1 Prologue

Somewhere in the Australian Outback, 2017...

The full moon hung over a backdrop of nothing but a sea of red sand. A coarse and cool gust of midnight air carried the dark, lonely call of the night to the remotest part of the Australian outback. Nestled just over the peak of a sand dune sat an isolated tin-roof cottage. The silence of the night was haunting – the quiet of the eerily calm desert unsettling. Occasionally, a snake would hiss or an insect with skitter, but the message was clear – this was the purest of isolations.

Then, as if to break up the silence, a man – Damien – raced through. He panted heavily as his feet dragged in the dense sand. It did not stop him from sprinting towards the cottage, his piercing brown eyes full of focus and sheer determination.

He raced up the verandah and threw the door open. He keeled over as he struggled to recover his breath. Then he kicked the door closed as he stood up and slowed his breathing.

The inside of the cottage was a lot smaller than it looked, with the place littered with clutter. Large books stacked to the ceiling nearly covering every inch of space. Detailed hand-drawn diagrams were posted on all visible walls and artifacts occupied most of the desk that stood before him. There was almost no place for the man to stand. He didn't seem to care, however. He was only there for one reason.

Damien slowly closed his eyes and extended his senses. He could hear the cool gentle wind outside, brushing up against the tin-roof. He could hear the granules of sand outside carefully washing over the dunes as they moved further north. Then he could feel it – feel the faint presence of energy all around him. The pressure between objects in the room. His eyes were closed, but even still, it was almost as if he could see everything.

His breathing slowed down to a cautious pace. He opened his eyes again and reached out his arms to his side.

Books and other objects slowly started to move out of their respective places and flew around in the air. Some occasionally passed by his eyeline and he skimmed them briefly before he moved onto the next book.

Just outside, four massive white Land Rovers sped through the night – their bodies full of dirt and crimson mud. The cars stumbled over the hilly dunes – still minutes away from Damien. The drivers skillfully navigated the rough terrain, no doubt professionals of some sort.

Inside, Damien didn't seem to be aware of his pursuers. His attention had stopped on a sheet of paper with hand-drawn diagrams of a spherical device. Beneath it, were the words 'the Ancient Ones'.

"There you are," he said to himself as he pocketed the paper. Around him, the floating objects and books fell to the floor in a heap, just as the headlights of the incoming land rovers beamed through the windows of the cottage.

"Reikan…" Damien whispered as he caught a quick glance of the vehicles through the window. He glanced down at his watch, five minutes before twelve. "You better not be late, Ghost."

Outside, a lean, tall man with a samurai haircut exited the vehicle. The sand floating in the breeze clung to his black hair as he tried to dust it off. His long black trenchcoat touched the sand at his feet as the wind lightly blew the flaps of the coat, as if it were a cape. He ran his black gloved hand through his hair as he sighed. Nine other soldiers, a mix of both men and women, exited the vehicle as he stood by the car, watching the cottage.

"Commander Reikan," one of the masked armed soldiers said, running up to the man. "The Seekers are deployed but they're not picking up anything."

"He's here," Reikan said.

"But sir…"

"Surround the cottage – there's only one way out and we're going to keep it that way," Reikan continued. He approached the cottage with his hand resting lightly on the rifle that hung over his shoulder. He stopped several meters before the verandah and lodged the wired earpiece, that hung just below his neck, into his ear. He reached to his pocket and pulled out a stick of gum, before throwing it into his mouth to chew.

A moment of static echoed in his ear before it filtered out into a clear voice. "We've got the place surrounded."

"Thank you, Claire," Reikan broke out into a grin and spat the gum out to his side. He gripped the rifle and brought it in closer.

"Okay, Damien!" He readied his gun and aimed it at the door of the cottage. Slowing down his breath and heartbeat. "You can come out now."

Reikan's only reply was complete silence. There was no movement from within, it was almost as if Damien was no longer there. Reikan chuckled. "You are quite the Tracer, Damien."

"Okay team, light it up!"

"But sir, the orders weren't to kill him," Claire's voice crackled over the comms.

"I'm giving you a new order," Reikan said.

The soldiers hesitated. "The Council has given me full authority on this op," Reikan continued as he strode back toward the crowd of cars. "Anyone doesn't follow my orders and they will be sentenced to a wipe."

