Seth passed out from the pain and the adrenaline crash not five minutes into the journey, his mind slipping from reality into umber fever-dreams.

Seth sat on the mats of Central Fighting Arts, legs folded, clothed only in fighting trunks. The gym lay still and empty. He was alone. Only a few of the overhead lights were on, leaving shadows around the edge of the building. He looked out the front windows to see nothing but a void of inky blackness. Seth stood up, feeling better than he thought he should remember, though he didn’t know why he didn’t trust his legs.

He stood up, instinctively flexing the row of hard muscles along his side, and looked down to his oblique. His skin was smooth and gently tan. Not a scratch on it. That felt wrong. He straighted himself and inhaled a deep breath. Seth clenched his fists, feeling full use of his fingers. Again, that felt wrong.

“It’s better with you gone.”

Seth turned his head to the right to see Madeline and Emma standing in the ring on the left hand side of the gym. The both leaned against the ropes and stared him down with glassy eyes. He swallowed.

“You’re better off dead, Seth,” they spoke in unison.

Seth turned his whole body toward them now.

“Stay dead, Seth,” they said, continuing to speak in unison. “The world doesn’t need more bastards like you. Give yourself to the void.”

Seth glanced over his shoulder at the darkness outside.

“Be the sacrifice,” said Madeline.

“Bring them back,” said Emma.

“You’re a waste anyways,” said Madeline.

“You’ll never do good,” said Emma.

“Evil is in your nature,” they said in unison.

“Shut the fuck up!” Shouted Seth.

“No,” came the chorus. “You must know the truth about yourself.”

The ground shook and void swirled around Seth, obscuring everything in a second and throwing him down, down, down, down… Seth crashed into a hard surface and rolled over coughing. Blood stained the cold stone beneath him and he shoved himself to his feet.

Blood dripped down from a wound now suddenly in his side.

Seth looked around, clapping a hand over the painful injury. Darkness all around in every direction except straight ahead, where the stone floor continued on a path through the darkness.

“Follow it,” came his father’s voice from every which way at once. “You’ve never been good at sticking to the path you were supposed to. Try for once.”

Seth felt anger roiling in him.

“There it is, you bastard child.”

Seth moved forward along the path, still pressing his hand tight to his wound. The path went straight through the darkness, more revealed with every step, more falling away behind him as he continued, only allowing him to see ten feet ahead and back.

How long he walked, he didn’t know. Time had no feeling here.

Seconds, or months, or days, or years passed and Seth came to a small circle of the stone floor. In the center lay a dais, topped with a flat rectangular stone. Carved upon it was an inverted pentagram, encircled by a single line. He watched as he himself stepped out of the darkness to stand behind the altar for a moment, locking eyes with Seth. Wordlessly, the other Seth climbed on top of the altar and lay down on his back, closing his eyes.

Seth tried to step forward, but he fell, unable to take that step. He crashed into the stone floor and looked down. His left leg was gone, nothing more than a seared stump in its place. Seth tried to push himself up, but his hands wouldn’t work right, most of his fingers wouldn’t respond to the commands his brain sent them. Seth heard a rush of wind and he turned to look at the altar.

Behind it now, over Seth’s unconscious body, stood a figure cloaked in dark yellow robes, enormous black raven-wings extending from their back, two hands gloved in silver armor folded in front of them like a priest about to say a prayer.

“Sacrifice,” said Madeline.

“Sacrifice,” said Emma.

“Sacrifice,” said his father.

“Sacrifice,” said Sarah.

“Sacrifice,” said Nicole.

“Sacrifice,” said Andrew.

“Sacrifice,” intoned the figure, a deep baritone emanating from under the hood. “Unholy sacrifice. Sacrifice honored. Sacrifice returned.”

Seth felt the gaze of the being beneath the hood, though he could not see its eyes. “Do you sacrifice, Seth? Do you bring them back? Or are you the Adversary?”

“Right then, this can bugger off.” Seth heard Ben’s voice from behind him and he turned to see the sorcerer standing there, his back to the void. “Dunno where this is coming from, Seth, but-”

The figure outstretched a hand and Ben immediately held up his arms in an ‘X’. A shimmering field of violet energy rose up to block some invisible force. The veins on Ben’s forehead and neck bulged. “Don’t. Accept-”

The force-field gave away and Ben blew away into the void with an angry shout.

Seth looked back to the figure, its hands once again folded in front of it. “Are. You. The Adversary?”

“Right then, fuck this, I’m goddamn Arch-class, even if I’m out of practice.” A hand gripped Seth’s hair by the roots and the world around him vanished.

***

Seth came to, his entire body in pain and burning up and chilling all at once, wedged into the corner of the Jeep’s front seat. Ben had a hand gripping his hair. Ben slowly released it. “Sorry, brother.” He returned his gaze to driving. “Don’t know where the hell that came from, but someone just attacked you via the Dreamlands. Here.” He handed him a small pack labeled ‘Caffeine pills’. “It will suck, we’ve got a ways to go, but you best stay awake until we’re in a place with proper defenses. Nicole, keep him up.”

Seth looked back at Nicole in the back seat. Something seemed off. Her eyes seemed glassy.

“Come on, Seth,” she said in the same seductive voice she’d used right before Hunter-33 had attacked. “Take a pill and we’ll talk so you stay awake. Don’t want you slipping away on us.”