Chapter 85: I Like It

We raced towards the main warehouse, the ground shaking with increasing intensity. The sound of chittering, now magnified a thousand times, echoed from within the compound, followed by the screams of men. The Stones were getting their main course.

Inside the warehouse, the Oracle was a maelstrom of light and energy. The crystals glowed with an intensity that hurt my eyes, and the air crackled with raw power. Tony was frantically working at the console, sweat pouring down his face, his fingers flying across the holographic interface.

"It's too much!" Tony yelled, looking at us, his eyes wide with fear. "The Oracle can't handle the combined energies of the Horsemen and the Scourge! It's going to blow!"

"No, it won't," Lynn stated, pushing past him. She placed her hands on the main console, her eyes closing. A faint, silver light pulsed around her, emanating from her skin, flowing into the Oracle. The chaotic energy within the machine seemed to stabilize, the light dimming slightly, the hum becoming a steady thrum.

"That's… that's impossible," Tony stammered. "You're acting as a conduit?"

"Kismet," Lynn said, opening her eyes. They glowed with an otherworldly light. "The Oracle is tied to the threads of fate. I am tied to the threads. We are one. But it's not enough. We need the Horsemen."

Just then, the warehouse doors, blown open earlier by Lamia's fire, were completely ripped off their hinges. Four figures strode in, each one radiating an aura of ancient, terrible power.

Conquest. A woman in shimmering silver armor, her eyes like chips of ice, a crown of thorns on her head. She carried a bow, but no arrows, her mere presence seeming to unravel the very air.

Wrath. A warrior in blood-red robes, her skin seared and cracked like sun-baked earth, her hands glowing with an inner inferno. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.

Famine. Gaunt, silent, his eyes fixed on the Oracle, a terrifying hunger in their depths.

And Death.

He wasn't a robed skeleton. He was a man. Tall, impossibly lean, with skin like polished bone and eyes that were twin abysses. He wore a simple, tailored black suit, utterly unremarkable, yet his presence was a crushing weight, a finality that made the very air cold and still. He carried no scythe, no traditional symbols. He was the end, made manifest.

"Lynn Crane," Death said, his voice a low, echoing whisper that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once. "You called. And we have answered."

Maddie stiffened beside me, her hand gripping my arm. "Jack," she whispered. "I think the Scourge just arrived."

"It's all part of the plan," Lynn said, her voice strong, defiant. She looked at the Horsemen, then at us. "We brought them here. Now we bind them. For the wedding."

The absurdity of it all hit me then. The world was ending, cosmic horror was tearing a hole in the sky, four Horsemen of the Apocalypse stood before us, and Lynn was talking about a wedding. My mouth, dry as the desert floor, twitched.

Yet despite my wanting to call her insane, I simply smirked. "I like it," I said.