The soldiers shifted uncomfortably. They looked at each other desperately, but no one dared to speak. Not even Claire. Instead, they all raised their weapons and aimed it at the cottage.

"Good," Reikan said. "We are the last line against those who wish to interfere with the timeline. Damien is one such person. As such, he will be met with the penalty of death."

Reikan pointed his gun back at the cottage. "Ready your weapons." All weapons clicked as soldiers readied to fire upon the cottage.

"Goodbye, Damien…" Reikan whispered to himself with a smile on his face. He raised his voice one last time, "Light it up!"

Before anyone could let out a shot the cottage door broke off from its hinges and flew through the air, its trajectory heading straight for Reikan. He rolled to the side, the door narrowly missing him as it buried itself upright in the sand.

"I'd say hold your fire but I doubt you'd even listen," Damien said as he casually exited the hut. Damien took off the hood as he stepped down the verandah steps and onto the sand. He had a young, lean face, he couldn't be more than twenty-four. A small scar ran down his cheek and his dark brown eyes glistened as they shifted to a low tone blue. Static electricity crackled around him and the sand at his feet turned into glass.

Reikan managed to gather his composure and stepped around the door to stand opposite Damien who acknowledged him with a smile. "Old man," he greeted.

"Damien…" Reikan responded with a shaky smile, "you've travelled quite a long way from home."

"Always wanted to come to Australia," Damien looked at his surroundings, "a pity about the circumstances though."

"You know why we're here," Reikan nodded at the soldiers "and we know why you're here."

"I'm bringing her back," Damien clenched his fists and gave Reikan a deathly stare.

"I'm afraid we can't let you do that," Reikan pointed his gun and levelled it at Damien's head.

"You do realize how annoyingly cliché that sounded, right?" Damien said with a smile. He showed no signs of backing down. Rather he stood tall and confident. Eyes determined and fists ready for a fight. The soldiers were unsettled, they looked unsure of what to do.

Damien took a quick glance around before he sighed. "I don't have time to deal with this, Reikan. You know as well as I do that ghosts don't like to be left waiting."

Reikan stepped back. "No…" Reikan scanned the area desperately. A gust of a cold, heavy wind swept over the air creating a sandstorm that, however brief, clouded the tactical team's vision. Reikan attempted to peer through the sand cloud. A figure appeared before him, its voice a haunting, icy cold whisper, "Reaper".

The soldiers' despairing cries echoed eerily throughout the desert. Reikan desperately tried to regain contact on his comms, but there was a pull of static. "Retreat!" he called out over the air.

Claire retreated out of the sand cloud, gasping for air. She dropped meters from Reikan's side. Blood crept out of her mouth as she looked at Reikan for help. "Please, Commander…"

Reikan raced towards her. He grabbed her arm and tried to pull her up. A skeletal hand reached out from the cloud and grabbed Claire's ankle. She screamed out as she clung to Reikan's hand, inching her nails into his skin.

"Reikan!" she yelled as tears ran down her cheeks.

Reikan grunted as he tried pulling her back. Another whisper clouded the air, "Reaper…"

Claire screamed a murderous cry as she slowly turned into ash. Starting from her ankle onwards. She twisted and groaned as she looked deep into Reikan's eyes, who was powerless to help her.

"Save m—" Before she could complete her plead for help, the rest of her body turned into ash and was swept up in the cloud of sand.

Reikan fell to his knees as the Grim Reaper stepped out of the shadows and stood above him. Its deathly black cloak billowed in the wind as it raised its scythe above its head and brought it down towards Reikan's.

"Enough!" Damien called.

The blade of the scythe stopped just short of Reikan's head. The cloud of sand ceased and Damien joined the Reaper's side.

"It is not his time yet," Damien told the Grim Reaper.

"Time is irrelevant," the haunting voice of the Reaper hung in the air. It was almost like it was a legion of voices, rather than just one.

"Not yet," Damien insisted as he touched the Reaper's shoulder.

"We will meet again soon, Reikan," the Reaper said as it disintegrated into ash and disappeared with the night breeze.

Reikan sat on his knees panting. His wide-eyed expression fixed to the emptiness around him. There was not one soul around aside from Damien and himself.

"You killed them all," Reikan said, his voice barely a whisper.

