The Hunt Begins

The helicopter soared over the endless stretch of desert, its rotors slicing through the air.

Emma sat near the open door, gripping the amulet so tightly her knuckles turned white. The golden artifact glowed faintly in the dim light of dawn, its energy pulsing against her skin.

She couldn't stop thinking about Azariel.

That thing—that creature—was still trapped inside the vault. But for how long? And what had he meant when he said she was "the key?"

Alexander sat beside her, his piercing blue eyes locked on the horizon. "We need answers."

Emma exhaled. "No kidding."

Marcus, who was sprawled across the opposite seat, groaned. "Yeah, and preferably before Mr. Evil-Shadow-Demon decides to break out and eat us for dinner."

Alexander leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "There's only one person who might have those answers."

Emma knew who he meant before he even said it.

"Professor Hawthorne."

Marcus winced. "Ugh. You mean the guy who speaks in riddles and smells like ancient books?"

Alexander shot him a look. "He's a historian. He's dedicated his life to studying the Revenant and their secrets. If anyone knows what that amulet really is, it's him."

Emma frowned, turning the amulet over in her hands. The metal was cool to the touch, yet it pulsed with something alive underneath. "Then we find him. Fast."

Alexander nodded. "I already sent word to my team. They're tracking his last known location."

Marcus sighed. "And let me guess—it's gonna be in another creepy, abandoned ruin, right?"

Alexander smirked. "Actually, no. He's in Paris."

Emma blinked. "Paris?"

Marcus sat up. "Hold up—like, the city of love? Croissants and fancy buildings?"

Alexander nodded. "That one."

Marcus threw his hands in the air. "Finally! A mission that doesn't involve me almost dying in a tomb."

Emma smirked. "Give it time."

---

Landing in Paris

Twelve hours later, their private jet touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport.

The transition from scorching desert to the cool air of Paris was almost disorienting. As Emma stepped onto the tarmac, she inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of fresh rain and city life.

Marcus stretched. "Man, I love this place already."

Alexander, who had been on the phone since they landed, slid his sunglasses into his pocket. "Hawthorne is expecting us at his apartment. We go straight there."

Emma glanced at the sleek black car waiting for them. "No time for sightseeing?"

Alexander smirked. "Not unless you count chasing down ancient secrets as tourism."

Marcus groaned. "Of course not."

They piled into the car, speeding through the streets of Paris. The Eiffel Tower loomed in the distance, glowing against the twilight sky. Emma tried to focus, but she couldn't shake the unease curling in her stomach.

Something felt off.

Alexander must have sensed it too because he kept glancing at the rearview mirror.

"You feel that?" Emma murmured.

He nodded. "We're being followed."

Marcus turned. "What? By who?"

Alexander's jaw tightened. "Not sure yet."

Emma's grip on the amulet tightened. If someone knew what they had, they wouldn't be the only ones searching for answers.

And that meant danger was already here.

---

Professor Hawthorne's Warning

Professor Hawthorne's apartment was exactly what Emma expected—a chaotic mess of books, maps, and old artifacts.

The old man himself stood in the center of the room, his thick glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He looked more exhausted than the last time they had seen him.

"You found it," he murmured the moment Emma pulled out the amulet.

Alexander stepped forward. "What do you know about it?"

Hawthorne took the artifact carefully, turning it over in his hands. "It's older than any written history we know. This isn't just a key, Miss Carter."

Emma's stomach tightened. "Then what is it?"

Hawthorne looked up, his eyes dark with worry. "It's a prison."

Marcus coughed. "A what now?"

Hawthorne placed the amulet on the table. "This amulet was not meant to unlock anything. It was designed to keep something sealed. The Revenant didn't just imprison Azariel—they created this to ensure he never escaped."

Emma's breath caught. "But… when I used it, the vault opened."

Hawthorne gave her a sharp look. "Exactly."

The room fell into silence.

Alexander spoke first. "Then that means—"

Hawthorne nodded. "You've broken the only thing keeping him locked away."

Emma's mind reeled. She had thought the amulet was their protection. That it gave them control over Azariel.

But instead…

She had made things worse.

Marcus groaned. "Okay, great. So now we've got an immortal shadow monster running loose with nothing stopping him. Love that for us."

Emma swallowed hard. "Can we stop him?"

Hawthorne hesitated.

Then, finally, he said, "There is one way."

Alexander's gaze sharpened. "What is it?"

Hawthorne pointed at the amulet. "This artifact still holds a piece of the original seal. If we can find the rest of it, we can trap Azariel again."

Emma felt a flicker of hope. "Where's the rest?"

Hawthorne sighed. "That… is the problem. The pieces were scattered centuries ago. The Revenant feared that if all of them were ever found together, someone might try to unleash Azariel's full power."

Marcus frowned. "Wait, wait, wait. So if someone did put the pieces back together—"

Hawthorne's face darkened. "Azariel wouldn't just be free. He would be unstoppable."

A chill ran down Emma's spine.

Because if they had found one piece…

That meant someone else might already be searching for the rest.

And if they got to them first—

It would be the end of everything.

---

The Warning Comes Too Late

Before anyone could react, the windows exploded inward.

A smoke grenade rolled across the floor, releasing a thick, choking fog.

"Get down!" Alexander shouted.

Emma ducked as masked figures stormed the apartment, moving with military precision.

Gunfire erupted.

Marcus grabbed a chair and threw it at one of the attackers. "I KNEW THIS WAS TOO EASY!"

Emma reached for the amulet—

But a hand closed around her wrist.

She turned—just in time to see a masked figure holding a blade to her throat.

Their voice was low, dangerous.

"You shouldn't have taken what belongs to us."

Emma's blood ran cold.

Because she recognized that voice.

It was the same one she had heard in her nightmares.

And that meant—

They had been waiting for her all along.