Alex and the Apocalypse

Chapter 63 | Uncover Him

Uncover His Identity

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Fear evaporated in Alex's chest, replaced by a cold fury. He lunged at Mr. Mistry, fingers like iron bands around his throat. Every choked gasp fueled his determination. "Who are you? What are you hiding?"

Mr. Mistry's eyes bulged, his face contorted in a mix of fear and defiance. "You already know," he wheezed, voice strained. "Or do you? Perhaps the truth is more terrifying than the mask I wear."

Haney froze, caught between Alex's raw anger and Mr. Mistry's cryptic words. The air crackled with unspoken tension, the answer hanging heavy in the silence.

"Did you have something to do with the fire? The one that stole homes, lives, and swallowed the forest whole?"

Mr. Mistry's laughter, a chilling counterpoint to the heavy silence, sent shivers down Alex's spine. It wasn't the mirthful kind, but a cold, empty sound that scraped against his raw nerves. "Oh, the fire," Mr. Mistry finally wheezed, wiping a nonexistent tear from his eye. "Such a tragedy, wasn't it? But sometimes, from the ashes, something new rises."

Alex's voice trembled, barely a whisper compared to the thundering storm raging outside. "So, the whispers were true. You had a hand in the fire."

Mr. Mistry chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. His smile, sharp as a shard of ice, revealed teeth glinting like polished bone. "Not just a hand, my dear Alex. A masterpiece. And it was merely the first stroke on my canvas."

A flicker of fear danced in Alex's eyes, quickly masked by defiance. "What do you want? What twisted game are you playing?"

Mr. Mistry tilted his head, his gaze cold and predatory. "Oh, the possibilities are endless. Imagine, a world reborn in the flames of my design. And I, its benevolent ruler."

A bead of sweat trickled down Alex's temple. He had to stop him, but how? Mr. Mistry's power felt vast, unknowable. He needed a plan, and fast.

Haney's blood ran cold as Mr. Mistry, free from Alex's grip, cackled with chilling glee. His skeletal fingers clawed at the earth, and with a sickening groan, figures clawed their way from the soil and trees – the charred remains of the fire's victims, their vacant eyes burning with spectral flames.

"Behold, my guardians!" Mr. Mistry roared, his voice echoing with manic power. "With them, I shall rewrite the world, bend it to my will!"

Alex, eyes blazing with ancient magic, met the fiery onslaught head-on. He wove his power into the air, his voice a low, guttural command. "Return to your slumber, restless souls! This is not your domain!"

A flicker of doubt crossed Mr. Mistry's face as the reanimated dead faltered, their fiery eyes dimming. But his fury quickly reignited. He aimed a searing blast of flames at Haney, who vanished in a blur of emerald light, reappearing behind him, her eyes narrowed.

"Your tricks and toys won't save you," Mr. Mistry snarled, the air crackling with his dark energy. "The world will burn, and from the ashes, I shall rise!"

Mr. Mistry dissolved into thin air, leaving behind a swirling vortex of dark energy that slowly dissipated. Silence pressed down on them, heavy and suffocating. Relief battled with unease in Alex's chest. They knew his name, but did they truly know him?

Haney landed beside him, her emerald eyes flickering with worry. "What now?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Alex clenched his fists. "We find him. Before he sets the world ablaze. But... what if there's more to him? What if..." He trailed off, a chilling thought snaking through his mind. Was Mr. Mistry just a pawn in a larger game?