The Transformation

The moment my skin touched the King's, the world exploded into sensation. Not pain, exactly, but something far more intense—a complete rewriting of every nerve ending in my body. I felt the symbols from the walls burning themselves into my flesh, felt my bones lengthening and strengthening, felt something fundamental in my brain clicking into a new configuration.

But unlike Tommy and the others, I didn't lose myself in the process. The King had kept its word—I was still me, just… more.

"Welcome to the family, Detective Inspector," the King said, releasing my hand. "How do you feel?"

I flexed my fingers, marveling at the new strength in them. I could feel the symbols carved into my skin, but they weren't glowing like the others. They were darker, more subdued, like tattoos made of shadow.

"Different," I said. "But still me."

"Yes. You are my herald, not my slave. You retain your will, your personality, your sense of self. But you also gain new abilities. New perspectives. New purposes."

I looked at Tommy, who was watching me with something like envy. "You chose to become a copy. I chose to become a hybrid."

"The King offered you something different," Tommy said. "Something better."

"Why?"

The Hollow King moved back to its throne, settling into the seat with fluid grace. "Because you are useful as you are. The others were useful as servants. You are useful as a bridge."

"A bridge to what?"

"To the world above. To the people who need to understand what is coming. To the future that is inevitable."

The visions came faster now, sharper and more detailed. I saw London as it would be under the King's rule—darker, more honest, more brutal. I saw the gangs united under a single banner, their petty territorial disputes replaced by efficient cooperation. I saw the police force restructured, with supernatural creatures working alongside human officers. I saw a city where power was earned through strength and cunning rather than inherited through birth or bought with money.

It was horrifying. It was also, in its own way, appealing.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Go back to the surface. Resume your duties. Begin the process of… education."

"Education?"

"Help your people understand what is coming. Prepare them for the transition. Make it easier for everyone involved."

I thought about Sarah, probably still running through the tunnels, trying to reach the surface. "What about DS Chen?"

"What about her?"

"She's seen too much. She knows about the tunnels, about Tommy and the others. She's going to report this."

"Let her. Who will believe her?"

The King had a point. Sarah's report would read like the ravings of a madwoman—abandoned tube stations, resurrected gang members, ancient entities sleeping beneath London. Without evidence, without corroboration, it would be filed away and forgotten.

"But you're right to be concerned about her," the King continued. "She is a potential problem. A loose end that may need to be… addressed."

"No." The word came out harder than I'd intended. "She's off-limits."

"Is she? Even if she becomes a threat to our plans?"

"Especially then. I won't hurt her. I won't let anyone else hurt her."

The King studied me for a long moment. "Interesting. You accept my gift, you join my cause, but you retain your… loyalties."

"That was the deal. I keep my personality, my sense of self. That includes my relationships."

"Very well. DS Chen will be protected. But in exchange, you will ensure she does not become a problem."

"How?"

"That is for you to determine. You are my herald, my voice in the world above. How you manage that world is your decision."

I felt the weight of the responsibility settling on my shoulders. I was now responsible for protecting Sarah from the King's influence while also serving the King's interests. It was a contradiction that would probably tear me apart eventually, but for now, it was the best I could do.

"I need to get back to the surface," I said. "Sarah will be calling for backup soon."

"Of course. Tommy will show you the way."

"Actually," I said, "I'd prefer to find my own way back. I need to understand the layout of these tunnels if I'm going to be working down here."

The King smiled, revealing teeth that were too sharp and too many. "You are already thinking like one of us. Very good. But remember, Marcus Kaine—you serve me now. Your first loyalty is to me, not to your badge or your partner or your city."

"I understand."

"Do you? We shall see."

I followed Tommy back through the maze of tunnels, but this time I paid attention to the layout, memorizing the routes and passages. The symbols on the walls were clearer now, and I could read some of them—warnings, directions, promises of power for those who served faithfully.

"How many others are there?" I asked Tommy as we walked.

"Others?"

"Like us. Servants of the King."

"Hundreds. Maybe thousands. The King has been recruiting for decades, but slowly. Quietly. Building a network of influence throughout the city."

"And now it's ready to go public?"

"Now it's ready to stop hiding. The other Kings are stirring too. New York, Tokyo, Paris. The time for secrecy is over."

We reached the abandoned platform, and I could see the service tunnel that led back to the surface. No sign of Sarah—she'd made it out, hopefully without being followed.

"What happens now?" I asked.

"Now you go back to your life. You do your job. You wait for instructions."

"And if I refuse an instruction?"

"Then you discover what happens to servants who disappoint the King."

Tommy turned and walked back into the tunnels, leaving me alone on the platform. I stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of what I'd just done. I'd sold my soul to save Sarah and protect London, but I wasn't sure I'd actually accomplished either goal.

The symbols carved into my skin pulsed faintly in the darkness, a constant reminder of what I'd become. I made my way back through the service tunnel, emerging into the pre-dawn streets of London. The city looked the same, but I could see it differently now—the network of power and influence that ran beneath the surface, the connections between the criminal organizations, the way everything was connected to everything else.

My phone buzzed. Sarah.

"Marcus? Thank God. Where are you? I've been calling for backup, but—"

"I'm fine," I said. "I'm on my way back to the station."

"What happened down there? Those people, they looked like—"

"Like the victims from our crime scenes. I know."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know yet. But I'm going to find out."

The lie came easily. Too easily. I was already becoming something else, something that could deceive without conscious thought. The King's influence was subtle but pervasive, changing me in ways I was only beginning to understand.

"Sarah, about the report—"

"I've already called it in. Superintendent wants to see us both first thing in the morning."

"What did you tell them?"

"The truth. That we found evidence of organized criminal activity in the abandoned tube stations. That we encountered suspects who should have been dead but weren't."

"And they believed you?"

"They want to believe me. But they're going to want proof."

Proof. That was going to be a problem.