Omega pointed out her missing shoe, but the child held her breath and vanished from sight. If Omega was more than an ephemeral void in a vague memory of a human shape, she would have frowned.

This was, without a doubt, the once infamous Astral Daamon. Or will be… It was hard to keep track when the past, present, and future were all the same. Omega knew this much, Astral was an Ancient Hunter who served under the Dark Emperor until he saw fit to seal her in a place between realms, accessible only to members who walked through the valley of the shadow of death. The Emperor delighted in his little jokes; the journey was a one-way trip.

When the Ancient Hunter returned to the world of men, she returned as a child. This child, who held her breath to control her Hunter’s Pulse in order to dim her soul, hiding her presence from Omega. The tactic was either insane or ingenious.

Omega was irritated. She was losing too many of her memories to waste time with these childish antics.

Yet…

Astral should not be here. As ideal a candidate as the girl was and worth the sacrifice of time, no one survives Clearwater. Ever.

Omega’s message was intended for Astral in one form or another. It was through Astral’s efforts that Omega would gain the resources needed to prolong the Earth’s continued existence. But this time…

Omega gazed across time and space.

Shades of potential pasts filled through the shelter with the faded whispers of overlapping moments. In the hours of frightened captivity, hundreds of scenarios played through Omega’s memories simultaneously. In the chaos of rescue, the child Astral was spirited away. Attempts at rescuing the others were made, but never successful.

Omega followed the collection of moments, peering into Astral’s potential life as it played out around her in rapid succession. Every rescuer introduced Astral to a new life trajectory, new skills, new knowledge, showing her missing pieces to a complex puzzle. This time, no one was coming. No one could come to her rescue. She was going to die here with the rest of the lambs.

Why was Astral here? Why had no one come? What had changed? Who was messing with her plan?

No, never mind that. She didn’t have the time to sort out that problem.

The tiny souls of the dead children drifted with careless ease toward Astral, answering the ancient call as small specks of spectral light. Confusion would set in soon enough, followed by a slew of other emotions. Muted shuttering sobs broke the silence, followed by hissed calls for pure silence. The fear was palatable. The fiend that would call Clearwater its birthplace was going to be one hell of a terror.

Demons may be an active threat against humanity, but there were layers of beasts who fed on the excrement of man with just as much savage veracity as any demon. Not Omega’s concern.

‘You can’t hold your breath forever.’ Communication with a Vessel was risky under the best of circumstances. But she wasn’t speaking with just any Vessel, she was speaking with the Vessel that specifically crafted to receive Omega. A fact that Astral was acutely aware of, having been reminded of her ultimate destiny, time and time again, as a means of control and justified fear.

As far as Astral knew, Vessels suffered one of two fates: madness by virtue of trying to absorb a wealth of knowledge far beyond Human comprehension, or possession, which lead to a drastically reduced lifespan as their Human body wore against the raw power of the entity usurping their control. A battle of wills never ended well.

Possession was Omega’s intention when she had accepted a Vessel within this event. Through possession, she could push the host's body beyond its limits, ensuring its survival through this disastrous event. The Vessel’s life didn’t matter, it was already forfeit. It wasn’t like Omega was robbing a person of their potential, of their life. She was extending their pitiful existents and granting them a supreme purpose. The message mattered.

Astral would rather die than accept Omega’s power. If she attempted to force her will onto this Vessel, Astral just might take Omega with her.

A bear flew through her, sliding to a stop a few feet behind her, confused and dejected.

The teddy bear flung itself at Omega in rebuttal, denying its first failed attack with a second failure. Ephemeral gaze met beaded eyes with quiet acceptance.

The child plucked her bear from the ground and scowled. It was worth a shot. The bear had been a fierce protector against all manner of childhood beasts.

Silence.

Astral craned her head to the dark ceiling above. Ash snowed onto the refugees as the pungent scent of blood and feces overtook the room. Astral hugged her bear. “Daddy’s not coming,” she said, her ancient accent ever-present even after six years in the new world.

Somewhere out there, beyond the walls of concrete and steel, Astral’s guardian was fighting a losing battle against a new wave of freed demons. A rogue hunter had no place issuing commands to trained killers. If only the military were engaging a human enemy, their biased elitism would have made a meaningful difference.

