According to Prince Peter’s decision, an extraordinary meeting of all generals was convened at Wawel. It was the first full assembly in years – and it was to take place in a setting as dignified as the subject of the talks.

  The council chamber was located in one of the oldest parts of the castle. Massive stone walls were covered with tapestries depicting ancient battles, where spilled blood mixed with symbols of faith and divinity. Tall stained-glass windows cast patterns of light in shades of purple, gold, and blue onto the floor. In the center of the room stood a huge, oval ebony table surrounded by ten carved chairs – nine for the generals and one, the most majestic, for the king.

  The attendees sat in silence, their eyes fixed on two empty seats. General Adam Kraski and Archbishop Matthew Rubik were still missing. Thirty minutes of delay hung over the gathering like an invisible weight.

  Finally, Prince Peter – general of the royal guard and the meeting’s initiator – spoke.

  "This is unacceptable. His Majesty should not have to wait this long," he said firmly, tapping his fingers on the table.

  To everyone's surprise, his brother – Prince Michael, usually reserved – also nodded in agreement, though his tone remained cold and matter-of-fact.

  "I agree. I have a lot of work in the lab and didn’t come here to waste time doing nothing. I expected punctuality."

  The tension in the room became palpable.

  Before the atmosphere grew too heavy, Casper Kosciuszko, the scout commander, spoke up. Tall, massively built, with white hair and raspberry-colored eyes – he looked like a living legend of war.

  "I can go get them. Drag them in if I must," he said coldly, his voice betraying no hint of jest.

  Before Prince Peter could reply, Albert Andersen, general of the fire services – known for his calm nature – spoke. A man with sea-colored eyes, short brown hair, and a light beard, he looked like someone who had seen too much to be shaken by anything.

  "Let’s stay calm." His tone was warm but firm. "If they’re late, they likely have a reason. No need to pour oil on the fire."

  At that moment, the king spoke.

  "I’m grateful you all gathered today," he said, looking around the room. "This is the first-ever full assembly of the Generals. The last meeting was ten years ago, during the mutant attacks in the south. I think it’s time we got to know each other better – there are seasoned veterans among you, but also new blood. Hard times lie ahead."

  He didn’t manage to say more before the chamber doors flew open with a loud bang.

  Adam Kraski walked in – covered in dust and visibly tired, but confident. Behind him followed Matthew Rubik, in handcuffs.

  All eyes turned to the newcomers.

  "Apologies for the delay," Adam said, taking his place. "I had to get the Archbishop out of custody."

  The king frowned. "Custody?" he asked in disbelief. "What happened?"

  Matthew sighed with resignation.

  "An elderly lady in the church claimed I was impersonating a priest. She called the City Guardians. Though I was merely hearing confessions..."

  Adam cut in.

  "As usual, no one knows what the head of exorcists in this country looks like." He glanced at Matthew. "Maybe if you weren’t such a secretive bastard, this wouldn’t happen."

  "I don’t need publicity," Matthew replied coldly. "I do my job."

  "And in the process, break the system," Adam muttered.

  Before the conversation could go further, Patrick Kowalski, general of the city guards – always cheerful and smiling – chimed in. He had light blond hair peeking from beneath a signature straw hat that seemed permanently fixed to his head. His emerald eyes sparkled with childlike curiosity, and the gap between his two front teeth gave him an endearingly clumsy charm.

  His tone was warm and na?ve, as if he didn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation.

  "Why is the Archbishop still wearing handcuffs?" he asked with genuine surprise, tilting his head like a dog hearing a strange sound.

  "That was the condition set by the guards," Adam sighed. "They wouldn’t release him otherwise."

  Laughter erupted in the hall – from muffled chuckles to open snorts. The loudest came from Veronica Szymborska, general of the medics, who muttered through clenched teeth:

  "Charming..."

  At last, Adam and Matthew took their seats, and the king raised his hand to silence the room.

  "Now that we are complete," he said seriously, "let’s get to the point."

  Prince Peter stood, his stern gaze sweeping the room. He rested his hands on the massive table carved from dark oak and spoke in a deep, firm voice:

  "I called you all here because what happened during the Forefathers’ Eve Ball was a tragedy unlike any we’ve seen in years." His tone was heavy with emotion. "Dozens of casualties. Possessed individuals who exploded in a hall full of people. An attempt to ritually seize control of souls."

