It felt like it had when Zekia tried to claw through his mind, only this time Wesley didn’t sense the hesitation he’d felt from her, or the conflict as she watched him cry out.

All he felt now was darkness.

Then from that darkness, a cloud of fog descended.

Saxony gasped out and the fire in the room died like a gust of wind had blown violently through it.

Dante Ashwood’s face appeared inside of Wesley’s mind.

“Hello, my children,” he said.

Wesley winced at the sound of his voice, like nails scraping into him.

“Many Gods,” Saxony cried out, her voice strained. “He’s inside my head.”

She was clutching at her skull, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as if to try and push Ashwood out. But it was no use.

“Today, I come to you not just as a leader, but as a beacon.”

“Make it stop!” Saxony yelled.

She fell to her knees and something inside of Wesley lurched. He wanted to walk over to her, but the pain rooted him to the spot. He felt like if he tried to move, he might collapse as well.

“What is it?” Tavia asked. “What’s going on?”

She couldn’t hear him.

Wesley’s head pounded as he tried to keep the Kingpin’s voice at bay, but all that practice defending his mind meant nothing now.

In the forest below, he could hear the screams of their camp.

Wesley looked out of the window and saw the chaos. People on their knees like Saxony, hands over their ears and clutching at their temples, while others around them looked on in horror.

The Crafters.

The Kingpin was speaking only to the Crafters.

“Today is a day of great joy and progress,” Ashwood said. “It is a day to rejoice and finally unite the realm of Uskhanya.”

Wesley winced and his knees trembled with the pain of keeping himself upright while his head spun so violently, but he’d be damned if he knelt down to Dante Ashwood.

He hadn’t done it when the shadow demon sank its teeth into him and he wouldn’t do it now.

Not here. Not like this.

“I have taken hold of the capital of our great realm,” Ashwood said. “Creije is now mine.”

Many Gods.

Wesley couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

The last district in Creije had fallen.

It didn’t seem possible.

“Wesley, what’s going on?” Tavia asked.

“It’s Ashwood,” he said. Even speaking felt painful, with the walls in his mind trying so hard to block the Kingpin out. “He’s taken Creije.”

He looked to Tavia, jaw clenched.

“It’s gone,” he said. “Our home is gone.”