The Endless Balance of an Ancient Sorrow Volume 2 Chapter 5 and Conclussion Into the Tunnels, Without a Map, With Only Belief and a Bad Idea

 INTERLUDE 3 

 

Kamis sat curled in the back of a crumbling kitchen inside one of his old hideouts deep in the slums—head in his hands, fingers trembling. 

He was rattled. Scared. No plan. No backup. 

He’d seen the news bulletin. 

 Eleven boys missing. 

 He only knew about the last two. The ones he’d… helped with. 

And now he wanted to throw up. 

“I didn’t sign up for this,” he muttered, rocking slowly. “I didn’t know. I just wanted a payday…” 

Flipping burgers. Getting screamed at by managers and customers like some nameless cog in a grease pit—that’s what he’d been running from. He wanted out. 

He never wanted this. 

And now it was too late. 

Either the cops locked him up for aiding a maniac, or Jilough found him and put a bullet between his EYEs. 

Kamis tensed. He couldn’t go out like this. 

Then he heard it. 

The low rumble of a van pulling in outside. 

Then the voice. 

“Kaaaaamis~!” 

 Jilough’s voice rang through the skeletal walls like something possessed. 

 “You didn’t think we had those tunnels under surveillance? We saw what exit you took. Real rookie move, buddy. So predictable.” 

Kamis froze. His breath hitched. 

“Come on out, I’ll make it easy for you. One bullet. Real professional.” 

The creak of a door. 

A bootstep. 

The metallic click of a safety coming off. 

Kamis ducked behind the broken kitchen counter, hand fumbling along the warped floorboards until he found it—a splintered length of lumber, sharp at one end. Maybe from the cabinets. Maybe from the house dying one floorboard at a time. 

He clutched it like a lifeline. 

His mind raced. 

Option One: Die here. 

 Option Two: Make a break for it. Let the curfew do the work. Cops would have to stop him. If he was lucky, they'd stop Jilough too. 

Hell, maybe he could even cut a deal—flip on Jilough, expose what’s happening, and pray someone listened. 

His decision snapped into place a second before Jilough’s boots hit linoleum. 

“You don’t just run, Kamis. That’s not how family works,” Jilough hissed. 

Then the man stepped around the counter— 

And Kamis swung. 

The lumber slammed into Jilough’s gut. He grunted but didn’t drop the gun. Kamis didn’t wait to see if the blow even phased him. 

He bolted. 

Out the kitchen. Through the skeletal hall. Barely clearing the front porch before Jilough’s voice cracked the night behind him: 

“YOU'RE DEAD, KAMIS!” 

Kamis ran faster. 

“This is madness!” he screamed, lungs burning as he tore through back alleys. 

Madness didn’t begin to cover it. 

But it might just be his only way out. 

Kamis ran—lungs burning, hoodie soaked with sweat, maroon pants streaked with alley grime. His brown hair whipped in the wind as he darted between dumpsters and rusted fences, sticking to the tightest, thinnest alleys where he knew Jilough’s van wouldn’t fit. 

He didn’t know exactly where the police station was—just the general direction. And right now, “close enough to scream for help” would do. 

He ducked down another alley. 

Another. 

Then—brakes squealed. 

He skidded to a stop. 

The van was there. 

Jilough stepped out, grinning like a wolf in a slaughterhouse. 

“You really are stupid, Kamis,” he said, raising a pistol. “You didn’t think I’d know where you were going? You’re a rat. A fink. You think you can run and live?” 

The gun fired. 

A warning shot—a crack that punched the concrete next to Kamis’ foot. 

“Now turn around,” Jilough snarled. “Let me see those dead-man’s EYEs before I send a bullet through ‘em.” 

Kamis froze. 

Then— 

SMASH. 

A window exploded from the abandoned vet clinic to their left. A man—bloodied, ragged—tumbled through the glass, landing hard on the pavement. 

Dead. 