  A heavy atmosphere filled the room. Peter continued:

  "And as if that wasn’t enough..." he paused for a moment, letting the tension build. "At the very end, entities appeared whose nature we don’t yet understand. Three non-human beings, radiating power at the level of generals... And their leader declared this was just the beginning."

  The prince straightened and cast a grave look at the gathered.

  "That’s why we must now gather all the information we have. We need to understand what — or who — we’re dealing with before they strike again. I ask that anyone who knows anything speak now."

  Silence fell over the room, broken only by the gentle crackling of the fire in the hearth. After a moment, Adam Kraski spoke first.

  "Before I go into what I know," he began, squinting slightly, "I’d like to ask: why did the generals who confirmed their attendance at the ball end up not showing up?"

  He looked meaningfully at Veronica Szymborska, Albert Andersen, and Patrick Kowalski.

  "The rest at least officially declined to attend."

  At those words, Veronica cleared her throat and leaned forward slightly.

  "I intended to come," she began, her tone calm but clearly weary. "But suddenly, dozens of patients appeared at my medical facility in Warsaw. Mostly with burns and smoke inhalation." She ran a hand through her beige hair. "My hands were full, and I couldn’t just leave them. As soon as I got your message, Adam, I set out immediately, but... it took some time from Warsaw."

  Albert Andersen raised a hand in a calming gesture.

  "My situation was similar," he said, his voice carrying that characteristic calm. "I was called to a major fire in downtown Warsaw. Unfortunately, it happened shortly before the ball, so I didn’t make it in time."

  Patrick Kowalski scratched the back of his head, his usual slight awkwardness showing.

  "And I..." he began hesitantly. "I really wanted to be at the ball, but because of the riots caused by that fire, I had to patrol the city. The evacuation was difficult, and there weren’t enough people. So... that’s how it happened."

  Adam closed his eyes and nodded, as if everything had just clicked into place.

  "Now I understand." His voice turned icy. "It was a coordinated attack. Or rather – a coordinated fire. All of it to draw you away from the ball. Thanks to that, only three of us were left there... the lowest number in the entire history of Forefathers’ Eve."

  A collective sigh filled the room, followed by quiet murmurs.

  "That means... it was planned long in advance?"

  "They must have people inside our ranks..."

  Adam spread his hands in a confirming gesture.

  "Yes. This was all planned long ago. And not just infiltration." He looked around the room with a stern gaze. "An example? The guslar. He was a respected member of the exorcist unit. Year after year, he led the Forefathers’ Eve ritual at the ball... He was fully trusted. And yet, for years he had been preparing the ground for what happened now."

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Silence fell. The kind that seemed heavier than the very walls of that chamber.

  Finally, the silence was broken by Claudia Moniuszko — a woman with black hair tied in a messy bun and amber eyes that glowed with an unsettling, almost manic light in the chamber’s dimness. She was the general responsible for wall defense and was known for smiling most warmly when speaking of the most brutal things.

  She tilted her head like a cat ready to pounce and let out a short, strangely melodic laugh.

  "So, what you’re saying is, we’re about to do a bit of housecleaning?" she asked cheerfully, though her voice carried a wild undertone. "Regardless of merits, connections, or tenure?"

  She paused briefly, her smile widening unsettlingly.

  "Wonderful!" she exclaimed with near delight. "I love eliminating traitors. I’ll personally snap the neck of anyone who even looks at me funny."

  The room grew colder, as if someone had poured ice water across the stone floor. Some generals flinched at the sound of her cheerful tone.

  Adam, resting his elbows on the table, looked at her calmly.

  "Maybe not that literally, Claudia..." he muttered. "But yes, we need to examine our people closely. No sentimentality."

  Claudia only shrugged, clearly disappointed that she wouldn’t get to go on a full-blown massacre.

  One by one, the generals nodded. The decision had been made – from now on, no one could be trusted.

  Adam continued:

  "Please exercise particular caution. If you notice anything suspicious, report it immediately. Keep all units on high alert."

  For a moment, a heavy, paranoid atmosphere hung in the air. Everyone knew the enemy could be sitting right next to them – with a friendly smile.

  "Adam." Michael’s voice, cool and matter-of-fact, cut through the silence like a blade. "No long introductions. Speak. I don’t have time to waste."

