Chapter 21

     The wind was picking up, carrying with it the taste of salt and something darker—something that clung to the air like smoke. Ava’s chant still echoed across the marsh, a low hum that seemed to rise from the earth itself. I could feel the tension building, the storm brewing just beyond the horizon, ready to unleash whatever ancient forces Ava had called forth.

     Tony was restless. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, his gaze flickering between Ava and the dark waters of the Atlantic. The weight of everything was pressing down on him, and I could see it in the way he moved, the way he couldn’t stand still. There was an energy building inside him, something that didn’t sit right, something that made him more dangerous now than he had ever been before.

     “She’s going to rip this place apart,” Tony muttered, his voice sharp with frustration.

     I nodded, but my eyes stayed on Ava. She was still at the shoreline, her back to us, her voice rising and falling with the rhythm of the waves. I didn’t know what kind of power she was pulling from the land, from the decay, but I could feel it—something warm and dark, something that surged like the tide.

     Tony took a step forward, his jaw tight. “We can’t just stand here and let her do this,” he snapped. “We’ve got to stop her.”

     I grabbed his arm, pulling him back before he could do something reckless. “We can’t rush in,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “Not yet.”

     Tony shot me a glare, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “Not yet? She’s about to tear this whole place apart, and you’re telling me to wait?”

     “She’s stronger than us right now,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “If we charge in without a plan, she’ll destroy us both before we get anywhere near her.”

     Tony yanked his arm free, his eyes flashing with frustration. “I’m not waiting for her to bring down the storm,” he growled. “I’ve seen what she can do. I’ve watched her rot everything she touches, and if we don’t stop her now—”

     “She wants you to rush in,” I interrupted, cutting him off before his anger could spiral out of control. “Don’t you see that? She’s counting on you to lose your head, to charge in like some hero, and when you do, she’ll take you down. She’s stronger when you’re angry, Tony. She *feeds* off it.”

     Tony’s lips curled in frustration, but he didn’t deny it. He knew I was right, but the tension between us was thickening, making it hard for him to think straight. He wanted action—he wanted to *do* something—but Ava’s game wasn’t about speed or strength. It was about control.

     I turned my attention back to Ava, watching the way her figure moved against the mist. The storm hadn’t broken yet, but it was coming. And when it did, there would be no turning back.

     “We need to predict her next move,” I said quietly, trying to shift Tony’s focus. “If we know what she’s planning, we can stay ahead of her.”

     Tony let out a bitter laugh. “Predict her next move? Good luck with that. She’s been ten steps ahead of us this whole time.”

     I didn’t respond right away, my mind racing as I watched Ava. She was moving with purpose, her chant growing louder, more intense. She was calling something, but it wasn’t just the storm. There was warmth in the air, a strange heat that seemed to pulse through the ground beneath us, radiating from the earth like a heartbeat.

     “She’s not just after the storm,” I said slowly, piecing it together. “She’s pulling something else out—something deeper.”

     Tony’s gaze snapped to me. “What are you talking about?”

     I stepped forward, my eyes locked on Ava’s figure. “She’s using the storm to cover her real goal. She wants us to think the storm is the threat, but it’s not. It’s the *warmth* she’s drawing up from the land—the same rot she’s been feeding off of. The storm is just a distraction.”

     Tony frowned, his anger giving way to confusion. “The warmth?”

     I nodded. “She’s been rotting the city from within, but that’s not all. There’s something buried here—something old, something that’s been festering beneath the surface for centuries. She’s using the storm to unleash it.”

     Tony’s face darkened, the realization dawning on him. “So what do we do?”

     “We stop her from drawing that warmth out,” I said firmly. “If we can cut her off before she fully taps into it, we can weaken her.”

     Tony hesitated, his gaze flickering back to Ava. “And how do we do that?”

     I was silent for a moment, my mind racing. Ava’s power was growing, and we were running out of time. But I knew one thing—Tony’s anger, his impulsiveness, would only make things worse.

     I turned to him, my voice low and deliberate. “You need to stay calm,” I said. “If we go in guns blazing, she’ll win. But if we can distract her, throw her off, we might have a chance.”

     Tony clenched his jaw, clearly struggling to rein in his frustration. “Fine,” he muttered. “But if this goes sideways, I’m not holding back.”

     I nodded, knowing that was the best I could hope for. We had a plan—however fragile it was—and now we had to execute it.

     We moved closer to the shoreline, our steps slow and deliberate. Ava’s chant was louder now, the warmth radiating from the ground like a furnace. The Atlantic loomed just beyond her, the waves crashing against the rocks, but it wasn’t the storm we had to worry about.

     It was the heat.

     Tony shot me a glance, his expression hard. “This better work.”

     I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure it would.