As they stood in front of the town hall, a tendril of dread ran through the hunters.

It did not look as demented as they expected. The government building, much like the historical society, was a former residential building repurposed for public use. The age was difficult to discern as it stood the only two story among a collection of one-story buildings.

Like a fortress, the building loomed over them massive and impenetrable. The very atmosphere around hung heavy and damp as it taunted them to enter. Encased in an old-world charm that carried from its peaked roofs to wide front steps, the crisp white side paneling glowed dimly in the night. The front door was closed, Ellen pulled at it, but the knob wouldn’t move from its stuck position. Even if front was blocked off, there had to be a side entrance as they stealthily moved around the building.

The stagnant air clung to them silently. With no noise around, their quick shallow breathes seemed to reverberate around them. A damning echo that could easily give them away at any moment. The thick oppressive weigh of perverse magic suffocated Michael through his resistance. Sluggish and uncomfortable, he could not fathom how the other two felt. But a quick glance revealed that they were ignorant of the struggle as they moved easily forward.

Giselle’s raven flew on bravely as it scouted the perimeter for enemies or a way in. It finally settled on a windowsill, the perfect perch to look in and at the yard.

With the bird’s help they found an open door. Like rats they slide in, careful not to give away a fraction of their presence.

At first a sense of mundanity overtook them. For all its atmosphere, when faced with a plain hall of wooden doors and average office decorations, it was not hard to slip into a false sense of familiarity. In some ways it was disappointing to be faced with such an ordinary view as Giselle pawed at one of the drooping paper signs that waved slightly in the nonexistence breeze. Ellen didn’t lower her weapon but felt a strange sense of relief that this place hadn’t become a hot bed of flesh and blood.

While the two women enjoyed the slight respite, Michael suffered under a growing anxiety he could not name. It ran under his skin, making every nerve feel an unidentifiable itch that could not be scratch. As he followed in step with the others, he was taunted by that itch. He wanted to claw at his skin and pull back each layer to finally find that maddening sensation, but the two hands he held restrained him. Instead he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Still he couldn’t ignore the sweat that ran down his back and neck as his palms grew uncomfortably wet.

This hall that had at first seemed a blessing, became more convoluted as they went deeper. It stretched onwards, a repeating expanse of doors and birthday announcements. However, even if it felt like they were trapped in an illusion, they knew they were on track. At the heart of the building sat a tangle of magic that pulsed wildly. While the witches hadn’t felt it at the beginning, the farther they went the more obvious it because. To Michael, even a short fleeting touch against his senses made his head pound.

Giselle winced, as discomfort sank into her bones. She wanted to stop, turn around and leave. This power was raw and while she could fight it off, her mind told her it was better to run away. Only Ellen was unafraid as she led them on. So, they followed its dizzying call until a new doorway appeared. At first it wasn’t noticeable from all the other wooden doors. But beside it was a little plastic sign with the symbol for stairs slated down.

Basements were a rarity in Florida. Because of the high-water table, it was impractical to dig down. However, this building had gotten around this by building a raised foundation that gave enough room for a lower floor. It seemed simple when thought though but somehow it was still unnerving. Basements could conjure many dark thoughts as Ellen pushed open the door.

This entire walk they hadn’t found any other souls within the Town Hall. Not one. Even Mr. O’Mara and his handsome friend were missing. As much as one might want to celebrate this, it was far from a good omen. What did this Town Hall represent?

Ellen took point as they headed downward. Her curiosity and vigor acted as a shield, protecting her the stress the others felt. In the middle, Michael held them together, an agitated tether who wanted to be freed from this realm as soon as possible. At the end, Giselle protected their backs, her gun always at the ready just in case this turned into an ambush.

Nothing was said as each prepared themselves for what they might find in the earth below.

The wooden steps creaked slightly as they descended into the darkness. At first, they couldn’t see anything as Michael fought against his urge to grab his lighter. Then Ellen lit up a simple floating orb in front of them. The warm tone basked everything within its radius as they came across…a display.

The smell hit them first. The acrid scent of earthy decay and blood. A hint of disgusting sweetness gave way to the unforgettable aroma of death. Decayed flesh left to rot in the damp humidity of a hot closed off basement. It stifled the senses and made the eyes water in desperation.

