The Investigation Bureau had confirmed it. They were going to storm the Pickman’s Art Museum—the lair of the Netherwalker. Despite the fact that death was looming over them, everyone was excited.

Except Eli.

He had been trying to warn everyone against it, against what his prophecies had told him, but no one would listen.

Eli found you preparing in your room. “Please...I need you to listen.” His gentle voice was tinged with urgency. “We are throwing our lives away here. If we fight, no one wins.”