A walk in the Nightside

Chapter 29: Veil of the Outer God

Michael's head throbbed, his mind a blur of agony as the ritual pressed on, pushing him to the brink of something he couldn't comprehend. He could feel the magic working its way deeper into him, carving away at his essence, tearing at his very soul. Green fluid poured from his eyes, nose, and mouth, soaking into his clothes, but the pain was beyond anything physical. The chains that held him in place had become more than just metal—they felt like a part of him, like they were binding him to something darker than the Nightside.

His breaths came in shallow gasps, but he couldn't break free, couldn't escape. The space around him seemed to warp, becoming more unreal by the second. The walls pulsed with a sickly purple light, and the presence of something ancient and malicious loomed just beyond his reach, pressing in on him. The Outer God was near. He could feel it.

Victoria and Jonathan Bennett stood before him, their faces twisted with satisfaction, their cold eyes watching him with amusement. Yelza stood behind them, her expression unreadable, as if she were only the messenger of something far more terrible.

"You've done well, my children," Yelza's voice broke the silence, an eerie calm settling over the room. Her words felt like a weight pressing down on him. "You've prepared the vessel, and now the time has come."

Michael's head spun. He wanted to scream, to resist, but the chains only tightened, and the world seemed to blur. The ritual was nearing its conclusion. He could feel it—the power building, the dark energy coiling tighter around him, ready to release.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus. He couldn't let this happen. He couldn't let them summon this Outer God into the world. He had to fight back, but how?

The chains rattled as Michael twisted in his restraints. He could feel his blood racing through his veins, and the pressure of the magic surrounding him made it hard to think. But then, through the haze of pain and pressure, he heard a voice.

A voice that pierced the suffocating grip of the ritual.

"Enough."

The air around him rippled, like a storm breaking through a calm surface. Michael's head snapped toward the source of the voice, barely able to focus through the blur. There, standing at the threshold of the ritual space, was Walker.

The room went still as a wave of cold washed over them, the energy in the room shifting violently. The Pembrokes and Yelza froze, their eyes locking onto Walker with a mixture of surprise and barely-contained rage.

"Walker?" Michael gasped, his voice barely a whisper, but the recognition was clear.

The moment Walker spoke, the ritual faltered, the dark energy around Michael shuddering. The chains that had been pulling tighter began to slacken, the pressure on his chest lessening.

"I've been looking for you," Walker said, his voice cold and commanding, though there was an undercurrent of something darker beneath it. "You think you can just summon an Outer God and not expect consequences?"

Jonathan Bennett's eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward, his lips curling into a sneer. "You always were a thorn in our side, Walker. But this... this is far bigger than you."

"Bigger than me?" Walker's voice was sharp, cutting through Jonathan's words like a blade. "You think you're the ones controlling this? You think this will go as planned?" He took another step forward, his presence expanding, an air of undeniable authority filling the room. "You've already made your mistake. And it's too late for you to undo it."

Victoria's gaze flickered, uncertain for the first time since Michael had been dragged here. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Walker raised his hand, a single finger pointing toward her.

"Enough," he said again. The word vibrated through the air, filled with a power that made everything else in the room seem insignificant. The energy around them shifted, the ritual's momentum faltering. "You've gone far enough."

Michael, still bound, could barely comprehend what was happening, but the change was undeniable. The chains loosened even further, and the oppressive weight of the ritual seemed to lift, if only slightly.

Victoria's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. "You think you can stop this, Walker?" she hissed, her voice thick with venom. "You're just one man."

Walker smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile. It was a smile that promised consequences. "One man? I am far more than that, my dear."

Jonathan moved, his hand outstretched as if to stop whatever Walker was about to do, but before he could act, the entire room shook violently. A dark energy rippled through the air like a crack in reality itself, and the force of it knocked everyone back. Michael felt the chains snap open as if they had never been there.

