(From Marcus's Perspective)

  I stood in the middle of a vast hall where everything—the walls, the floor, and the ceiling—consisted of slowly rotating golden gears. The sound of millions of clocks ticking pressed against my ears, filling my head with a thick, rhythmic hum.

  "You again?" I didn't even bother turning around. "What is it this time, Time Demon?"

  A figure with mismatched eyes materialized out of thin air in front of me. The green eye flickered in sync with my own heartbeat.

  "The time has come, Marcus," he croaked, his voice echoing through the machinery of the hall. "Mira has already begun. She is gathering all the Demons of Fear under her banners. Everything is unfolding exactly as I predicted."

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Yeah, yeah," I waved a hand dismissively, short blue sparks dancing across my fingers. "It’s started, she’s gathering them, everything’s going to hell... Honest to God, you sound like a broken record. How many times have you told me this now? Fifty? A hundred?"

  I stepped right up to the Demon, feeling an electrical charge boiling inside me.

  "Don't try to sweet-talk me with your prophecies. You promised me a meeting with Subject Zero. Where is he? Why are you still leading me by the nose?"

  "Soon, Marcus," the Demon didn't even blink. "Very soon, you will find yourselves in the same place. But mark my words: when you see him, do not trust your eyes. Do not listen to Mira, no matter what she promises."

  "I remember perfectly well, for God's sake! How many times do you have to repeat the same thing?!" I broke into a shout, and for a second, the hall around us was flooded with blinding light. "I’ve got a better memory than your teenage master! Stop being such a drag, Time. Just let me wake up and get to work."

  The Time Demon gave a barely perceptible smirk, and his figure began to blur, turning into mist.

  "It is well, Marcus... Sleep. This world will yet have need of your strength."

  I wanted to take a swing at him, but my fist passed through nothingness.

  I snapped my eyes open. The cabin smelled of ozone—apparently, I’d been sparking in my sleep again. I looked at my hand. The "trinket" ring on my finger felt uncharacteristically heavy and cold.

  "Soon, then..." I muttered, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "Well, let’s see who you really are, Subject Zero. I hope you’re worth all this headache the Demon’s been giving me."