I'm okay everyone. It's been a couple of days since my last chapter, and I awoke to a pounding headache and an unsettled stomach.

Unfortunately, my ramblings weren't wrong... I needed fresh blood of a child to keep this process at bay. Which I realized, to most normal people would be difficult. Especially if one's body was crystallized up to their gut and is oozing bile so horrendous, I'm surprised the cops haven't been called yet. But I'm feeling a type of clarity that's—refreshing. I Haven't written any odd repetitions or felt the need to end a sentence with "my fellow friends." So—that's a win.

And to keep this short, Yes. I ingested the blood of a child about twenty minutes ago. I paid a trafficker quite a lump sum from some millionaires account obtained by a new type of insight this process is giving me...

But—but, I would love to inform you that I tipped off the location of three sex and child traffickers in Minneapolis. The police are on route now and have enough details to lock up those pieces of shit for the rest of their lives.

Sex traffickers, Sally Maurez, Billy Clarke, and Timothy Mallary, zero. Insight from the great beyond, one.

Anyways, I really don't have any time to waste... this lucidity is temporary. Let's continue with the story. Back to me waking up from that odd dream.

"Wake up Liam. Come home," a voice hummed. Samantha's. She took a deep breath, and I felt air travel into my lungs, and my senses slowly returned.

I was in an old basement, it felt humid and smelled of old mildew mixed with laundry detergent. The lightbulb above me pulsed chaotically. It must've been old. Same with the house. At least over a hundred years ancient.

But she wasn't alone. Next to her was professor Weber and Chris. Both looked relieved, but there was a sense of worry hidden in their expression. An impatience. A terror.

"See. I told you he could do it," Professor Weber faked a smile, his breath brought me back. I sat up, coughing. Well, attempted to sit up as I was strapped down to a metal chair that bolted to the floor. "Now can we remove the straps?" he snapped at Chris. I thought to myself how I get out of these restraints.

"Be yourself," a voice whispered with complete audibility. It should've given me chills, but I felt nothing. No fear. No anxiety. Only clarity. My soul was as hard as stone and this voice, it was Bvoz-kik and felt immediately trustworthy. "Strength will return." I looked over my shoulder and my companion as visible as it was in the great beyond. Except for an occasional shimmer, every detail felt as real as one would see an animal when visiting a zoo. Every orifice, hair, disgusting ooze seemed to now be a part of our world.

But once again. No fear. No anxiety. Only clarity. I knew what it was. A being beyond our stars through a rift outside of space and time. It existed in an abomination of a world only to be tethered by yours truly. But I knew. I knew with all my heart that this specific companion was my friend because as much as I knew it, it now knew me.

I asked to be unstoppable, and it was clear I could know things, similar to the same effect as I have now as this fate continues. And knowledge brings peace as primitive as we are, commonly fear the unknown.

Will we save the girls? I thought.

"Undetermined," my fellow friend spoke sweetly. "Remember. Dream."

Remember the dream? The one with the terrifying abomination?...My jacket and my gun!

As that thought ended, everything felt—clear. Not in a logical or emotional sense, but like—an intuitive feeling. Some part of me knew the dream was the moment of knowing whether or not she'd win. The fucking bitch and witch.

Which I did. Didn't realize it at the time, but not only did I eliminate fear and anxiety, but asking to become unstoppable gave me a trust in my companion that one wouldn't expect from an individual without years of friendship. I think that's what happened.

"Liam. Please come home," Samantha sang, but I ignored it.

"Where is my Jacket?" I asked, looking past the three of them.

Before they could respond, an image was given to me. A cabin near a medium-sized pond.

Where is that? I thought. Just thought, and was given a path from where we were to the cabin. My thoughts continued, and one after another, I was bombarded with information.

How long would it take? Well, it gave me specifics. At my most comfortable walking pace, twenty-two minutes and thirteen seconds.

"Jacket?" Professor Weber and Chris looked at each other, concerned.

"Liam?" Samantha sang again, softly. "Stop thinking, silly."

Will it be dangerous?

"Future. Unknown." Bvoz-kik whispered. I asked dozens of more questions before they spoke again. I asked several more—one after another until I realized I forgot what I was asking and it coalesced into a feeling. A knowing.

Now, I am capable of recalling all of the questions, but I do not possess the time to go into great detail. So please—just bear with me when I say that this new ability gave me the ability to know information. Limited, but useful information. These details could only be one step relevant to me. Anything or anyone within my vicinity or any information relative to my survival. For starters:

Like—within moments of this new freaking power, I knew where my jacket was but was incapable of understanding exactly who or what was protecting it and what exact steps were necessary to succeed. Everything came in the form of vague, cryptic answers. Which made me to experiment further.

