Chapter 4: The Greek Institute
Mom wasn't upset about my sudden disappearance—just the opposite. The terror in her eyes evaporated the moment I stepped through the door, replaced by an overwhelming relief that weighed heavily in the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I thought something happened to you," she sobbed, her voice trembling.
"I'm alright." I reassured her, offering a weak smile. "Just got mistaken at the station."
The radio blared in the background, a voice cutting through the silence with grim urgency.
"And onto our next story," the reporter announced. "Another girl has been found dead, a victim of the cult that continues to terrorize our island. She has been identified as Chanel Gomez, and—"
The words faded. My mind discarded sound itself, drowning in the cold grip of shock. Chanel's name echoed through my skull, each syllable a stab to my chest. The events of yesterday came rushing back with cruel clarity. One of the few people I cherished—gone. Just like that.
Chanel had lived with her father; her mother had left for the Great States after the divorce. I could still hear her father's distraught cries. The agony in his voice had been unbearable. Unable to listen any longer, I turned the radio off.
"Chanel… Oh, Darren, I—" Mom searched desperately for something to say.
"No." I stopped her. "I'm fine. I just need to rest."
Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling, its green glow from the luminescent vines offering little comfort. Sleep had always been my escape, but tonight, it was elusive. My mind churned, pain gnawing at my thoughts. Yet, eventually, solace crept in, pulling me into the abyss of unconsciousness.
---
A field of green stretched endlessly before me. My sanctuary. The place where reality lost its hold. But now, even here, peace was unattainable. The rolling hills and dancing breeze did nothing to quiet the storm in my mind.
"Why?" I growled into the vast emptiness. "Why did that have to happen to her?"
Her last words replayed in my mind, a haunting melody of regret. I hadn't known she felt that way about me—until it was too late. Then, another face surfaced in my thoughts. Samuel. He was the only one who knew the truth about her death. If what he said was true, the real monster was still out there.
The wind shifted, no longer gentle but sharp and unruly. It lashed against me, whipping the once-still grass into frenzied waves. The sky darkened; thunder rumbled in the distance. Something was coming.
---
I jolted awake, gasping. The clock's red digits burned into my vision.
"9:00 PM," I groaned.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the crumpled slip of paper with the Greek Institute's number. My decision was made. This cult's reign of terror had to end.
I dialed.
"Good evening from the Greek Institute." A calm, collected female voice answered. "This is Cleondra Saunders. How can I help you tonight?"
"H...Hey. I'm Darren Harper, Mr.—"
"Ah." Cleondra's tone brightened. "Mr. Samuel Hernandez said you'd call. Your friends already reached out as well. Would you like to come to the institute now?"
I exhaled deeply, rubbing my temple. "Yeah."
---
A limousine arrived at my doorstep, just as I had requested—silent. Before leaving, I scribbled a quick note for my mother, in case I didn't return by morning.
The driver said nothing as we drove. I welcomed the quiet. It gave me time to think.
As we neared the Greek Institute, its towering skyscraper loomed, the initials "G.I." glowing like a secondary star against the night sky. When the vehicle stopped, a woman awaited me at the entrance.
She was striking—long dark hair cascading over one shoulder, revealing sharp features and violet eyes. A snake tattoo peeked from beneath the hem of her dark skirt.
"Darren, I presume?" Her voice was the same from the phone call.
"Yes," I replied. "Are you Cleondra?"
She smiled, shifting her hair aside. "You're good at remembering voices. Follow me. Your friends are in the training room."
---
Inside, the institute was a pristine maze of whitewashed walls, sterile and blinding under fluorescent lights. Few people roamed the halls—night shift workers, I assumed.
Stepping into an elevator, I turned to Cleondra. "When you said my friends… what powers were they given?"
She smirked. "Chris can control flames. Japheth can turn his body to stone and even increase his size. Joshua manipulates wind—flight, mainly. But when we heard how you wielded water, Samuel was truly surprised." She studied me. "They're still learning, though. Each ability requires a trigger."
"Triggers?"
"Chris needs ignition. Japheth requires earth. Joshua is fortunate—he can use the air around him. And you…" she trailed off. "We'll see."
The elevator doors parted, revealing two massive doors ahead. Cleondra swiped a keycard, and the doors whooshed open.
Inside, my friends were in action.
"Darren!" Joshua shouted from above, descending swiftly. He landed beside me, grinning. "You're alright."
Chris ran up, his hands ablaze. "Darren!"
"Your hands!" I flinched. "Are you—"
"Fine." He waved his hand, extinguishing the flames. His skin was unscathed. "Not a scratch."
I looked around. "Where's Japheth?"
A colossal boulder sat in the corner, shifting. Japheth emerged, his hands embedded in the rock, which shrank until it crumbled into dirt and pebbles.
"Yo!" He called. "So, what should I call this one, Chris?"
Joshua sighed. "Your rock fist is boring."
"Says the guy who names moves after compass directions."
Chris laughed.
"Amazing." I breathed. "You guys control the elements too."
"When the police roughed you up, we lost it," Joshua explained. "Samuel stopped us and offered help."
"So, we followed him." Chris shrugged. "And here we are. I don't know why we have these powers, but I'm glad we do."
"Same," Joshua and Japheth echoed.
I hesitated. "And Amber?"
"She's at home. She wants to see you when you can." Chris's expression darkened. "But for now, we need to get stronger. We won't let anyone else die. We'll find the bastard responsible for Chanel."
"Yeah." I grimaced.
Japheth nudged me. "Show us your powers, Darren."
I nodded, reaching for the bottled water Joshua handed me. Recalling Chanel's final moments, the despair, the helplessness—I pushed the emotion outward. My hands tingled. Water stirred.
Then—nothing.
I tried again, harder. My mind filled with unbearable pressure.
Still—nothing.
---
Elsewhere, in a shadowed corridor, eerie echoes filled the air.
"Donavan." A vibrant woman approached a cell, where a long-haired figure lurked in the darkness. His gray eyes gleamed.
"Daphne, my love," he murmured. "How was the collection today?"
She handed him a pot of writhing green mist. "The furies work tirelessly for you."
Donavan dipped his hands into the mist. A sinister grin spread across his face. "Nearly there."
Daphne's expression darkened. "My love, one of our furies has met their demise."
Donavan's eyes burned. "Impossible."
"I wish such things weren't possible." Daphne's melancholic reply lingered before she continue. "They were slain by a mortal who uses the Primordial Powers. Should I deal with it?"
"And dirty your hands." Donovan reached out from his ebony cage.
Daphne held his pale hands, intertwining her fingers in his.
"Worry not of such things." He reassured her. "Once I'm free we'll deal with them and every human will be removed from Gaia's green surface."