The Watcher’s Eye lifted his finger and tapped the air, freezing Haul in place. He walked toward him slowly, almost casually, then lifted him and laid him on the altar. Another tap of the air, and chains snapped tight around Haul’s limbs.

  The Watcher grinned.

  “Wonderful. You’re right where you should be. I’m so glad.”

  Haul looked down at the chains and tugged at them, metal biting into his wrists. His eyes filled with anxiety and fury as he glared at the Watcher’s Eye.

  “Get me out of these fucking chains, milky.”

  The Watcher laughed. “Funny insult. But I cannot. I need your body to be whole.”

  Haul kept pulling against the restraints until his skin split. “Why my body?”

  The Watcher rubbed his bald, white head. “I thought I explained this, but I don’t mind explaining it once more.”

  He made a circular motion with his finger, forming a small cloud, then sat upon it cross-legged.

  “Well, I need your body because your bloodline is blessed by the Gods and the Elder Gods. That means I will be able to use your gifts to their full extent.”

  Haul cut him off. “Gifts? What are you talking about?”

  The Watcher tilted his head in confusion. “You don’t know your gifts?”

  He scratched his head.

  “Well, you Blackmoors have a birthmark on your neck… or was it the arm? No matter. That mark gives you abilities no other human possesses. And I want it. I have tried for centuries to possess a Blackmoor. Each time, the Gods intervened. But this time… they won’t.”

  Haul shook his head. “I don’t have that mark. It happens every other generation. It skipped me.”

  The Watcher wagged his finger as he stepped off his cloud and leaned in close.

  “Skipped you? No. I’ve been watching you. You fight like no other human. You can kill thirty trained men with a single strike. That is something only a Blackmoor can do. And that technique of yours? It has an unnamed form even stronger.”

  He smiled wider.

  “I see the future. One of your many great-granddaughters — Seraphyne Blackmoor — will possess gifts beyond anything before her. I know what I’m talking about. And I will possess that power for myself.”

  Haul’s thoughts spiraled.

  Did he just say one of my many great-granddaughters? Seraphyne Blackmoor? If that future is real… then it must happen. For all who come after me.

  The Watcher turned away.

  “Since I have you here, here’s a little history lesson. In this universe, there are four worlds. In those four worlds, all are different. Blackmoor exists in this one — but not in the others. That is constant across time and space.”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  He paced slowly.

  “But there is an exception. A boy not yet born, bearing the last name Whitfield. He exists across all four worlds. Why? Unknown.”

  He continued.

  “In those four worlds lived five gods and one main god — the Godhand. Except Earth Four. They won’t have gods in a century or so.”

  Haul snarled. “What’s the point of telling me this? Are you trying to kill me with pointless jabbering?”

  The Watcher laughed.

  “There is a point. But since you’re impatient, I’ll skip most of it. There is an alternate set of four worlds where the laws of the Elder Gods do not apply. That is where I am from. I am one of those gods. And you have met my brother as well… have you not? The one with galaxies spinning in his eyes.”

  Haul’s eyes widened. “Was he in on this? Was he part of the plan to make me sacrifice Annabell?”

  The Watcher shook his head. “He was not. We have been at constant war for reasons I will not speak of.”

  He yawned.

  “Oh, and that massive eye you saw? That was my cocoon. I was awakened before the ritual was complete.”

  Haul continued to strain against the chains as the Watcher rubbed his hands together.

  “Well. Enough talk. Let’s begin.”

  The Watcher turned to the cauldron and looked inside.

  “Good. The only step left is spilling these babes’ blood. Then it will be complete.”

  Haul watched as the Watcher lifted one of the crying babies. It squirmed helplessly, tiny hands grasping at nothing. Haul pulled at the chains with everything he had.

  “Stop! Please! Don’t kill those babes! You want my body? Take it! Just leave them unharmed!”

  The Watcher turned, the baby in his grip.

  “That’s not how this works. This ritual is crucial to taking your body. You cannot simply surrender it.”

  He placed one hand on the babe’s head and one on its legs.

  Haul thrashed against the restraints.

  He says I have a gift. I don’t. I’m just a man with a dream. I have favor with the Gods — that’s all. I don’t have some divine power.

  Haul turned his face toward the cold, damp wall as tears streamed down.

  Then he heard it.

  A crushing, ripping sound.

  Innocent blood hit the stone.

  Haul shook violently and screamed.

  The Watcher turned around, smiling, a smear of cosmic gore on his lips as he bit into the flesh.

  “Too much? I’m so sorry. Only four more to go.”

  Haul pressed his forehead to the wall as his mind fractured.

  How can one be so cruel to such precious life? It’s unspeakable.

  Another babe.

  And another.

  By the fourth, Haul was hollow. Hopeless. Helpless. His prayers had gone unanswered. The cries echoed through the sanction — until there were none.

  Silence.

  The Watcher turned.

  “It’s complete. Now all that remains… is to pour it on you.”

  He lifted the cauldron and walked toward Haul.

  Haul thrashed violently, screaming, kicking, tearing his wrists open against iron. His heart pounded so hard he thought it would burst. His mind decayed in real time. Every dream he ever carried — every vision people bled for — was about to die.

  The warm, putrid blood cascaded over his body.

  Haul gagged, vomiting acid from his stomach as the filth coated him.

  His screams grew raw, then empty.

  The Watcher smiled.

  “I’ve waited centuries for this moment. And finally… it’s upon us. I will be powerful beyond belief.”

  He placed his palm over Haul’s face.

  A violent beam of energy erupted from the depths, blasting upward as the Watcher’s body began merging with Haul’s.

  As the world tore apart around him, Haul thought only this:

  I may pass from this world, but my blood will last for all time. This is the truth. Eamon — you may be injured, but you are the only one who can bring me back.

  The beam detonated with an earth-shattering roar, splitting the castle in two.

  Smoke rolled across the ground.

  Laughter followed.

  The Watcher’s Eye stood in his true form — the Eye of the Great Immortal.

  No longer white.

  Galaxies swam through his body. A massive lightning bolt — the Blackmoor birthmark — burned into his chest. His eyes were the same as his cocoon. His blood was no longer red, but cosmic.

  He looked at his hands and smiled.

  Then he looked down at Haul’s lifeless body.

  “Your people will join you soon.”

  He snapped his fingers and appeared at the gates of Enora.

  He stood there, smiling, as the people looked upon him in terror.