You have no idea how the song above made writing this so much more IMMERSIVE OMG. I highly recommend listening while reading; I hope you enjoy today's chapter !!!

Dark sprinted down halls upon halls, trying to get Evolveds off his tail.

    Powers ricocheted off the walls. Knocked over paintings, crumbled corners, melted doors.

    There were stairs ahead.

    Dark seethed, his lungs burning, chest aching, heart racing.

High Evolveds had incredible stamina, but it could only benefit them for so long. The chase felt like hours—nothing like the night Mark ran away. He didn't know how much longer he could keep running.

He reached the stairs.

Dark grabbed onto the railing and used his momentum to swing himself up. He slid down the rails, cloak flying behind him, wind rushing past his face.

"DOWN THERE!" someone shouted.

Dark jumped off and stumbled to his feet, landing on the stairwell. His cloak fluttered as he spun around and leaned over the railing, gripping onto it tight. The ground was a dozen flights down, and his vision waved and split.

He could jump.

Footsteps thundered close by. Dark looked up. Huffed.

Now or never.

He grabbed his bearings, swung his legs over the rails, and jumped.

Flights and flights sped into a blur. Wind roared in his ears.

The ground grew closer in seconds.

Dread pounded in his chest, and he flailed in the air, reaching for something to grab onto.

His fingers snagged rails. Missed.

Shit.

The ground was close. Closer. Close—

His cloak flew up and snagged in railing.

The ground below him lurched, and Dark's body whiplashed at the sudden stop. He gasped and clutched himself, catching his breath.

Ripping sounded above, and he glanced up, eyeing his cloak lodged in the rails.

    The fabric began to tear.

    Dark hung there, tangled in his garments. He cursed, hands fumbling, and grabbed the railing right as the cloak teared. It fluttered down a few stories before landing on the ground.

    "Where'd he go?" echoed voices way up high.

    Dark adjusted his grip on the railings, the wood slippery. He looked around, heart racing, and spotted the stairwell below. He'd have to jump again.

He began to swing—back and forth—back and forth—gaining momentum.

    He focused on the flight below, took a deep breath, and jumped.

    His feet hit the ground, and he lurched forward with the force. He tumbled and grasped at the floor, caught his footing, and stood up with a flourish.

    "Well, find him!" a voice yelled. "Antinstine's gonna be pissed!"

    Dark ran his hands down his back and lifted what was left of his cloak, frowning. Half of it had torn from the fall. He combed a hand through his hair, pressed his hand against his collarbone, and felt the metal, tear-shaped clasps there. He huffed in relief; at least those were still there—the emblem his mother once wore.

    "DAMMIT!" someone cursed. "We were supposed to LEAD him there!"

    Dark narrowed his eyes. He didn't want to know what they meant.

He hurried down the rest of the steps, hand gliding on the railing, and snatched the torn piece of his cloak off the ground. The shouts quieted from above, and he headed down another long, stretching hall, taking time to catch his breath.

———

The lights flickered.

    Antinstine breathed hard, pacing the ballroom. It was enormous—almost as big as the mansion itself—with high-sloping ceilings and a gaping, open dance floor.

Antinstine's heels clicked with each step, echoing around him like the ticking of a clock. A reminder of how much time was passing.

    He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the locks. Sparks fizzed under his fingertips, from his eyes... bright blue and burning.

Despite warding off Xilef with his powers, his chest still coiled and burned with energy.

His powers begged to be let out—to char, and maim, and destroy.

    But he knew that once that feeling was satiated, that was it. No more electricity. No more powers. Not for a long, long while.

    Damn side effects.

    Antinstine ran his hands over his face, then through his hair again, struggling to keep calm. Shouts still echoed through the walls—powers exploded from one end to another. He had locked the main doors, but he knew Dark's forces wouldn't take long to break it down.

    Just then, the ground shook, and an explosion blasted from afar. Antinstine stumbled to the side and caught his footing. The chandeliers overhead rattled.

Speak of the devil.

    "Dammit," he cursed under his breath. He ran a hand over his mouth, breathing hard.

