The third battle came on a night of rain.
The storm rolled across the black sky, thunder splitting the heavens as Miyu staggered into the clearing. Her body was thinner now, her skin pale and cracked, her hair clinging to her face in wet strands. The crimson glow of her many eyes flickered weakly, like dying embers.
But still… she did not run.
When the Impala's headlights cut through the trees, when the doors slammed shut and the Winchester brothers stepped forward with their weapons raised, Miyu planted her bare feet into the mud.
Her tendrils writhed, their mouths shrieking with hunger, but her own voice trembled:
"No more running."
Dean tightened his grip on his shotgun. "Finally."
Sam frowned, his voice low, cautious. "Miyu—you don't have to do this. You're already—"
"Shut up!" she screamed, her voice breaking. The shadows erupted, lashing out with furious speed.
The ground shook as her tendrils struck, carving craters into the earth. Sam dove aside, chanting a binding incantation, while Dean fired blast after blast of consecrated rounds. Each bullet tore into her shadows, sending shockwaves of agony through her body.
Miyu staggered, but she kept coming.
One tendril slammed Dean against a tree, splintering it in half. Another lashed at Sam, knocking his blade from his hand. Her laughter rose—broken, wild, desperate.
"See?! I'm not afraid anymore! I can fight! I can—"
A flare of holy fire erupted beneath her feet.
Sam's sigil burned bright, the oil igniting with a roar. The fire clung to her shadows, consuming them, searing her flesh. Miyu shrieked, collapsing to her knees as her skin blistered and peeled, her voices screaming in agony.
Dean staggered back to his feet, reloading. "End of the line, sweetheart."
Miyu coughed blood, her vision blurring. Her extra eyes wept streams of red. Her tendrils flailed weakly, their mouths shrieking—until one by one, they fell silent.
Inside her head, the demon that had whispered, laughed, and guided her for so long spoke its final words.
> You're weak, Miyu. You can't win. You'll die here.
And then… silence.
The voices were gone.
For the first time since she had opened her cursed eyes, the thing inside her was dead.
Her body shook. The shadows around her dimmed, but they did not vanish. The power was still hers—yet the whispers, the hunger, the cruel laughter that had tormented her since the lab… were gone.
Miyu's lips trembled. A tear slid down her cheek.
"I'm… alone now."
Dean aimed the final shot at her head. But before he could fire, Miyu screamed—not in madness, but in raw, human terror—and her remaining strength exploded outward.
The blast of shadow sent both hunters flying, their weapons torn from their hands.
And then she ran.
Bleeding. Burning. Half-dead.
But free.
She collapsed miles away, her body shaking violently, her wounds steaming in the cold rain. She stared at her reflection in a puddle—her own face, her own eyes. For the first time, it was only her.
No whispers. No demon.
Just Miyu.
And the silence was almost worse than the madness.