Celestial Guardians: Uniting Dimensions (Celestial Guardians Series, #1)

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Kevin's POV

The room was suffocatingly quiet after she left, the air thick with tension. My fists still trembled from the encounter, the words she spat repeating in my head.

Your mother was too powerful. She knew too much.

My chest tightened. My mother. Her face flashed in my mind—warm, kind, unshakable. She would hum while making breakfast, the gentle strength in her voice as she spoke about our family's legacy. And now, knowing she was taken from me by the very woman who just vanished into the shadows? It was a pain I couldn't begin to describe.

"Kevin." Jamaica's voice cut through the fog in my mind. She placed a hand on my shoulder, grounding me. "We'll stop her. I promise!"

I nodded, swallowing hard. "We don't have a choice."

But in my heart, I wasn't so sure. The shapeshifter had already infiltrated our lives, created chaos, and planted seeds of doubt. And now, knowing she wasn't just another pawn but the mastermind behind so much destruction? It made everything feel... heavier.

I turned to Nel, who was pacing the room, his brow furrowed. "You heard her, right?" I asked. "She said the Destroyer is already moving. What does that even mean?"

Nel stopped mid-step and turned to face me, his expression dark. "It means we're running out of time. If the shapeshifter's here, then the Destroyer isn't far behind. They're connected somehow, and if we don't figure out how..." He didn't finish, but he didn't have to.

Jamaica frowned, crossing her arms. "We need a plan. We can't just sit here and wait for them to strike again. We must hurry!"

Her words jolted something inside me. She was right. Sitting around wasn't an option. But where do we start when the enemy has already infiltrated our lives?

"First, we need answers," I said firmly. "And I think I know where to start."

Nel raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

I hesitated, my mind racing. "My mother's journal. When she died, I found a box of her things—letters, photos... and a journal. I never read it, but if she really knew too much, maybe she left something behind—something that can help us."

Jamaica's eyes lit up with hope. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go."

The three of us left the room and headed toward my apartment. The city streets were quiet, and the hum of streetlights was the only sound as we walked. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching. Every shadow felt alive, and every flicker of movement was a potential threat.

I unlocked the door and led them to my bedroom when we arrived. The box was buried deep in my closet, hidden beneath old clothes and forgotten memories.

"There it is," I said, pulling it out and placing it on the bed.

Jamaica and Nel crowded around as I opened the lid. The familiar scent of old paper and lavender filled the room—a smell that used to linger on my mother's clothes.

Inside were photographs of her, smiling and carefree, letters addressed to people I didn't recognize, and the journal at the bottom.

I picked it up, the leather cover cool and worn beneath my fingers. My hands trembled as I flipped it open.

The first few pages were mundane—grocery lists, reminders, little notes about her day. But as I flipped further, her words grew darker.

"They're watching me. I can feel it. Every step I take, every move I make, they're there. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."