From the jagged opening stepped a teen in black with wild hair and an eerie smirk. 

“Blah blah blah,” said Silus Mikana, brushing glass off his shoulders. “What’s with all the noise?” 

Jilough blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Score,” he grinned. “Two-for-one. You deliver me another prize, Kamis, and I almost forgive your betrayal.” 

Silus tilted his head. “So you’re the one snatching teenage boys.” 

He nodded toward the bloody vet. “That guy was your supplier, wasn’t he? Been funneling enough tranquilizers to down a rhino. Oh I see by your face you never met him guess your boss handled that part. Guess the delievery boy wasn’t trusted!” Sikus said with a laugh 

Jilough aimed his gun. “Back off.” 

But Silus just smiled—unbothered. “Funny thing. That guy’s dead now. And here you are, all gift-wrapped with your sins exposed.” 

His voice dropped. 

“Do the world a favor. Pull that trigger—but point it at your head deliver yourself upon Gods salvation.” 

For a moment, the silence stretched tight. 

Then—bang. 

Jilough’s body crumpled, blood painting the alley walls. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kamis stood frozen. 

“You… he just… what?!” 

“Yeah yeah, you’re welcome,” Silus said, waving dismissively. “The guy was going to kill you. I upgraded your evening. Now—info. Spill it.” 

Before Kamis could answer, the low grind of armored treads echoed through the alley. A FATE tactical vehicle—more tank than truck—rumbled into view. 

The back doors slammed open. 

Agent-E.Y.E. stepped out, scanning the scene. His EYEs swept over Silus, the bodies, then locked onto Kamis. 

“Finally found you,” he said to Silus. “Been busy, I see.” 

Then to Kamis: “You. The van. Is it yours?” 

Kamis shook his head. “No—it was his. Jilough. The guy there. He’s the one who’s been kidnapping boys.” 

He swallowed hard. 

“And I—I helped him. The last two. I didn’t know what he was doing at first, but once I did… I ran. I—I was on my way to turn myself in.” 

Agent-E.Y.E.’s expression didn’t change. “You realize you’re complicit.” 

“I know,” Kamis said. “But I can help. I know where it’s happening. Where they all are. I’ll take you there.” 

A long pause. 

E.Y.E. nodded once. “Get in. If you’re lying, you won’t step out again.” 

“No funny business,” Kamis promised. “I swear.” 

Silus hopped in behind him, whistling to himself. 

The armored doors slammed shut. 

And the vehicle rolled away—out of the ruins and into the storm.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 5 

Into the Tunnels, Without a Map, With Only Belief and a Bad Idea 

 

Inside Arthur’s office, all was still. 

Frank Gavern sat cross-legged on the floor, EYEs closed, the room dimmed behind heavy blinds. To passing security, it looked like nothing more than a man meditating in his borrowed cell. 

Until he began to glow. 

A yellow light bloomed around him—subtle at first, then pulsing brighter with every breath. The glow intensified, fractal lines forming across the floor like runes unfolding beneath reality. 

Then—separation. 

From Frank’s body stepped a glowing silhouette—another Frank, formed from raw magic and sheer will. The light was blinding. The illusion perfect. If anyone walked in now, they’d think security footage was glitching, the cameras shorting out. 

That was the point. 

Distraction. 

While the duplicate stayed behind—still, breathing, detainable—the real Frank vanished in a blink of radiant yellow. 

He reemerged hundreds of meters above Fraid City—levitating, skin now pale blue-grey, EYEs faintly glowing beneath the rim of his deep maroon hat. His long collared cape snapped in the wind as he hovered weightlessly in the atmosphere's silence. 

The world up here was quiet. 

A place to think. 

A place for Sorrow to return. 

The Endless Balance survEYEd his city with stoic resolve—but beneath his silence, he was deeply unsettled. Arthur hadn’t reported back. Millana’s look at the station hadn’t been grief—it was resolve. He knew that expression all too well. 

