Chapter Fifteen: The Detour
"The thing's not just coming," Constantine said, flipping through a scorched grimoire on the kitchen table. "It's carving a path. Not through space. Through reality's intent."
Kane raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning this isn't just a brute force attack," Zatanna answered, circling a sigil. "It's rewriting the rules around you so when it arrives, you're weaker. Smaller. Easier to collect."
Kane exhaled slowly. "So what do we do?"
Constantine slammed the book shut. "We cheat."
He flicked his cigarette out the window and unrolled a worn scroll, the ink pulsing with necrotic shimmer.
"There's a dimension between frameworks. A skip-path. Dangerous, volatile, and not meant for transit. But if we time it right, we cut off the siege engine before it reaches this world. Catch it while it's still adjusting. While it's vulnerable."
Raven glanced at the scroll and scowled. "That's the Mire. We'd be flying blind through chaos. Thought's not stable there. Language degrades. Emotions… fray."
"Sounds cozy," Jason muttered.
Kane leaned in, staring at the pulsing lines. "Can I survive it?"
"You'll survive," Constantine said. "The question is whether you'll still be you on the other side."
---
The plan took hours to finalize.
Constantine needed specific artifacts to stabilize the gateway. Zatanna wove containment fields for emotional bleed. Raven carved protection mantras into their minds—mental anchors, so they wouldn't forget who they were.
Jason geared up. "This trip doesn't make sense. Which probably means it'll work."
Kent said nothing at first. Just watched from the shadows.
When Kane approached him, Kent finally said, "You're risking everything."
Kane nodded. "So is everyone else."
Kent stared a moment longer. Then handed him a worn ring etched with Atlantean markings.
"Clarity charm," he said. "You'll need it when the Mire starts whispering."
---
The spell circle hummed.
Reality frayed at the edges.
Zatanna, Constantine, Raven, Kane, and Jason stood on the edge of the rift as it opened like a screaming wound.
No turning back.
"You'll see things that shouldn't exist," Raven warned.
"And things that want to exist through you," Constantine added with a grin. "Let's go."
---
As they stepped in, the world unraveled.
The Mire was black, but not dark.
It throbbed.
Thoughts twisted. Kane heard whispers—his own voice, warped, saying things he never meant. Memories reassembled out of order. His heartbeat echoed like thunder from another life.
But the charm held.
Zatanna burned bright beside him, her spells like flares in the storm.
Raven floated, eyes closed, shielding their minds.
Jason walked like he'd done this a hundred times, muttering jokes to himself just to keep grounded.
Constantine led, dragging them toward something vast.
Then Kane saw it.
The siege engine.
It wasn't a machine, not really.
It was a concept—wrapped in armor forged from devoured timelines. Its eyes were empty galaxies. Its voice… was script.
It spoke in narrative.
And it was coming for him.
---
Kane stepped forward.
Power flared.
He didn't unleash it.
He shaped it.
Held it back like a wave pulled at the shore, compressing its weight into something sharp.
The engine turned toward him.
And paused.
For the first time—it hesitated.
Because it recognized him.
It feared what he could become.
That was his window.
---
"Now!" Constantine shouted.
Zatanna shouted a backwards spell. Raven amplified it, creating a rupture in the Mire's logic. Jason hurled a device Kent had given him—an anchor bomb wrapped in paradox.
Kane didn't hesitate.
He dove into the heart of the concept.
And rewrote its meaning.
From "capture"…
To "collapse."
---
The siege engine imploded in a scream of broken metaphors and decayed timelines.
The Mire spat them back into reality.
The house. The snow. The cold.
They were back.
Alive.
Changed.
---
Kane sat on the porch that night, watching the stars.
He could still feel the remnants of the siege engine echoing across reality. But for now, it was gone.
Zatanna joined him.
"You rewrote a cosmic entity," she said.
"Yeah."
"That's terrifying."
He smiled faintly. "Yeah."
She studied him. "You didn't want to win. You just didn't want to lose."
He didn't reply.
But she was right.
---
Should I continue writing or stop...