# Chapter 1: Fourth of July

  The backyard smelled like charcoal, sunscreen, and freedom.

  It was July 4th, 2028, and the party was exactly what every high schooler dreamed of when their parents left town for the weekend. Red, white, and blue string lights draped the fence, reflecting off the pool in wavy patterns. Someone’s overkill speaker system thumped out a playlist that jumped from old-school rock to whatever viral rap song was blowing up TikTok that week. Fireworks—legal ones from the city park and the definitely-not-legal mortars the seniors smuggled in—popped and boomed in the distance, lighting up the sky every few minutes like the whole world was celebrating.

  Sky leaned against the deck railing, cold can sweating in his hand, watching the chaos with that half-smile he always wore when he was pretending not to care. At six-two he towered over pretty much everyone, black tank top clinging a little from the heat, dark hair falling into his eyes. Max—his best friend since they were stealing crayons in kindergarten—was beside him, American flag bandana tied around his head like a total idiot, yelling over the music about how Jefferson had just lost a bet and owed him twenty bucks.

  “Dude, you should’ve seen his face when the bottle rocket went sideways,” Max laughed, elbowing Sky hard enough to slosh his drink. “Almost took out Cam’s eyebrows.”

  Sky snorted. “He’ll live.”

  Down by the pool, Frosty was dragging Mira into a dance circle, both of them giggling as they almost slipped on the wet concrete. Frosty’s cropped hoodie had ridden up, showing the constellation tattoo on her ribs she’d gotten last summer and still hadn’t told her mom about. Jefferson and Cam were indeed trying to light more rockets off the railing, shouting warnings at anyone who got too close. Hiro was helping little Taro hold a sparkler, the kid’s eyes huge with wonder while Rita filmed it on her phone. Jessica and Lola were taking selfies with neon glow sticks. Juno hovered near Abel like he wasn’t sure where to stand. Het, the only one old enough to buy the alcohol, was playing responsible adult while sneaking shots with John.

  It was perfect. Loud, sweaty, stupid, perfect.

  Then the biggest firework yet went off—except it didn’t fade.

  A jagged black line split the sky right above the yard, pulsing red at the edges like a wound. The music cut out. Phones flickered. The air went cold, like someone cranked the AC to arctic.

  The crack widened.

  Reiji stepped through first.

  Tall, black coat flaring even though there was no wind, red energy crackling around his fists. Behind him came the others—Yuka with that creepy, perfect smile; Ray looking bored out of his mind; Lana cracking her knuckles; Jason grinning like this was the best night ever. More shapes moved in the dark beyond the rift.

  No one screamed at first. They just stared.

  Then the demons poured out.

  Twisted things—too many limbs, glowing eyes, mouths full of needles. They hit the ground running. The first one landed on the grill, metal buckling under its weight. Another splashed into the pool, water turning black.

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  That’s when the screaming started.

  People ran, slipped, fell. Sparklers dropped and hissed out on wet grass. Someone tried to vault the fence and got dragged back by claws. Hiro shoved Taro behind her and swung a metal pool skimmer like a bat; it snapped in half against a demon’s face.

  Sky didn’t think. He just moved.

  He bolted for the garage, heart slamming against his ribs. Inside, he found the old aluminum bat—some kid’s Little League relic gathering dust in the corner. A toolbox sat open nearby. Hands shaking, he grabbed roofing nails and a hammer, pounding them through the barrel until it bristled like a porcupine. In the drawer under the workbench he found the Glock the homeowner kept for “protection.” Magazine full. He racked it, stuffed it in his waistband, grabbed the biggest kitchen knife he saw on the way back out.

  Max and Frosty found him halfway across the lawn.

  “Sky—what the fuck—” Frosty started.

  “No time,” he cut her off, voice steadier than he felt.

  A demon was feeding on someone near the patio—Jackson, Sky realized with a sick lurch. It looked up, red eyes locking on them.

  Sky charged.