The individuals standing before me thought of me as a means to end. I requested to learn more about their motives.

Chris and Natalie were a couple wishing to use the book to cure their sick child.

Professor Weber longed to see his passing wife.

Samantha wished to learn more about her past.

But when attempting to inquire further, like before led to more enigmatic answers.

Their child is sick with an incurable dangerous disease that I've heard before, but I'm unable to recall what.

Professor Weber's seeks to see her through a means I've never seen or heard of before, and her demise is unknown too.

Samantha's past is one neither her or I am aware of.

Any further question led to a massive, fucking headache.

Curiosity sparked on how one should overcome this 'knowing' limitation, which the answer was clear. The god damn book. Whispers of the Great Beyond. Which guided me to another question. If I had this ability with limited potential, how much did the damn Witch have?

Bvoz-kik answered. Like before, a statement without hesitation or emotion.

"She knows what she asks," it whispered. "It knows all known."

At this time, Professor Weber and Chris began to argue as I continued my rabbit hole.

Did she know about my plan for wanting my jacket?

Yes.

Would she know what we're plotting?

Likely.

So—I had one final question.

Would everything I know be easy access to her?

Definitely.

I went to ask how I was unstoppable then, but I hesitated.

How does one win at a game of chess if the opponent knows all that is known?

"Liam, You're still thinking," Samantha's sweet voice brought me back to reality. Our eyes met, and she gave me a wide grin. "Come home, silly."

Still. Thinking.

"She's right," I thought out loud. She tilted her head while the others blinked in confusion. Professor Weber smiled while Chris glared.

"He's finally back. Welcome to the land of the living. Wow. Fantastic," Chris scoffed. "Or is this more mindless, fucking rambling?"

"No—I'm good. I was just trying to proce—."

"Being unstoppable. Right right. Really fucking brave. Well, you can process further once we figure out a plan," Chris gave Professor a nod who began to untie my wrists.

The bitter sarcasm didn't phase me, and I looked out the basement window.

"What did you see in the great beyond?" Professor Weber's face lit up. "Explain everything in detail."

At that moment, I didn't know where the feeling came from, but it felt like something was coming. "We need to move."

"Like hell, we will!" Chris spat at the floor.

"He's crowned," Samantha scowled at him. "Chosen. You choose her, or you choose him."

My ear twitched... and I thought I could hear faint drums in the distance approaching.

"Do you guys hear that?" I hushed them, but Chris did the thing with his eyes that I hated so fucking much. "Yeah. Keep rolling those eyes; maybe you'd find a brain back there, asshole."

He stood up, jaw clenched. "The fuck you say to me," he puffed his chest. Sure, the he was more athletic, but as much as numb fear and anxiety was, (which did give me the courage to provide a clever insult) my anger was well above boiling.

Which of course led to some unpredictable behavior on my part. I can't justify it, but only express that I felt—disrespected.

"Go on Mr. Psychologist, repeat what you fucking said."

Where is my gun? I thought to myself. An image of Professor's Weber's back pocket appeared. Without hesitation, I reached behind and grabbed the revolver.

"What the fuck!" Chris shouted as I pointed the gun at him. Professor Weber and Samantha jumped back, terror in their eyes. He relaxed as he saw my hand shaking and the safety was on.

"You don't have a god damn idea what you're doing, do you?" He chuckled, slowly stepping forward. My body was shaking, not from fear, but hesitation. Morality sunk in. I was pointing a potentially loaded gun at a man.

Stop thinking, I repeated.

Bvoz-kik.

"Yes?" It whispered.

Make me ok with killing someone.

"Yes," it breathed, and in an instant, I felt some part in my shift. Almost like a snap, my fellow friends. The trembling ceased.

Chris froze, realizing a shift in mood.

Bvoz-kik, make me able to lie.

Another part of me shifted and my body staggered from fatigue, my gun swayed, but I gripped it tightly and maintained aim. Sweat beaded down to my chin, a multi-colored ichor and the taste of metal and vomit stained my mouth.

"I have—a plan, and we are going to leave now if you want it to work," I lied for the first time in my life. "If you want to save your child, Professor Weber's wife, help Samantha find herself, and if you want us to save all those poor girls that will die if we do jack shit... You will stand down and follow my lead."

He laughed and took a step forward, expecting a poor bluff, but I pulled back a hammer. As the revolver rotated, I noticed it indeed was loaded.

Click. And if Chris hesitated further I felt perfectly fine shooting the snappy bastard.

Everyone froze, but whether they wanted it or not, we were going to get the fuck out of the house. And I sure as hell was going to save those girls and end this fucking game.

Game on.