Robin lunged forward, yanking the bed aside with brute force. It slid to the side, revealing the dark floor beneath. His peg leg struck twice—tap, tap—and with a low creak, a square-shaped shaft slid open sideways. Inside, a weathered brown wooden box lay waiting, its lock glowing orange from the flames consuming part of the house.
"Let's g—"
Bang!
A blast tore through the room. James was hurled into the wall; the impact sent him spinning toward a jagged stake jutting like a grim sentinel, its tip glinting with deadly promise.
Time seemed to stretch. The air vibrated with the echo of Sar. Robin's hand shot up, weaving a seal mid-motion. A colossal bubble bloomed behind James, swallowing the stake in a shimmering dome. He ricocheted off it, landing hard on the cold stone floor, vision whitening for a moment.
Above him, the creatures writhed like living shadows—twisting, merging, writhing in a grotesque struggle. Black tendrils quivered and coiled, knitting their forms into a monstrous whole.
"Help me…"
A fragile whisper slithered through the chaos. It was a child's voice, broken and terrified: "It's… so cold here… Help me." The sound sent a shiver down James's spine, threading dread through the smoky room.
"Oho… oho…" James coughed, the impact having knocked the wind from his chest. The smoke swirling around him did him no favors, stinging his lungs.
The creature writhed and shifted, as if undecided on its true form. Faces emerged—one moment a single visage, the next, many—blurring, twisting, melting into another grotesque shape.
"I… I can see it, Hen—I mean, Zihard. There are souls trapped in there. They're children… bound to that foul beast." James steadied himself, his voice firm despite the tremor in his body.
"How can you tell?" Robin asked, his face flashing with bizarre curiosity.
"I just know…" James bellowed, conviction breaking through the haze.
"Mmm…" Robin murmured, furrowing his brow.
"What then? We can't kill them," Henry asked, his voice tense.
James froze at the question. Before he could answer, Robin cut in.
"It's them versus us, boy. If we leave them be, they'll kill us all."
The words struck James like an arrow to the heart. Cold as Robin's tone was, it rang with truth. James had seen it before—again and again.
"Don't be naïve, thinking you can go around saving everyone," Robin continued, his voice sharp but weighted with a somber edge. "Look at yourself now—you're nothing but a weak child. If you want to do something about it, then get stronger."
James's arms trembled, his fists clenched, but he couldn't argue. It was all true.
A sharp tap echoed, and the wall beside them shuddered, opening outward to reveal the night. The stars were hidden, leaving the sky like a vast ocean of void stretching endlessly. Henry toiled his hand, casting a seal, and with a sweep of his hand, an invisible force pulled James close.
"We've got no other choice but to jump," Henry said firmly, clutching James tight.
With a sharp breath, Henry leapt from the house, soaring through the air for a heartbeat before landing on a nearby rooftop. The tiles shifted under his weight, and his foot slipped, crashing through the unstable tin roof.
"Ouch!" Henry grunted as a jagged edge tore into his leg. Blood seeped through his trousers, quickly soaking the fabric.
"Henry—are you alright?" James asked, eyes wide with panic.
"Mmhhpt," Henry groaned, forcing a stiff smile. "Quite alright. Let's keep moving." His jaw was tight, and his free hand clenched hard to hide the pain.
They pushed forward, leaping from roof to roof with unnatural grace. Each step left faint imprints of light across the tiles, fading like whispers in the dark.
Behind them came Robin—heavier, more deliberate, each stride a thud that seemed almost inhuman. Yet even with his weight, he glided from roof to roof without faltering, an ominous shadow keeping pace.
Behind them, the darkness swelled—a vast shadow twisting and churning, snuffing out every light it touched. One by one, houses vanished into its sludge, swallowed whole, and with each devouring, the shadow grew—larger, faster, and hungrier.
James dared to glance back, and his whole body trembled.
"Stop—stop, stop!" he cried as roofs crumbled and walls dissolved into nothingness. "STOP IT! THERE ARE PEOPLE!" His voice broke, desperate, but the beast paid no heed.
As Henry carried him from roof to roof, voices rose faintly behind the destruction—whispers clinging to the air.
"I hope I get to eat again tomorrow… Thank you for today; I got to eat a slice of bread," came the prayer of a child.
James's heart sank like a stone as they soared over the breaking streets, the voices thinning into silence.
At last, the houses ended. The chase brought them to the bay, where rows of ships stood docked, the city's livelihood trembling before the oncoming dark.
Henry vaulted high from the last rooftop, landing hard upon the sand.
"Ahhh—!" He gasped, collapsing as pain wracked him, dropping James mid-leap.
James tumbled forward, flung helplessly toward the black, endless waters.
Robin leapt from the roof, landing hard before rushing to Henry.
"Zihard… Are you alright?" he asked, steadying him by the arm.
"Ahhh—" Henry groaned, his breath ragged. "Just… wait a moment."
"Go check on James—he fell over there," Henry ordered, pointing weakly.
As Robin moved toward James, Henry slipped a hand into his pocket and drew out a small vial. He bit the purple cork clean off and spat it aside. Inside, a green liquid swirled ominously. With a pained hiss, Henry tore his trousers apart, revealing the wound. The gash was deep—muscle shredded, flesh inflamed in a grotesque flare. Blood poured freely, the sight enough to churn the stomach.
He ripped a sleeve from his blazer and shoved it between his teeth.
"Ahhh—mmmgh!" His muffled groan turned into a beastly sound as he poured the liquid directly into the wound. The flesh hissed, smoke curling upward, the stench of burning meat rising thick. His cries echoed so loud, one could mistake them for the death howls of some wounded creature.
The wound sizzled, then slowly began to knit shut—not fully, but enough to stop the bleeding.
"Let's g—" Henry's words choked off as his eyes widened.
Robin stood over James, one arm wrenching the boy back, the other pressing a dagger hard against his throat.
"Robin—what the f*ck are you doing?!" Henry roared.
Robin stared back, his face blank, unreadable.