  Adam cleared his throat and got straight to the point.

  "We’ve been observing a certain pattern for some time now. The terrorist attack on Rzeszów Gallery. The kidnappings of children from the House of Roses. The events at the cemetery. And now the massacre at the Ancestors’ Ball."

  "It’s all connected," he continued calmly. "Every time, it’s been about death. The more victims, the greater their chance of reaching their goal."

  The generals exchanged brief, tense glances.

  "Even the entrance exam to the special class in Rzeszow could’ve ended in a bloodbath if not for Principal Nowak’s quick reaction." Adam raised a document in his hand. "The perpetrator of that tragedy, Grace Mazurkiewicz, died in custody the same way the victims at the ball did. That wasn’t a coincidence."

  A muffled murmur swept through the room.

  "All leads point to an organization – a cult that believes in the coming of the ‘True God’. Their plan? To make mass sacrifices to summon their divine being."

  Albert Andersen, the general of the fire services, spoke calmly.

  "So that means every major tragedy... fires, attacks, disasters... could be their doing?"

  The King, with a stone-cold expression, nodded.

  "From now on, everything will be analyzed. Every disaster, every incident. And we must observe all religious groups, even the officially recognized ones. We can’t afford ignorance."

  His words hung in the air like a heavy, leaden cloud.

  "Unfortunately..." the King added, "to declare a state of emergency, we need the approval of the Noble Council. The gathering will take place next week."

  Prince Peter leaned forward.

  "Of the generals present here, only two are heads of their houses: Albert Andersen and Casper Kosciuszko." He looked at them expectantly. "I ask for your support of the King’s motion at the next council."

  Both nodded without hesitation.

  And then, just as it seemed everything had been settled, Claudia stood up again – this time with a wide, almost manic smile.

  "There is one more matter I’d like to address. Something that may be connected to the cult’s activities."

  Everyone turned toward her, sensing the weight of revelations in her words.

  "For some time now," she continued, "our wall protection units have noted a significant increase in suicides... People throwing themselves directly onto the laser fences." She paused briefly. "We turned over their communicators to the criminal services. And I have a feeling the answer lies there."

  Adam spoke with a more serious tone.

  "Indeed. All the victims had the same app installed. I’m Fine." He said the name with clear disgust. "An app for people in emotional crisis. Or rather, a tool for manipulation. They were encouraged to die – always by the laser wall. Painless. Fast. Clean."

  Adam looked heavily at the gathered.

  "What’s more, all the victims spoke with the same person."

  A cold silence fell over the room.

  The King glanced across the generals.

  "Claudia, Adam," he ordered firmly. "Continue the investigation. Check every case. And increase patrols at the walls. We can’t allow more to be manipulated."

  Claudia saluted lazily, smiling like a madwoman.

  "With the greatest pleasure, Your Majesty."

  The King swept his gaze across everyone gathered.

  "That will be all for today." His tone left no room for discussion. "This meeting is adjourned."

  Michael, as usual, was the first to stand and head toward the door without a word, followed like a wave by the rest of the generals. The clatter of boots echoed off the stone walls of the chamber.

  Only Adam and Matthew remained in the room. For a moment, silence stretched between them, broken by the clergyman.

  "I hope this nightmare ends soon," Matthew said quietly, looking at the place where the King had just been sitting.

  Adam looked at him with tired eyes, full of unspoken thoughts.

  "We all hope so," he replied calmly, moving toward the door.

  Matthew didn’t move. He sighed deeply and raised his cuffed hands.

  "Can you finally take off these damn handcuffs?" he asked with mild irritation.

  Adam stopped mid-step, blinked as if he’d just remembered something, then swore under his breath.

  "Damn, I completely forgot about them. Alright, alright," he muttered, reaching for the key.

  With a metallic click, the cuffs fell to the floor, and Matthew massaged his wrists, looking at Adam with slight pity.

  "Next time, stick a note to your belt," he said sarcastically before both of them headed for the exit, leaving behind the empty, cold chamber.

  Meanwhile, in Rzeszow, at the school for the Awakened, another meeting was underway — less official, but no less important. In a dimly lit conference room, seated around a simple oak table, were Principal Philip Nowak, Jian Xing, psychologist Simon Piszczek, and the math teacher, Sabina Szumowska.

