Birmingham – Three Days After Velakar's Visit
James had not slept for days.
He wandered the streets of Birmingham like a specter—his footsteps echoing in the empty alleys, his eyes locked on the horizon, seeing nothing but the flames of the spirit world that still burned behind his eyelids.
The pull of Velakar was growing stronger.
It had spoken to him in the depths of his mind, twisting the very fabric of his thoughts, pushing him to the edge. It wanted him. It needed him. And every night, as he descended deeper into the darkened world of spirits, he could feel it clawing at him, trying to tear him apart.
But it wasn't just Velakar's power that haunted him. It was the truth—the truth of his lineage.
His mother had always been a mystery—a woman of the Romani, with a bloodline stretching back further than the Shelby name could ever claim. But this? This power, this curse, was far beyond her heritage. Velakar had been a force of fire and ash, a being of primordial darkness that had ravaged entire kingdoms in the forgotten corners of history.
And now, it was waking inside of him.
"You are not just a man, James Shelby," Velakar's voice rumbled in his mind. "You are a bridge. A door between this world and mine. You cannot run from it. You cannot fight it. You can only embrace it."
James could feel the temptation, the dark allure of power. His body thrummed with it, his mind spinning with visions of domination, of burning cities to the ground, of reigning supreme. Every part of him—every instinct—urged him to surrender to Velakar, to become a god of fire and destruction.
But there was a voice inside him, too—a voice that whispered no.
It was the voice of his family, of the Blinders. Of the man he used to be. The man he could still be, if he could hold onto his humanity.
The conflict tore at him every waking moment. He could feel Velakar's influence tightening around his chest, suffocating him. But the Shelby blood ran through his veins, and he wasn't willing to let it go.
In the Blinders' HQ – Same Night
Tommy, Arthur, and Polly sat in the dim light of the meeting room, their faces grim as they discussed the recent developments.
Polly had been trying to keep tabs on James, but she felt the shift. The unseen threat was growing closer. She could feel it—like a storm brewing on the horizon. Tommy had been avoiding talking about it, but it was becoming clear that they were running out of time.
"Have you seen him?" Tommy asked, looking directly at Polly. "Where's James?"
Polly's voice was strained. "He's slipping away, Tom. Every night, he vanishes. He's battling something inside himself—something more dangerous than any man or beast we've faced."
Arthur slammed his fist on the table. "And what do we do? Sit here and wait for him to lose his damn soul?"
Tommy's eyes darkened. "We don't have the luxury of time, Arthur. But we can't just charge in there with guns blazing. We need to find a way to bring him back."
Polly nodded. "I've seen the way Velakar's influence takes hold. It's slow, subtle—like a poison. It crawls into the mind, wraps around the heart. The longer it's left unchecked, the harder it is to fight."
Tommy stood up, pacing in front of the group. "So what's the plan? We wait until he's fully consumed, and then what? We kill him?"
"No," Polly said firmly. "We remind him who he is. We remind him that he is more than just blood and power. He's one of us. A Shelby."
"But what if it's already too late?" Arthur asked, his voice tinged with frustration.
Tommy turned to look at his brother. "Then we'll have to burn that bridge when we cross it."
Meanwhile – A Forgotten Corner of the Spirit Realm
James stood in the heart of Velakar's domain. It was a place of pure darkness, where light had never reached. The ground was cracked, scorched, blackened by an eternal fire that burned with no heat. The sky above was a void, a never-ending abyss that whispered his name.
"James..."
The voice of Velakar echoed through the emptiness, its presence looming over him like a nightmare made real. The ancient being had no form, but James could feel it—its eyes on him, its hunger.
"You are my chosen, James. You were born for this. Embrace it. Feel the flames rise within you. Let go of your weak human ties. Become one with me, and together, we will burn this world."
James stood tall, his chest heaving with the weight of Velakar's words. The power inside him burned. But he was not yet ready to surrender. He clenched his fists, drawing on the Shelby blood coursing through his veins, the same blood that had fought wars, built empires, and carved out a name in the darkest corners of England.
"I won't let you take me," he said through gritted teeth, his voice steady. "I have more than just power. I have family."
The shadows around him writhed, the flames flickering in response. Velakar's voice grew louder, more insistent.
"You are alone, James. They cannot help you. They are weak, fragile—bound to this world. You are beyond them. You are the future. Embrace me, and you will see the truth. You will burn brighter than the sun."
James felt the temptation, the pull of Velakar's dark promises, and for a moment, he almost gave in. The fire within him welcomed it, calling out to him like a lover, urging him to fall into its arms.
But then he saw her.
Vanya.
Her face appeared before him, her eyes wide with fear and regret. Her soul was bound to Velakar, her life consumed by the flames. But there was still a part of her—still a fragment of the woman he had loved—fighting to be seen.
"Don't do it, James," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Don't let him take you. You're stronger than this. You're not just his tool."
The vision of her vanished, and the shadows pressed in. Velakar's laughter filled the space, but it was distant, weak. James's heart pounded, the war inside him growing fiercer.
But in that moment, a decision was made.
He was no puppet. He was James Shelby.
He clenched his fist, the mark on his chest glowing bright, a pulse of raw energy surging through him.
"Not today, Velakar," he muttered. "I will fight you."
The realm shook, the flames dimming slightly as James's will pushed back against the darkness. He wasn't just fighting for himself anymore. He was fighting for his family. For the Shelby name.
Back in Birmingham – The Blinders' HQ
Tommy and Arthur sat in silence, waiting. Polly had gone to prepare herself for whatever the night would bring, leaving the brothers alone to think. And as the clock ticked past midnight, there was a sudden knock on the door.
Arthur stood up, his hand instinctively moving to his gun. But it wasn't needed.
James stepped in, his face grim but his eyes clearer than they had been in days. His presence seemed different, as if he had come back from the very edge.
"I need to go," James said, his voice steady.
Tommy raised an eyebrow. "Go? Where?"
James paused, the weight of his decision hanging in the air. "I'm going to join you. On the mission. The next job. Something... something normal. I need it. I need to remind myself of what it feels like to fight for something real."
Arthur and Tommy exchanged a look. This was the James they knew—the man who fought with them, not some ghost haunted by the shadows.
"Alright," Tommy said, nodding. "You're with us."
James turned, his back to them as he walked toward the door. "We do this together. We take control. I'll fight Velakar on my terms."
As the door closed behind him, Tommy and Arthur remained in the room, the weight of the night heavy on their shoulders.
The road ahead was unclear, but one thing was certain:
James Shelby was not going to fall. Not yet.