Chapter 3 The Archon

David walked in, glass jug of milk in hand, his face a stony mask. Putting the milk on the table in front of Cole he rubbed his hair in a small form of affection before turning to Alex. A Gargoyle, David was naturally a serious man. Rarely cracking a smile. Most things were treated as life and death. Stony and unyielding. When his eyes met hers, Alex felt a sense of dread. Like the bubble they’d been living in was about to pop.

Without a word he left through the back door, an unspoken order for her to follow. Standing on their back porch was the Archon. He stood just as emotionless as David. His slacks and suit jacket out of place next to their little cottage, chickens clucking around his feet.

Alex recognized him. He’d been here once before. He’d been the one to bring her dying father back. He’d stood by quietly in the corner while her father had told her who she really was. Watching as her world had exploded. Silent. Emotionless.

Stephen Hales had been drug into their little home with an arrow laced with dark magic pierced through his shoulder. They didn’t know what had happened. But the bleeding wouldn’t stop and a magical poison had rushed through his body so quickly Ms. Chen hadn’t been able to stop it. They’d just desperately watched him bleed out on the living room floor.

Alex blamed the Archon.

Seeing him standing there in his suit, his long hair meticulously slicked back into a band at his neck. Slender face almost gaunt and hollow. Looking every bit of the expectation of death. Lit her temper like the striking of a match. How dare he come back here after everything he had caused. What was he here to screw up now?

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Alex growled the fire magic she’d inherited from her father, a dragon shifter, pushing off her in an angry hot whoosh.

“Alex,” David cautioned but the Archon cut him off.

“The Blood Race will begin in four weeks time. It is imperative that you, Alexandria Hale, register.” The Archon said simply, his tone even and modulated, tipping his head in a bow.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Alex asked, her tone made David shift his feet uncomfortably.

Archons were generally malevolent. Justice keepers. The ones that ensured the rules of their world were maintained on a cosmic level. They didn’t pick sides, and they weren’t gracious when challenged. The fact that this one was involved with their family at all was a mystery.

To Alex, it felt like a threat.

Her fire magic snapped off her skin in a sharp flare, heat rippling through the porch boards. The chickens scattered, squawking indignantly.

The Archon didn’t flinch.

His hollow eyes tracked her with the same detached interest one might give a storm cloud. “Your registration is mandatory.”

Alex took a step forward, her fist clenched. “I’m not doing anything for you.”

“You misunderstand,” the Archon replied, voice smooth and toneless. “This is not for me.”

David shifted between them, stone skin tightening across his jaw. “Archon—” The Archon lifted a hand, silencing him without looking his way.

“The Blood Race is a cosmic event,” he continued. “It begins whether you participate or not. But your existence is not a secret.”

Alex’s stomach dropped. “What does that mean?”

“The new Hierarchy will find you.” The Archon said, “It will be their only chance to stay in power.”

Alex rubbed her forehead, like she was trying to rub through to her brain. Cole’s laughter drifted faintly from inside the cottage. Bright, innocent, unaware. The Archon’s gaze slid toward the open doorway.

“The child complicates matters.”

David stepped forward, shoulders cracking like stone. “He’s not part of this.”

“His powers are still developing, but a locator would recognize him as part of you.” The Archon said simply. “When they come for you, they will take him too.”

“No,” Alex stepped forward, her voice more strangled than firm. Panic rushing forward smothering her flames in an instant.

The Archon didn’t acknowledge her fear. “Your father’s protections are gone. The wards he placed around this town have weakened. The moment the final winner of the Blood Race has won, they will fail entirely.”

Alex felt the world tilt. “You’re lying.”

“I do not lie,” the Archon said. “I deliver truth. And truth is this: if you do not register, the winners will come here. To this home. To these people. To the boy.”

“This is fucking ridiculous.” Alex muttered, hands on her hips she paced away. Her footsteps eerily silent on the old wooden porch. “So, what, you expect me to just leave my son and go enter the deadliest competition, with the worlds most morally ambiguous, brutal warriors?”

“Your father was preparing you for this exact moment,” he said.

Alex spun, pointing a finger at him in warning. “You don’t get to talk about my father.”

For the first time, something flickered in the Archon’s expression. Not emotion. But a shift. A tightening. As though her words were a stone thrown into a perfectly still lake.

“Your father understood the cost of your lineage. He knew the Blood Race would come. That only you could fight for your freedom.”

For a heartbeat, the porch felt too small for all three of them.

David crossed his arms, inclining his head slightly. “And if she dies?”

The Archon turned his head, slow and deliberate, his hollow gaze landing on David. “Do your job and that won't happen.”

“Great,” Alex rolled her eyes.

The Archon bowed his head ever so slightly, a gesture that felt more like a verdict than respect and turned to step away. The air around him thinned, the shadows bending, and in the blink of an eye he vanished. Leaving the porch boards groaning and the lavender bushes trembling as though something enormous had just passed through them.

Alex stared at the empty space he’d left behind, heat simmering under her skin. “Next time can you bring a puppy home? Because that guys a fucking dick.”

David didn’t move, his expression as unreadable as stone. “He can probably still hear you,” he warned.

“Good.” Alex jabbed a finger at the spot where he’d disappeared. “Every time we see that guy it’s something bad. Do we know if he’s even really an Archon? What if he’s like, I don’t know, the Bringer of Bad News. The Cosmic Messenger of Doom. The Harbinger of Ruining My Day.”

David tilted his head, the smallest softening around his mouth, the closest thing he ever got to a smile. “That’s not a thing.”

“It should be,” Alex muttered.

The day was just starting, and it was already shaping up into something distorted and ugly. The kind of day that felt wrong.