The ritual had faltered, and the presence of the Outer God, though still lurking, was no longer overwhelming. Michael gasped for breath, the pressure on his chest receding. His body felt weak, but he was free. For now.

Walker stepped forward, his eyes locked on the Pembrokes and Yelza. "This ends now."

Victoria snarled, her hands raised, magic crackling at her fingertips, but before she could cast, Walker raised his hand again, and the air around them went deathly still.

"I warned you," Walker said. "You don't get to play with things beyond your understanding without consequences."

The room was filled with a sickening silence as the ritual's energy dissipated, leaving only the lingering remnants of what had almost been. Michael was still weak, disoriented, but the chains were gone, and the room felt less oppressive.

Walker turned to Michael, his expression unreadable. "You alright?"

Michael swallowed, his throat dry, and nodded slowly, though his body felt like it was made of lead. "I... I think so."

The Pembrokes, now standing with less confidence than before, looked like they were preparing to make a final stand, but Walker's presence was enough to halt them in their tracks. He was no longer just a figurehead in the Nightside. He was power.

"You're out of time," Walker said, his tone calm but final. "And now, so are you."

Before the Pembrokes could react, Walker raised his hand again, a wave of energy rippling through the air, but not in an aggressive manner—instead, it seemed like a final warning.

Michael watched as the Pembrokes' posture faltered, uncertainty washing over them. Whatever was left of their plans was crumbling, their power slipping out of their grasp.

"I've had enough of you," Walker muttered, barely audible to anyone but Michael.

And then, with a flick of his wrist, he cast a final, dismissive wave of magic. The presence that had once filled the room—the dark force that the Pembrokes and Yelza had tried to summon—dispersed like mist in the wind.

Michael blinked, the world coming back into focus. He was free, but only for the moment.

"You've got more to answer for," Walker said, his eyes never leaving the Pembrokes. "But for now, this ends here."

The Pembrokes, left standing in stunned silence, realized too late that their plans were unraveling. Michael had been saved, but at what cost?

As Walker turned to leave, Michael knew this wasn't over—not by a long shot. But for now, he had survived. And that, in the Nightside, was a victory.

The ritual was nearing its climax, and Michael could feel the heavy weight of the dark energy pressing against him. It felt as though the very air around him was thickening, the oppressive force pushing into every fiber of his being. He could feel the Outer God clawing at the edges of his consciousness, attempting to consume him from the inside. His heart hammered in his chest, and each breath was labored as the pressure built, squeezing his lungs and filling his head with an unbearable pain.

The chains that bound him were no longer just metal—they were enchanted, reinforced with the very power of the Outer God. The more he struggled, the more they seemed to tighten. The raw power of the ritual surged within him, and the familiar buzzing of his swarm—once a source of comfort—was now barely a whisper against the overwhelming force inside him.

And then, the voice broke through the madness.

"Enough!"

Walker's voice echoed like a crack of thunder, and the air in the room seemed to tremble under the force of his command. The dark energy surrounding Michael wavered for a moment, but it didn't stop. Instead, the ritual seemed to accelerate, the ancient power surging through him faster and faster.

Victoria Bennett's voice was sweet but laced with venom. "You think you can stop this, Walker? It's already done. It's too late."

Jonathan Bennett, standing beside her, was the first to react, his eyes glowing with an eerie intensity. "You should have stayed out of this, Walker. This is bigger than all of us. This is our chance to bring forth something far greater than you can imagine."

Michael could feel the ritual building inside him like a tidal wave. It was getting harder to hold on. His vision blurred, and his body felt as if it were being torn apart by the raw power coursing through him. The Outer God, now fully aware of Michael's presence, was pulling at the edges of his mind, trying to force its way in. He could feel it—its hunger, its power, its will to dominate everything.

Desperation surged through him, and he focused. He had one thing left to him: his swarm. He reached deep inside, pulling on the last remnants of his connection to the insects, willing them to act.

