Chapter Sixty-Four: Nick's Fists Clenched [New Book—Please Add to Favorites and Recommend]

The sky over Manhattan had changed. Or rather, the sky over most of New York had changed. Though it was noon, a somber, murky, oppressive gloom had settled over everything. Everyone felt as if they were wandering alone under the shadow of death at the end of the world. It was the suffocating sensation of having no friends, no family, no hope—a weight that pressed down with every moment.

Clouds thickened at the horizon, churning restlessly. The light of the sun was blotted out as black clouds descended, smothering the city. The threat of an impending storm tinged everything beneath the sky with an aura of fear. All who looked up felt the stifling pressure, as though they might suffocate.

At that same moment, the sky turned pitch black. Clouds roiled overhead, and countless ghostly blue motes of light drifted down like snow, swirling through the air. Suddenly, a voice echoed deep within every heart—low, decayed, chilling to the bone, like the echo of a memory that had lingered for millennia.

The ground in Manhattan quivered; cracks began to appear in some places, as if something terrifying was about to crawl out from the depths. In Hell’s Kitchen at the city’s heart, the tremors were especially violent. Fissures split the streets, parked cars wailed with blaring alarms, and the barking of dogs grew ever more frantic.

Panic-stricken crowds poured from apartments and shopping malls into open spaces. Chaos spread as the tremors rippled outward to other neighborhoods. Traffic snarled, and everyone longed to escape.

“OMG, what’s happening?”

“What now? Aliens again?!”

After the recent Broadway commotion, there were far fewer bystanders on the streets; people hurried away from the cracked pavement. Yet curiosity held some in place.

“Hill, don’t tell me this is an earthquake,” said Nick Fury, watching the energy readings on his instruments in S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.

“Director, the energy source is a hundred meters below Rand Tower, but the radiation has already reached level seven. So, no, it’s not an earthquake.”

“Captain, what do you think?” Fury turned to Rogers.

“The situation is urgent. Whatever’s happening, my duty is to be on the scene.”

Fury didn’t refuse Rogers’ request. He then turned his gaze to Thor.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not obliged, but I will help my friends,” Thor replied, setting down his glass, his answer ambiguous.

Fury’s eyes flickered as he looked to Coulson.

“Director, it’s an honor to fight alongside the Captain,” Coulson said, stepping forward.

But S.H.I.E.L.D. was not alone in mobilizing—a number of others were already racing toward Rand Tower.

“Cage, can’t you drive any faster?” Jessica yelled at Luke Cage behind the wheel. “Matt told me he’s pinpointed Danny’s location.”

“Jessica, my traffic tickets are piled up four months in advance. I can’t exactly make this four-wheeled beauty fly.”

“Why can’t you be more like him? He’s a Cage too, and look—his bike really can fly.”

Luke Cage glanced over at Ghost Rider, another Cage, who was tearing through the city atop a flaming motorcycle, blazing up the sides of skyscrapers in utter defiance of physics. His skull wreathed in fire, he nodded at Luke as he shot past, trailing a ribbon of flame along a vertical wall.

“Oh, shit. I hate these comparisons—especially since we’re both Cages.”

“Woo woo woo—car ahead, pull over…”

Before Jessica could reply, a chorus of sirens erupted behind them. Clearly, Luke’s speeding and Ghost Rider’s antics had caught the attention of the police.

“Shit, a sting operation. I swear, the cop on my tail is a real racer,” Luke cursed, accelerating again.

“NEW YORK-F0248 speeding, eleventh ticket,” announced a bespectacled officer in the trailing patrol car, snapping a photo one-handed despite the jostling. A grin crept across his face as he thought of his year-end bonus, and he slammed down the gas.

Meanwhile, many others were drawn to the commotion at Rand Tower. In an office high above, Wilson Grant Fisk crushed a wine glass in his hand.

Deep below ground, the chamber sealing the dragon’s bones began to tremble. Abruptly, a soul-shaking resonance swept across the city. Waves of sorrow, anger, greed, and fear surged through the population as a low voice echoed within every heart.

Above, the sun was lost behind black clouds; blue motes drifted through the sky, and a strange calm fell—a silence before death—stilling the frenzy and compelling people to pause and absorb the stillness, as if all their senses had been stripped away, as if under a spell.

Ghost Rider’s soul-flame blazed furiously as he fought to keep it from being drawn away.

“Pain…”

The word resounded suddenly in every mind.

Civilians and heroes alike turned their eyes to the horizon or scanned their surroundings, searching for the source of that voice. The pressure it brought was overwhelming, as if death itself were swallowing the world, as if all would soon be buried under storm and snow—an unprecedented sensation settled on every heart.

“Suffering…”

The word invoked an inexplicable grief, as though some immense, dreadful being was compelling obedience through sheer force of will. An invisible pressure bore down.

“My hatred will blossom in death.”

Wind rose; rivers crisscrossing Manhattan churned with waves, tides began to surge, and with a thunderous detonation, the thick asphalt and concrete split open as though something vast was slowly emerging from beneath.

Blue light blazed from the dragon’s bones. Frostmourne pulsed in Roald’s grasp, as if awakening something ancient.

“The Scourge grows strong with my frost. All living things will tremble before death. Pitiful ants will never know redemption.”

“What on earth is that?” Tony Stark, tinkering with his armor, asked Wiccan, noting the grave look on his companion’s face.

“She’s coming. This will be a calamity for all living things.”

“Who? Who’s coming out?” Tony pressed.

“A being above Apocalypse, Tony. If you’re really planning on starting a civil war, we need an ally.”

“Of course. So what are you suggesting?”

“That old one-eyed webhead will have help, too. If you want revenge on the Captain, you might consider working with Ross. Only then will we have overwhelming odds.”

“You think I’d lose? Impossible!”

“Tony, the world is vast. You’re young. Anything can happen.”

“Oh, shit, you sound like my old man.”

…

The uncanny voice echoed in every mind, the tremors of the soul stirring Sindragosa to awakening.

Countless souls wailed in agony. The spirits lingering over Manhattan shrieked in torment, their cries echoing endlessly. No matter how they struggled or despaired, they could not escape Frostmourne’s grasp.

As soul energy engulfed the dragon’s bones, a blinding blue light erupted from Roald at the center, enveloping the remains in a pillar of radiance that shot skyward. All eyes turned toward it.

The shrieks of the souls vanished. The darkness below fell into eerie silence.

Then, from the depths, the sound of bones twisting—followed by a roar.

“I am Sindragosa, bringer of scourge, frost, and death’s decay.”

In the underground chamber, the Scourge soldiers all turned their heads, compelled by Sindragosa’s hoarse cry. Though they had forgotten their pasts, their very identities, at that moment they looked only to Roald atop the dragon’s skull.

Then, one by one, they knelt. Row after row, loyal and unwavering.

Roald stood astride the dragon’s brow, hand on his sword. With a sudden motion, the dragon’s skull lifted, its body writhing and unfurling as it let out a terrible roar.

The entire city was plunged into dead silence. The sealing stone walls began to glow, then rotted away in great swathes. The ceiling of the chamber buckled, collapsed, and with Sindragosa’s thunderous bellow—

A deafening, twisting grind of bone, the frenzied howls of the Scourge, Sindragosa’s razor claws tore open the stone walls, shattered the ceiling, broke past every shackle and seal, and burst into the sky.

Before the eyes of all, she rose above the oppressive black clouds.

“Oh GOD!”

“My God, what is that in the sky?!”

Countless people craned their heads upward, staring at the dragon’s silhouette soaring overhead.

“Shit!” Nick Fury clenched his fists.