Joseph Onyia slammed the steel door shut, the rusted hinges groaning in protest. Deborah Watson scrambled behind him, her breaths sharp and ragged, her hands smeared with dirt and blood. Together, they shoved a desk, then a filing cabinet, then anything else they could find against the door. Outside, the monster growled—low and guttural. Metal claws scraped against concrete.
Joseph backed away, chest heaving. "That won't hold it long."
Deborah didn't answer. Her back slid down the wall as she clutched her knees. Her wide eyes trembled, locked on the flickering emergency light overhead. Shadows danced across the ruined office like ghosts waiting their turn.
"Hey," Joseph said, kneeling in front of her. He took her hands in his. "We're not done yet. You hear me?"
She nodded weakly, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. "What is that thing?"
"I don't know. But we're not dying in here."
The building shuddered as the creature rammed the barricade. A deafening crack echoed. The desk splintered. One more hit and it would be through.
Joseph stood and squared his shoulders. The air began to change. It shimmered around his hands—heat waves off asphalt. Then it started: the blue glow. Energy licked across his palms, flickering, forming into something solid. A spear of pure force snapped into existence, humming with power.
Deborah stared. "Joseph…"
"You said you had weird dreams lately too, right?" he said without looking at her. "Maybe we were meant for this."
The door exploded inward.
It stood there. Eight feet tall. Skin like scorched ash. Its eyes glowed with a dead orange light. Its mouth didn't open, but somehow it screamed—a sound that clawed at the brain. In its hand was a black scythe, dripping with a darkness that made the room colder.
Joseph charged.
The monster swung. Joseph ducked and drove the spear into its side. It roared, backhanding him across the room. He crashed into a file cabinet, dazed but alive.
Deborah stood now. Her hands shook. Her lips whispered words she didn't recognize. The ground trembled. Cracks split across the floor. From the rubble, something rose—stone grinding on stone. A creature made of rock, twice her size, took shape. A golem. Her golem.
"Get away from him," she said.
The golem lunged, slamming into the monster. Stone fists pounded the thing's body, knocking it off balance. Joseph, bleeding from his lip, rose again, spear glowing brighter, fiercer. He hurled it like a javelin. The weapon slammed through the creature's chest, and Deborah's golem brought both fists down on its skull.
The monster fell, shrieking as it dissolved into black mist.
Silence.
Joseph stumbled to Deborah's side. She caught him, barely. They looked at each other—terrified, amazed, alive. Then their legs gave out, and they collapsed to the floor, side by side, as darkness swallowed the room.
Outside, the sky above began to dim, unnatural and slow.
The Black Eclipse had begun.