His body trembled as the first wave of insects responded—beetles, spiders, flies, ants—his swarm growing ever larger, extending across the room. It was a frantic, desperate push, but the swarm obeyed, gathering and surging toward the chains that bound him.

The chains began to quiver, and Michael could feel them loosening. A wave of relief washed over him, but it was short-lived. The ritual was still happening, still consuming him. He had only moments before the Outer God would overpower him completely.

"You think your insects can save you?" Victoria sneered, stepping closer. "This is beyond anything you can control."

Michael's response was a snarl as he pushed harder, channeling all his focus into his swarm. The insects swarmed around the chains, eating through the enchanted metal and the magic that held them together. Michael could feel the pressure around his chest ease as the restraints loosened.

Suddenly, he was free. The chains fell away with a metallic clatter, and he stumbled forward, his limbs shaky, but his mind clear—focused on survival.

The ritual space around him pulsed with dark energy, but now, with the chains gone, Michael could tap into his full power. He commanded the swarm to move. The room was filled with the whirring of wings, the clicking of legs, and the buzz of hundreds of insects. He sent them out, using them as his eyes, his senses. He could feel every inch of the room, every crack in the walls, every shift in the air.

Victoria and Jonathan seemed unfazed, but Michael could see them now, clearly. The ritual had reached a critical point, but he still had time. His swarm, moving at his command, crawled through the space, creating a barrier between him and the rest of the room. The insects moved as one, making a dense wall of bodies that shielded him from the magic.

Walker, still a presence in the background, watched with cool indifference as the chaos continued to unfold. The air around him crackled with energy as he prepared for the inevitable fight that was about to break out.

But Michael wasn't focused on him—not yet. His immediate concern was the force inside him, the Outer God's will. It was like a flood breaking through a dam, and Michael's mind was struggling to hold it back. The pressure was unbearable, his body trembling with the strain, but the swarm held him together, kept him focused.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the ritual escalated. Dark tendrils of energy shot toward him, swirling in the air like serpents. The Outer God was nearly there—Michael could feel its presence coiling inside his chest, pushing against his ribs, forcing its way into every part of him.

"Do you see it now, Michael?" Jonathan's voice rang out in the chaos. "You were never meant to be anything but a vessel. A tool to bring about the end."

The ground trembled beneath them, and a low growl seemed to emanate from the very walls of the chamber. Michael could feel the magic shifting, bending around him as the Outer God tried to breach the walls of reality.

He staggered to his feet, his body shaking with the effort to resist the power threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn't let it in. Not yet. He needed to finish this—he needed to stop the ritual before it was too late.

The insects around him buzzed furiously as he sent them forward, a violent storm of nature, but the magic of the ritual was stronger, fighting back. Michael's hands trembled as he struggled to keep the swarm under control. It was his last line of defense.

Walker's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. "Enough!"

The blast of energy from his hand was enough to knock Michael off his feet, throwing him back into the chains he had just escaped. The air around him buzzed with energy, but it was too much. His body was battered, his strength failing, and the Outer God's presence was closing in.

"Help me," Michael whispered through clenched teeth, his breath ragged.

But there was no answer, only the silence that followed as the darkness filled the room once more.

Michael's chest felt like it was going to explode. The ritual was in its final stages, the energy building and writhing inside him like a living, coiling serpent, trying to tear him apart from the inside. He could feel it—the Outer God, pressing against his insides, fighting to break through. The walls of reality itself were weakening, and he could feel the terrible force straining to get out, to flood into the world and consume everything in its wake.

The presence inside him was suffocating. His vision blurred, his mind spinning as the immense weight of the god's power tried to overtake him. He could feel his own identity being stretched thin, his soul unraveling under the sheer pressure of it. His heart raced in his chest as his body fought against the overwhelming force trying to seize control.

Then, Walker arrived.

There was no dramatic entrance—just the quiet, almost unsettling calm of the man as he stepped into the chaos of the ritual chamber. His eyes locked onto Michael, and without a word, he moved with deliberate purpose, pulling something from his coat.

