Sam awoke abruptly in a cold sweat, the nightmare of Nyxalloth attacking the Ravencrest family still vivid in her mind. At first, she struggled to recall her surroundings. Then she remembered Tyrone had dropped them off at the B&B, and she had lain down for a brief nap after helping Lilly. It was starting to get dark out which cast eerie shadows in the room.
“The shadows whisper and they speak, they know what is to come,” murmured Lilly, who was sitting at the edge of the bed, her eyes unfocused as if in a trance. “The darkness breathes with newfound life as it claims it.”
Fear gripped Sam, leaving her uncertain about what was happening. She moved closer to gently shake Lilly, hoping to break her trance.
Lilly jolted back to awareness, startled. “What? What?” She looked around, confusion evident on her face, unsure of what had just occurred.
“Why are you shaking me? Why am I in your room?” Lilly asked, her voice tinged with fear.
“You were in some kind of trance I think,” Sam's thoughts unraveled with alarming urgency, threatening her already fragile composure. She needed answers before things spiraled further out of control. With trembling fingers, she grabbed her phone, frantically tapping the keys. The phone rang before she could hit the last key.
"Sam! You would not believe the calls we're getting," Tyrone's voice came through, laced with an unexpected tremor. "Frank Greer went berserk. Shadow this, gifts that."
“We have to figure this out,” Sam murmured, the enormity of the situation weighing on every word. She ran her fingers through her hair, her movements frenetic.
“More people missing. Krenshaw, the Bates boys... It’s like they’re gone, or someone took them.” Tyrone hesitated, the pause too thick to bear. “Are you two okay?”
“We’re fine,” Sam replied, though the fear in her voice betrayed her. “Meet us at the station. We’re coming now.”
She ended the call, the abruptness mirroring her own frantic heartbeat. She looked at Lilly who appeared to be confused and lost.
Sam grabbed a shirt, the material slipping between her fingers as she struggled to dress. Her movements were rapid, uncoordinated, matching the disarray of her thoughts. The weight of their discoveries clung to her, oppressive and heavy, pushing her toward panic.
She reached for her boots, her hands still shaking from the lingering cold and the deeper chill of fear. She forced herself to steady, each motion a reminder of how little time they had, how quickly everything was unraveling. The strange chill in the air gnawed at her, and her earlier dream refused to let go.
Images flashed in her mind, disjointed and unsettling. A woman’s eyes wide with horror. Emil’s name scrawled in trembling handwriting. Tendrils of shadow curling with sinister intent, enfolding everything. Nyxalloth wasn't a creature or person like they were used to seeing, it was a dark entity, living shadow. It brought with it heat, the smell of earth and ash, it was like living black smoke.
Lilly watched her, eyes wide and filled with the same terrible knowledge. “Sam?” she asked, uncertainty threading through the name.
Sam hesitated, then spoke with more force than she felt. “Tyrone’s meeting us at the station. It’s not just us, Lill. The whole town... something’s wrong with the whole town.”
Lilly moved to the edge of the bed, her earlier daze now replaced with worry and resolve. "The manor, what happened there, do you think it made it stronger?"
"Bound by blood," Sam whispered. "I think your blood helped release it fully or possibly gave it more strength."
“Are there more runes showing up around town?” Lilly asked, the question hovering between dread and curiosity.
“People missing,” Sam replied. Her hands refused to still, trembling with both the cold and the enormity of their situation. “More people losing it.”
She glanced at her sister, saw the worry mirrored in Lilly’s eyes.
Sam fought to stay focused, to cling to what she knew as everything else spun wildly out of control. Her voice dropped to a near whisper, the confession raw and unguarded.
“I don’t know if we can stop it, but we have to try” she said, fear breaking through.
Lilly nodded, “If you believe we can do this, I will help in anyway I can.”
Sam felt the words sink in, saw the determination that underscored her sister’s belief. It gave her a thin thread of hope to cling to, something to steady her as she tried to make sense of what was happening.
The corners of the room were alive with movement, shadows stretching like hungry things. Sam watched them with a mix of fascination and dread, unable to look away.
“Is this what it wants?” Lilly asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. “For us to just... lose it?”
Sam shook her head, more to dispel the thought than to answer. “We need to know,” she said, her voice firmer now. “We have to understand it.”