He hadn't expected things to be so difficult. The last time he remembered, Dark had no one. Just his little sidekick and a group of rogues.

    But then there was Cibil.

    The energy in his chest tightened, and he grimaced.

    The damn traitor.

    Sparks lit up in Antinstine's hands at the thought, and he shook them away frantically. He paced again, holding his hands over his mouth as if in prayer.

    The shouts through the walls grew louder—more explosions, bursts of noise.

    He hoped to all hell that his forces were winning.

———

Mark stayed in Antinstine's room, clutching his knees to his chest. He kept looking out the window, searching for Dark—hoping he would come back out. Dark may have wanted to kill Antinstine all this time, but he couldn't help but worry. What if he didn't make it? What if he lost? Or worse, died?

What if Antinstine won?

Mark gazed out the window and huffed.

    The Resistance flooded back inside the mansion, and the chaos thundered below him, loud and booming. The courtyard was empty now, save for the dead bodies strewn across it.

    Mark swallowed, his heart racing.

    He couldn't just sit here—not after all this time. He had to do something. Needed to.

    But he was human again. He didn't stand a chance against the Evolveds here.

    The room lurched, and Mark fell back on the floor with a shout. The ground shook. Drawers rattled and crashed.

    The lights went out. One... two...

    Screams, cries, blasts.

    Back on.

    Mark's breaths went shallow, and he stumbled to his feet, grabbing onto the bed for support. The ground rumbled again—violent—and Mark staggered towards the door. He leaned against it, fumbling, and it gave under him. He fell into the hall on his hands and knees.

    He was out.

    Mark's mind raced. The lights flickered—the ground rumbled.

    No going back now.

He breathed hard—looked both ways—made sure it was clear—and raced off in search of Dark.

———

Dark paced the halls with steady breaths, his heels clicking against the glossy floors.

    The mansion had changed since he'd last walked the halls with ease.

Paintings that were once of Celine or their other family members were now replaced with landscapes or bland shapes. Pedestals that once displayed heirlooms or artifacts had been removed, leaving the hallways more open and spacious. It made sense, after all.

When Antinstine stole the place from him, he wanted to erase everything that spoke of Edwards' blood, down to the tiniest speck of details. Even the dark, mysterious tones of the walls and the floors had been switched to extravagant reds, golds, and whites, until every inch of the place glittered like trophies.

That was all the mansion was, now. Just a trophy. Just a piece of art to dazzle and display.

It made him wonder how anyone could ever stand to live here.

Footsteps, shouts, and thuds thundered overhead; the chandeliers and paintings rattled with every noise.

Dark ran his hand along the walls, feeling the curls and spirals of the decoration.

He tipped his finger under a painting, tilted it, and let it fall to the floor.

———

Glass shattered from afar.

Antinstine's heart shot into his throat, and he looked around. It was close.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the thrum of power under his skin. It was getting harder to control by the second.

He looked up at the tall, sloping ceiling, running his eyes along the golden beams and the chandeliers to try and calm himself. He paced the ballroom, heels clicking softly, his heart ticking up with each noise.

He looked like an ant, pacing the room.

Antinstine's chest heaved, and he gazed at the high-arching doors, on edge. He ran his hand under his trench and felt the dagger there. The blade was cold... menacing... aching for the slide of flesh and blood.

And then the pill.

He ran his finger over it—felt the faint buzz of power... and wondered how Dark could even think of defending himself, if he was completely human.

Glass shattered again.

If he could defend himself for thirty minutes... wait until the pill's power wore off...

Antinstine smirked despite his racing nerves.

Then he would win.

———

Dark tipped another painting. Let it fall.

    Glass shattered and littered the floor.

    His feets crunched over the shards, the sound echoing throughout the halls.

    He tipped another painting.

Then another.

And another.

    Until the floors glittered with shards.

———

Mark cut through hallways, up and down stairs, trying to find Dark or anyone on his side.

    He peered over a corner. A group of Evolveds ran the opposite way. Enemies.

