Chapter 59 Leo
The Realm always felt wrong to me when I crossed into it from the human world. Not hostile. Not exactly. Just… thinner. Like the air had been skimmed of something essential. Time dragged differently here. Sounds traveled farther. Shadows lingered longer. Even my thoughts slowed, as if the place itself demanded deliberation before action.
The threshold shimmered around me and then collapsed behind my back. The Bloodhound compound spread out in its familiar geometry of stone corridors, iron watchtowers, rune-lit arches, and layered wards humming beneath the floor. It was active, but not busy in the usual way. Voices were low. Movements were careful. Everyone looked like they were bracing for something they did not want to name.
Edward was waiting at the gate.
He was pacing, which immediately set my nerves on edge. Edward never paced. He stood. He watched. He calculated. Pacing meant agitation, and agitation in a man like Edward meant bad news.
The moment he saw me, he lifted his head sharply and waved me forward with one hand.
“Leo,” he said. No greeting. No wasted breath. “We need to talk.”
I crossed the last stretch of stone and metal toward him, boots echoing too loud in the quiet. “You look like you haven’t slept.”
“I haven’t,” he replied. His eyes flicked past me, then back. “This isn’t something I wanted to deliver alone.”
That tightened something in my chest. “What happened?”
He gestured for me to follow him away from the gate, away from the patrol routes and the listening wards. We cut through a side corridor that curved downward into a narrow chamber lit by a single suspended rune orb. The hum of the compound faded to a distant murmur.
Edward stopped and turned to face me. He did not waste time.
“A letter came,” he said. “From the other world.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid. “From who?”
He held my gaze. “Orryx the Black.”
For a long second, the room felt like it tilted.
The name landed like a dropped blade between us. Old myths surged up from memory. Half-buried lore. Whispers of a gargoyle who was not a gargoyle, a human who became something worse, a creature that did not kill to wear faces but chose them, became them, infected the world with stolen lives.
“Orryx,” I said quietly. “You’re certain.”
Edward nodded once. “The seal is his. The script matches fragments from the Archives. The enchantment signature is… unique. Twisted. Layered. Ancient.”
My jaw clenched. “What does he want.”
Edward reached into his coat and pulled out a folded parchment. The wax seal was black and veined with faint silver lines that pulsed once when my gaze landed on them. The script etched into the surface was not any modern language I recognized, but I could feel the intent behind it like a low vibration under my skin.
“He wants a meeting,” Edward said. “With you.”
A humorless laugh escaped my throat. “Of course he does.”
“There’s more,” Edward added.
I took the parchment from his hand, feeling the cold bleed through my glove. “Where.”
“The Purgatory.”
The word hit harder than the name.
My head snapped up. “That place is neutral.”
“Exactly.”
“No powers,” I said. “No abilities. No wards. No enhancements. No Bloodhound tricks.”
“Exactly,” Edward repeated, his voice grim now.
I stared at the letter. “Then why would he suggest it.”
Edward exhaled slowly. “Because it’s fair. And because it forces a real conversation.”
“Or because it strips me of every advantage I have.”
“That too.”
My grip tightened on the parchment. The Purgatory was not myth. It was a constructed realm outside the main fabric, designed by ancient factions as neutral ground for negotiations between beings who could otherwise level continents when they argued. No powers worked there. Not demonic. Not divine. Not arcane. Not Bloodhound.
Everyone was just… human.
Which meant if Orryx wanted to kill me there, he could.
And I would not be able to stop him.
“Has anyone else seen this,” I asked.
“Andy,” Edward said. “And three of the senior wardens. We locked the letter in a sealed chamber until you arrived.”
As if summoned by his name, footsteps approached from the corridor. Andy emerged into the light, his expression tight and drawn.
“Tell me you didn’t bring snacks for this,” I muttered.
He did not smile.
“I agree with Edward,” Andy said immediately. “We need to hear what he wants.”
“It could be bait,” I said.
“It could be prophecy,” Edward countered.
“Or it could be a trap designed by a creature who plays long games and kills slowly.”
“Also true,” Andy said. “But ignorance isn’t protection anymore. Not with Kristen involved.”
The name hung between us like a live wire.
None of us said anything for a moment.
I looked back down at the letter. The seal pulsed faintly, as if aware of my attention. The script felt older than time. Heavy. Deliberate. Not rushed. Whatever Orryx was doing, it was not impulsive.
“He sent Rhaz,” I said. “And he never sends just one.”
Edward nodded. “Which means the next move is already in motion.”
“And he wants me to walk into neutral ground with no powers and no backup,” I said. “Convenient.”
“Also calculated,” Andy said. “He’s not offering war yet. He’s offering dialogue.”
“Devils offer dialogue right before they change the rules.”
“And angels offer it right before they change the battlefield,” Edward replied. “Either way, refusing doesn’t stop what’s coming. It just means we don’t get to shape it.”
I turned the parchment over in my hand.
If I went, I would be naked in every way that mattered. No metal manipulation. No enhanced reflexes. No Bloodhound endurance. No protective wards. Just my body and whatever instincts I had left.
If I did not go, Orryx would still move. Still send others. Still escalate.
And Kristen would still be the axis everything rotated around.
“Has the Oracle been consulted,” I asked.
Edward shook his head. “Not yet. She’s in seclusion. Something about converging threads. She refused to be disturbed.”
That made my skin crawl more than anything else.
“She knows,” Andy muttered.
“She always does,” I said.
I stared at the seal again.
The thing that unsettled me most was not the threat.
It was the tone.
The letter did not feel like a challenge.
It felt like an invitation.
“He didn’t threaten me,” I said quietly.
Edward’s eyes sharpened. “What.”
“There’s no coercive enchantment layered into the seal. No hostile compulsion. No blood-binding. No psychic hooks. If he wanted to force me, he could have.”
Andy frowned. “Then what does he want.”
My jaw clenched.
“He wants to talk,” I said. “Which means whatever he’s planning next requires my cooperation. Or my understanding.”
“Or my consent,” I added grimly.
Silence stretched.
The compound’s hum felt too loud.
I closed my hand around the letter.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
Edward did not argue.
Andy did not protest.
They both knew that meant the decision was already eating me alive.
As I turned toward the exit corridor, the weight of the parchment felt heavier than any weapon I had ever carried.
And for the first time since Kristen’s awakening, I had the sick, unavoidable sense that I was no longer the one steering this war.
Something older had just invited me to the table.
And whatever happened next, there was no clean way out.