She and the others were already moving. And moving blindly. 

Frank recalled the map. Every victim. Recalling many schools intersected with the old Fraid City railway grid. Buried. Forgotten. Crisscrossing like veins through the underbelly of the suburbs. 

They wouldn't risk transporting sedated kids by van for long... but a rail line? Hidden underground? Controlled? 

Yes. It fit. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He focused his magic on the point where Urlich was last seen—near Elliot Bran High. A pulse of yellow radiance spread from his palms. 

And in a shimmer of light—he vanished. 

When he reappeared, it was just outside a sealed tunnel mouth, stone-walled and nearly reclaimed by vines and time. 

Frank floated forward, cloak drifting behind him. 

Then he saw it. 

A red 2011 Volkswagen Cabrio Convertible, parked crooked by the tunnel entrance. 

The same one Arthur nearly crashed into the day before. 

His pulse sharpened. 

“They’re already here.” 

Frank narrowed his EYEs—and prayed he wasn’t too late. 

 

 

2 

 

Arthur followed along the tunnels of the old Railway system Mira leading the way. The tunnel around them seemed to breathe—walls damp with condensation, old concrete groaning from somewhere deep within. The exit they'd come from had long since faded into total black, and the only light left was the thin beam from Mira’s torch, slicing through the gloom like a scalpel. 

Arthur tried to mask how tense he was growing. “Damn… this place is crazy dark. Creepy, too. I don’t know how you can navigate this place—it all looks the same to me.” 

Mira flashed a smile over her shoulder. “I’ve been down here enough times. Actually… I come here all the time.” 

“You come here? For fun?” 

“I find it peaceful. A break from the noise up there. Lucky me—it’s part of the job.” 

“Interesting gig,” Arthur replied, trying to keep the mood light. “So… you seeing anybody?” 

She chuckled softly. “Aww, that’s sweet of you, Detective. But no—I don’t really have time for relationships.” 

“A workaholic, huh?” he smirked. “Fair enough.” 

They kept walking. 

The tunnel widened into a small clearing, walls reinforced with rust-streaked metal beams. Arthur blinked. Something buzzed faintly from deeper within. 

“How much further?” he asked, trying not to sound uneasy. 

“Oh, not far now, sweetie. We’re nearly at the main control room.” 

She turned and swept her light across the chamber ahead. Mounted on the far wall—half-buried in grime and cables—was a custom power module the size of a vending machine. Its casing was matte black, covered in analog gauges and flickering lights. She takes out a little black remote with a single push of the red button the control room chamber lights up bright. 

 

There had to be 30 linking underground tunnels 30 trains all lined up. 

“Here she is,” Mira said proudly. “The heart of the whole line.” 

Arthur stepped closer. “What… even is this thing?” Arthur said as they approach a peculiar device in the near distance near the tracks. 

She ran her hand across the metal like petting a beloved pet. 

“It’s a hybrid induction inverter with lithium-fusion battery stacks. Took me ages to retrofit it into the old diesel systems. It pulls from reserve power, but it can self-replenish through kinetic feedback whenever the train hits a certain speed threshold. And the insulation? That’s enough to keep it hidden from most thermal scanners.” 

Arthur blinked. I thought this was all obsolete “That’s… ridiculously advanced.  

Mira tilted her head, light catching her strawberry-blonde fringe just right. 

“Oh, it should be,” she said sweetly. 

“I built it.” 

A pause. 

Arthur stepped back a half-inch. 

“…Wait. What do you mean, you built it—?” 

CRACK. 

A pulse of electricity surged through him—his entire body seizing before his knees buckled. 

He collapsed hard, his badge clattering against the concrete. 

As the world spun sideways, the last thing he saw were shackles, anchored to tracks just at his side. 

Right where she wanted him. 

Rows of industrial floodlights bathed the space in cold, surgical white. Panels lined the walls, flickering with diagnostics and override codes. Copper wiring snaked across the ceiling like vines, feeding into machinery that absolutely shouldn’t have still been humming. 

