(POV Shift: Third Person)
The Hodgson house in Enfield was now a stage for two colliding worlds. On one side, the mundane world had burst in with full force. Tired-faced paramedics wrapped Janet in a thermal blanket, speaking to her in soothing whispers. A couple of visibly overwhelmed and confused local police officers took statements from a Roger Perron who struggled to describe months of terror in terms that didn't sound like madness. They tried to impose order and logic on a place from which both had long fled.
And on the other side, there was the secret world. In the kitchen, Ed and Lorraine Warren spoke in hushed tones, their faces etched with the weight of a victory that felt more like a postponement. And set apart from everyone, treated like a piece of anomalous evidence no one knew how to file, was Alex. He sat on a rickety chair, a blanket draped over his shoulders that one of the Perron girls had given him. His wound had been cleaned and bandaged by a paramedic who diagnosed it as a "strange cold burn," but the deep, spiritual ache remained.
Alex was the secret. The impossible weapon, the toxic ally, the boy from the future who had appeared, saved the day, and shattered their trust in a single, chaotic act. To the police and medics, he was simply a "helper" of the Warrens, a distant nephew who had gotten caught up in the "mass hysteria case." No one dared to ask about the weapon Ed had discreetly tucked away in his own gear bag.
The silence between the Warrens and Alex was heavier than the house's damp, musty air. It was a silence of unspoken gratitude, contained anger, and profound uncertainty about the future. They saw Alex as both a savior and a problem, and they didn't know which facet was more dangerous.
(POV Shift: First Person)
I felt like a ghost at my own victory party. Or, more accurately, like the murder weapon everyone tries to hide after the crime is committed. I watched the Warrens from a distance. I saw the lingering fear in their eyes. It wasn't fear of knocks on the wall or moving chairs. It was a deeper fear. The fear of Valak. The fear of what I had told them: that the final boss wasn't dead, just disconnected.
My chat, on the other hand, was in a state of analytical ecstasy. The adrenaline of battle had given way to an almost academic fascination.
LoreMaster_77: Ok, let's analyze. The entity "Bathsheba" was a world boss, tied to the location. Its destruction was permanent. The entity "Valak" is a raid boss, not location-bound, so it was a temporary banishment. This has rules! This universe has consistent rules! Theorist_Prime: The question is, how does Zero know all this? Does the Shop give him info? Or has he "played" these events before? His knowledge is key. xX_GamerGod_Xx: Forget the theories! WE WANT MORE! What's the next level, Zero? Where do we go now?! THIS IS BETTER THAN ANY SHOW!
"They want more." The phrase chilled me. To them, this was a series, an epic saga. To me, it was my life, my personal hell. But their words, and the look of dread on the Warrens' faces, made me realize something. My knowledge. My curse of knowing what comes next. I couldn't keep it to myself. Silence and guilt weren't going to fix what I had broken. Maybe, just maybe, a warning could.
I pushed myself up, ignoring the pang in my ankle, and walked over to them. Ed visibly tensed as I approached, his body slightly interposing between Lorraine and me. The gesture hurt more than any ghost wound.
"Look," I began, my voice low, stripped of all previous arrogance. "I know right now you'd probably want to send me back to the hole I crawled out of. I get it. But you have to listen to me."
Ed said nothing, his face a stone mask. Lorraine, however, nodded slightly, giving me permission to continue.
"Stop worrying about the nun. About Valak," I said, and I saw their brows furrow. "Yes, he's a threat. Yes, he'll be back. But not now. Demons of his level are arrogant. We humiliated him. We banished him. He'll retreat to lick his wounds, to plot. His next move won't be impulsive. It will be calculated and it will take time."
I paused, gathering the courage to say the hard part. "Don't worry about the distant threat. Worry about the one you left at home. The one waiting in your basement, sitting on a rocking chair. Worry about Annabelle."
(POV Shift: Third Person)
The name dropped into the middle of the kitchen like a grenade. Color drained from Lorraine's face. Even Ed, in all his cold anger, couldn't conceal a pang of shock. Annabelle was their darkest secret, the most contained and concentrated evil they possessed.
"How...?" Ed began, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "How do you know that name?! Enough of your games and tricks!"
"It's not a game," Alex replied, his gaze fixed on Ed, pleading. "It's strategy. Valak is a strategist. We infuriated him here. What's the quickest way to unbalance you, to torture you from afar? It's not to attack this family again. It's to attack yours. It's to unleash the evil you yourselves have locked up. It's to use your own trophy museum against you. And Annabelle... she's the centerpiece of that collection. She's not a human spirit, you know that. She's a conduit for something inhuman. And she's the perfect tool for a demon like Valak to wreak chaos from across the world."
Alex took a step back, giving them space. "I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to trust your enemy's malice. He won't play fair. He'll attack your home."
Ed was about to retort, to accuse him of manipulation, of blasphemy. But he looked at Lorraine. And he saw on his wife's face the undeniable truth. She felt it. Alex's twisted logic resonated with her own psychic intuition. The idea that their home, their sanctuary, was vulnerable... it was their worst nightmare.
"Ed..." Lorraine whispered. "Maybe we should call home. Just to make sure..."
"It's ridiculous!" Ed snapped, though his conviction wavered. "Our house is protected. The room is blessed weekly. It's the safest place she could be!"
Alex's chat, meanwhile, was reaching a critical mass of astonishment.
LoreMaster_77: ANNABELLE! I KNEW IT! THE EXTENDED UNIVERSE CONNECTION! Theorist_Prime: This is incredible. He's not just in the events, he's predicting them. He's weaving the timeline for them. Is he a participant or an author? Angel_Investor: Chaos sees patterns that order ignores. Listen to him, Warrens. His knowledge is your compass, even if the one holding it is a fool.
And then, as if on cue from the sadistic god running the show, the Hodgson house phone rang.
The sharp, shrill sound of an old rotary phone cut through the tension like a knife. Everyone froze. A local police officer moved to answer, but Ed held up a hand.
"I'll get it," he said, his voice strained. "It's probably the press."
He walked towards the phone in the hallway. He picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
He listened for a moment. His body stiffened. "Judy? Honey, are you okay? What time is it there?" Another pause. Ed's eyes widened. "What? Drew? What's going on? Put Drew on the phone."
The tension in the kitchen was so thick you could chew it. Lorraine clung to the table, silently praying. Alex held his breath, knowing what was coming.
"Drew?" Ed said into the phone, his voice now urgent. "Talk to me! What happened at the house?"
There was a long pause as Ed listened, his face shifting from skepticism to shock, and from shock to pure, cold terror. All color completely drained from his face.
"The artifact room..." Ed whispered into the receiver, but his voice was clearly heard throughout the house. "Are you sure?" He listened a bit more, then his eyes slowly lifted from the floor and met Alex's across the hallway. The anger was gone. The resentment was gone. All that remained was overwhelming fear and a terrifying understanding.
"Annabelle's display case," Ed said, his voice barely a thread of air. "It's open."
He slowly hung up the phone, as if it weighed a ton. Silence fell again, but this time, it was filled with a new and horrifying truth.
Alex wasn't just a weapon. He wasn't just a problem. He was a prophet. And his most terrifying prophecy had just come true.