Chapter 61

Chapter 61
The echo of the blast still rang in Nathan’s ears. The cavern smelled of burnt stone and old earth, the flames gone but the heat lingering like a fever. He stumbled toward the basin, his knees threatening to give out.

Jace was on his side, his skin pale as wax, lips cracked and trembling. Nathan knelt and touched his shoulder.

“Jace! Hey—look at me!”

The boy’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused, reflecting nothing now but the darkness around them. His breathing was shallow, his chest barely rising. Then his lips moved, shaping a sound, so faint Nathan had to lean down until his ear brushed Jace’s mouth.

“Abaddon.”

The word slid from the boy’s throat like it had been carved there.

Nathan froze. “What?”

Jace repeated it, this time stronger. “Abaddon.” Then he went slack, his head lolling against Nathan’s hand.

Wren was suddenly there, crouching opposite Nathan, his face pale beneath the soot streaks. “What did he say?”

Nathan hesitated. “A name. I think.”

“Say it.”

“Abaddon.”

Wren’s expression darkened. He didn’t comment, just slid his arms under Jace and lifted him. The boy felt too light, like something essential had been burned away.

“We need to get him out of here now,” Wren said.

They moved fast, slipping back into the tunnel while the cavern behind them filled with the groans and curses of the Civic Council. The robed figures were too disoriented to follow; Nathan could hear them stumbling in the dark, their ceremony broken. Marlene had already scrambled halfway up the passage, her hands shaking on the damp stone walls.

They emerged into the cool predawn air behind the church. The grass was wet, the smell of dew a sharp contrast to the scorched underground. Nathan’s mind kept circling the name like a vulture. Abaddon. He’d heard it before—but not here. Not in Hollow Creek.

They got Jace into the back of Wren’s truck. He didn’t stir. His lips twitched like he was dreaming, but no words came.

By noon, they had him in a hospital two towns over—outside the reach of Hollow Creek’s medical staff. Nathan insisted on a private room. He didn’t trust anyone he didn’t personally bring through the door.

The doctor, a wiry man with a lined face and the kind of gaze that had seen more than it wanted to, ran tests for dehydration, smoke inhalation, even seizures. None of it explained the boy’s sudden collapse.

“He’s not in a coma,” the doctor said, scanning the monitors. “But his brain activity’s… unusual. Like he’s asleep and awake at the same time.”

Nathan’s stomach sank. “Can he hear us?”

“Hard to say. Maybe. If this is some kind of trauma response, he might need time. Days. Weeks.”

Nathan stayed by Jace’s bed until visiting hours ended, then slipped out the side door. Wren was waiting in the hallway, arms crossed.

“You’re thinking about the name,” Wren said.

Nathan nodded. “It’s biblical. I think.”

“It is,” Wren said. “Revelation. Abaddon’s the angel of the abyss. ‘The Destroyer.’”

Nathan’s skin prickled. “Why the hell would Jace say that?”

“Maybe he didn’t,” Wren said grimly. “Maybe something else did.”

The next morning, Nathan drove back to Hollow Creek. Elijah had been transferred to a higher-security wing in juvenile detention after attacking another inmate. Nathan had to call in a favor just to get ten minutes with him.

The guard led him into a room that reeked faintly of bleach. Elijah was already seated at the metal table, shackled at the wrists. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed in deep shadows.

Nathan sat opposite him. “How are they treating you?”

Elijah’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “Like I’m already guilty.”

“Listen to me,” Nathan said, leaning forward. “Something happened to Jace last night. He said a word. I need to know if you’ve ever heard it before.”

Elijah’s eyes flicked up. “What word?”

Nathan hesitated. “Abaddon.”

The boy went still. His breathing slowed.

Then his lips parted. And without looking away from Nathan, he said it—soft, almost reverent: “Abaddon.”

The sound was identical to Jace’s voice the night before. Same tone. Same eerie weight, like the word was too big for their mouths.

Nathan’s throat tightened. “Where did you hear that?”

Elijah blinked slowly. “I didn’t. It’s just… there.”

“What do you mean?”

“In my head. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I see a door. It’s made of fire. That name is written on it.”

Nathan’s skin crawled. “And what’s behind the door?”

Elijah’s gaze sharpened. “I think… me.”

Nathan sat back, pulse hammering. “You and Jace—”

“They’re the same,” Elijah said, cutting him off. “Not us. But what’s in us. It’s like… it knows both of us. Like we’re pieces of the same thing.”

Nathan thought of Mark’s message. One of the boys is the key. The words rattled in his skull. “Do you know what it wants?”

Elijah shook his head. “No. But it’s waiting. And when it comes out… you’ll see the fire again.”

The guard rapped on the door. Time was up.

Nathan stood, staring at Elijah one last time. “Hold on. Don’t let it take you.”

Elijah smirked faintly. “What if it’s already me?”

Outside, the summer air felt heavier, the sky lower. Nathan sat in his car for a long minute before starting the engine. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

If Jace and Elijah were both connected to this… thing, this Abaddon, then the Civic Council hadn’t been performing some mindless ritual. They were preparing a vessel. Maybe more than one.

And somehow, the boys had survived long enough to keep that vessel from taking full form.

But for how much longer?

Nathan pulled out his phone and opened his notes app, typing out the name in all caps: ABADDON.

Then he scrolled through the photos of Mark’s files, the “Project ECHO” papers, the Civic Council rosters. He cross-referenced every mention of symbols, myths, or “the Rebirth.” The name wasn’t there. Not once.

That bothered him more than finding it would have.

If they were hiding the name, it meant it was dangerous just to know it.

When Nathan returned to the hospital that evening, Jace was awake—but barely. His eyes tracked Nathan when he entered, but there was no recognition in them.

Nathan pulled a chair close. “Hey, kid. You gave us a scare.”

Jace blinked slowly. “I saw it.”

Nathan’s breath caught. “Saw what?”

“The city under the fire. It’s not gone. It’s… sleeping. Waiting for him.”

“Who?”

Jace’s gaze locked on Nathan’s. His voice was hoarse, barely audible.

“Abaddon.”

The monitors beeped faster.

Nathan reached for his hand. “Jace, listen to me. You’re stronger than whatever this is. You broke their ritual. You—”

Jace shook his head. “No. I woke it up.”

Nathan sat in silence for a long moment, the hum of machines filling the space. He could feel the walls closing in. Not just here, but everywhere in Hollow Creek.

If Jace was right, destroying the ceremony hadn’t ended anything. It had triggered the next stage.

And now two boys carried the name of the Destroyer inside them.

Nathan thought of the solstice. The stranger’s warning. They will burn the chosen.

He had assumed the “chosen” were victims.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

That night, Nathan sat alone in the hospital parking lot, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. He lit a cigarette, the first in years, and stared at the thin column of smoke curling into the dark.

The name rolled around in his mind like a stone in a jar.

Abaddon.

The angel of the abyss.

The key to ending it—or opening it forever.

He knew then that saving the boys wasn’t enough.

He had to find a way to rip this thing out of them.

And if he couldn’t—

He had to be ready to stop them before the solstice.