Chapter 26 - The End of The Beginning

At Binge’s lair, the dream began. Once a core of Rivermirror’s hope, it had grown dark and foreboding. Binge—a man who once ended city-wide hunger and fought for peace—had achieved greatness, but at a cost few would dare to pay.

The large table, sculpted in the shape of Rivermirror’s map, was where the remnants of the elites gathered. Around it, a fractured council sat, each burdened by their own shadows:

Binge: With stress plucking his hair one by one and his skin tainted green from the relay core’s toxic exposure, he looked twice his age. The foul smell of death emanated from him, unmistakable and suffocating.

Gazier: Once loud and brash, he had grown quieter and more calculating, his experiences with Binge teaching him that muscles alone couldn’t solve every problem.

Evee: Sweet and vibrant on the surface, but her eyes betrayed her—a woman who had seen unspeakable horrors and carried them silently.

Hound: The calmest and most composed in the room. Armed with knowledge of every answer, every outcome, he held the upper hand.

Emily: The wildcard. Invited by Binge for reasons unknown, she sat stiffly, her anticipation and unease palpable.

Hound’s gaze shifted to the two men standing guard behind Binge. Their oversized mechanical arms hissed softly, flames flickering faintly from vents. “Em, am I dreaming, or are those the same guys?” he asked, pointing at them.

Emily’s eyes darted toward the men, her unease deepening. “I think so,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Binge’s voice, unusually choppy and aged, broke the tension. “I hope we can move forward… maturely. Mistakes were made, I’ll admit, but this is bigger than us now.”

“You sound like a dying cat,” Gazier quipped, barely suppressing a grin. Evee masked her laughter with a forced cough.

Hound ignored the banter, pulling a thin book from his jacket and placing it on the table. The book was dense with words, its cover plain and unassuming. “Everything you need to know is here,” he said. “Each copy is tailored to your role. The events described will occur within the next twelve months, but only if you follow the instructions precisely. Any deviation will render all the books useless.”

Evee frowned, her curiosity piqued. “Why do we need the books in the first place?”

Hound didn’t miss a beat. “Look outside,” he instructed, glancing at the clock in the corner. “It should have reached this area by now.”

Evee hesitated, her chair scraping loudly as she stood. Her movements were slow, almost predatory, as she approached the red curtains. She pulled them aside to reveal the large glass window. What she saw on the other side made her recoil. Her hands gripped the curtains tightly, her body trembling.

“What did you see?” Binge asked, his voice low, almost unwilling to know the answer.

Evee said nothing. She returned to the table, grabbed her copy of the book, and sat down, her face pale and eyes wide with fear.

Hound resumed. “Follow the instructions as though your life depends on it. Because it does. I’ve seen all of you die too many times to count, and I’m here to ensure that doesn’t happen. With one exception of course”

He stood, distributing the remaining copies. Each person received one, their names etched on the covers. “You’re to discover the cause of the disease within a month. After that, you die from radiation exposure.”

Binge’s expression remained impassive, as though he already knew his fate. The others, however, struggled to maintain their composure. The grief in their eyes was impossible to hide.

“Your body will be resurrected moments later, like Evee just saw. But your mind won’t follow. Only the relay core’s influence will remain.”

Gazier’s hunter instincts flared. “Then we should kill him for real when it happens. Cores possessing humans never end well.”

“On the contrary,” Hound countered. “You’ll follow the book. When the time comes, do nothing.”

“Thousands, if not tens of thousands, will die. And for what?” Evee’s voice was barely a whisper, her disbelief cutting through the room.

“His death will unite River and Rivermirror,” Hound explained. “A catastrophe so great that both sides will fight as one against a common enemy. In twelve months, a new nation will rise from the ashes: Corpsehaven.”

Binge’s laugh was hollow. “I knew it. We should’ve used River’s citizens instead of beast cores as a replacement for the relay core. Beast cores were never compatible with humans. That’s why I’m dying. That’s why everyone will die and resurrect as mindless beings.”

“Not everyone,” Hound corrected. “A few will naturally resist the disease. And I’ve already prepared a cure. Tested, of course, by yours truly.” He clapped slowly in Emily’s direction.

Evee’s face lit up with hope. “Then we can end this. Binge doesn’t need to die.”

Hound’s expression darkened. “No. People need to die. Children need to suffer. Binge needs to wreak havoc. Only then will we unite with River and find long-term peace.”

Evee’s hope shattered. “We can’t seriously consider this when we can stop it now…”

“Follow the book,” Hound said firmly. “Millions of lives depend on it.”

After a long argument, Evee reluctantly backed down, her shoulders heavy with resignation.

Binge turned to Emily, his voice soft but firm. “I want you to be my replacement. Your devotion to Hound is enough for me to overlook your origins in River. You’re a great talent. Don’t waste it.”

The meeting concluded as each member stood, their burdens heavier than when they arrived. Hound’s gaze lingered on each of them, his tone cold and unyielding. “You will follow the book. I made a promise to Argent, and I intend to keep it. Deviate, and I will personally send you to meet your maker. This is not a threat—it’s a promise.”

With that, he turned toward the window, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “FROM THE ASHES, WE WILL RISE”