    Mark huffed and went the other way, racing down flights of steps. His footsteps echoed around him, sounding like thunder.

He didn't realize how big the mansion was until now. No matter how fast he ran, there were still flights upon flights of stairs and never-ending halls.

Finding Dark began to feel impossible.

    He caught his breath on one of the floors, already winded.

    From afar, Cibil caught sight of him.

    Mark didn't notice; he disappeared down the steps in a flash.

    Cibil broke away from Equinox and the group and ran after him.

    Something wrong bled in her chest.

———

The air coiled with a heat and intensity that had Dark double-take.

    He stepped over glass shards, his heart beginning to race. Energy charged the air—threatening to snap at any second.

    Dark took a deep breath, and he neared a large, high-arching opening. Light spilled from it, dazzling and bright like crystals.

    He ran his hand along the wall... his breaths bated and his cloak rustling softly... He walked slowly, careful not to make a sound...  and peered through the opening.

    It revealed a large ballroom—big enough to fit a city—and there, pacing in the middle, was Antinstine, running his hands over his face and through his hair.

    Dark's breaths went shallow. His skin thrummed with adrenaline.

    This was it. No turning back now.

    He stepped into the ballroom, and when his heel clicked on the floor, Antinstine stopped dead in his tracks, freezing mid-step.

    He lingered there for what felt like hours—unmoving. The charge in the air coiled and crackled, growing with heat and static.

    Antinstine took a deep breath, and his hands slid off his face and dropped down at his sides, twitching. He tilted his head up, then slowly, turned his head towards Dark.

Their eyes met.

———

Mark rushed down the stairs.

    Cibil lagged a few flights above. She looked down the stairwell as she ran, keeping Mark in sight. His figure flitted in and out of view as he descended each flight, hand gliding over railing and feet tapping fast.

    Sickness washed over her, the closer she got to Mark.

    A vision tried coming to her, but it fizzed out.

    Something was wrong.

    Her head buzzed.

Something was wrong.

    Her chest felt like it was decaying—like she was reliving a memory she hadn't yet experienced. Bright and hot and burning like sparks.

    Equinox broke from the group and raced after Cibil.

    It felt like dying.

———

The tension between them crackled like fire.

    "Dark," breathed Antinstine, facing him. Sparks fizzed at his fingers, begging to be let loose. Begging to burn and hurt and kill.

    The air rippled with energy.

            "Antinstine," said Dark, voice low.

    Dark walked forward, his jaw tight. He undid the clasps at his neck and stopped leagues away from Antinstine, took a steady breath, and slid his cloak off his shoulders. It dropped to the floor.

    Anti's eye twitched, and the lights flickered. The chandeliers swayed and rattled.

    "I wasn't expecting you," said Antinstine, a smirk twitching on his lips.

Dark took a step forward. The click of his heel echoed around the ballroom.

"I was," he said simply.

    They stood there, gazing at each other, breathing hard. The lights flickered... shut off... flickered again—then shut off, leaving them in complete darkness. Both their eyes glowed with passion and fury: red and blue and green.

    Dark took another step forward, his heels clicking. Antinstine's heart ticked up.

    "Did you enjoy toying with Viper?" said Dark, voice quiet.

    Another step. Heel clicked. Echoed.

    "I'm sure he's happy, now," breathed Dark. Another step. Heel click. Step... click. "Knowing that I'm here to kill you." They could hear each other's breaths. "He'd finally be free from your sick experiments."

    Antinstine's lashes fluttered at that, and he huffed through his nose and smirked.

    "You don't know that half of it," he breathed.

    He stepped forward, nearing Dark—nearing those glowing, red eyes—and the sparks threatened to break free from his hands, desperate.

    "But... something you should know," said Antinstine, taking another step, then another, closing the distance between them, "is that I'm here to kill you."

    The lights burst on at once and blinded him.

Thank you so much for readinggg!!!

I'm actually still getting used to writing action, so I hope this is okay! It's definitely a challenge for me. If you have any constructive criticism, please share in comments or DMs! It means a lot!

Have a wonderful day, broskis <3

Love, Kass xoxo