Arthur Sinclaire groaned against the wall, muscles still tingling from the shock. His vision swam, but what he saw made him freeze: 

A full operations suite, lit up and fully functional. 

And walking among it all like she owned it—Mira Delane. 

Gone were her work clothes. She now moved through the chamber in her ritual uniform—a provocative black-and-white ensemble, part doll-like and part dominator. Her pale shoulder-length hair framed a canvas mask, hand-painted with a cartoonish, beaming grin. 

She crouched beside Arthur, balancing a sleek tablet between two fingers like a playful toy. 

“Oh dear me, Detective,” she sang, her voice sugar-smooth. “Looks like we have visitors. You police types don’t teach children not to play in restricted tunnels?” 

She held up the tablet, screen facing him. 

Live camera feeds. 

Millana. Carol. Tellai. The Whitacus twins. Haliette. All entering the far end of the corridor. 

Arthur’s heart jumped into his throat. 

“You leave them alone! They have nothing to do with this!” 

Mira tilted her masked face, as if considering. 

“Aww. That’s sweet. Really. But I think a lesson needs to be taught here… don’t you?” 

“You’re sick,” Arthur spat. “You’re actually getting off on this—you freak.” 

She didn’t deny it. “Guilty as charged. We all have needs. Just because yours are boring doesn’t make mine wrong.” 

Then, her EYEs drifted toward the monitors—and sharpened. 

“Now... let’s see what tunnel they ended up in. If we’re lucky, maybe they picked one with the express route...” 

From somewhere below, a distant rumble began—like thunder through iron ribs. 

And Mira just hummed to herself, like she was choosing the next track on a playlist. 

 

3 

The tunnels were colder than Millana expected. Not just in temperature—something in the air felt still, like the entire place was holding its breath. 

They’d reached a wide intersection where six tunnel mouths yawned outward into darkness, their cracked signs barely legible. 

Leo was already pacing. “Millana, how the heck are we supposed to find anything in here? This is insane.” 

Millana squared her shoulders. “We split up.” 

The girls were determined. The Whitacus twins, predictably... not so much. 

But all it took was Carol gently uttering the sacred phrase—“For the glory of the Holy Bosom”—and the twins groaned in defeat, trudging toward Tunnel 6. 

The rest scattered: 

• Carol took Tunnel 3 

• Millana, Tunnel 4 

• Tellai, Tunnel 5 

• And Haliette, EYEs locked on her phone app, veered toward Tunnel 17, where it last pinged Urlich’s phone. 

They each disappeared into their respective tunnels, swallowed by shadow. 

 

Sometime later, the Whitacus twins stumbled across the first horror. 

Blood. 

Splattered across the rails. Pooled near one of the walls. Traces of a body—just fragments now. And then... shackles. Rusted. Bloody. Used. 

They froze. 

Carol found another scene of carnage in hers—unmistakable remains. Her face went pale. 

Millana and Tellai’s tunnels seemed clear—until they heard it. 

A scream. 

Haliette. 

They ran—Carol from the left, Millana from the right, Tellai barreling down from behind. 

They found her collapsed next to Urlich’s phone, screen cracked on the stone. 

And beside it... 

What was left of Urlich Hale. 

Haliette’s scream had become shaking sobs, echoing over the tunnel walls. 

Millana dropped to her knees. Her throat felt like she’d swallowed glass. 

They were too late. 

Every boy—the missing, the taken—they weren’t just gone. They’d been used. Tortured. Shackled. Left to rot along the track lines of a city that never looked down. 

Then, through hidden speakers overhead: 

"Hello, children. 

 You know you shouldn’t be playing in abandoned railway tunnels. 

 Naughty little darlings... just sit still and I’ll be along to collect you soon. Don’t move now.” 

Mira’s voice. 

Mocking. Sweet. 

Then—a low hum. 

