Jeremy flipped through the pages of the journal, each line carving deeper into his mind. His mother's words were filled with unease, contradictions, but also love — the kind of love one only knows once in a lifetime.
"She was torn," Henry said softly, as if reading his thoughts. "When she joined Jack, it felt like so much had already been lost. But she was always… herself. She never let the darkness consume her completely."
Jeremy looked up.
"That's why she hid me?"
Henry nodded.
"Yes. And why she told me to stay away if I couldn't protect you. The day you were born, the whole balance shifted. You're... an anomaly. You tore the boundary between Heaven and Hell. And now… that boundary is breaking again."
Jeremy closed his eyes, hearing the echo of his mother's words — written in the old book — blend with Henry's voice.
"If you ever read these words, Jeremy, know this: you weren't made for just one role. You're not only light, nor only shadow. You are what you choose. And I believe you'll choose well."
"Wherever she is now," he whispered, "she's still protecting me."
Henry gave a sad smile.
"You're still alive, so yes. And now we have to do what she feared most — find out what Rosalie is planning… before it's too late."
*
Jeremy ran his fingers along one of the pages. The ink looked faded but still radiated energy — he could feel it pulsing under his skin. The letters began to shake, the lines blurred, and in the next second the world spun.
He fell to his knees.
Silence cracked.
A blinding flash engulfed him, and then…
Darkness.
He was in a place he didn't recognize, but it felt too real to be a dream. Beneath him, the earth was cracked; the sky streaked with black smoke, and in the distance, a cathedral burned. Whispers surrounded him from every side, first soft, then growing more insistent.
"Son of a demon. Son of betrayal. Chosen or doomed."
He blinked — and saw a figure engulfed in flames. A woman. Hands raised toward the sky, screaming heavenward.
Alison.
But her eyes were different. Empty. Colorless. And from her mouth came words he didn't know — yet understood — a chant of forgotten names.
Behind her stood Rosalie. Young. Cold. Unmoving. She watched him through the veil between worlds, and a faint smile played on her lips.
"Your fate is written. And just like me, you will be betrayed."
Jeremy tried to scream, but no sound escaped. A sword appeared in his hand — the same one Martha had hidden for so long. When he raised it, the ground split beneath him, and from the abyss, thousands of hands reached up.
He began to fall.
And then he woke up.
Doubled over, sweat on his brow, blood trickling from his nose.
Henry was at his side immediately.
"What happened?"
Jeremy lifted his head, his voice hoarse.
"I saw… them. My mother. Rosalie. The sword. Fire. And the cathedral. It's going to happen. It wasn't just a dream. It was a message."
Henry froze. "What cathedral?"
"It was burning. And she was singing."
"We have to find it. Before Rosalie opens the gates."
Jeremy looked at the journal. Then at his hands.
They no longer trembled.
They burned.
*
Henry took a step back when he noticed Jeremy's hands were still aflame — but not with ordinary fire. The light pulsed gently, alive, whispering.
Jeremy clenched his teeth, trying to silence it… but then he heard them.
Voices.
Not one. Not two. Hundreds.
They weren't from this world.
"Meaning isn't in the sword. It's in the one who wields it."
"Betrayal. Prophetic betrayal. Blood that binds and divides."
"Your heart belongs to two worlds. But your soul… it hasn't chosen yet."
Jeremy covered his ears, trying to block them out — but they weren't coming from outside. They echoed inside his soul.
"Henry…" he whispered, struggling for breath. "They're talking to me. They see me."
Henry turned pale.
"That's impossible… not yet. They're not supposed to—"
Jeremy's burning gaze fixed on him.
"You know something you haven't told me."
The angel froze for a moment, then slowly nodded.
"This journal… it's not just a diary. Toward the end, when your mother stood on the threshold between realms, she began to write words that… weren't hers. They flowed through her. We called them echoes — voices of those who exist outside of time."
"They're in my head."
"Because the journal opened the gate. And in you, the crack was already there. Now — you have their attention."
Jeremy sank to the floor. The voices had quieted, but he still felt them — like breaths behind a thin wall.
"Jeremy. Someone is looking for you. Someone who knows your true name."
"I still hear them," he whispered. "They know Rosalie isn't my only threat."
Henry knelt across from him.
"From now on… you'll hear many voices. You mustn't trust them all. But a few may guide you. If you learn to tell the difference."
Jeremy looked up. There was a new gleam in his eyes. Not just fire anymore — something more. The reflection of two realms.
"So it's started, hasn't it?"
Henry answered in a whisper, as if afraid something was listening.
"Yes, Jeremy. This is only the beginning."