The radiant full moon held court over an endless canvas of the Australian Outback's red sand, its eerie luminescence painting a stark contrast against the inky darkness of the night. A chilling midnight gust whispered secrets only the wilderness knew, carrying the symphony of solitude to the farthest reaches of the outback. Over a sand dune's crest sat a lone, tin-roofed cottage - a mere speck of existence in the vast emptiness. The haunting quietude of the desert night was punctuated only by an occasional hiss of a snake or the hushed rustle of an insect, reinforcing the stark sense of isolation.

Into this stillness burst Damien, a man defined by the intensity in his brown eyes and the fierce determination etching lines across his face. His breath labored, his feet grappling with the treacherous sand, he propelled himself towards the solitary cottage with the desperation of a man on a mission.

Eclipsing the verandah in a blink, he flung open the door, heaving to catch his breath. After a moment, he kicked the door shut with newfound energy and took a moment to gather himself.

The cottage's interior, seemingly compact from the outside, was a chaotic universe in itself - a labyrinth of towering stacks of books, a multitude of hand-drawn diagrams plastering the walls, and artifacts from bygone eras claiming space on the cluttered desk. A claustrophobic nightmare to many, but to Damien, this disarray held the key to his mission.

Closing his eyes, Damien tuned into his surroundings - the whisper of the wind against the tin roof, the silent dance of sand granules outside, the omnipresent energy permeating the air. His senses heightened to a near clairvoyant level, he could almost visualize the room through the symphony of these ambient sounds.

His breath slowed, and opening his eyes, he reached out with his arms. The room responded as books and artifacts began a gravitational waltz, swirling in the air around him, each briefly inspected by his discerning gaze before being set aside.

Outside, a convoy of four dirt-spattered white Land Rovers cut through the tranquility of the night. Their expert drivers maneuvered the challenging dune terrain with practiced ease, a few minutes behind Damien but closing in swiftly.

Oblivious to his nearing adversaries, Damien's attention was fixed on a particular sheet of paper, its surface etched with the schematic of a mysterious spherical device and the ominous label 'the Ancient Ones'.

"Found you," he murmured, pocketing the coveted paper. With a flick of his wrist, the floating chaos around him crashed back to its resting place. The intrusion of the Land Rovers' headlights slicing through the cottage's windows was the first sign of his impending pursuers.

"Reikan..." Damien whispered, his gaze shifting to the approaching vehicles. Checking his watch - five minutes to midnight. "Ghost, you're cutting it close."

Meanwhile, a striking figure emerged from one of the Land Rovers, his tall lean frame adorned with a black trenchcoat that danced in the desert wind. His samurai-styled haircut and the sand particles adhering to his black hair added an aura of enigma. As nine other soldiers poured out of the vehicles, the man, known as Commander Reikan, maintained his gaze on the cottage.

"Commander Reikan," a masked soldier approached, his tone a mix of uncertainty and deference. "The Seekers aren't detecting anything."

"He's here," Reikan stated with a certainty that brooked no argument.

"But sir…"

"Lockdown the cottage - one exit, one entrance, let's keep it that way," Reikan commanded, his hand resting casually on the rifle slung over his shoulder. He navigated towards the cottage, stopping just shy of the verandah. He adjusted the wire of the earpiece snaking its way from his pocket to his ear before popping a stick of gum into his mouth.

A moment of radio silence before a clear voice filtered through. "Perimeter secured."

"Thank you, Claire," Reikan acknowledged, grinning as he spat out the gum and tightened his hold on the rifle.

"Time to face the music, Damien!" He primed his weapon, aiming it at the cottage door, his breathing and heart rate slowing down in practiced control. "We're not leaving without you."

Silence was his only answer, a stubborn refusal from the other side. Reikan chuckled dryly. "Playing hide-and-seek, are we, Damien?"

"Light'em up, team!"

"But sir, the directive wasn't termination," Claire's voice crackled over the radio.

"I'm revising our plan," Reikan asserted.

A collective hesitation rippled through the soldiers. "The Council entrusted me with full authority," Reikan reinforced, striding back towards the cluster of vehicles. "Disobey and face memory-wipe."

Discomfort radiated from the soldiers as they exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared question the command. Weapons were trained towards the cottage in unified obedience.

"Good," Reikan nodded. "We're the final guard against timeline interference. Damien's guilt is indisputable. He must face the consequences." Reikan refocused his aim on the cottage. "Ready arms."