Instinctually, Giselle and Ellen turned their heads away to grab one last clean breath. Michael instead looked deeper as he fully observed the massacre.

The scent should have repulsed him. For years he had fought to train himself to think of such things as evil and unwanted. But the smell was too familiar as long buried memories of his youth began to rise up. Even without the tinge of fire or bitter earth, he took a step forward to get better look.

It was a sea of twisted flesh and mutilated corpses. The dark reds and vile browns were only enhanced by the orb’s yellow light as a sudden thump echoed in his head.

Quickly, he made a gesture to block his sight. It was only a symbolic movement though. As useful as a child who pretended to cover his eyes as to not see the presents his family had laid out for Christmas. And Michael’s Christmas was quite the grand display.

The bottom of the stairs opened into an obscene scene of flesh and blood. Innumerable skinless corpses piled upon each other like the mountains of war. The original paint had been lost, erased by sheets of fresh blood and its dried remains. A loud buzzing grew as flies and other creatures of decay feasted on expressionless, muscular faces and exposed organs. How long the bodies had been exposed? Desecrated and left without a shred of dignity? They could not tell.

Thick clouds of bugs moved about like their own weather system. Eating and reproducing with little care that their new homes were once living people. The glassy eyes of the dead stared endlessly into room with a few heads turned to stared hopelessly at the new intruders. Pain contorted their expression, raw on their peeled faces.

Even with years of experience, Giselle choked on her tongue as she held back bile. Ellen fared little better as she tried to remain calm among the gruesome scene. Still she could feel her stomach contort and squeeze.

Frozen to their spots, they fought to adjust. They needed to continue; their escape counted on it. But for all their bravado and training, they still struggled with so much concentrated death.

The first to move was Michael. Without a word, he released their hands and pushed past Giselle back up to the first floor. They wished they could follow.

As her stomach churned, Giselle rested a slightly trembling hand on Ellen’s shoulder. The Planeswalker looked back and for the first time in a long while, they shared a look of understanding. A bit of comradery was needed among this nauseating mess. Taking in an unfortunately deep breath, they fortified themselves.

The two of them could make it. It was for the best that Hunter had removed himself. If he could not handle it, he would have been a burden in this trying moment.

However, this was a fundamental misunderstanding. It was not disgust that had chased him away. No, it was something much worse.

Inky blackness swirled from his pupil, an endless whirlpool that quickly consumed the deep green of his eyes. He struggled to maintain control as harsh shadows cut across his features. They absorbed and erased them at random, leaving only dark long stretches of nothingness as he reached for Alexander’s bracelet. His clammy fingers only found skin. The bracelet, it was gone.  

There was no time to think of where it had been lost through. Michael could only fight to suppress the erratic shifts of his energy. They expanded within him. Fighting to break free as he slammed his forehead against the hard wall.

In his mind he chanted a mantra of calm as he tried to regain himself. But the words were easily edged out by other poisonous thoughts. They slithered in, confident in his weak composure. They taunted and reminded him that the sight shouldn’t have excited him. But all the same he couldn’t control himself. These memories, they shouldn’t be considered with fondness or missed. But his instincts reacted more rapidly than his mind.

They had tried to train it out of him. Teach him that death and mayhem were wrong, destructive, and evil. But these teaching meant nothing when his buried instincts brazenly flared up and brought with them the suppressed feelings of desire that he denied himself. No matter how much progress he had made, these things still gnawed at him.

Free of interlopers, the walls around him came alive. Like the ocean’s current, shadows ebbed and flowed under the dim red light of the fire escape. Occasionally they would splash against of his form, clinging to his outline. There was almost a sense of longing to their movements as they went to curve and gently merged with him.

His breath came out in pants, his heart erratic as he fought for the remains of his self-control. How long had it been since he had been tested like this? The shadows devoured his feet and curled up his legs. With each inch claimed the silhouette changed. It had been so long since he had experienced one of these episodes that he had almost forgotten how powerless they made him.

The mantra was failing. He was failing. He knew he mustn’t break character but that was becoming impossible as his mind became absorbed once more by that awful buzzing.

Like a fly caught in his brain, it nearly drowned out all his thoughts. It tormented him. Pushed him to give in, to give up. Michael couldn’t though. Even with his weakness, if he broke character, he didn’t know what would happen. The fragmented world would definitely collapse and take Alexander and him along with.