  He swung the bat two-handed. Nails punched through its skull with wet crunches. Black blood sprayed hot across his face. The thing staggered, howling. He hit it again. And again. Until it dropped and stayed down.

  The villains hadn’t moved much. They just watched, like this was entertainment.

  Yuka stood in the middle of the yard, untouched, smiling that same calm smile.

  Sky pulled the gun.

  His hands shook, but he aimed center mass, then up—headshot.

  The bang was deafening.

  Yuka’s head snapped back. Blood misted the air. For one frozen second everyone stopped. Then Yuka touched his temple, fingers red, and the smile twitched.

  Reiji grabbed his arm. “We’re done here.”

  They backed into the rift like smoke. The remaining demons tried to follow. One—the biggest yet—lunged at the survivors instead.

  Max didn’t hesitate. He tackled it low, wrapping arms around its thrashing legs, slamming it to the ground.

  “Sky—now!”

  Sky dropped the empty gun, knife already in hand. He drove it down through the demon’s chest, twisted until the thrashing stopped.

  Then it was quiet.

  Just distant sirens, dying fireworks, and the wet sound of people crying.

  The survivors crawled out of hiding one by one.

  Mira from the pantry, face streaked with tears. Jefferson supporting Cam, whose arm hung bloody and limp. Juno and Jessica from upstairs. Abel pale as paper. Het with a crowbar he didn’t remember grabbing. Hiro clutching Taro and Rita. Lola from under the dining table. John stumbling in from the front, alone.

  They gathered in the wrecked yard, stepping over bodies and black ichor, clustering together like if they let go they’d fall apart.

  Frosty’s voice was small. “Is it… over?”

  Sky looked at the closing rift, red glow fading against the stars.

  “No,” he said quietly. “They left. They barely even tried.”

  He wiped blood from his face, smearing it worse.

  “This was just the opening act.”

  Sirens got louder. Black SUVs pulled up before the cop cars—unmarked, silver eye emblem on the doors. Men and women in gray uniforms moved with quiet efficiency, herding the kids away from the carnage.

  By morning—July 5th—they were in a cold, bright room deep inside Jones Academy.

  Everyone looked like ghosts: borrowed gray sweats, dried blood still in their hair, eyes hollow. The summer sun poured through high windows like nothing had happened.

  A man in a black instructor’s jacket stood at the front. Name tag: Mr. Joy.

  He didn’t sugarcoat it.

  “What you saw last night wasn’t random. Demons are summoned. The people doing it are organized. And they’re getting stronger.”

  He explained will energy—raw human potential that some people have more of. How the academy could awaken it, turn it into real power. Innate techniques. Sorcerer-level shit.

  Agents scanned them one by one. Some got green lights. Some red.

  Sky, Max, Frosty, Mira, Jefferson, Het, Hiro—green.

  Cam, Juno, Jessica, Abel, Taro, Rita, Lola, John—red. Not enough raw will yet. They’d train with clans, support roles, live in Room 105. Still part of the fight.

  Then Mr. Joy dropped the bomb.

  “Years ago, there was an artifact. The Demon Heart. Crystallized power from the first rift ever torn. Master it—truly sync with it—and you become the strongest thing alive. You could close every rift forever.”

  He paused.

  “Or open them wide enough to end the world.”

  His eyes lingered on the group—maybe on Sky a second longer.

  “Those people last night? They’re looking for it. Or for the person who can use it.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Training starts today. Rest if you can. You’re going to need it.”

  Sky stared out the window as they were led to dorms. Outside, other students jogged the track in the July heat, laughing, normal.

  Inside his chest something burned—anger, fear, something else he didn’t have a name for yet.

  Max bumped his shoulder. “We’re gonna get strong, man. Strong enough to make them pay.”

  Frosty nodded, eyes hard for the first time.

  Sky gripped the strap of his new academy bag tighter.

  Yeah.

  But something told him the villains weren’t done.

  Not even close.

  And whatever came next… it was going to be worse.

  **To be continued…**