Chapter 3: The Maelstrom Ahead

"Darren."

Dad's voice echoed through my mind like a whisper from the past.

I saw myself, smaller than I remembered, stumbling toward him with eager, clumsy steps. In his hands was a small, ornate wooden box, its carvings intricate and aged, as if it had held secrets for generations.

"This is a gift for you and your friends." Dad smiled, his eyes warm yet firm. "Remember to only share this with those you trust with your heart."

The moment my tiny fingers lifted the lid, light shimmered from within, revealing four crystals—blue, red, green, and brown—each glowing faintly, as if alive. My childish glee was uncontrollable as I grabbed the box and bolted toward the front door.

"Japheth! Chris! Joshua!" I shouted, my voice full of excitement.

Then—darkness.

A sharp inhale yanked me back to reality. My eyes flew open to a dim, grey cell. My pulse pounded in my ears. The memory—no, the dream—lingered like mist, confusing and cryptic.

I sat up, wincing as I took in my surroundings. The only light came from a flickering bulb outside the bars, where a uniformed officer sat in a rickety chair, his eyes fixed on a small television. A laugh track echoed from the speakers, and he chuckled along, the sound mismatched with his yellowed grin.

I pushed myself toward the bars, gripping the cold metal.

"H... Hey!" My voice cracked, throat dry.

The officer's head turned lazily. His grey eyes locked onto mine, and a twisted smirk crept onto his face. He stood, his hand resting on the baton at his hip, exuding deliberate menace.

"Well, well. Mr. Killer is awake." His voice was gruff, taunting. "We found you next to a girl who looks just like those cult murder cases. You and your little group have been on our radar for a while, kid. And let me tell you, the evidence is stacked against you."

My stomach clenched. "What about the girl? Where's Chanel?"

The smirk faded into a grimace. "Don't act stupid, murderer." He leaned closer to the bars, his breath rancid with stale coffee and cigarettes. "Poor girl was supposed to graduate this year. But you wouldn't know what that's like, would you? You and your gang took my daughter from me too."

Murderer. The word slammed into me like a fist.

"You've got the wrong guy!" My voice rose in desperation. "Something came out of the dark—it attacked us! My friends saw—"

The baton cracked against my fingers before I could finish. I gasped in pain, stumbling back, cradling my throbbing hand.

"Damn it!" I groaned. "What the hell was that for?"

"Calm yourself before you speak to me," the officer growled. "I'd love nothing more than to put a bullet between your eyes, but this badge of mine says I can't."

His nameplate read "Deputy Charles."

I shot him a glare but said nothing. Instead, I sat on the cold concrete floor, my mind racing. Where were my friends? What had really happened?

An hour dragged by in tense silence until Charles returned to the bars, his expression shifting from hostility to something resembling disbelief.

"Hey, killer." His tone was more uncertain this time.

"Don't call me that," I growled.

"Someone paid your bail."

I blinked. "What?"

He opened the cell door, and from the dim hallway emerged a man unlike any I'd seen before. He was old, but his posture was straight, his presence commanding. He wore an impeccable, expensive suit, the kind that practically radiated wealth. His deep-set eyes held an unsettling amount of knowledge, like he could see through me.

"Young man," he said, offering a hand. "I am Samuel Hernandez, CEO and founder of the Greek Institute."

Charles stiffened. "The Greek Institute? What's a man like you want with a murderer like him?"

Samuel's sharp gaze flicked to Charles. "I'd be careful with such accusations. This young man is innocent, and we've already proven it to the higher-ups."

Charles hesitated, rubbing the back of his bald head. "Ah... Hey, kid, listen about earlier—"

I ignored him, stepping past to follow Samuel out of the station.

Once outside, the cool night air hit me like a wave of reality. I glanced at Samuel, my curiosity overriding my exhaustion.

"How did you know?" I asked. "There were no cameras out there. No way anyone saw what happened."

Samuel smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's a long story, Darren."

A sleek, jet-black limousine pulled up beside us. The door opened automatically.

"Come in, my dear boy. We have much to discuss."

I hesitated but climbed in. The interior was luxurious, almost surreal compared to the concrete cell I had just left. The driver eased into traffic, and Samuel turned to me, his expression suddenly serious.

"Darren, do you believe in gods?"

I frowned. "Gods? Like... more than one?"

"Yes and no." He tapped his fingers against the polished wood armrest. "Once, the Greek Gods ruled the world. Zeus commanded the heavens, Poseidon the seas, Hades the Underworld. Humanity was gifted with the Primordial Force—control over the elements. The power to command wind, part the seas, shift the very earth beneath their feet, summon flames at will. Fire, Earth, Air, Water—the four pillars of power. This was the Days of Power."

My breath hitched. "So that's what I did yesterday."

"Yes. And that is why I'm here."

Samuel leaned forward, his voice dipping into something almost reverent. "That power was sealed away long ago. Yet you wielded it effortlessly. And you are not alone."

A chill crawled down my spine. "You mean—"

"Your friends. They, too, control the remaining elements. I saw it myself. When the police took you, they fought back—flames danced, the earth shifted, the winds howled."

I was speechless.

"But the creature—I killed it! That shadow thing—"

"Wasn't the real threat," Samuel said grimly. "It was a mere fragment of something greater. A shadow cast by a Puppeteer."

"A... what?"

"Someone who controls souls, bending them to their will." Samuel's eyes darkened. "And someone out there is using them to ascend—to become a god."

A sick feeling settled in my gut. "Chanel... she died for that?"

"Many have." Samuel exhaled. "That's why we need your help."

I looked down, fists clenched. "I... I just need time. I need to see my friends."

"They're safe," he assured me. "You have remarkable friends, Darren. But you have an even greater destiny. When you're ready... call this number."

He handed me a card, the words "Greek Institute" embossed in silver. It felt strangely warm in my hands.

The limousine slowed as my house came into view.

Samuel gave a knowing smile. "We will meet again, Darren."

I stepped out and watched as the vehicle disappeared around the corner. The wind whispered against my skin.

A calm was before me, behind it was a storm I knew I was unprepared for. My home gave its warming reassurance, yet I felt it within my mind and heart.

Nothing would ever be the same.