Old scenes of chaos flashed through his mind. Blood soaked fields, broken armor, pyres of burning bodies so tall that they blocked out the sun. All of these were a past he had thrown away but this hellish influence wanted him to miss his old ways. Yearn for his old world. He balanced on a treacherous point. One that could not be returned from. It was only Michael who could restrain himself.

In some distance part of his mind, he knew he shouldn’t have been experiencing this struggle. That if his normal restrains had been in place, things would never have escalated so far. He could only painfully wish for them to return as he bit at his lip. It was a desperate act, a hope that the sharp pain would pull him back to reality.

“Kor?”

A single word echoed in the air. A raspy voice called. It was dried out as if it hadn’t spoken in eras. The hair rose on the back of Michael’s neck at the mention of that name.

That name belonged to the dead.

Who knew it? Who said it?

Don’t say it.

Don’t say it!

“Kor?” Like a specter set to haunt him the cursed name of his master rang in the air. A damning curse called out in this sea of suffering. It was painful as he clawed at his ears.

He didn’t want to hear that name. He didn’t want to think of it.

Panic rushed through his heart as his last grasp on this form began to flip away.

“Hunter, we’ve got it.” A sharp hit broke through it all. In a flash, the shadows retreated. Chased away by Giselle as Michael could finally release a shaky breath. These few seconds reprieve was all he needed as he chased the shadows away. Forced them into a place where they could not harass him for now. The buzzing was still there, but the voice was gone and with that his thoughts could be righted.

Giselle didn’t know what Hunter had been doing against the wall, but the look of relief he gave her was a bit confusing. He must have been hit pretty hard by the basement.

“Wow, you’re really not good with gore, are you?” She patted him on the back. It was in this action she noticed the blood coming from his face. “Jesus, if you’re that squeamish why did you look?”

Michael was still in a daze as he finally felt the wet on his lower face. Running a hand over his mouth he pulled it back to find it smeared with blood. It seems he had a nosebleed.

Letting out a shaky sigh, he closed his eyes for a second to refocus and bask in the presence of another. Any more time in that isolated madness he wasn’t sure if the world would have survived. However, he was suffering from a sharp headache. Which fucker put a can of nails in his skull? Even the dim red light was painful as he turned away to bury his eyes.

Giselle was confused but tore off a piece of her messy tank top to help him out.

“Look, clean yourself off. We’ve got to go.”

Michael shakily took the fabric as Ellen finally emerged from the basement.

In her arms was an artifact of power that whispered in an unspeakable tongue. The poorly stripped skull was a grotesque amalgam of familiar shapes and grotesque protrusions.

What was man? What was beast? What was other? It was impossible to say as the dark red icon pulsated and struggled against the witch’s hands. It fought with every fiber of its existence to be released and returned back to its rightful place among the corpses.

Ellen seemed undisturbed, her ignorance almost worrying as she casually carried the collection of meat. Each moment it was held in air, it dripped a thick stagnant blood onto the ground and top of her boots. The trail mimicked that of a dragged corpse as the three shared a look before slowly nodding.

No words needed; they knew what had to be done. In silence, they followed Ellen out.

 

A chill rundown Alexander’s spine and halted his footsteps. Whatever little peace of mind he had cultivated vanished to be replaced with a creeping anxiety that needled at his soul. Again, he tried to call Michael but was meet with a dial tone as he checked the time again. It was already past midnight. He should be tired, but unease chased away any lethargy. Michael was probably asleep right now, that was the thought he should have. But after too many lives, he couldn’t ignore this subconscious warning.

But what could he do? He didn’t know where Michael was or what he was doing. This sense of powerlessness pissed him off as he found himself before the Protector tree. His feet clearly knew what he need as he stared at the thick World Root. It beat brightly with energy.

He could spend all day guessing and run himself ragged, it was better to look for answers. But the moment he entered the canopy of the tree his whole body was racked with pain. He curled into himself as his brain buzzed like it had been replaced with an aggressive bee. Strangely he almost felt like the noise was taunting him, challenging him to fight against it. This would a foolish fight. Alexander could feel that if he stepped too far, he would fall into the trap of an unseen enemy.

