22 – The Pact’s Price

The Pact's Price

The alley behind Raven Hollow's town hall reeked of damp stone and blood, the fog lifting as dawn carved a cold edge over the rooftops. Liam crouched behind a dumpster, bat slick with sweat and crimson, his chest, leg, and shoulder a throbbing ruin under bandages—pain a blade he wielded. His mom sat against the wall, tunnel map useless now, her hands steady, eyes hard with the pact's truth—their blood, their curse. Maya sketched ancestors' runes on a brick, sketchbook open, her bandaged hand trembling, resolve unshaken. Sofia sharpened her wrench on the pavement, Luna patched and growling beside her, her fierce spirit a ember stoked by rage. Ethan rigged the radio, crowbar dented, static hissing—"…bloodline active… containment critical…"—his ear and leg leaking red, cynicism a shield. Noah leaned nearby, journal scraps gone, blind eyes sharp, Elias's words a map in his mind.

"'The willing pay in blood,'" Noah said, voice low, tracing air with a finger. "'1691—founders gave theirs, tied their lines. We're the debt—living it.'"

"Our debt?" Liam asked, badge—Eclipse Protocol—heavy, his dad's death a fire in his gut. "They sold us?"

"Traded," Noah corrected, blind gaze steady. "Power for lives—the Watcher delivered, they fed it. Elias bound it, but our kin kept paying."

Maya's pencil scratched, rune glowing faintly. "And Protocol? They're cashing in?"

"Controlling," Noah said, voice firm. "W-Extract—Carter—they weaponized it. But we're the source."

Liam's mom stood, voice cutting. "Your dad—he saw it. Lab records—Blackwoods, Holloways, us—names in blood. He burned some, not all."

Liam met her eyes, trust a ghost. "And left us to bleed?"

"He tried," she whispered, fists clenched. "They killed him—I hid—thought it'd die with him."

A pulse hummed—soft, deep, in their veins, not the town. Luna growled, ears twitching, as the air thickened, a heartbeat—theirs, ancient, alive. The group grabbed weapons—bat, wrench, crowbar, knife—Liam standing, pain a forge, badge pocketed.

"It's waking," Sofia hissed, wrench up, Luna tense. "Again?"

"No," Noah said, blind eyes wide. "It's us—always us—calling."

The hum swelled—blood pounding, shadows flickering—not in the alley, but their own eyes, their own hands. Liam's bat shook, his dad's rasp—"Son…"—Sofia's wrench trembled, abuela's plea—"Mi niña…"—Maya's knife wavered, aunt's cry—"Run…"—Ethan's crowbar tightened, Carter's scream—"Help…"—Noah clutched his head, Elias's whisper—"Pay…"

"Stop it!" Liam roared, shaking it off, badge a burn, tire iron in his other hand. "We're not them!"

Maya smeared blood on her rune, shouting—"Break it!"—light flaring, the hum dulling, shadows fading. They panted, scars—lineage scars—aching, a pull deep in their bones.

"It's not trapped," Noah gasped, blind but sure. "Carter was a shell—we're the heart—living it."

Ethan's radio sparked—"…team two… Raven Hollow… bloodline threat…"—cutting off. "Protocol," he growled, crowbar up. "Close—too close."

"Then we strike," Liam said, voice steel, bat slick, helping his mom stand. "Town hall—chambers—burn their roots."

"Us too?" Sofia asked, fierce but frayed, wrench gleaming.

"If we have to," Liam replied, badge heavy. "No more debt."

Headlights flared—roaring through the streets, tires screeching. Radios crackled: "Targets located… engage…" Liam dove behind the dumpster, dragging his mom, bat swinging as an operative lunged—rifle butt cracking his arm, pain exploding. He roared, tire iron smashing the man's jaw, blood spraying. Sofia's wrench thudded a helmet, Luna biting, Ethan's crowbar bashed, Maya slashed, Noah ducked, rune brick flaring.

Gunfire erupted—bullets shredding brick, grazing Liam's shoulder, blood hot anew. "Move!" he yelled, shoving his mom, tire iron flying, cracking a rifle. The group bolted—alley a trap, fog gone, town waking—operatives shouting: "Fan out—south!"

The manhole loomed—rusted, open from their escape. "Down!" Liam ordered, sliding in, the group piling after—dark, wet, air pulsing, stone walls carved with founders' runes, glowing faintly. The hum returned—not the Watcher, but their blood, beating stronger.

"Chambers," Noah said, blind but leading, memory sharp. "Ahead—deep."

Shadows flickered—ancestors again, flesh not ichor, smiling, bleeding—Blackwoods, Holloways, Carters—stepping from walls. Liam swung, bat cracking a skull—blood sprayed, his own face—Sofia's wrench smashed her abuela, Ethan's crowbar bashed Carter, Maya's knife slashed her aunt—they fell, piling, human, warm.

"They're us," Maya whispered, knife trembling, rune flaring. "Paying still."

Noah chanted—"Break the willing…"—rune pulsing, light searing, ancestors dissolving, the hum dulling. "We choose," he panted, blind eyes wet. "End it—or feed it."

A thud above—boots, operatives breaching the manhole, rifles ready. "They're in!" Sofia yelled, wrench up, Luna growling.

Liam grabbed a rune stone—old, glowing, blood-slick—and smashed it—cracks exploding, light flaring, the tunnel shaking. "Out!" he roared, dragging his mom, the group scrambling—stones collapsing, the hum—theirs—faltering, not dying.

They burst into a chamber—vast, stone, a pit of rune stones blazing, cracked but alive, a ledger on a slab—1691, names in blood: Blackwood, Holloway, Carter…—and theirs, fresh, dripping. "It's us," Liam's mom gasped, hands shaking. "Still signed."

Maya checked her rune—no glow, but a pull, deep. "We're the pact—living it."

Sofia's wrench trembled, fierce. "Then we burn it."

Ethan wiped blood from his leg, grim, radio sparking—"…bloodline spike…" "Protocol's on us—fast."

Liam grabbed the ledger, badge heavy, resolve steel—tore a page, blood smearing. "Not anymore," he said, tire iron sparking on stone—flame caught, paper curling, names burning.

The pit flared—light searing, the chamber shaking—a scream erupted—not theirs, but the Watcher's, cosmic, faint—rune stones cracking, the hum—their blood—pulsing wild, then stilling. Operatives shouted above—"Anomaly down… pull back!"—boots retreating, silence falling.

They collapsed, bloodied, alive, Luna panting. Liam's mom clutched him, whispering, "It's weaker… us too."

Maya checked her hand—no pull, but a scar, deep. "Pact's breaking—slowly."

Noah smiled, blind, calm. "We chose—started it."

Ethan smirked, grim. "Protocol's next—they wrote us in."

Liam stood, badge gleaming, bat steady, pain a forge. "Then we erase them—us if we must."

The town loomed, dawn cold, a heartbeat lingered—theirs, a curse cracking.

Later, they hid in the chamber—stone a shield, wounds patched, ledger ash. Liam's mom sat, steady, eyes hard. Maya sketched, Sofia sharpened, Ethan rigged, Noah spoke scraps by heart.

"We're the fight," Liam said, badge in hand, voice low. "Our blood—theirs—ends here."

"Then we hit," Maya replied, pencil firm, runes dark. "Protocol—burn it all."

Sofia nodded, fierce. "For them."

Ethan smirked, grim, radio dead. "Round twelve."

Noah smiled, blind, calm. "We've got the pact's end. Let's finish it."

Outside, the town stirred—a heartbeat faded—a war raging, not won….