Henry estimated the shadow's strength in a cold, burst of intuition. He quickly realized fighting the creature here, in the heart of its own territory, was a terrible idea. He was sure the creature knew it too.
'I can't let it keep me on the defensive. I won't be able to use Temporis Ratio [The Reckoning of Time] repeatedly.' Gritting his teeth, he propelled himself forward, a common steel dagger appearing in his hand from his hidden inventory.
He didn't need to see its true form. At eighty percent output, a single, decisive slash should be enough to obliterate it.
But before his blade could connect, the creature's shadowy form divided cleanly in two, his attack passing harmlessly through the gap between them.
'What…?!' As if to taunt him, In the same instant, the two halves shuddered and folded back into a single mass. Before Henry could even reposition, several purple-tinted arms burst from its body, extending like tendrils of solidified dusk.
"—!" They struck him all at once, almost knocking the air out of his lungs.
A bundle of cold, misty hands seized his waist, shoulders, and throat, pulling him off his feet as if he were a puppet. More wrapped around his arms, and the creature hauled him closer. Its grip was immense, and with each second it tightened further.
Rrrrch—!!
Henry could hear the strain in his own bones, a low, sickening creak, that made his stomach twist…
'Think. How can I get out of this situation...?' He clenched his jaw, forcing his eyes open against the pain shooting down his spine. His fingers tightened on the dagger's hilt, his only anchor.
'Dammit… Move!' He willed his spiritual energy higher, pushing toward ninety percent output.
But his strength was leaking way. Every attempt to reinforce his body felt like pouring water into sand.
The creature wasn't just restraining him.
It was draining him!
A deep, cold weakness seeped into his limbs, slowing his heartbeat, dulling his senses. His throat was so tight he could barely swallow; his lungs strained for air.'No good… it's… eating it…'
The shadows around him pulsed in slow, hungry waves.
****
"Henry! Say something dammit…! " Damon's calls echoed through the silence of the Watson residence, meeting only the hollow resistance of still air. He slammed the first bedroom door open to find it empty. His pulse was erratic, his breaths shallow. The world felt like it was closing in.
["Calm yourself child, You're losing clarity."],Tomoe voice slid coldly into his mind. ["Have you forgotten the basics already? His spiritual signature has not vanished. Use your senses, not your fear. Trust them to lead you"]
Her admonition acted was like a douce of cold water that left Damon speechless. How could he have forgotten something so simple!
"I should be able to find him by tracking his intent…" he murmured to the empty hall. He forced a cycle of controlled breathing, visualizing the flow of spiritual energy through his core node, stabilizing the rampant leakage fueled by fear. The frantic edges of his panic began to recede, replaced by his usually clinical calm.
Closing his eyes, Damon began a deliberate process. He constructed a mental effigy of Henry, focusing not on his face, but on the unique spiritual frequency of his presence, the specific intent of his Will. He poured his own spiritual perception into this mental image, using it as a compass.
A spark. Faint, flickering erratically as if struggling against a suffocating blanket, but unmistakably present.
It originated not on this floor, but below. Through the layers of wood, through the compacted earth.
The crawlspace.
****
In the absolute darkness below, the shadowy entity drew him closer, its form undergoing a horrifying process of manifestation.
Its torso solidified into a vaguely feminine shape, but its skin was a texture of sapphire-blue scales and bruised-purple barnacles. The lower half of its face resolved into a recognizable, human feature: the chin and lips of Mrs. Watson.
Yet, this familiar fragment was stretched over a structure that was profoundly alien. The most grotesque was the upper face. Where eyes and a brow should have been, two large, scaly hands were pressed flat against the flesh, as if in a permanent act of concealment.
The hands slid apart horizontally, a twisted parody of eyelids opening. Behind them lay no eyes, no sockets, only a swirling, absolute blackness. A void that seemed to drink the very concept of light.
Behind that void Henry could hear a quit chime of music, as if something beyond was calling out to him.
A place he had longed to return to.
'What kind of monster is this...!?' Resisting the desire to staring into the void, Henry struggled fiercely. But with each passing second he could feel his death inching closer. 'I... need to ...reach my …badge', In truth from the moment Vincent had advised them to pray to their mother for protection, Henry had thrown the idea from his mind. But now he couldn't help but pray.
'Oh Great mother of mine, please deliver me from death's door… I promise I won't stay up past curfew with Cassie anymore'
At that moment, time appeared to stand still. Henry believed he might be hallucinating.
It was as if a surge of spiritual energy latched onto his own dwindling spark.
'T-this…its Damon's!'
Seizing the moment, Henry funneled his remaining strength to the dagger in his right hand.
With a guttural growl, he twisted his wrist just enough to free and drove the blade into the creature's scaled flank. Yet the entity merely convulsed and released a violent scream.
SKRREEEEE—!!
The creature's jaw unhinged, distending to an impossible angle, revealing a landscape of soft blue flesh and rows of crocodile-like teeth, from which dripped a viscous, oily substance that reeked of decay.
CRASH!!!
Suddenly, a burst of light tore through the floorboards above.
A small orb of white glow dropped into the crawlspace, crackling against the earth. The moment it hit,
the light spread outward in a sudden rush, illuminating every corner with a sterile, purifying brilliance.
The creature recoiled as if burned, its limbs snapping back. Its body collapsed inward, dissolving into pure shadow, then surged toward a narrow gap in the foundation stones and slipped through.
Damon landed an instant later, dropping through the hole with a soft thud. katana in hand, his eyes scanned the area, tracing the path of the fleeing entity, but it was already gone.
"I made it in time"He exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and lingering dread.
His gaze then fell on Henry, who lay sprawled in the dirt, chest heaving in shallow, ragged breaths. His face was pale and slick with sweat, his hands trembling violently around the dagger hilt as if it were the only thing tethering him to this world.
"Henry—" Damon rushed to him, dropping to his knees. "Look at me. Breathe. Just breathe."
Henry's throat bobbed as he swallowed, trying to steady his breathing. "I… I'm fine," he rasped, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. A weak, shaky smirk touched his lips. "Took you long enough."
Damon shook his head with subtle smile. "I was hoping to give you a chance to take it down yourself," he said, the sarcasm a thin veil over his very real concern. "I really thought you could."
"So…that wasn't you shouting out my name?" Henry retorted with him own smile, raising his left hand out in a subtle gesture.
Taking the hint, Damon grabbed his hand gently, hoisted him up on his feet and said, "Must have been your imagination, Fin tells you have quite a vivid one too."