A white light bloomed far down Tunnel 17. 

A train. 

Approaching. 

They barely had time to lift Haliette before the engine surged forward—its front lights sweeping across the tracks like searchlights. 

But it wasn’t speeding. 

It was pacing them. 

Matching their jog. Watching. Waiting. 

“Ohhh yes—run. This is fun. 

 Let’s see how long you can last. 

 I won’t increase the speed—promise. 

 Just keep jogging… and let’s see which one of you slips first.” 

“Keep moving!” Millana shouted, grabbing Haliette’s hand. “Don’t look back!” 

“Easy for you to say!” Leo barked. “You girls ran track—we type editorials!” 

“Don’t stop!” Carol yelled. “Corner’s ahead!” 

They reached the intersection—darted down a new tunnel—thinking they’d lost it. 

But then: 

Another horn. 

From the other side. 

Another driverless car barreling toward them. 

“No no no, don’t stop now!” Mira sang, her voice blaring from every speaker. 

 “You chose your lanes—let’s see how far they take you.” 

 “There’s one in every tunnel, my dears.” 

The trap was in place. 

And now the only thing to do... was run. 

The kids were slowing. 

They couldn’t help it. Breath ragged. Legs burning. The sound of the driver carriage grinding down the tunnel behind them like a mechanical predator refusing to pounce—just stalk. 

From her brightly lit control chamber, Mira Delane was euphoric. 

She bounced on her heels, EYEs glued to the tablet like it was the finale of her favorite show. Every dash, every stumble, every terrified glance—the footage fed her adrenaline like sugar to a starving child. 

“Yes yes yes—run! Struggle!” she squealed, slapping Arthur’s chest as if he were a couch cushion. “You see this?! It’s beautiful! She led them right to me the little girl scout!” 

Onscreen, the group was moments from collapse. 

And then— 

BOOM. 

A deafening crack of air and magic. 

The feed glitched, static erupting across the display. 

When it cleared, Mira’s smile was gone. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Her train the slow-crawling engine designed to break them was totaled. Its front twisted like it had crashed into God Himself. Steel warped. Lights shattered. The tunnel caved in around the wreck like it had tried to swallow the thing in shame. 

“No…” she whispered. 

She refreshed the camera. 

And there—standing between the train’s ruined remains and the kids—was a figure cloaked in maroon, standing with his hand out glowing yellow aura around him in the crackling magical haze. 

Sorrow. 

The Endless Balance. 

Frank’s cloak whipped in the aftershock breeze, his EYEs dim but focused. The last of his barrier spell still shimmered around the kids—halos of light protecting them like divine armor. 

“No no NO NO!” Mira screamed, pounding Arthur’s chest with both fists now, unhinged. “You ruined it! That was MINE!” 

Arthur, still woozy, coughed. “You really are damaged goods lady…” 

Mira spun toward another camera feed, desperate to find another angle—but Sorrow didn’t linger. 

In one breath of yellow light, he turned— 

—and teleported them. 

All of them gone the tunnel was empty the hunt had turned. 

 

 

4 

 

The group hit the pavement like lightning bolts dropped from the sky. 

One moment, they were running for their lives. The next—safety. Open air. Daylight breaking over industrial rooftops. The scent of iron and stone replaced by fresh rain and diesel. 

They gasped in unison, half-collapsed in a heap, blinking against the sudden shift. 

Frank—Sorrow—was gone. 

The Tunnel behind them had caved in, a plume of ash and concrete dust curling into the sky like smoke from a forgotten battlefield. 

Millana didn’t hesitate—already trying to claw her way back toward it. 

“Let me back in! We have to help him! That vigilante, whoever he is—he’s still down there!” 

Tellai caught her wrist. “Millana! No—you saw that tunnel. It's gone. He saved us… now we need to save everyone else.” 

She stopped. Fists clenched. Teeth set. 

Everyone began dialing. 

Carol. Haliette. Tellai. Even the Whitacus twins. 