“Then what?”
“We find a way to stop it.” Sam grabbed her bag, the heft of the tome inside a grounding weight. The shadows started to spread out, moving like a creature on the ocean floor. “Come on. We’ve got to hurry.”
They moved to the door, the urgency of the moment sweeping them forward. The shadows seemed to breathe in the sudden rush of air, stretching to follow. Sam looked back one last time, her eyes catching on the strange shapes. The realization that it might already be too late clawed at her, but she pushed it aside, forced herself to keep moving.
The Jeep wouldn’t start and when Sam looked under the hood it looked like someone had cut some cables. Someone did not want them to leave. The night was wide and consuming, bleeding through the town with the thickness of a nightmare. It wrapped around Sam and Lilly, guiding their frantic steps until they found Tyrone at the station. A network of chaos thrummed around him, officers like agitated insects collecting stories of lost souls and madness.
"You made it," Tyrone said, relief cracking through his authority. "Nothing's adding up," he said, each word a retreat from certainty.
As they approached, an officer dashed by, barely avoiding them. He carried a paper streaked with dark stains.
“What do we do? I can’t seem to get this town under control,” Tyrone said. There was a weariness to him that Sam had never seen, his shoulders slumped, his features tense with exhaustion.
“Just tell us what’s going on,” Sam said, urgency cracking her words.
“Reports are coming in faster than we can handle them. Lights, voices, missing people...” Tyrone ran a hand along his face, wiping the sweat away, the motion doing nothing to smooth his fraying composure. “More calls in one night than in the last five years. It’s chaos.”
The sisters shared a look, the reality of the situation bearing down on them with terrifying clarity.
“What do we do?” Lilly asked, the question directed at both Tyrone and Sam.
“Start small,” Sam said, but her voice was edged with panic. “Piece it together.”
They piled into Tyrone’s car, each of them feeling the weight of the unknown pressing in. The drive through town was a blur of ghostly streetlights and unsettling silence. It felt like the world held its breath, waiting to see how they would unravel.
Tyrone took them to the restaurant first, the squad car’s lights cutting through the unnatural darkness. The Peach Pit’s familiar glow was a muted ghost, the bright cheer gone. They stepped inside, bracing for whatever horror they might find.
The pub was an unsettling tableau. Frank Greer stood behind the counter, a twisted version of himself. His clothes were stained, his eyes vacant but alert. The carefully ordered rows of stools and tables were in disarray, an outward expression of the inner chaos.
“Wonderful!” Frank exclaimed, his grin wide and unnatural. “Isn’t it just wonderful?”
Sam’s skin prickled at the sight, her mind racing to make sense of it. “What is?” she asked, her voice edged with caution.
He presented a plate with a flourish. Raw meat, dirt, broken glass. A grotesque arrangement, smeared and bleeding into itself.
“The beginning of everything,” Frank said, the words sung like a hymn. “The darkness is breathing, and we will too!”
Tyrone stepped forward, his usual authority compromised by the impossibility of the situation. “Frank, do you know what you’re saying?” he asked, but the question fell flat.
Frank beamed at him, as though expecting praise. “Yes,” he replied, savoring the word. “More than ever.”
Lilly’s hand flew to her mouth, horror dawning in her eyes. “Sam, look.”
The other diners sat motionless, their meals just as unsettling. Piles of uncooked meat, scattered ash, twisted silverware. Sam had seen this before, the eerily vacant looks, but now it was like a scene in which she had no role, a nightmare observed instead of lived. Her heart raced, and she felt the edges of her own sanity start to stretch.
“This is fucked up,” she said, her breath shallow. “So fucked up.”
“It’s like they don’t even see us,” Lilly added, backing toward the door. “We should leave. Now.”
Sam nodded, the frantic need to escape clawing at her. They retreated, each step a departure from the unholy vision inside. The night outside felt strangely soothing in its simplicity, the quiet absence a balm after the sinister display. They regrouped, breathless and shaken.
“What the hell was that?” Tyrone asked, disbelief cracking his voice.
“Nothing good,” Sam said, the weight of the words crushing. She tried to think, to connect the lines. “I don’t know how any of that matches up with Nyxalloth, the runes, or anything.”
