Chapter 4: The Hunt & The Interloper
The night air hit Kael like a slap, sharp with the scent of wet grass and distant woodsmoke. The neighboring house loomed, its windows dark except for one glowing faintly, where a child's laughter rang out, high and innocent. His spirit-sense screamed, a piercing hum that made his teeth ache. The ghostly outline from the attic hovered near the window, its form sharper now, a twisting shadow with no face. Kael's heart pounded, his sneakers sinking into the damp lawn as he ran, a bag of salt from the Warrens' supply clutched in his hand.
I'm no hero. I'm a guy who crashed a startup and a car. But I can't let a kid get hurt. The thought was a gut punch, his impulsiveness surging despite his planner's brain screaming for a strategy. The laughter turned sinister, a cold hum that matched his spirit-sense. He reached the window, hands shaking as he poured salt in a shaky circle around its base. The grains spilled, sticking to his sweaty fingers.
"Great," he muttered, wiping his hand on his jeans. "I'm the guy who fumbles the holy salt. Oscar-worthy." The humor was weak, a shield against the fear coiling in his chest.
The System's text flashed, cold and indifferent:
[SYSTEM: WARD FAILED. RETREAT. OR DON'T.]
"Screw you," Kael hissed, finishing the uneven circle. The laughter grew louder, mocking, as the shadow thickened, pressing against the window. It's toying with me. His spirit-sense flared, warning him too late as the windowpane cracked, then shattered, glass glinting like broken stars. The entity poured in, a formless black cloud, and Kael's breath caught.
"No!" he shouted, bursting through the front door, the doll still under his arm. The house smelled of stale coffee and laundry detergent, mundane anchors that clashed with the supernatural dread. The child's room was upstairs, the laughter now a distorted echo. Kael took the stairs two at a time, his sneakers thudding, heart racing. I'm too late. Again.
The air turned heavy, a suffocating weight pressing into his mind. The entity wasn't choking him this time—it was inside him, a cold, invasive force twisting his thoughts. His vision blurred, the child's laughter becoming his own, warped and wrong. Possession. His body fought back, the faint silver ward in his chest pulsing weakly, but it wasn't enough. He fell to his knees, the doll clattering to the floor, its eyes glinting with malice.
I'm losing myself. The thought was a scream in his mind, his startup failures flashing—overconfidence, bad calls, lives ruined. Not again. The world darkened, his consciousness slipping into a black fog.
Then, light. He gasped, back on the floor, the doll beside him. His throat burned, his hands trembling. The System's text appeared, clinical as ever:
[SYSTEM: DEATH NOTED. POSSESSION RESISTANCE: +5%. KEEP TRYING.]
Kael laughed, a raw, broken sound. "Keep trying? You're a real motivational speaker." His body felt heavier, his mind raw, like he'd been scraped clean. The child's room was empty, the laughter gone, but the entity's presence lingered, a faint hum in his spirit-sense. He was more resilient now, but at a cost. I'm less… me. The thought chilled him, his fingers brushing the doll's cold surface.
Footsteps thudded behind him. Ed's voice, gruff and urgent, broke the silence. "Kid, what the hell was that?" Lorraine appeared beside him, her eyes wide with concern, not judgment.
Kael stood, his legs shaky, and forced a smirk. "Just testing my ghost radar. Needs a tune-up." He held up the doll, its rune dim now. I failed, but I'm not done. The entity was still out there, and the child was still in danger. He had allies, fragile as they were, and a new skill, weak as it was. He'd pivot, plan, survive. The house next door loomed outside, its windows dark, but Kael's spirit-sense hummed faintly, pointing him toward the next clue—a fight he wasn't ready for, but one he'd face anyway.
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