Jack remained on the rooftop long after the sun broke the horizon. The wind kissed his bloodstained skin, and the dragon dagger, still warm in his grip, pulsed with a quiet rhythm. He should've felt victorious. Instead, he felt empty—like a man still waiting for the storm to arrive.
It came faster than anyone expected.
By noon, Harmonfield was choking.
It started in suddenly. A little girl collapsed in her classroom, her skin clammy, breath ragged. Then it was two more at a nearby park. Then a bus driver. Then an entire apartment block complaining of dizziness, vomiting, tremors.
Hospitals overflowed in hours. Social feeds exploded with videos of stretchers lining sidewalks, children sobbing in hallways, water bottles being thrown out in panic.
Jack got the call from Sarah. Her voice