The car sped through town, their urgency a tangible force. They reached the elementary school, the playground shrouded in mist. Sam’s mind raced ahead, envisioning more horror, more loss. What they found was different but equally disturbing.
A group of children stood in the center of the playground, a small, unsettling army. Their voices rose and fell in an eerie chant, their words uniform and chilling.
“Herald of shadows, gift of darkness...” They repeated the phrases with perfect precision, their eyes glazed, their expressions hollow. Oscillating between giving praise with hands held high to bowing down on their knees as if in prayer.
“Do you see this?” Lilly whispered, as though speaking too loudly might draw the children’s attention. Her breath came fast, her fear mingling with disbelief.
“Yeah,” Sam replied, her voice caught between fear and a twisted sense of awe. “I do.”
Tyrone parked the car, his movements cautious. He approached the circle, his professional demeanor cracking under the weight of what he saw. “Where are your parents?” he called, but the children didn’t respond.
They continued their chant, each phrase a terrible echo of the last.
“The harbinger comes. The harbinger comes.”
Sam watched them, transfixed and horrified. She wanted to intervene, to pull them away from the darkness that held them, but she didn’t know how. She was paralyzed by the sight, by the scope of it all.
“We can’t just leave them here,” Lilly said, urgency and guilt battling in her voice.
“What else can we do?” Sam asked, the confession slicing through her. She felt helpless, useless.
Tyrone returned, his face etched with helplessness and uncertainty. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said, shaking his head. “This is beyond... It’s just...”
“I know,” Sam said, a shiver running through her. “We’ve got to keep going.”
Lilly hesitated, torn between fear and the instinct to protect. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Sam said, though her voice wavered. “I’m sure.”
They climbed back into the car, each of them feeling the enormity of the situation. The children’s voices followed them, ghostly and insistent.
“Nyxalloth...”
“Nyxalloth...”
The name haunted them, a lingering echo that refused to fade.
White Peach Dawn rose before them, and Tyrone’s foot was heavy on the gas. The parking lot was empty except for the Jeep, the lights off. They rushed inside, knowing this was it, knowing they were too late.
The place was deserted. Empty plates and broken glass littered the floor. The lobby was eerily vacant, an unsettling stillness filling the space. Sam called out, her voice catching.
“Angelica!”
A noise from the kitchen. Sam, Lilly, and Tyrone dashed to the sound, bracing for the worst. Angelica Graveltree was on her knees in a corner, her head on the floor as if in prayer. There was blood around her, in her hands was a kitchen knife bathed in crimson.
“Angelica, it’s us,” Sam said, her voice soft, soothing. “We’re here to help.”
"Help?" Angelica's laugh was sharp and raw. "You can't help!" Her words came out between short, gasping breaths. She lifted her head, revealing symbols carved into her face and her own eyes gouged out. She gazed upwards, eyeless, at the ceiling. A man dangled from above, suspended by his own skin on hooks, licking his lips as he stared down at them.
Angelica whispered, "Please accept my gift, mistresses."
Sam was horrified, unsure what was more shocking: Angelica's self-mutilation or the man above. Lilly stood with her mouth open, a scream trapped inside. Tyrone just shook his head in disbelief, unable to accept the reality of the situation.
"The gifts!" Angelica shrieked, consumed by rage. "Do you accept my gifts? They are all for you." She directed her empty gaze at Sam and Lilly. Tyrone regained his composure and moved to quickly escort Sam and Lilly out of there.
Sam sensed a fracture in her sanity.
Each encounter pushed them further into a reality they couldn’t escape. A reality they couldn’t deny. The car was a small refuge against the chaos. The silence between them was thick, filled with their shared fear.
“Where do we go now?” Lilly asked, her voice small.
Sam looked at her, the need to protect written across her face. “We need to find Abernathy, I think she is connected to what is happening” she said, her determination a thin line against the despair.
Tyrone nodded as he started the car. "The square," he declared with determination. "That's where she'll be."
"How do you know?" Sam asked.
"It's Friday night, and she usually helps with some history show for the town on Fridays."
They drove, the night closing in around them like a vise. Sam’s mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of what they’d seen, what they knew. Each step felt like a retreat, each discovery pushing them further from answers.
But they couldn’t stop. Not now.