Their hands shook, but their EYEs were clear. 

“Hello—police? It’s urgent. The missing boys. We found them. They’re… they’re dead. There’s someone else down there—trapped—maybe more. Get here quick” 

Each of them gave what they could—coordinates, tunnel names, intersections. 

Because even if Mira had won part of her game… 

Frank had just flipped the board. 

 

5 

 

Absolutely brutal and pitch-perfect for where we are in the story, Ryan. The weight of the slaughter, the horror even hardened FATE agents can’t process, and Silus narrowing in on Mira like a vengeance-sensing missile—it all lands with chilling force. Here's a refined and immersive version, structured to hit emotionally and visually while keeping every beat of your original moment: 

 

Scene – The Silent Reckoning 

On the far side of the shattered rail network, Silus, Agent-E.Y.E., and an entire FATE response battalion moved deeper into the shadowed tunnels—guided by the trembling hands and guilty conscience of Kamis. 

“This way…” Kamis muttered, leading them down a side rail line long since decommissioned. 

They reached it. 

Victim Ten’s scene. 

Blood. Bones. Splatter. Bits of clothing and skin still caught on rusted rails. 

Agent-E.Y.E.’s sensors logged it all, but even he had to step away. 

Kamis vomited, buckling to the floor. 

Several FATE agents followed suit. 

None of them—not even the ones who’d worked black sites during the siege—had seen carnage like this. Crushed bodies. Shattered arms shackled to walls. Victims so mutilated it was impossible to tell where one ended and another began. 

This wasn’t just murder. 

It was machinery as ritual. 

They began focusing on recovery—sealing the area, logging ID tags, prepping what was left of the victims for the world above. 

Everyone worked. 

Except Silus. 

His crimson-tinged aura pulsed beneath the flickering overhead lights, EYEs dark as coals, locked on a presence somewhere ahead of them. 

“You do recovery,” Silus said, voice quiet and deathly still. 

 “I’m going to go kill Mira Delane.” 

Agent-E.Y.E. turned, stunned. “You know who’s behind this?” 

“I do.” 

“You know how?” 

“I’ll explain later.” 

E.Y.E. stared—processing. 

Silus smirked. “Get the victims out. I’ll handle the bitch who built this playground.” 

Without another word, he turned—his silhouette folding into shadow, vanishing down the tunnel with absolute certainty. 

Because when Silus Mikana’s curse locked onto a name... 

 The only direction left was forward. 

 

6 

In the shattered depths of the tunnel, Mira Delane was pouting. 

Still perched beside the master console, she jabbed the comm toggle like a brat denied screen time. 

“Hey! You big meanie! You jerk! You ruined my fun! I was enjoying our little game! 

You listening to me?” 

She slapped her screen again, only to see him—Sorrow—bending beside the twisted metal of the first ruined carriage. 

He touched something on the rail. Blood. Still wet. 

Urlich’s blood. 

And then he saw it. 

Not just the boy’s death. The life that should’ve been: 

• Urlich, older. Smiling. Married to Haliette, their child dancing in a sunlit yard. 

• A life devoted to medicine. 

• Cancer breakthroughs. Lives saved. Futures shaped. 

All obliterated by one woman’s playtime. 

The tunnel dimmed. His golden aura vanished. 

What replaced it was crimson—not red like flame, but like Silus: the mark of something unbound. 

The Oblivarge. 

 A part of Sorrow he never allowed to surface. 

Until now. 

Without ceremony, he teleported—into her sanctum, past the rubble she thought would keep her safe. 

He found Arthur, still chained across the opposite track. One touch—gone in light, teleported to Agent-E.Y.E. and the rescue team. 

Now it was just Mira. 

And balance. 

She gasped—mask still off, hair wild. “No—wait—!” 

Sorrow raised his hand. 

This was not the Repent Spell. 

This was something much older. Darker. A curse from Oblivarge itself. 

