He walked slowly toward the ice dome. “But they were simply caught in the edge of it. Like ants near a god’s footprint.”

He spread his arms. “Tell me, Commander—how long have you believed this world was real?”

Miloslav didn’t answer.

“Be honest,” John pressed. “Haven’t you felt it? That nothing quite fits? That every victory turns hollow? Every truth gets replaced?”

He gestured to the frozen buildings.

“This isn’t life. This is a mere projection. You’re a general in a dream.”

Miloslav narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t justify genocide.”

John laughed softly. “Genocide? Miloslav, you’re arguing over pixels on a screen. These people…”

He tapped the ice with his cane.
“They were never meant to exist in the first place.”

Miloslav’s hand moved subtly toward the hilt of his blade.

“If none of this is real, why bother with the theatrics? Why the war?”

John’s expression cooled. “Because some of us are trying to wake up the truth. And to do that—”

He raised his hand.
“You have to break the world first.”

 

The air in the frozen CBD was still. A crisp echo lingered over icy rooftops, muffled beneath a shroud of unnatural silence.

Miloslav stood upright, his cloak shifting slightly as he studied the elder figure who stepped forward with casual steps. John Smith looked like a retired professor in a three-piece suit—one hand in his coat pocket, the other brushing frost from his silver beard.

“You’ve aged well,” Miloslav said dryly, one hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed blade. “But your ideology hasn’t.”

John gave a soft laugh. “And yours is still wrapped in the illusion of meaning, Miloslav. The world you protect isn’t real. Never was.”

“Tell that to the people crying beneath this ice.”

“They’re echoes. Fragments. What we do now is cleansing.”

The words were a declaration.

In one blink, Miloslav vanished—and reappeared in front of John with his blade unsheathed, slashing downward in an arc toward John’s chest.

But John had already turned, palm out.

Clack! The air stuttered, like the world had skipped a heartbeat. Colours bled backward, motion reversing.

John’s fingers brushed Miloslav’s shoulder, and in that instant— Colours bled backward, movements reversing- until Miloslav was yanked backward, his body rewinding through the last five steps of movement like a cassette in reverse.

Back in his original stance.

“Tch.” Miloslav narrowed his eyes.

“Your footwork is elegant. But elegance means little when time dances to my rhythm.”

Miloslav exhaled slowly, eyes scanning. His sword now hovered at his side.

Symmetry.

His vision fractured. John’s body split in clean segments: limbs, spine, organs—rendered in his mind like a blueprint. He didn’t aim to cut flesh; he aimed to sever the very balance within.

He dashed again. Zig-zag. A blur.

John ducked—Miloslav’s blade grazed his coat.

John lunged, touched the flat of the blade.

Clack. A pressure pressed against their skulls, as if gravity itself hiccupped. The ground pulsed, reality rewinding into its earlier frame.

The sword reversed out of Miloslav’s hand, spinning backward—embedding itself in a distant tree.

“Annoying trick,” Miloslav muttered, sweat starting to form.

“You’re quick,” John said, flexing his gloved fingers. “But every perfect move you make can be unravelled. That’s the flaw in symmetry—it assumes order. I possess entropy.”

Miloslav narrowed his gaze. “Then let’s break the symmetry.”

He surged forward, this time without his blade. Fist meeting fist. Knee dodging knee. A flurry of close-range martial skill unfolded—no magic, no illusions. Just two men at the peak of spiritual combat. Each strike deliberate, deceptive.

Miloslav’s palm grazed John’s waist—Symmetry activated.

John felt his stance falter for a split second.

Then—

Slash!

Miloslav’s blade returned—teleported by a flicker of essence. A feint. The real strike came not from steel—but from Miloslav’s index finger.

Tap.

He touched John’s temple—the weakest link.

But before the full strike could land—

Clack.

John caught Miloslav’s wrist with both hands.

And the world tilted.

Miloslav reversed—his entire form thrown back five full seconds. His body reeling through the very motions he’d made—landing hard on the ice with a gasp. His shoulder cracked. Vision blurred.

John advanced slowly, a tired sigh in his voice. “You were always too bound to precision. To logic. But logic doesn’t survive in a collapsing world.”

He raised a hand, spiritual essence pooling.

And then—

CRACK!

A scream tore through the air.

The ice around them shattered outward, forming jagged spires.

A howling gale of frost surged toward John, catching him off-guard. Snow whipped around like knives. He lifted his arms to shield his face, the cold digging beneath his skin.

Miloslav blinked through the pain—watching as Luna stepped forward. Her hands trembled, eyes glowing pale blue, her breathing rapid.

“Luna!” Kevin’s voice cracked through the storm, desperate, half-choked. He shoved at the wall of frost rising between them, knuckles bleeding against the cold.

“You…” she said, voice cracking. “You don’t get to kill anyone else!”

Ice erupted beneath her feet, coiling up her arms like armour.

John raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a smile. “A third Zodiac. Well then…”

He turned—and disappeared into mist before the frost could claim him.

Luna collapsed to her knees, the ice receding slightly.

Kevin was the first to reach her, skidding across the ice to catch her before she hit the ground.

“Stay with me, please,” he whispered, rocking her as if that could keep the frost from leaving her skin.

Miloslav coughed, pushing himself upright.

He looked at her, and despite the wound on his side, he managed a whisper:

“…She stopped him.”