It started as a mild annoyance. A polite knock at the door. Then another. Then another. Darian, who had been enjoying a rare moment of peace, sighed deeply. He could already feel the impending irritation. He tried to ignore it. Maybe they’d go away. Maybe fate would intervene and spare him whatever fresh nonsense Arias was about to unleash.
Arias, however, had already peeked through the blinds and was grinning like a man possessed. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."
Darian rubbed his temples. "Do not encourage them. Just ignore it. They’ll leave."
Arias ignored him completely and flung the door open, beaming like an overenthusiastic game show host. "Gentlemen! What brings you to our humble abode?"
Two well-dressed individuals, clutching pamphlets with an unsettling level of enthusiasm, beamed back at him. "Good morning! Have you heard the good news?"
Arias gasped dramatically. "Oh, do tell!"
Darian, still seated on the couch, closed his eyes and muttered under his breath, This is going to be a long day.
The Witnesses launched into their rehearsed speech, speaking of salvation, the kingdom of heaven, and the dangers of worldly temptation. Arias nodded along eagerly, making little noises of interest at strategic points as if he were truly captivated.
"Fascinating," Arias said, stroking his chin. "Tell me more about this ‘eternal salvation.’ Do you think it applies to, say, immortal beings?"
The shorter of the two men blinked. "Excuse me?"
Darian, already regretting letting this play out for even this long, finally stood up and made his way to the door, his arms crossed. "He’s messing with you. You should leave."
The taller Witness cleared his throat. "Sir, we only wish to share the truth. Surely you wouldn’t turn away an opportunity to hear—"
"Oh, we love the truth," Arias interrupted. "We’ve met quite a few gods in our time. Had a few over for dinner, actually. Some of them were kind of jerks, though. One set fire to our couch."
The shorter Witness looked more alarmed. "I… I see. Well, perhaps you’d like to—"
"Do you accept blood sacrifices?" Arias asked cheerfully. "Because if not, we might have to reconsider our options."
Darian sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose as the two men shuffled back a step.
"O-okay, well, perhaps another time—"
"Wait!" Arias grabbed one of the pamphlets and flipped through it. "Just one last thing—if heaven is eternal, does that mean it operates outside of linear time? Because that would create a paradox in which—"
The Jehovah’s Witnesses were already halfway down the driveway, moving at an impressive speed.
Arias cupped his hands around his mouth and called after them. "Come back soon! We’d love to summon—I mean, discuss more with you!"
Darian shut the door and exhaled slowly, staring at his brother. "I hate you."
Arias flopped onto the couch, looking far too pleased with himself. "Don’t lie. That was the most fun you’ve had all week."
Darian grumbled and crossed the room, sitting back down. "I was relaxing. Until you decided to harass two very persistent mortals."
Arias grinned. "They started it. We were just meeting their energy. Like good hosts."
Darian rolled his eyes but said nothing. He reached for his book and had just managed to turn the page when another knock sounded at the door. Both brothers froze.
Arias lit up immediately. "Did they come back?! Oh, this is a good day!"
Darian, already suspecting something worse, groaned and stood up. He pulled the door open.
This time, standing on their doorstep, was an entire congregation.
Arias clapped his hands together. "Now this is escalation!"
Darian inhaled sharply, staring at the small crowd, then exhaled in resignation. He turned back to Arias. "This is your fault. You deal with it."
Arias, looking positively delighted, straightened his shirt, grinned at the new arrivals, and said, "So. Who wants to hear about our gods?"
The congregation exchanged uncertain glances. A few of them looked vaguely nervous. Others seemed determined, gripping their pamphlets as if they were shields against whatever blasphemy they were about to encounter.
One particularly brave soul stepped forward. "We’d love to share the light of salvation with you."
Arias’ grin widened. "That’s adorable. Have you ever heard the story of the time we stopped an ancient god from consuming the sun?"
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Darian groaned. "Arias, no."
Arias pressed on, undeterred. "It was quite the experience. Lots of chanting. Some fire. I may have accidentally insulted the high priest and caused a minor earthquake, but in my defense, he started it."
The group looked alarmed, but their leader, bless his persistence, stood his ground. "That sounds like a… metaphor."
Arias wagged a finger. "That’s what they said. Right up until the sky cracked open and a massive eldritch hand reached through the veil of time."
Someone gasped.
Darian rubbed his face. "You’re making it worse."
Arias ignored him. "Anyway, we resolved it! Eventually. The high priest was only mostly incinerated, and the sun still exists, so I’d call it a success."
The congregation took another collective step back. One man was gripping his pamphlet like a lifeline.
"Perhaps another time," the leader said hastily.
Arias looked genuinely disappointed. "Aw, but we haven’t even discussed reincarnation probabilities yet."
Darian pointed at the door. "Inside. Now."
