The Eldest didn't have a phone number.
But Glad had kept the small stone from the mountain—a smooth, grey pebble that hummed faintly with ancient energy.
She held it now, concentrating.
Eldest. I need you.
The stone warmed.
Child. You call.
A creature attacked me. In Tokyo. Ancient. Hungry. Connected to me somehow. What is it?
Silence. Then:
What you describe is one of the Unseen. Beings older than us. Older than everything. We thought them gone.
Gone where?
Consumed by their own hunger. They fed on fear, on chaos, on separation. When creatures began uniting—when you began uniting—their food source dwindled. We thought they starved.
Apparently not.
Apparently not. This one has waited. Fed on smaller prey. Grown patient. And now— The Eldest's voice trembled. Now it sees you as the ultimate meal. The uniter. The heart of the movement.
How do I stop it?
You don't. It's older than death. Stronger than any single creature. Your only hope— A long pause. Unity. Complete unity. Every creature, every human, every being who believes in your vision. Together, you might match its power.
Might?
It's never been tried. The Unseen were so terrifying, no one ever dared unite against them. They picked us apart, one by one, species by species.
Until now.
Until you. Perhaps.
The stone cooled.
The call ended.
Glad sat in the darkness, mind racing.
An enemy older than everything.
And only one possible defense:
Everyone.
Together.