The old wooden stairs creaked under Madam Esther's and the High Commander's boots, as if lamenting the tragedies that had befallen this house. With each step upward, a weighted hush pressed down on them. A chilling sensation burrowed into their bones, as though unseen eyes were fixed on them from some dark corner.
All at once, the girl's lullaby drifted through the gloom. It was the melody of a child's song, yet in that setting, it sounded so sinister it made the spine crawl. The High Commander paused and looked at Madam Esther, who nodded silently. They proceeded with measured steps up to the second floor.
At the top of the stairs, the reanimated black dog lay sprawled, pinned by threads of red sinew. It lay there, eyes milky white, staring emptily in their direction. The High Commander raised his hand, pointing at it. Instantly, the creature froze, as though time for it had ceased. Then he and Madam Esther slipped past, advancing toward the room from which that unnerving tune emerged.
A heavy wooden door stood ajar, revealing a modest bedroom steeped in oppressive atmosphere. A young woman in a bloodstained white dress sat perched on the bed. On either side of her lay the corpses of two women—likely her mother and older sister. Their faces were chalk-pale, yet each wore a gentle smile, as though deep in pleasant dreams.
The young woman broke off her humming and lifted her gaze toward the newcomers. Her eyes were startlingly clear yet utterly vacant.
"More guests?" she said in a lilting, friendly voice, as though greeting old friends at a tea party. "So, are you the good people, or the bad ones?"
Madam Esther's heart went out to her, sorrow, pity, and fear mingling all at once. A vortex of negative emotions seemed to swirl from the young woman's body, thickening the air.
"We're… here to help you, child," Madam Esther said softly, voice gentle.
"Help?" The girl let out a faint laugh. "What can you do to help me?"
"Help... what?" the girl asked, a cold smile appearing on her face.
"Anything we can," the High Commander replied. "We want to free you from the entity controlling you… to deliver you from all that's happened."
"No!" she snarled, baring her teeth in a vicious smile. "I don't need help from anyone!"
With that, she sprang at them, swift and savage. Bloody-red sinews lashed out from the shadows like writhing tentacles, attacking from every angle. The air in the room turned oppressive and dark, echoes of sobbing and terrified shrieks swirling around them. A surge of negative energy choked the atmosphere.
In a flash, the High Commander heightened his own powers of motion, but not to evade. He knew well that one could not escape fear itself. His true intention was to attack. He darted toward the crimson tendrils with lightning-fast reflexes, drawing the specially forged, razor-sharp blade from his belt. He slashed at the tentacles with movements swift as lightning. But each strand regrew almost instantly, as though inexhaustible.
"Thwack!" The sound of sinews whipping against the floor echoed as the High Commander narrowly avoided their grasp.
Then the environment changed again. An overwhelming, ghastly force exploded outward—the monstrous presence to which the girl was bound had finally revealed itself.
A colossal face formed of living, bloody sinews leered maliciously at them. Red, bloodshot eyes glared with malevolent glee.
Sensing the danger, the High Commander moved to keep it away from the girl, to give Madam Esther a chance to deal with her. He shouted an order in a ringing tone:
"Esther! Take her down!"
Not wanting her adversary disrupted, the girl summoned more power. The bodies of her mother and sister rose from the bed, jerked upright by invisible puppet strings. They launched into a frenzied assault on Madam Esther.
With eyes firmly shut to avoid meeting the higher entity's gaze, Madam Esther relied on pure sense and trained instincts to dodge the undead attacks. Every step she took was uncannily well-timed, each swing of those sinews narrowly missing. It was as though fate bent in her favor, weaving around each blow. Meanwhile, she looked for an opening to reach the girl.
The reanimated corpses attacked Madam Esther relentlessly. One tried to clamp its broken jaws onto the back of her head, while the other crawled like a spider across the ceiling before dropping down in an attack. Their unnatural movements created a horrifying spectacle.
Meanwhile, the High Commander confronted the vile entity, which radiated a horrific aura of fear. He felt an onslaught of illusions pressing into his mind, attempting to sow confusion and terror. Still, he pushed forward—attack after attack—only for the monstrous face to flood him with more visions, making his strikes go wide.
