Chapter Fourteen: Smoke, Shadow, and Confessions
Jason didn't leave.
He said it was because the world might end and he wanted a front-row seat. But his gear was already moved into the spare room Nelson reluctantly offered, and by morning he'd helped repair the busted wards like he'd lived there for months.
"You ever rebuild a sigil line before?" Zatanna asked skeptically.
Jason grinned under the hood. "Nope. But I'm a fast learner. Besides—blow up enough magic basements, you pick things up."
---
It was midday when Constantine arrived—cracking reality open like a drunk kicking in a door.
Smoke billowed from a sudden rift in the kitchen wall, followed by the scent of cigarettes, rain, and bad decisions. John Constantine stepped through, soaked to the bone, coat hanging off him like a wet rag.
"Bloody plane diverted over France. Multiversal congestion's a bitch," he muttered, lighting a fresh smoke with a finger snap. "Heard the kid's glowing."
Zatanna crossed her arms. "Glad you finally showed up."
Raven didn't look up from the runes she was reinforcing. "We've already been attacked once."
John spotted Kane. His eyes flickered for a second, as if he were seeing more than just the figure in front of him.
"Yeah," he muttered, taking a long drag. "You're not just glowing. You're humming with things best left buried."
Kane offered a half-smile. "Nice to meet you too."
---
That night, the air felt wrong again.
Kane stood outside, eyes glowing softly, watching the sky warp. It didn't shift visibly—but he knew. Something was moving behind the curtain of space. Something big.
Zatanna appeared beside him quietly. "You feel it too?"
"Like a migraine in my bones," he said.
She nodded, brushing snow from her jacket. "You're tuning in. That's dangerous—but useful."
Kane's jaw tightened. "Why me?"
Zatanna didn't answer right away. "The universe doesn't choose like we do. Power flows where it must. And sometimes… it flows into people who can carry it. Or contain it."
"Or attract things that want it," he said bitterly.
That's when Raven joined them, silent until now. Her hood was down, face unreadable.
"They're mobilizing again," she said. "This time not just agents. Something heavier. Bigger. Like a siege piece on a cosmic board."
Kane didn't flinch.
But he asked: "What happens if I lose control?"
Raven answered, soft but firm. "Then we don't let that happen."
He looked between them. Two of the most powerful mystics in the world. Zatanna—clever, sharp, calm in chaos. Raven—carrying her own storm, but steady in ways most people never saw.
"Can I trust you both to stop me, if it comes to that?" he asked.
Zatanna raised an eyebrow. "We're not here to kill you, Kane."
"But we're also not here to let you burn the world down by accident," Raven added. "Yes. You can trust us."
He looked back at the sky. "I don't want to be a god. I don't want to be a weapon. I just want to live."
"That's why you're still safe to help," Zatanna said. "That thought? It means you're still human."
---
Inside, Jason was cleaning his guns, Constantine was drinking, and Kent was drawing layered wards in ancient script.
But outside, the multiverse bent again.
Something was coming. Something old.
Kane didn't have a name for it yet.
But he saw its shape in his mind:
Not a being.
Not a monster.
A machine.
A great cosmic engine—the Empty Hand's next move. Designed not to break worlds.
But to rewrite him.
And it was already en route.
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