Omega tasted the subtle change of fear to despair.

The steel shutters above resisted the first onslaught, shattering the glass skylights of what had once been a magnificent, artfully decorated dome, the pride of Clearwater.

Omega shielded Astral with her non-existent body, a residual inclination after having lived for so long in the human realm. Her efforts lacked effectiveness, and for a moment, she felt ashamed for having reacted instead of choosing her action.

Astral’s lineage was steeped in magic, the daughter of a sorcerer and Vessel. The air around the child pulsed in rapid succession, breaking the glass into smaller pieces until they were microscopic particles. Not exactly harmless, but sufficient in the moment. Perhaps the people of Clearwater might survive under Astral’s watch. Omega dared to hope.

In the seconds it took Astral to dispel the glass threat, the metal shutters warped under the fury of hundreds of powerful fists. The fading light of dusk peeked through the gaps in the steel. Clawed hands reached through the openings, ravenous, desperate for the meal below. They reefed at the feeble defences, crying out in frustration and rage.

It was now or never. Omega said: ‘I can help you… If you let me.’

Astral glared at her. Her ancient knowledge meant she knew the cost of accepting help from unformed entities. Though Omega was certain that the child didn’t know with whom she was communicating, it didn’t matter. Had the child known...

‘There’s no surviving this,’ Omega pressed. A legion of demons was too much for a child, no matter who that child was or how gifted. Higher powers had designs on Astral’s life, of that Omega was sure. Why else bar any possibility of escape so completely?

Cracks formed on the concrete tomb. The narrow opening grew larger as a thick, dark ooze penetrated the failing sanctuary. The crimson glow of the emergency lights flickered out. Death wouldn't be long now.

‘Let me help you,’ Omega urged. At worst, she could slip into the time stream and try again elsewhere, with fewer memories.

The metal sheets tore from the roof as the night asserted its blessing over the creatures of darkness.

Astral smirked. It was her time.

Demonic shadow figures scurried through the opening of the refugees’ artificial sky, while the sinister ooze herd its sacrifice to the middle of the evacuation center.

‘Please!’ Was she not heard? Or was she being ignored? Addressing a being who lacks a physical presence might give such an entity purchase into the human world. The child’s ancient knowledge would have conditioned her to avoid such a critical mistake.

Astral’s attention flit to the threat beyond Omega. In seconds, a brilliant circle tore through the cement floor, unseen by human eyes. Ancient markings flooded the floor in a complex, magical equation. New markers dotted the air and inflated the magic circle into a sphere. The spell pushed against the ooze, denying it access to the refugees. Demons fell from the opening like a hail storm formed of pure malice. They thundered against the shield, jeering threats and deadly promises heard only in faded whispers by the terrified masses.

Omega had rarely seen such an elaborate feat of magic by an accomplished sorcerer. Modern magic users often preferred summoning circles in a two-dimensional format, and rarely considered the possibility of a multi-dimensional variant. Every additional dimension represented an added strain on the mage’s will, memory, and capacity to maintain the equilibrium needed to fuel the spell. Such feats, if attempted at all, were performed by a coven of mages. A sorcerer attempting such a feat would pay with their lives at the slightest error. Once the baseline of the spell was established, Astral’s spell evolved, not quite taking on a life of its own, but free to exist outside of Astral’s awareness for a few practiced moments.

Omega received her answer. Astral will die for these people and with these people, a trait drilled into every ancient demon hunter.

The shape of her glyphs warped into new symbols, drawing on the energy from a collection of inner summoning circles designed to fuel new components of Astral’s willful incantations. She was weaponizing her shield, readying for an attack that would compensate for her limited physical strength. This was not a spell designed by an imaginative child, rather something crafted and practiced over years through the dedication of the science of magic. In Astral’s rebirth, she had brought with her the magical training she had endured from the old world.

If Omega left now to search for an agreeable Vessel, there was no guarantee she could save Astral, especially if another power was also manipulating events. The facts remained, Astral was too aware to accept Omega willingly, and Omega couldn’t force herself onto Astral without destroying them both.

With no other options available, Omega stepped into time stream.