That face sneered, releasing yet another wave of mental illusions, dragging out the deepest dreads buried in the High Commander's heart. Scenes of betrayal, catastrophic failure, grim futures all jumbled together. He trembled but struggled to gather his wits, clinging to rational thought.
In the midst of it, intangible threads lunged at him, trying to wrap around his limbs and override his body's movements. At the last second, the High Commander stretched his power, seeming to vanish for a moment, reappearing a heartbeat later. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow as he panted in exertion, power drained.
He knew that if the girl died or severed her contract, the hideous blood-formed face would no longer remain here—its presence was only tethered by her. Its true body existed elsewhere.
But that face wanted to reach the girl, wanting to use her again. The High Commander blocked it, fully aware that though he might not stand on equal footing, any mistake from it might tilt the scales. So the entity tried to wear him down first before closing in on the girl again. And the commander, in turn, tried to buy all the time he could.
On the other side of the battle, Madam Esther contended with the young woman—the tragic epicenter of it all. Scarlet sinews whipped around wildly, lashing at her with savage force. Madam Esther evaded blow after blow by mere inches, warping probabilities so each strike missed her by a hair.
The girl attempted to plant suggestions in Madam Esther's mind through intangible contact, but Esther's mental wards kept that infiltration at bay. Meanwhile, the undead mother and sister lunged over and over in shocking displays of movement: one tried to clamp its broken jaws onto the back of her head, the other crawled like a spider across the ceiling before dropping in an attack. Their unnatural dance was a horrid spectacle.
Madam Esther realized that fighting the reanimated corpses themselves was no real solution. At last, she drew a revolver from her belt, unleashing a barrage of shots to disrupt their attacks. Gunfire crackled, bullets striking the mother and sister's frames, felling them briefly. Yet each time, they rose again.
Esther's brow creased, focusing her own gift: shaping probability. Some bullets found critical joints—elbows, knees—slowing the undead movements. Alarmed, the girl leapt and twisted to avoid being shot directly, the corpses lurching in to protect her.
Madam Esther looked for the right moment to shoot, to stop the girl's movements and use her power to disrupt the bond between the girl and the blood face, hoping to bring her back to her senses. But as time passed, her efforts proved futile. Madam Esther began to tire; she expended her power but received only emptiness in return.
Sensing that the situation was quickly degenerating, Madam Esther recognized the grim truth: liberating the girl from her vile bond might not be possible. The young woman had no desire to break it; she was clinging to the malevolent power that had destroyed her life.
Thus, Esther made a fateful decision. As the girl strained to deepen her union with the monstrous face, concentrating to strengthen her connection with the evil entity, the old woman took aim. She lifted the revolver, leveling it at the center of the girl's forehead.
"I'm sorry, child," Madam Esther murmured, voice pained.
Bang!
The bullet rang out, tearing through the girl's skull in a single, precise shot. Her body slumped to the floor, lifeless.
In that instant, the girl's death—her role as conduit severed—the blood-formed face shuddered and began to fade. The monstrous entity roared in anger, an unholy grin still plastered on its dripping visage.
The ceiling tore open overhead, allowing that gruesome face to surge upward, punching through the roof in a last attempt at destruction beyond the house. Outside, it sought to wreak havoc on all living creatures it could find. But its desire amounted to nothing—those waiting outside had shut their eyes and refused to heed its presence or calls, effectively nullifying its final gambit. Defeated, the face vanished, that wicked grin never leaving its lips until the moment it dissolved.
Inside, the High Commander and Madam Esther stood amidst the corpses of the family. She gazed upon the dead girl's body—her mother and sister lying still beside her—and felt only sorrow.
They had succeeded in preventing a catastrophe, but they had failed to save the poor child at the heart of it all.
At last, a forlorn calm settled within the house once more. Rain spattered against the wrecked roof, wind drifting through. The place that had felt severed from reality no longer radiated its dread. Slowly, it returned to the ordinary world—but not without leaving behind the shadows of a tragedy that would echo for a long time to come.