11/26/2021 — Thanksgiving
The house was silent.
But not a normal kind of silence.
It was the kind that comes right before something irreversible.
She already knew.
From the beginning.
"You need to go in today."
Her voice was calm.
Controlled.
But there was something underneath it.
Something Max didn't notice.
Or didn't want to.
"Today?" he asked, adjusting his jacket. "I thought I had the day off."
"They changed your shift."
She answered too quickly.
"Said it was important."
Max hesitated for a second.
Then nodded.
"Alright."
He stepped closer.
Kissed her forehead.
Simple.
Routine.
"I'll be back early."
She smiled.
But not like before.
"I know."
And that…
That was a goodbye.
He just didn't know it.
When the door closed…
she didn't move.
She stood still.
Staring into nothing.
And then—
she took a deep breath.
"It's time…"
Across the city…
he was already there.
Malachor.
But different.
Less form.
More presence.
Watching.
Always watching.
"This is the family?"
A voice beside him asked.
A follower.
"Yes."
Malachor replied.
"Why them?"
Silence.
Then—
"Because he survives."
The air grew colder.
"And that's all that matters."
Inside the house…
she moved.
Slowly.
Like someone who had already accepted the inevitable.
But not without pain.
Never without pain.
She opened the drawer.
Took the object.
The symbol.
The one Celine had shown her.
Long before.
Long before everything.
"Will this stop it?"
she had asked back then.
Celine looked at her.
And didn't lie.
"No."
Silence.
"But it might delay it."
A pause.
"Or change something."
"Is that enough?"
Celine hesitated.
Then—
"It's all we have."
Back to the present…
the house no longer felt safe.
The air was heavy.
Wrong.
And then—
they entered.
Shadows.
Movement.
Whispers.
The presence filling everything.
She didn't run.
Didn't scream.
Didn't try to escape.
Because she already knew.
"Do you understand what you're doing?"
Malachor's voice echoed.
But she didn't answer right away.
"I understand enough."
Silence.
"Then say it."
She raised her eyes.
And said:
"I'm choosing."
The air seemed to react.
"Choosing what?"
A pause.
Then—
"Him."
The world grew colder.
"He is no longer yours," Malachor said.
"He never was," she replied.
Without fear.
"But he can be more."
Silence.
"And that requires sacrifice."
She nodded.
Slowly.
"Then take mine."
The air stopped.
For a second.
Just one.
Outside…
Celine was there.
Hidden.
Watching.
Her body tense.
Her hands trembling.
"Don't do this…" she whispered.
But it was too late.
The ritual began.
She fell to her knees.
But didn't resist.
Didn't fight.
Because this…
was her choice.
"Promise…"
Her voice breaking.
"That he won't lose himself…"
Silence.
Then—
"He will become."
She closed her eyes.
A tear slipped down her face.
"Then let him choose what he becomes…"
The symbol glowed.
For a second.
Just one.
And Celine saw it.
"There's still a chance…" she murmured.
But it wasn't certainty.
It was hope.
The ritual continued.
Stronger.
Deeper.
More… complete.
And at the center of it—
her.
The sacrifice.
Not forced.
But chosen.
Hours later…
Max came back.
Like he promised.
The house was open.
Silent.
Wrong.
"Love?"
No answer.
He stepped inside.
Slowly.
His heart already racing.
"Love…?"
And then—
he saw.
The world stopped.
The air vanished.
Time broke.
And in that moment…
Max Donavan stopped being just a man.
Outside…
Celine dropped to her knees.
Hands over her face.
"I couldn't stop it…"
But deep down…
she knew.
She never had full control.
And in the shadows…
Malachor watched.
Satisfied.
"Now it begins…"
And that night…
it wasn't just a family that died.
It was the beginning of something…
that should have never existed.