Ryan stood at the garden's edge, watching the sky darken.
Not with clouds—with something else. Something that pressed against the edges of reality, making the air thick and heavy. The silver door pulsed wildly, its light flickering like a candle in a hurricane.
"Something is coming," Mira said, appearing beside him.
Ryan looked at his daughter. She was older now—not in years, but in presence. Her silver eyes held the weight of all the doors she'd opened and closed.
"The Old Ones?"
"Their servants. The things that were sealed with them. They're waking up."
---
The Keeper appeared, its ancient form trembling.
"The seals are weakening. The Hunters are stirring in the void. The Old Ones are reaching through."
Ryan's scar blazed. "How much time do we have?"
"Days. Maybe hours. The web