“Fuck.” Leaning against the tree, he tried to calm himself. But when he thought he almost had control, the bond between Michael and him was pulled and twisted. It had been a long time since that had happened.

“What’s going on?” He struggled to maintain his composure as he felt Michael almost break character. The act in itself was frightening. For a developer to break character, something had to go very wrong emotionally. They need to be stimulated to the point that they overpowered their character setting and destroyed the body they were occupying. Because of their character’s ties to the stability of the world, it would inevitably lead to a collapse that would trash the mission. However, by this point the only concern of the system administrators was to recover the developer before they were taken down with the fragment.

Luckily, the pain began to fade as their bond stabilized. Alexander could not find peace with this though as he pulled out his phone again and tried to call. Still no pickup. Maybe he should go and find Michael himself. The thought came quickly but was just as quickly dismissed. Even if he did that, he didn’t know where Michael currently was or the reason for his near frenzied state. Alexander, as much as he hated to admit it, might not help by suddenly appearing. He could only do his best to regulate Michael’s powers from a distance. But because they had grown so used to Michael’s weakened restrained state, when Alexander dipped into their contract he was nearly overwhelmed by the power.

Lifetimes of accumulated energy surged through him. Almost destabilizing his own character as he bit his tongue and fought against the tremendous force. It was only the restrictive nature of the marriage contract that kept the eager power from breaking free and consuming the world. He needed to find an outlet to run it off.

The tree? What was the worst thing that could happen? The Mother tree scolds them? Alexander was willing to take that punishment as he sank his claws into the trunk.

The Protector Tree pulsed under the intrusion, but Alexander didn’t care as he poured off the excess energy into its system.

Like a flash the tree glowed brightly as it absorbed the energy. While the elements clashed, it wasn’t like a fragmented World Root could say no.

A solid five minutes passed as Alexander kept from exploding. Finally, when the contract stopped threatening to be overwhelmed, he retracted his claws. His palm flesh was pitch black as his claws had blackened. Slowly it faded until the only mark left of this event was a black handprint that had been burnt into the trunk. It was very obvious against the slightly glowing bark.

Exhausted he fell back against the tree and tried to catch his breath. A layer of sweat clung to him as he rested his eyes.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

 

The world had changed since they entered the house and not in a good way. The deathly silence had eroded into shrill shrieks and screams of agony. The flat starlight sky twisted into an angry red mess that distorted the clouds into inhuman shapes.

The Realm was collapsing. Stores and houses that were once miles apart merged and mixed together into a perverted environment. The only thing untouched was the Banyan as it sat in the heart of it all. Among the sea of reds, she still gave off a gentle warm golden light.

The moment their feet crossed the house’s threshold, the residents of this hellish domain reacted.

“Hunter stay between us.” Ellen warned as she shifted Hunter behind them. He was human and from his reaction to even being close to the cornerstone, she knew that this place was dangerous to him. Giselle supported Ellen’s statement as she summoned up her beasts. Even if she didn’t have a ton of mana, she knew that halfassing this would just get them killed. Her timber wolf slipped out followed by an alligator longer than Hunter and a Florida panther. They seemed more enthusiastic than the wold as they jumped at the first skinless abomination that came their way.

Even with her hands occupied, Ellen summoned up elemental spells that cut through the horde with bursts of wind and stone.

Not to be out done by his companions, Michael contributed as he could. He just had to be cautious. Luckily, most creatures couldn’t break through the bombardment of beasts and magic. Those that did would be greet with a shotgun blast to the head. The weapon was quite effective when his target got into range.

Their destination was the Banyan tree. Out of all the realm, it remained stable. It was simply the logical place to break the damned cornerstone. But as they got closer, space folded again.

Nausea made Michael falter as the trio found themselves at the unnatural intersection of O’Mara’s house, the burnt-out Mill and the Banyan. Ellen kept her footing and moved them quickly towards the tree’s sanctuary.

While not as perfect as before, the monsters still backed off once they entered its protective coverage.

“Hold them off. It’ll take me a few minutes to break it.” Ellen took up position behind them as she finally set down the skull.

“Make it a minute and we can do it.” Giselle nearly shouted over the noise. It had reached a deafening octave as she fought to keep her fingers steady to reload her gun.