Arias pouted but obeyed. As soon as Darian shut the door behind him, he muttered, "Cowards."
Darian exhaled slowly. "If they come back, I’m letting you handle it alone."
Arias wiggled his eyebrows. "You say that, but you secretly enjoy my methods."
Darian sat back down with his book. "No, I really don’t."
Arias stretched lazily. "At least they’ll think twice before knocking again."
Another knock echoed through the house.
Darian glared. "You just had to say it."
Arias smirked, got up, and cracked his knuckles. "Round three?"
Darian muttered, "I need stronger wards."
I noticed her immediately.
She was good—not just another amateur trying to tail me, but highly skilled. She knew how to blend into a crowd, how to linger just close enough to observe, but not too close to be obvious.
Her rhythm was off just enough to tip me off. A normal person wouldn’t walk through a crime scene aftermath, taking notes, without being at least a little bothered by the carnage.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
So I let her follow.
For days.
Through the city. Into alleyways. Even at the diner where I got my coffee.
I gave her plenty of opportunities to get bored and walk away.
She didn’t.
And now?
She was making her move.
I sat at my usual table at a 24-hour diner, sipping a black coffee that the waitress had long since stopped charging me for.
She slid into the seat across from me with confidence.
Like she belonged there.
That alone was impressive.
She set a recorder on the table.
“Darian,” she said smoothly.
I took a slow sip of coffee. “That’s a strong opener. You’re not even going to pretend you don’t know who I am?”
She smirked. “Would that work?”
I shrugged. “Probably not. Who are you?”
“Leona Hart,” she said. “Investigative journalist.”
“Should I be flattered or concerned?”
She folded her hands together. “I think we both know the answer to that.”
I sighed, glancing at the recorder. “You’re going to ask me a bunch of questions. Hope I give you some cryptic, dangerous answers. Maybe even an exclusive. Am I close?”
“Very.”
She didn’t waste time.
Leona leaned forward slightly. “People have been talking about you. The man with no digital footprint. No social security number. No birth certificate. And yet, here you are.”
I took another sip. “Maybe I’m just private.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe. But then there are the stories.”
“Stories?”
“Let’s start small.” She pulled out a notebook, flipping through it with concerning efficiency.
I caught glimpses of crime scene photos, blurry surveillance footage, and witness statements.
She tapped one.
“This is from an incident last month. A warehouse explosion, supposedly gang-related. Official reports say no one survived.”
I nodded. “Tragic.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Except, I have a video—grainy, sure, but clear enough—that shows a man walking out of that fire completely unharmed.”
“Must have been lucky.”
“Must have been you.”
I exhaled. “You ever consider that some things are better left unexplored?”
“That’s a cop-out answer,” she said, unphased. “And I don’t do ‘unexplored.’”
Leona leaned back. “Let’s try another one.”
“By all means.”
She flipped another page. “The subway incident two weeks ago. There were reports of a creature—tall, humanoid, many teeth, very fast. NYPD said it was a deranged man on PCP.”
I nodded. “Sounds plausible.”
She smiled. “Except, that’s not what my witnesses said.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“They said it was a monster. A real one. And that you—a man with golden eyes and impossible strength—fought it and snapped its neck.”
I drummed my fingers on the table. “Sounds like an urban legend.”
She smirked. “See, that’s what I thought. Until I started finding more stories.”
She slid five more reports across the table.
Different cities. Different incidents. Different monsters.
Same man.
Me.
Leona Hart was dangerous.
Not because she had proof—not yet. But because she had patterns.
And she was too smart to let this go.
I glanced at her recorder. “And what happens if I tell you the truth?”
Leona tilted her head. “Then I have my biggest story yet.”
“And what if I don’t?”
She shrugged. “Then I keep digging.”
I smirked. “You realize that’s dangerous, right?”
“For you?”
“For you.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Are you threatening me?”
I chuckled. “No. I don’t do that. I’m just saying… there’s a reason people don’t talk about me.”
Silence.
Then, slowly, she reached for her recorder.
She pressed stop.
I watched her. “Giving up already?”
She smiled. “No. Just realizing that this story is… bigger than I thought.”
I exhaled. “Good call.”
Leona stood, grabbing her notebook.
But before she left, she slid me a business card.
“In case you ever feel like talking.”
I twirled it between my fingers. “And if I don’t?”
She smiled, eyes gleaming.
“Then I’ll find you anyway.”
And just like that, she was gone.
I sighed, finishing my coffee.
Leona Hart.
A problem for another day.
Two days later, I found another envelope waiting at my usual diner table. Inside—
A photo.
It was me, from last night. Walking home. A blur in the corner—a shape barely visible in the shadows. Watching.
I flipped the photo over.
One word, handwritten.
“Told you.”
Agent Monroe and Agent Stevens had already suffered enough.