It was a device. Jagged and metallic, its form twisted and strange, humming with a dark energy. Michael barely had time to process it before Walker slammed the device onto his chest.

The moment the device made contact, Michael screamed.

It wasn't just the pain—it was the force of the device ripping into him, tearing through the veil that separated him from the Outer God's power. He could feel it, feel the god's essence fighting against the intrusion, trying to break free. The device didn't just hold it at bay—it pulled something from Michael's core. A piece of the god itself was being yanked out of him, ripped away with a sickening twist of energy.

Michael's body jerked, and he could feel the thing inside him howling. It was like a part of himself was being shredded away. The pain was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It felt as though every nerve in his body was on fire, and his muscles spasmed as the energy from the device surged through him, digging deep into his soul.

"No!" Michael gasped, struggling against the chains. His body was wracked with convulsions, and he could feel his breath coming in short, jagged gasps as the pressure inside him escalated. He wanted to scream, to fight, but he couldn't—the agony was consuming him.

Walker's hands didn't falter. He gritted his teeth as he held the device steady. "Hold it together, Michael," Walker's voice was calm, even reassuring. But the words felt distant to Michael, like they were being drowned out by the chaotic roar of the god inside him. "You have to let it go. You have to close the door."

Michael's mind was unraveling, his thoughts becoming jumbled as the god's presence clawed at him, gnawing at every shred of his identity. The device was pulling a piece of the god's essence from him, but it wasn't enough. The doorway was still wide open, and Michael could feel the dark power seeping out—threatening to tear the fabric of reality apart.

"No… I… can't…" Michael's voice was weak, his breath ragged. His chest heaved as the device continued to drain the energy from him. But instead of letting go, the god inside him seemed to fight harder, pulling at Michael's very soul, dragging him toward the darkness.

Walker's voice remained steady, but there was a note of urgency now. "You have to close it. The moment I release this piece, the door will begin to close. But you need to take it in."

The device pulsed again, and Michael's vision swam. He could feel the world around him growing dim, as though the light itself was being consumed by the vast darkness inside him. The piece of the god—the fragment that had been torn away—was now inside him. It was pulling him, dragging him closer to the abyss.

Michael fought to keep his mind intact, his thoughts scattered, but still there. His will fought against the god's hunger, but it was a battle he didn't know if he could win.

"You have to close the door now, Michael," Walker repeated, his voice low and insistent. The man's fingers dug deeper into the device, pushing harder.

Michael's body trembled as the reality around him seemed to warp. The room bent and twisted, the energy pressing against him from every direction. The god inside him howled—the sound deafening, like a thousand voices screaming in his head. But Michael didn't give in. He couldn't.

With every ounce of strength, he pushed back.

And in that moment, he closed the door.

It wasn't like flipping a switch. It was a war—every fiber of his being fighting against the pull of the god, forcing the door to close, to lock, to be sealed. The pain was excruciating, but Michael's will won out. He forced the god back, closing the breach that had been opened, locking it away.

The energy that had been threatening to consume him suddenly snapped. The pressure eased, the unbearable weight lifted, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Michael's body went still.

Walker stepped back, his gaze unwavering, watching Michael carefully. His eyes narrowed as Michael slumped, barely holding on.

"It's done," Walker said quietly, the relief in his voice palpable, though Michael could hear the unease under it. "The god's been sealed again… but not without a cost."

Michael, still shaking from the effort, could only nod. His body ached, every muscle sore from the unimaginable strain he'd just put himself through. He felt empty—like a part of him had been torn away, but the worst was over, at least for now.

The ritual had been interrupted. The Outer God had been pushed back. But the price had been high. Michael had fought not just for his life, but for the entire Nightside.

And even though the door had been closed, he knew this wouldn't be the last time the god would try to break through.

But for now, Michael had won.

He was still alive.