“No promises.” It wasn’t like Ellen made a habit of breaking realm cornerstones. Her record was two and those had been for very different realms. But she had a general idea of what to do as she began to build a circle with her blood and ash powder

“Then, I can’t promise more than a minute either.” Giselle hissed back. Between Michael and her they barely had any ammo left. She was on her last magazine as her mana began to fade. Only her wolf was strong enough to remain out as she heroic bit back at the monsters. Still, just like her master, she was covered in cuts and bruises that refused to fade away. Michael only had 6 shots left and his knife. Not the best set up. He couldn’t fall back on his normal support as he had barely got a clamp down on his rampaging shadows. Really, he didn’t know what he was going to do if Ellen couldn’t break the cornerstone in time.

For all her talk, Giselle knew magic couldn’t be rushed. Especially this kind. Still, the creatures were closing in. Their apprehension melted away before their eyes as they inched closer. When they breached the inner sanctum, Michael for a moment could see two human figures in the back. The distance and lighting made it hard to make out features, but the shorter one had the bearing of O’Mara while he could only guess the other was that young man they had seen earlier.

“How many are there?” Giselle roared as she pistol-whipped a mutated antelope that had broken through their line. The skulls cracked but it took a proper bullet to the head to put it down.

“A ‘murder us’ amount.” Michael gave a half laugh that evolved into a painful cough as he barely stepped back in time to avoid getting clawed.

“Fuck me.” Giselle hissed as her wolf dragged a few more away but was forced to retreat as she limped. The beast’s form was beginning to disintegrate as Giselle struggled to maintain a good flow of mana.

With little left on him, Michael reached into his bag and pulled out his jar of salt and iron. While they weren’t fae, the salt had worked somewhat. As fast as his fingers would let him, he opened the jar and flung it at the horde. They shifted and moved, finally giving them momentary breathing room. It was a small victory but a victory all the same.

It was short lived as a sudden ball of flame burst in front of them. Instinctively they both jumped back. However, they had failed to notice that the once massive golden barrier has become smaller as they stepped outside of the Banyan’s halo.

Dirt gave way to rooftop as Michael dizzily tried to get his footing. All these sudden shifts were going to make him vomit as he barely avoided a claw attack. He hadn’t been sent away alone.

Four beasts encircled him. Their dripping forms, hot and steaming as they lunged at him. He had no time to catch his breath. To survive, he needed to keep fighting. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for his moved to turn sluggish and his breath to turn into pants.

Hunter was human. He was weak. Once his tricks were used up, once his bullets were gone, he could only desperately swing with his knife. The hits were accurate, dissecting one of the monsters. But that was one enemy. Two still remained as he stumbled back, barely able to keep his footing. Sweat dripped into his eyes and he tried to rally himself. But how much longer could he keep going? Seconds, minutes, none of them meant anything in this stagnant place.

Both monsters went to pin him as he stumbled out of the way. It wasn’t enough as their long gangly limbs caught him. It was like he was a weak toddler, easily bullied as his fatigued body slammed into the roof. His grip slipped and his knife clattered into the distance. Pinned beneath a greyhound, it bit at him and he had no choice but to block it with his forearm.

His cry of pain was muffled by the deafening orchestra of the damned. The greyhound tensed, ready to yank his arm off when everything stopped.

It was like someone had hit the pause. The world became frozen as a pulse rippled through the air. First it was one slow sensation. This did not last as more pulses rapidly followed. The red sky moved with each beat, twisting into a swirl of madness as the world contorted once more.

The monster was freed from its shock as it leaned back. Michael thought it would be a howl, but instead the bastarized sound of a human cry echoed from its jaw bones as it clawed at itself. Exhausted, Michael couldn’t miss this chance. With what he had left, he kicked the beast off him and scrambled to move away. But the moment Michael got to his feet, he fell through the world.

 

A/N

Even though the chapter was easy to write, it was surprisingly difficult to edit. I think it’s because I had to combine the end half of what would have been the last chapter and the beginning of the next together. Also murder death blood room too. Trying set up atmosphere without dragging it out and also express Michael’s struggle but not give away too much is hard. Boy needs some secrets for the future. Well they aren’t per say secrets to him. Just unwelcome memories. On another note, soon, soon the two boys will be reunited. Like 3 chapters or so soon.