  The room was lit only by a few spotlights, casting long, flickering shadows on the walls. The atmosphere was heavy, as if the school itself was holding its breath, sensing something ominous building just beyond its walls.

  Philip, resting his elbows on the table, rubbed his tired eyes and was the first to speak.

  "Jian, how are the students? How are they holding up?"

  The man, eyes closed, was silent for a moment, as if weighing every word.

  "They’re still in mild shock," he finally said. "Lucy... I feel like if something like this happens again, she’ll just explode. And surprisingly, Cornelius..." Jian opened his eyes and looked at Nowak. "I feel like it acted as a catalyst for him. It made him stronger."

  Philip nodded in understanding.

  "And what about Isaac?"

  "The curse didn’t manifest," Jian replied. "But..." he hesitated for a moment, "at one point, one of the souls entered him. Luckily, he was only briefly unconscious. He returned to normal as if nothing had happened."

  That’s when Simon spoke up, running a hand through his long, red hair.

  "Most likely the curse just rejected it," he said with a slight smile. "Isaac dying now would be a waste. Even it wouldn’t want that."

  Sitting nearby, Sabina, with her perpetually bored expression, snorted softly, adjusting her purple bangs.

  "This whole curse and Pi?sudski business is a waste of time," she said sarcastically. "If you’d just killed him, Philip, the moment the boy’s father died, the problem would’ve solved itself."

  Philip smirked.

  "Believe me, Sabina, there were people who suggested that. If it weren’t for my direct orders to the examiners, Isaac wouldn’t have even passed the entry tests. And the way he showed off afterward..." He shook his head. "I had to do some serious maneuvering to push him through."

  Sabina rolled her eyes.

  "So why all the theater?"

  This time Simon, with an amused gleam in his amber eyes, answered.

  "Because the curse inside him could change our world." He leaned slightly over the table, his voice taking on a more conspiratorial tone. "Places where the curse releases its power... start acting differently. People around begin to awaken. Without trauma. Without rituals. Naturally."

  For a moment, everyone in the room was silent.

  Philip added quietly,

  "Anthony, Isaac’s father... he was close. Really close. To convincing it to end the cycle of revenge. But after his death... everything started all over again. As if the being had forgotten everything it had learned. And once more, it hates the Pi?sudskis."

  Jian furrowed his brow.

  "Still, I’d rather destroy that curse. If it gets out of control... no one will be safe."

  Philip smiled coldly.

  "If it comes to that... I’ll kill Isaac," he said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "I’ve already defeated that curse twice. And just a reminder..." he leaned over the table, a roguish spark in his eye, "currently, I’m the most powerful Awakened in Poland. Maybe even in the world."

  Sabina burst out laughing.

  "Modesty is clearly your middle name."

  Simon rested his head on his hand.

  "Either way, dark times are coming," he said quietly. "The curse will probably grow stronger soon."

  At that moment, he looked at the holographic clock standing in the middle of the table. He sighed softly and stood up.

  "I have to go," he said, glancing briefly at the others.

  Without another word, he left the room, and the corridor swallowed him like a shadow.

  Simon walked through the deserted school courtyards, wrapped in the thickening darkness. Instead of heading to his apartment, he turned into a side alley — a place ordinary students avoided. He stopped before an old, wooden door set into the wall of an abandoned building.

  Without hesitation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, ornate golden key. A key not of this world.

  He slid it into the lock and turned.

  With a soft click, the door opened, revealing an interior not of this world: a long red carpet stretching into the horizon, heavy curtains covering the walls, golden candelabras, and at the entrance — a bowing butler with scarlet eyes.

  "Welcome, Master Rascal," he said respectfully. "They’re already waiting for you."

  Simon smiled predatorily.

  His body began to change. His height doubled, red hair turned deep navy blue, and horns sprouted from his temples. His skin became covered in black tattoos pulsing with pale light. His voice, when he spoke, was no longer the same — deeper, full of echoes.

  "What’s on the menu today?"

  The butler bowed even lower.

  "Your favorite, Master Rascal. A thirty-year-old heart, in chanterelle sauce."

  Rascal ran his tongue across his sharp fangs and grinned broadly.

  "Delightful," he said, stepping into the world hidden behind the door. And as it closed behind him, the hallway once again sank into dead silence.

  The end of season 3