The invitation arrived on a golden platter, carried by a procession of robed figures who marched through the gates of Ashenford at dawn.
Michael was in the garden when he heard the commotion. He walked to the front of the community center and found a dozen figures in white and gold robes, their faces serene, their hands clasped in prayer. At their head walked a tall woman with silver hair and eyes that seemed to glow with an inner light.
"Michael Voss," she said, her voice like music. "The Hollow Punch. The savior of the world. We have come to honor you."
Michael studied her, his instincts on edge. "Who are you?"
"I am Seraphina, leader of the Golden Dawn. We have watched your battles from afar. We have witnessed your courage, your sacrifice, your triumph." She extended her hand. "We h