They had inherited the Darian Surveillance Assignment—which, as it turned out, was a complete disaster.
Darian was not normal.
- He disappeared from locked rooms.
- He punched monsters out of existence.
- He had a personal army of crows.
- He also knew they were watching him and didn’t care.
And now?
Now, things were worse.
Because they had just learned about his brother.
And his brother was even worse.
Monroe and Stevens had spent weeks adjusting to the sheer chaos of Darian’s existence, piecing together fragmented reports that barely made sense. Their colleagues in the CIA either thought they were exaggerating or had quietly accepted that whatever Darian was… it was beyond their pay grade.
But now? Now there was Arias.
A whole new nightmare.
Monroe and Stevens were camped out in their surveillance van, doing their best to pretend they had control over the situation.
Monroe sipped her fourth coffee of the night. “Okay. So Darian’s been seen with another person lately.”
Stevens adjusted his headset. “Right. Arias.”
Monroe frowned, flipping through a classified file. “Intel says he’s… a ‘war god’?”
Stevens rolled his eyes. “That’s gotta be an exaggeration.”
“Is it, though?” Monroe muttered.
Stevens shrugged. “I mean, what’s he gonna do? Flex at people?”
Just then, the van door swung open.
Monroe and Stevens screamed.
Standing there, grinning like he was here for a party, was Arias.
“Hey, lovebirds. What’s up?”
Monroe nearly dropped her coffee. “What—how did you—”
Stevens fumbled for his gun. “You—you—”
Arias plucked the gun from his hands and tossed it over his shoulder.
“You guys are hilarious.”
Stevens froze. “You just—”
Arias sat down between them like he belonged there, stretching out like he was making himself at home.
“So! You’re the ones following my brother around.”
Monroe, now existentially exhausted, groaned. “Oh, for the love of—Darian already knows, doesn’t he?”
Arias grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”
Monroe took a deep breath. “Look. We’re just doing our jobs.”
Arias snatched a handful of their surveillance notes.
“Oh wow,” he said, flipping through them. “You guys have, like, so much documentation.”
Stevens glared. “That’s our work!”
Arias nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Real thorough. Hey, what’s this?”
He held up a photo of Darian feeding pigeons.
“‘Darian spotted engaging in possible animal communication’?” Arias read aloud. “That’s adorable.”
Monroe groaned. “We know the pigeons aren’t normal.”
Arias winked. “They are very well-trained.”
Stevens muttered, “I knew it.”
Arias flipped to another page.
“‘Possible teleportation incident at café—suspect appeared on second floor without using stairs.’”
Arias snorted. “That’s just his monk training.”
Monroe sighed. “That’s… not how physics works.”
Arias shrugged. “Neither does Darian.”
Stevens crossed his arms. “Alright, smart guy. If we can’t track Darian properly, what about you?”
Arias grinned. “Oh, you’re welcome to try.”
Monroe frowned. “Try… what?”
Arias leaned back, stretching.
“Go ahead. Surveil me.”
Stevens and Monroe exchanged a glance.
Then Monroe, cautiously, pulled out her notebook.
Observation #1: Arias is sitting in front of us.
She looked up.
Arias was gone.
The van door was still closed.
Stevens blinked. “Where did he—”
A voice right behind them.
“Boo.”
They screamed.
Arias laughed.
Monroe turned to glare at him. “How the hell—”
Arias winked. “You guys are gonna have so much fun.”
Arias leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees.
“So, real talk. What’s your endgame here?”
Stevens sighed. “We’re just supposed to monitor you two and report back.”
Arias smirked. “And? What have you learned?”
Monroe stared at her notes.
It was mostly nonsense.
- Darian teleports, possibly? Or moves very fast? Either way, he won’t tell us.
- Crows are involved.
- Arias is worse.
- Can’t keep up. Everything is a disaster.
- Why is he so handsome?
Monroe quickly crossed that last note out.
Arias glanced at her notes.
He grinned. “Oh, I saw that.”
Monroe threw her notebook at him.
Arias clapped his hands together.
“Alright! So, since you guys clearly can’t keep up, I’ll make this easy.”
Stevens frowned. “How?”
Arias smirked.
Then he pulled out his phone.
“Just text me next time you want to know where we are.”
Monroe blinked. “You’re just… giving us your number?”
“Yep!”
Stevens frowned. “You’re supposed to be hiding from us.”
Arias winked. “Am I?”
They both stared.
Arias grinned.
“Anyway! This has been fun, but Darian and I have a thing. Try to keep up, yeah?”
And then, without warning, he was gone.
Stevens and Monroe sat there in stunned silence.
After a long pause, Monroe picked up her coffee, chugged it, and sighed.
“…We’re never getting out of this assignment, are we?”
Stevens buried his face in his hands.
“No. No, we are not.”