Marcus sat in the orientation hall, a sleek, glass-panel chamber ringed by projectors and glowing reiki diagrams. Kiya curled up beside his seat, ears twitching at the pulsing lights. Across from him, holograms displayed images of various supernatural species—some monstrous, others surprisingly human-looking.
Tyrese walked in with a tablet in hand and tapped it. The projectors flared to life.
"Let's talk rules," he said. "Being an exorcist isn't just about blasting ghosts and looking cool."
Geoffrey smirked nearby. "Though it does happen."
Tyrese continued. "The PCA operates on five universal codes. Break them, and you're out—or worse."
He raised his fingers one by one.
"One: Do not kill unless absolutely necessary. This includes supernatural beings. If they're not hostile, we don't harm them. We investigate, we mediate, we protect."
Marcus nodded slowly.
"Two: Maintain the Veil. The public can never know. No YouTube videos. No livestreams. No bragging to your girlfriend that you fight shadow demons on weekends."
"Noted," Marcus said.
"Three: Control your Reiki. If your emotions spiral, your Reiki spirals. Losing control means becoming a danger—to others and yourself."
A flash of warning passed through Tyrese's eyes. Marcus filed it away.
"Four: Respect interdimensional law. We don't interfere in other realms unless invited or sanctioned. No solo trips to demon cities or spirit kingdoms."
Geoffrey snorted. "Trust me, the demon IRS is worse than ours."
"Five: Unity above all. Your team is your life. Disobedience in the field can get people killed."
Tyrese set the tablet down. "You're not a lone wolf anymore, Marcus Reynards. You're part of something bigger. And if you want to survive what's coming, you'll need us—and we'll need you."
Kiya climbed into Marcus's lap, and he gently stroked her fur.
He took a long breath.
"I understand."
Tyrese smiled faintly. "Good. Your uniform will be ready tomorrow. Your Reiki training starts at dawn."
Geoffrey tilted his head. "You ever meditated while hanging over a spiritual sinkhole?"
"…No?"
"Can't wait."
Marcus leaned back, already feeling the weight of what he'd gotten into—but also something else.
Purpose.