It hit her like a wave of burning ice, and the scream came fast. 

Because suddenly, Mira was inside the moment of every death she’d orchestrated. 

She became each victim— 

 shackled, stunned, alone, 

 the rumble of the train approaching, 

 the light, the screeching, the 

 crush of bone— 

 and again, and again, and again, for every one. 

Her screams echoed through the tunnels. 

“AHHHHH! 

 WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?! 

 AAAAHHHHHHH—!” 

By the time she collapsed, twitching and sobbing, Sorrow was gone. 

 No trace. Not a glimmer. Not even heat in the air. 

 

She didn’t wait. 

Still trembling, Mira scrambled toward one of her restored trains—mask forgotten on the floor. 

She shoved herself into the conductor’s seat, punched the controls, full throttle. Her only thought: Get out. Get away. Escape. 

But then—he was there. 

Standing on the track ahead. 

Silus Mikana. 

That same crooked smile like death had told a joke just for him. 

She couldn’t hear what he said over the scream of the engine. 

But her body obEYEd. 

Her hand slammed the emergency brake. 

The train shrieked to a stop—and launched her forward. 

CRASH. 

She burst through the windshield, tumbling across gravel and steel. Bones splintered. Skin torn. 

She tried to crawl. 

Tried to move. 

Silus didn’t even glance down as he stepped past her, quiet and detached. 

He boarded the same train she’d tried to escape in. 

Set it crawling. 

Slowly. 

Behind him, Mira wailed. Dragging herself. Inches gained. Desperate. 

But no good. 

The machine met her spine with no hesitation. 

Her scream was final. 

And Silus walked on. Not a word. 

 Just that same smirk—like the world was finally quiet again.  

 

 

 

 

 

FINAL INTERLUDE 

 

The tunnels were still. Silent. Cold. 

FATE agents moved like shadows across the bloodstained stone. Paramedics whispered to one another, careful not to disturb the grief in the air. Police did their best to keep the scene intact. It was a place no one wanted to look at for too long. 

Blankets were draped over shoulders. Warm coffees passed around in ungloved hands. Even victory felt like ash. 

Millana huddled next to Haliette, arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she wept into the night. The girl hadn’t stopped crying since they'd been rescued. 

There was no shame in it. 

They’d found Urlich. 

They just hadn’t found him in time. 

The others formed a loose circle around them—Tellai kneeling beside Carol, who looked like she'd aged ten years. The Whitacus twins stood awkwardly nearby, trying their best to look solemn. 

"Don’t take this the wrong way," muttered Theo, "but I'm 90% sure that Sorrow guy is government-engineered ghost tech." 

"You're unbelievable," Leo groaned, sipping his fourth coffee. "We just got saved by a guy who blew up a train with light magic and that’s the theory you go with?" 

"I’m just saying," Theo replied. "You don’t get glowing yellow light unless you're part cursed. Or part cryptid." 

"Yeah? Well if he's a cryptid, I’m marrying him," Carol muttered, still dazed. "He looked like a sexy prophecy." 

Millana snorted, EYEs still red. “Can you two tone it down? Haliette just lost her—” 

“No, let them talk,” Haliette croaked, voice raw. “I could use a laugh.” 

They all grew quiet again as a figure stepped through the haze. 

Frank Gavern, returned to human form, stepped calmly onto the scene as if he had just arrived which technically he had. 

Arthur blinked from under his own blanket, brow furrowed. “Frank... you were supposed to be in holding.” 

Before Frank could answer, a familiar synthetic voice cut in. 

“I sent for him.” 

Agent-EYE approached with his usual unblinking stride. 

“Detective Gavern is reinstated as of ten minutes ago. And while I still disapprove of your tendency to abandon protocol and teleport like a fantasy cosplayer, you were right. About everything. The white van. The tunnels we couldn’t have stopped Mira Delane without your sharp instincts.” 

EYE paused. 