"Farewell, Damien…" Reikan whispered, a dark smile playing on his lips. He raised his voice one final time, "Fire at will!"

But before a shot could be fired, the cottage door erupted from its hinges, flying in Reikan's direction. He narrowly dodged, rolling to the side as the door crashed into the sand.

"I'd ask you to stand down, but I doubt that'd make any difference," Damien's voice rang out, laced with a casual confidence as he emerged from the cottage. His hood slid off to reveal a youthful face, no older than twenty-four, a faint scar running down his cheek, and brown eyes sparkling with a blue undertone. Static electricity danced around him, transmuting the sand beneath into glass.

Reikan recovered, positioning himself opposite Damien who greeted him with a cheeky grin. "You're getting on in years," Damien remarked.

"Damien..." Reikan responded, a tremor betraying his feigned smile, "you've journeyed a long way from home."

"Always had a thing for Australia," Damien glanced around nonchalantly, "Shame about the company, though."

"We both know why we're here," Reikan gestured towards his soldiers.

"I'm here to bring her back," Damien retorted, his fists clenched and his gaze icy.

"That's something we can't allow," Reikan countered, leveling his rifle at Damien.

"You realize how that sounds like a line from a cheesy action movie, right?" Damien laughed, showing no signs of fear. He stood tall, ready for a fight, causing unease among the soldiers.

Sighing, Damien scanned the area. "I don't have time for this, Reikan. Ghosts tend to be impatient."

"No…" Reikan stepped back, scanning the area frantically. Suddenly, a chilling gust of wind whipped up a brief but blinding sandstorm. Emerging from the swirling sands was a shadowy figure, whispering a single chilling word, "Reaper".

Panicked cries echoed throughout the desert. Reikan struggled to re-establish communication through his earpiece amidst the static. "Fall back!" he ordered.

Emerging from the sandstorm, Claire dropped to the ground near Reikan, blood pooling from her mouth. "Please, Commander…"

Rushing to her side, Reikan tried to lift her. A skeletal hand reached out from the storm and clasped Claire's ankle. Her screams pierced the night as she clung desperately to Reikan's hand.

"Reikan!" she cried, her eyes welled up with tears.

"Reaper…" the chilling whisper resounded once more.

As Claire's body slowly disintegrated into ash, her cries turned to gasps of agony. Her gaze remained locked on Reikan's, pleading for help she knew wouldn't come.

"Help m—" her plea cut short as her body crumbled to ash and dispersed into the wind.

On his knees, Reikan looked up at the towering figure of the Grim Reaper, its black cloak billowing ominously in the wind. The Reaper raised its scythe high, ready to strike, when Damien intervened.

"Stop!" he commanded.

The blade paused just short of Reikan's head. As the storm subsided, Damien joined the Reaper.

"He isn't due yet," Damien said, his tone firm.

"Time holds no sway," the Reaper's voice echoed eerily around them, as if belonging to many voices at once.

"Not now," Damien insisted, resting his hand on the Reaper's shoulder.

"Your time will come, Reikan," the Reaper promised before dissipating into ashes carried away by the breeze.

Alone now, Reikan collapsed to his knees, panting. His gaze met only the vast emptiness of the desert.

"They're all… gone," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You killed them all."

"That's not exactly the whole truth," Damien corrected him.

Reikan, barely able to move, mustered enough strength to retort, "So this is your new low? Making deals with devils?"

"They're not devils, Reikan," Damien retorted, a hint of sadness in his tone. "And you know that better than anyone. After all, you played a part in their creation."

"We'll overcome them, Damien," Reikan declared with a newfound determination. "And we'll stop you too."

Damien offered a smile, silent. "Answer your phone, Reikan."

As if on cue, Reikan's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then back up, only to find Damien had disappeared.

Struggling to his feet, Reikan regained his composure. He answered the call, falling into silence as he waited for the voice on the other end to speak.

"Is he in custody?" inquired an elderly woman's voice.

Reikan hesitated, his voice barely a whisper when he finally answered. "He's sided with the Reapers. Our best chance now lies with someone of royal lineage."

"Then it seems fortune is in our favor," the woman replied, "we've located one."

"Located one?" Reikan's eyes brightened, a spark of hope reigniting his spirit. "I thought they were all lost."

"Apparently not," she answered, a tone of optimism in her voice. "Carson Daniels' son survived. And it's our responsibility to show him his true destiny."