Birmingham – Two Weeks After the Fall of Vale
The city had been quiet in the days since the fire. Too quiet.
Rumors were spreading about the mysterious deaths of Campbell's men,
about the shattered remnants of the church, about the strange symbols that had begun to appear in the most unlikely places—on walls, in alleyways, etched in the blood of the dead.
But there were no clear answers.
And James?
He had become a ghost.
Every night, he disappeared into the fog, slipping away from the Blinders' stronghold and into the deeper parts of Birmingham. When he returned, he was always different—his eyes darker, his movements sharper, his breath colder.
He knew something. He could feel it in his bones, in the deepest corners of his soul.
Something was stirring.
Midnight – The Blinders' HQ, Small Heath
The Blinders' headquarters was as chaotic as ever—boxes stacked high with contraband, papers half-organized on every surface. But there was a heaviness in the air, a strange tension no one could shake. Tommy had called a meeting, but James hadn't shown up.
Arthur paced back and forth, his usual anger replaced with a tight nervous energy.
"What the hell's going on, Tom?" Arthur grumbled. "You've been looking for him for days."
Tommy was sitting at the table, his face lit by a single lantern. He wasn't angry, just tired. It was the kind of exhaustion that ran deeper than muscle or bone. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to wipe away the unease.
"I don't know what he's become, Arthur," Tommy muttered. "But I don't like it."
"None of us do," Arthur said. "But he's still our blood. Our brother."
Tommy's eyes flickered. There was something unspoken there—something dark. Brotherhood had always been their foundation. But James... James was different now. He wasn't just a Shelby anymore. He was something else.
The door to the room creaked open, and Polly entered, her eyes narrowed. She looked at Tommy first, then at Arthur. She didn't need to say a word for them both to know what she was thinking. It's time.
"James was never just one of us," Polly said, her voice low. "And that was always part of the problem."
Arthur frowned, hands on his hips. "What do you mean, Polly?"
Polly crossed the room, her boots clicking against the floor. She stopped before the table, her expression unreadable. "His bloodline, Arthur. It's not just Romani. Not just Shelby."
Tommy's gaze hardened. "What are you saying?"
She let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of the truth on her shoulders. "James's mother... she came from a very old, very dangerous line. They say the Gypsies used to worship an ancient force. Something that old can't be ignored. You see, James isn't just carrying the Shelby name—he's carrying the name of Velakar."
Tommy stood up abruptly. "Velakar? The Ash-Eater?"
Polly nodded. "Yes. An ancient force from the Old World. A spirit of death and fire that once claimed entire villages in the East. It's older than any god. They say it can possess the living... and it's been trying to claim James for years."
Arthur's eyes widened. "And you didn't think we should know about this sooner?"
"I didn't know," Polly said sharply. "But now it's clear. That mark on James's chest? That power he's been carrying? It's all connected. And I can feel it—it's waking up."
Tommy walked over to the window, staring out into the fog that hung low over Small Heath. "We've been fighting ghosts, shadows, and men with no souls. But now we're up against something that can't be killed with a bullet."
"You've seen the way he's changed," Polly said softly. "He's becoming something else, Tommy. And if we don't figure this out, Velakar will own him. And then... we'll be fighting it."
There was a long silence in the room. The weight of Polly's words settled on them like an oppressive fog. They were used to fighting demons in human form. But this... this was something they weren't prepared for.
Later that Night – The Spirit World
James had slipped away from the Blinders. The city was restless, but his mind was elsewhere. He felt the pull of something deep beneath the earth, beyond the realm of man. There was a place he could reach—somewhere between time, between life and death.
He had been going there every night since Vale's fall, delving deeper into the dark corners of the spirit realm. But tonight, something felt different.
The air around him was cold—colder than it had ever been. And then, the voices started.
They whispered in tongues he couldn't understand—no longer the spirits of the dead, but something darker. Something far more ancient.
And then he saw it.
Velakar.
The Ash-Eater stood before him—not as a shape, but as a presence. It was like fire wrapped in shadow, a being forged from the bones of a world forgotten. Its eyes glowed like dying embers, and its voice... its voice was the crackling of flames and the howling of the wind.
"You are mine now, James Shelby," Velakar's voice rang through his head, like a thousand voices overlapping. "Your bloodline has called to me. Your power... is mine to claim."
James's heart beat harder in his chest. He could feel it—the hunger. This was no mere spirit. This was an ancient force—a being that had devoured the souls of kings, of warriors, of entire civilizations.
"No," James whispered, taking a step back. "I am not yours. I am not your tool."
The flames flickered, and the temperature dropped.
"You think you can fight me? You think your spirit is stronger than mine? I have been watching you, James. Your blood flows with power. But power without control is a curse. You are already mine."
The room around James began to bend, warping like the edges of a dream, as the spirit realm twisted in response to Velakar's power. Shadows reached out like claws, the walls closing in. He could feel the suffocating pull of Velakar's presence, wrapping around his throat, around his heart.
He gasped, his vision swimming.
"The cost of power is never free," Velakar's voice echoed, "and you, James Shelby, will learn that price."
Back in Small Heath – The Blinders' HQ
Tommy, Arthur, and Polly stood around the table, trying to make sense of the chaos. They hadn't heard from James in hours, and the weight of Polly's warnings hung over them like a storm cloud.
Arthur broke the silence. "What now?"
Tommy looked at Polly. "You said Velakar is waking. Can we stop it?"
Polly shook her head. "It's not about stopping it. It's about controlling it. James needs to face the truth of his lineage, or Velakar will consume him completely."
A new tension filled the room. The Blinders had faced enemies of all kinds—cops, gangs, corrupt politicians—but this... this was something they had no weapons for. No strategy. No experience.
Tommy took a long breath. "Then we find James. And we make sure he doesn't lose himself to it."