“FATE could use someone like you. You sure you won’t reconsider?” 

Frank gave a tired smile. “I’m needed here. Right on the streets. In the dirt.” 

EYE extended a hand. “Then we’ll respect the trenches you choose.” 

Frank took it. 

Two forces of nature, finally meeting in the middle. 

“Yeah, yeah, cute moment,” Silus grumbled from behind them, rubbing his ears. “Can we leave now? These sirens are making me nostalgic for head trauma.” 

The two men chuckled, stepping aside as Silus followed the cleanup team, kicking gravel as he went. 

 

High above them, the city skyline glittered. 

From atop a Fraid City skyscraper, a pulse of golden light shimmered in the air, forming a clean-edged portal—nothing like the savage red gashes of Oblivarge Portals. 

From it stepped a young woman clad in white. 

Her long, rose-colored hair fluttered in the wind. A staff gleamed faintly at her back. She walked barefoot along the ledge, watching the lights flicker far below. Too far to be seen. But close enough to witness. 

She smiled. 

“Franky, Franky, Franky... pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

Her voice was gentle, amused, as if addressing an old friend she hadn't met yet. 

“So you’re the new Sorrow, are you?” 

She tilted her head. 

“You used Oblivarge magic today... You know that’s forbidden. Powerful. Corrupting.” 

“It’s incredible you didn’t burn alive from the inside out. Really.” 

She knelt slowly, barefoot toes curling on the skyscraper’s edge. 

“But don’t worry. We’ll be right here… when it does.” 

“I can’t wait to see how long you last, before I have to execute you.” 

She smiled into the night filled with radiance.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Final Thoughts Volume 2  

By Ryan Melrose 

 

Absolutely, Ryan. Here’s your final thoughts for Volume 2 rewritten in a polished, light novel-style author’s note—keeping your voice, humor, and passion intact while tightening the flow and grammar: 

 

Author’s Final Thoughts – Volume 2 

I had a lot of fun writing the Mira Delane Arc. 

Back when I first introduced her in the original webcomic, her story was over pretty quickly. But adapting her into the light novel format gave me the chance to really explore her character in a way I couldn’t before. This version of Mira is darker, more layered, and far more dangerous—and I loved every second of building her twisted little empire. 

This volume also marks a big step in what I’m now calling the EYErowverse—see what I did there? Agent-E.Y.E. and Sorrow were originally meant to be completely separate characters in different stories. But over time, I realized their individual arcs weren’t quite hitting the way I wanted. Bringing them together in The Endless Balance of an Ancient Sorrow gave me the freedom to build a much richer world—and honestly, it’s been one of the best creative decisions I’ve made. 

Volume 2 let me dive deeper into Mira’s operation, something I never got to do in the comic. Her name, her design, even her role in the story—all of it evolved. In the comic, she was more of a one-off villain. Here, she became the centerpiece of a full-blown psychological horror arc with a ticking clock and real emotional stakes. It was also fun improving the art for volume 2 having it look the way I felt it should, now don’t get me wrong the art in volume one was great but volume 2-- I find captured the Manga look I was going for quite a bit better 

And that’s the thing—I don’t see this as a clean win for the heroes. Yes, they stopped Mira from killing again. But they didn’t save a single one of her victims. That loss weighs heavily on Haliette, Millana, their friends… and even Frank. We’ll be exploring that emotional fallout in Volume 3. 

Speaking of which—big plans ahead. 

The introduction of Amane, our mystical mage from the Seraphel Realm, opens up a whole new dimension (literally). It’ll be fascinating to explore how her realm contrasts with the chaos of Oblivarge, and what her presence means for Frank’s already fragile balance. 

There are a lot of differences between this series and the old comic version—but that’s intentional. I’m building something bigger now: a world full of strange laws, complex characters, and stories that I hope readers will enjoy as much as I enjoy writing them. 

Volume 3 is going to be huge. 

Stay tuned. 

-Ryan Melrose