The warped: Dark seed saga

The apartment was in chaos.

Marisol moved through it like a specter, her shadow creatures tearing through Carlos's enforcers with ruthless efficiency. Screams and snarls filled the air, punctuated by the sickening crunch of bodies breaking under the weight of her monsters.

It hadn't been long since Mephisto and Eri found her, but now, standing in this war zone, fighting for something real—she finally understood purpose.

Mephisto had expectations of her.

Eri believed in her.

And after Carlos tried to drag her out of that bus—she refused to be a damsel in distress anymore.

She wanted to meet their expectations.

She needed to prove herself.

And if that meant pushing harder, becoming more… so be it.

An enforcer rushed at her, swinging a crowbar.

The black panther she commanded lunged first, intercepting him mid-stride. Its massive paws slammed him into the ground, claws raking across his chest. His body dissolved into mist, like all enforcers did when they fell on the timeline—no blood, no remains, just nothingness.

Another came from the side. She flicked her fingers. The shadow squirrel obeyed, scurrying up his body, its tiny claws digging into his face. Its chitters sounded like whispering things Marisol didn't dare try to understand. He shrieked, staggered back, then crumbled into the same emptiness.

Marisol didn't hesitate.

She moved.

A third enforcer—faster than the others—dodged past the animals, reaching her before she could react.

Her body did what it needed to.

Her fingers curled—black roots burst from her hand, twisting into clawed extensions.

She swiped across his chest.

The enforcer stumbled, red eyes wide in shock. Marisol felt it—the way his form wavered, the way her claws cut through something his skin like paper, his flesh extruding thick black smoke. He wasn't human.

He gasped, his voice distorted, like something hollow trying to form words. Her eyes full of disdain, before demanding the darkness remove him from her sight.

And then the shadow snake struck.

Its jaws unhinged, swallowing the enforcer whole, absorbing him back into the darkness.

Marisol barely had time to process it before the voice whispered in her mind again.

They're not human anymore. It's okay.

It was right.

This was fine.

She was fine.

A flicker of movement—Mephisto, tearing through Carlos's enforcers, The ball of his cain colliding with them like wrecking a ball. His enforcers fought alongside him, their glowing red eyes worn proudly, movements precise and relentless.

Carlos's enforcers fought differently—wild, desperate, clutching weapons they barely knew how to use. And yet, they screamed his name like a prayer.

One of them, beaten and hollow-eyed, coughed and grinned through cracked lips.

"You can kill us, but we'll never bow to you, Mephisto."

Mephisto didn't blink.

The tip of his stick diving into the man's chest—no blood, just a burst of dark mist.

"A shame." Mephisto sighed, almost disappointed. "To think even ants believe they deserve a voice."

Marisol barely registered it—her focus was forward, pushing ahead.

She ran, past the fighting, past the chaos. Mephisto would figure out Carlos's location. That wasn't her job. Her job was to clear the way.

The hallway opened into a dimly lit apartment.

No enforcers. No weapons drawn.

Just a baby's cry.

Marisol froze.

The sound cut through everything.

A single playpen sat in the center of the room. Inside, a tiny child wailed, kicking its legs, reaching out for something, someone.

She didn't lower her guard. Every fiber of her being screamed trap.

And her creatures agreed.

Her shadow creatures moved before she could stop them.

The black wolf at her side lowered its head, lips curling back in a silent snarl. The panther beside it flicked its tail, muscles coiled, ready to strike. Even the snake she had just summoned—large enough to crush a body in a single coil—reared its head toward the crib, eyes glowing, waiting for her order.

No.

Marisol's hands twitched, her control slipping for the first time since the fight began.

The slick black snake coiled forward, slithering toward the playpen. The other shadows followed its lead.

She forced out from her throat, "No, no, stop!"

The shadows hesitated.

The wolf's ears flattened. The panther's tail lashed. The snake coiled tighter.

They weren't listening.

She gritted her teeth, the voice in the back of her mind snapping.

"They aren't human. They don't disobey. They're yours."

They had never disobeyed before. They were hers to command, but this child—this child was alive.

The baby wailed louder as the shadows closed in.

Marisol's heart slammed into her ribs. She didn't think—she screamed.

"Back down!"

Her shadows stumbled.

The shadows wavered—then, against their will, they sank into the floor.

Gone.

But not before the wolf turned back to her, red eyes full of sadness. It let out a low whine—almost a plea.

The panther hesitated, shrinking back down to a fluffy cat. Its tail flicking one last time, as if pleading with her to reconsider.

Even the snake, slow and reluctant, left her side, its glowing red eyes flickering before vanishing into the dark.

She had forced them down.

And the second they were gone—she had never felt emptier.

The room trembled under the weight of the ongoing battle, the baby's cries piercing through Marisol's skull. She moved before she could think—reaching for it, trying to soothe it.

The baby screamed louder.

Marisol flinched.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she yanked her hands back. No. No, no, no. That wasn't—she wasn't—

Her shadows had never disobeyed her since they revealed themselves to her. They had always done what they felt was right for her.

They had never looked at her like that before.

"They are yours to control," the voice whispered again. But the sadness in their eyes had been. She had hurt them, had taken something from them.

What am I doing?

Then—a voice cut through the chaos.

"Marisol?!"

She turned, shadows snapping close to her body as she whirled around—

And found Garrison standing in the doorway.

Gun drawn.

His eyes flicked between her claws and the baby.

His voice wasn't sharp.

It wasn't accusing.

It was confused.

"What… the hell are you doing?"

Her head felt light, chest tightening, an unfamiliar unease settling deep in her ribs.

Something about this moment—the dim light, the gun, the weight of his gaze—felt too close to something else.

A flicker.

Ash in the air. A burnt-out building. Garrison, standing before her, verdict in his eyes.

"You murdered them."

The memory snapped away just as quickly as it came.

The name left her lips before she could stop it.

"David."

Garrison stiffened.

His grip on the gun didn't falter, but his expression shifted.

Marisol barely registered it—her mind was reeling.

She looked down at her own hands. At the baby. At the clawed tips of her fingers pressing into her palms.

Then—a flicker of red.

Marisol's gaze snapped up.

A blinking light on a computer camera.

Recording.

Carlos was watching.

Marisol exhaled, every instinct screaming at her to leave.

But she didn't move.

The baby still cried.

Garrison's gun didn't lower. But his grip had loosened. He was waiting. Watching.

And somewhere, Carlos was seeing every second of this.

Marisol exhaled.

And for the first time since this all began, she waited for a bullet that would never come.