The metallic screech of Kori's chainsaw dying down leaves a ringing in my ears that feels almost loud enough to shatter the remaining stained glass of this cursed place.
I don't get up right away. My knees are locked, pressed against my chest as I sit at the base of the pillar, the vial of salt still gripped so tightly in my white-knuckled fist that the glass threatens to crack.
My thumb is blistered and black from holding down the spark wheel of the vintage lighter, but the flame is finally out.
The air is a chaotic, a choking mixture. The copper stench of the creature's split thorax competes with the shar chemical burn of gasoline exhaust and the eerie, scentless frost radiating off Steve.
"See? Clean cut. Barely a splash on the jacket," Kori boasts, kicking a severed, twitching segment of the creatures limb away from his boot.
NHe hoists the chainsaw onto his shoulder, the chain still dripping with a thick, black blood like ichor that sizzles violently whenever it touches the cold stone floor. "You're welcome, by the way."
I force my eyes open, staring through the dim, frosty haze. Steve is standing over the carcass, his skeletal hand hovering inches above the pulsing, pale bulb of the creature's head. He doesn't look like a savior, he looks like a scientist examining a mutant specimen that shouldn't exist.
"This wasn't a wanderer," Steve says, his flat, gravelly voice echoing in the hollow architecture. "Wanders have no soul... These things do. Mutated souls that have bought more time. They are... Echoes of death."
"Yeah, yeah, scary soul suckers, very spooky," Kori waves a dismissive hand, walking over to me. He stops, leaning down until his dark shades are inches from my face. I can see my own pale, sweating reflection in the glass. "More importantly... Garfield. Buddy. Pal. You look like absolute trash."
"I was... almost eaten, Kori," I wheeze, my throat dry, tasting like ash. I lean my head back against the stone, my heart finally dropping from a frantic sprint to a heavy, exhausted thud. "And for the record, I was barely old enough to chew."
"Details, details," Kori snorts, extending a hand to pull me up. "The point is, you're breathing. Which means you can pay me back. Plus interest. Let's call it ten bucks now."
I reached for his hand, my hand passing through gripping a broken chair behind kori as I got up.
"Skrreetchhhh!!!"
Kori's smug grin falters, his posture stiffening just a fraction before he forces a loud, exaggerated yawn.
"Alright, look, as much as I love a good family reunion mystery, we need to move,"
Kori says, revving the chainsaw's engine for a brief, deafening second to clear the air. "The big ugly we just chopped up? It has friends. And unlike Steve here, they don't appreciate my sparkling personality."
"He's right," Steve says, turning away from the watch, though the air remains uncomfortably cold. "The threshold we used to enter is collapsing. The logic of this space is shifting."
I look around the cathedral. The darkness near the edges of the room isn't just sitting there anymore, it's creeping inward, slowly swallowing the outer pillars. The broken chairs and rotted wood are dissolving into the blackness like ink in water.
"What do you mean shifting?" I ask, panic flaring up again. "Can't you just open another shadow? Like the chainsaw?"
"It doesn't work like that, Lad," Steve responds, his boney fingers gesturing to the floorboards. "This place is a sinking ship. If I open a door blindly, we don't go back to your apartment. We drop straight into the Deep."
Kori slaps his chainsaw against his thigh, looking entirely too excited for a man trapped in a haunted cathedral. "So, we do it the old-fashioned way. We find the front door, we break it down, and we run like hell."
"There is no front door," I point out, my voice rising. "I checked before you got here. There are no exits."
Kori blinks behind his shades, then turns to Steve. "He's kidding, right? Tell me the nerd is kidding."
Steve remains silent, his gaze fixed on the darkness rising from the floor.
A low, vibrating hum begins to shake the stone beneath our feet. From the shadows where the walls used to be, dozens of pale, multi-eyed bulbs begin to blink open in the dark.
They found us.
With that, all of us meaning myself bolted torwards a shattered window. Kori and Steve floating besides me as I tore through the restraints covering the window.
I did not look back, did not want to see these... Echoes of Death as Steve called them.